Atlanta S Race And Two Other Tales From The Earthly Paradise

Excerpt from Atlanta's Race, and Two Other Tales From the Earthly Paradise For nigh the time when first that land they won, When new-born March made fresh the hopeful air, The wanderers sat within a chamber fair, Guests of that city's rulers, when the day Far from the sunny noon had fallen away; The sky grew dark, and on the window-pane They heard the beating of the sudden rain. Then, all being satisfied with plenteous feast, There spoke an ancient man, the land's chief priest, Who said, Dear guests, the year begins to-day, And fain are we, before it pass away. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Excerpt from Atlanta's Race, and Two Other Tales From the Earthly Paradise Making but light of labour new begun While in their vessels gleams the morning sun. On one side of the square a temple stands, Wherein the gods worshipped in ancient lands Still have their altars, a great market-place Upon two other sides fills all the space. And thence the busy hum of men comes forth; But on the cold side looking towards the north A pillared council-house may you behold, Within whose porch are images of gold, Gods of the nations who dwelt anciently About the borders of the Grecian sea. Pass now between them, push the brazen door And standing on the polished marble floor Leave all the noises of the square behind; Most calm that reverent chamber shall ye find, Silent at first, but for the noise you made When on the brazen door your hand you laid To shut it after you but now behold The city rulers on their thrones of gold. Clad in most fair attire, and in their hands Long carven silver-banded ebony wands; Then from the dais drop your eyes and see Soldiers and peasants standing reverently Before those elders, round a little band Who bear such arms as guard the English land. But battered, rent, and rusted sore, and they, The men themselves, are shrivelled, bent, and grey; And as they lean with pain upon their spears Their brows seem furrowed deep with more than years; For sorrow dulls their heavy sunken eyes. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Excerpt from Atalanta's Race: And Other Tales From the Earthly Paradise IN bringing this volume of selections from Tae Eartaly Paradise into suitable form for school reading and study, the desire of the editor has been to do whatever was possible to popularize the verse Of one of the great poets of the Victorian era. While William Morris has never been without a select circle of sincere admirers, his books have been left unread by the majority of readers, who have been deterred, it may be, by the great length of many Of his poems. When, however, he has once captured the attention of any one, the spell is never dissolved, the enchantment is never broken. The tales in Tae Eartaly Paraa'z'se, it seems to me, are particularly well suited to win the affectionate interest of younger readers, who, as a rule, care little for lyric verse, but are often enthusiastic admirers of epic poetry. Bearing this latter fact in mind, I have, in the preparation of the notes to these selections from Morris's verse, sought to give such help in elucidation as seemed need ful for the wants Of various grades of students, trusting that the beauty of the poetry and the interest Of the several narratives would foster a desire to know more intimately this great story-teller of our day. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1888 edition. Excerpt: ...And in his black beard gathered specks of gray. Now so it chanced, upon a May morning, Wakeful he lay when yet low was the sun, Looking distraught at many a royal thing, And counting up his titles one by one, And thinking much of things that he had done; For full of life he felt, and hale and strong, 20 And knew that none durst say when he did wrong. For no man now could give him dread or doubt, The land was 'neath his sceptre far and wide, And at his beck would well-armed myriads shout. Then swelled his vain, unthinking heart with pride, Until at last he raised him up and cried, ' What need have I for temple or for priest? Am I not God, whiles that I live at least?' And yet withal that dead his fathers were, He needs must think that quick the years pass by; 30 But he, who seldom yet had seen Death near Or heard his name, said, ' Still I may not die, Though underneath the earth my fathers lie; My sire indeed was called a mighty king, Yet, in regard of mine, a little thing ' His kingdom was; moreover his grandsire To him was but a prince of narrow lands, Whose father, though to things he did aspire Beyond most men, a great knight of his hands, Yet ruled some little town where now there stands.- The kennel of my dogs; then may not I Rise higher yet, nor like poor wretches die? ' Since up the ladder ever we have gone Step after step, nor fallen back again; And there are tales of people who have won A life enduring, without care or pain, Or any man to make their wishes vain: Perchance this prize unwitting now I hold; For times change fast, the world is waxen old.' So mid these thoughts once more he fell asleep, so And when he woke again, high was the sun; Then quickly from his gold bed did he leap, And of his former thoughts remembered...