- end_line
- 7982
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.539Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 7924
- text
- assumption of the honors thus suddenly inherited.
The event, but not its dreadful circumstances, was communicated to the
prince; as with a gay party of young chiefs, he was about to enter the
mouth of the defile.
“My sire dead!” cried Donjalolo. “So sudden, it seems a bolt from
Heaven.” And bursting into exclamations of grief, he wept upon the
bosom of Talara his friend.
But starting from his side:—“My fate converges to a point. If I but
cross that shadow, my kingdom is lost. One lifting of my foot, and the
girdle goes to my proud uncle Darfi, who would so joy to be my master.
Haughty Dwarf! Oh Oro! would that I had ere this passed thee, fatal
cavern; and seen for myself, what outer Mardi is. Say ye true,
comrades, that Willamilla is less lovely than the valleys without? that
there is bright light in the eyes of the maidens of Mina? and wisdom in
the hearts of the old priests of Maramma; that it is pleasant to tread
the green earth where you will; and breathe the free ocean air? Would,
oh would, that I were but the least of yonder sun-clouds, that look
down alike on Willamilla and all places besides, that I might determine
aright. Yet why do I pause? did not Rani, and Atama, and Mardonna, my
ancestors, each see for himself, free Mardi; and did they not fly the
proffered girdle; choosing rather to be free to come and go, than bury
themselves forever in this fatal glen? Oh Mardi! Mardi! art thou then
so fair to see? Is liberty a thing so glorious? Yet can I be no king,
and behold thee! Too late, too late, to view thy charms and then
return. My sire! my sire! thou hast wrung my heart with this agony of
doubt. Tell me, comrades,—for ye have seen it,—is Mardi sweeter to
behold, than it is royal to reign over Juam? Silent, are ye? Knowing
what ye do, were ye me, would ye be kings? Tell me, Talara.—No king: no
king:—that were to obey, and not command. And none hath Donjalolo ere
obeyed but the king his father. A king, and my voice may be heard in
farthest Mardi, though I abide in narrow Willamilla. My sire! my sire!
Ye flying clouds, what look ye down upon? Tell me, what ye see abroad?
Methinks sweet spices breathe from out the cave.”
“Hail, Donjalolo, King of Juam,” now sounded with acclamations from the
groves.
Starting, the young prince beheld a multitude approaching: warriors
with spears, and maidens with flowers; and Kubla, a priest, lifting on
high the tasseled girdle of Teei, and waving it toward him.
The young chiefs fell back. Kubla, advancing, came close to the prince,
and unclasping the badge of royalty, exclaimed, “Donjalolo, this
instant it is king or subject with thee: wilt thou be girdled monarch?”
Gazing one moment up the dark defile, then staring vacantly, Donjalolo
turned and met the eager gaze of Darfi. Stripping off his mantle, the
next instant he was a king.
Loud shouted the multitude, and exulted; but after mutely assisting at
the closing of the cavern, the new-girdled monarch retired sadly to his
dwelling, and was not seen again for many days.
- title
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