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- 7593
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.539Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 7508
- text
- contemporaries, by inspiriting thoughts of the future?”
“In plain words by bethinking him of the glorious harvest of bravos his
ghost would reap for him,” said Babbalanja; “but Banjo,—Bonjo,—Binjo,—I
never heard of him.”
“Nor I,” said Mohi.
“Nor I,” said Media.
“Poor fellow!” cried Babbalanja; “I fear me his harvest is not yet
ripe.”
“Alas!” cried Yoomy; “he died more than a century ago.”
“But now that you speak of unappreciated poets, Yoomy,” said
Babbalanja, “Shall I give you a piece of my mind?” “Do,” said Mohi,
stroking his beard.
“He, who on all hands passes for a cypher to-day, if at all remembered
hereafter, will be sure to pass for the same. For there is more
likelihood of being overrated while living, than of being underrated
when dead. And to insure your fame, you must die.”
“A rather discouraging thought for your race. But answer: I assume that
King Media is but a mortal like you; now, how may I best perpetuate my
name?”
Long pondered Babbalanja; then said, “Carve it, my lord, deep into a
ponderous stone, and sink it, face downward, into the sea; for the
unseen foundations of the deep are more enduring than the palpable tops
of the mountains.”
Sailing past Pella, we gained a view of its farther side; and seated in
a lofty cleft, beheld a lonely fisherman; solitary as a seal on an
iceberg; his motionless line in the water.
“What recks he of the ten kings,” said Babbalanja.
“Mohi,” said Media, “methinks there is another tradition concerning
that rock: let us have it.”
“In old times of genii and giants, there dwelt in barren lands, not
very remote from our outer reef, but since submerged, a band of evil-
minded, envious goblins, furlongs in stature, and with immeasurable
arms; who from time to time cast covetous glances upon our blooming
isles. Long they lusted; till at last, they waded through the sea,
strode over the reef, and seizing the nearest islet, rolled it over and
over, toward an adjoining outlet.
“But the task was hard; and day-break surprised them in the midst of
their audacious thieving; while in the very act of giving the devoted
land another doughty surge and Somerset. Leaving it bottom upward and
midway poised, gardens under water, its foundations in air, they
precipitately fled; in their great haste, deserting a comrade, vainly
struggling to liberate his foot caught beneath the overturned land.”
“This poor fellow now raised such an outcry, as to awaken the god Upi,
or the Archer, stretched out on a long cloud in the East; who forthwith
resolved to make an example of the unwilling lingerer. Snatching his
bow, he let fly an arrow. But overshooting its mark, it pierced through
and through, the lofty promontory of a neighboring island; making an
arch in it, which remaineth even unto this day. A second arrow,
however, accomplished its errand: the slain giant sinking prone to the
bottom.”
“And now,” added Mohi, “glance over the gunwale, and you will see his
remains petrified into white ribs of coral.”
“Ay, there they are,” said Yoomy, looking down into the water where
they gleamed. “A fanciful legend, Braid-beard.”
“Very entertaining,” said Media.
“Even so,” said Babbalanja. “But perhaps we lost time in listening to
it; for though we know it, we are none the wiser.”
“Be not a cynic,” said Media. “No pastime is lost time.”
Musing a moment, Babbalanja replied, “My lord, that maxim may be good
as it stands; but had you made six words of it, instead of six
syllables, you had uttered a better and a deeper.”
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- Chunk 3