- end_line
- 9278
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.539Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9217
- text
- grotto sent back a shout; the ghosts of the Coral Monarchs seemed
starting from their insulted bones. But ha, ha, ha, roared forth the
five-and-twenty kings—alive, not dead—holding both hands to their
girdles, and baying out their laughter from abysses; like Nimrod’s
hounds over some fallen elk.
Mad and crazy revelers, how ye drank and roared! but kings no more:
vestures loosed; and scepters rolling on the ground.
Glorious agrarian, thou wine! bringing all hearts on a level, and at
last all legs to the earth; even those of kings, who, to do them
justice, have been much maligned for imputed qualities not theirs. For
whoso has touched flagons with monarchs, bear they their back bones
never so stiffly on the throne, well know the rascals, to be at bottom
royal good fellows; capable of a vinous frankness exceeding that of
base-born men. Was not Alexander a boon companion? And daft Cambyses?
and what of old Rowley, as good a judge of wine and other matters, as
ever sipped claret or kisses.
If ever Taji joins a club, be it a Beef-Steak Club of Kings!
Donjalolo emptied yet another cup.
The mirth now blew a gale; like a ship’s shrouds in a Typhoon, every
tendon vibrated; the breezes of Omi came forth with a rush; the
hangings shook; the goblets danced fandangos; and Donjalolo, clapping
his hands, called before him his dancing women.
Forth came from the grotto a reed-like burst of song, making all start,
and look that way to behold such enchanting strains. Sounds heralding
sights! Swimming in the air, emerged the nymphs, lustrous arms
interlocked like Indian jugglers’ glittering snakes. Round the cascade
they thronged; then paused in its spray. Of a sudden, seemed to spring
from its midst, a young form of foam, that danced into the soul like a
thought. At last, sideways floating off, it subsided into the grotto, a
wave. Evening drawing on apace, the crimson draperies were lifted, and
festooned to the arms of the idol-pillars, admitting the rosy light of
the even.
Yielding to the re-action of the banquet, the kings now reclined; and
two mute damsels entered: one with a gourd of scented waters; the other
with napkins. Bending over Donjalolo’s steaming head, the first let
fall a shower of aromatic drops, slowly aborbed by her companion. Thus,
in turn, all were served; nothing heard but deep breathing.
In a marble vase they now kindled some incense: a handful of spices.
Shortly after, came three of the king’s beautiful smokers; who,
lighting their tubes at this odorous fire, blew over the company the
sedative fumes of the Aina.
Steeped in languor, I strove against it long; essayed to struggle out
of the enchanted mist. But a syren hand seemed ever upon me, pressing
me back.
Half-revealed, as in a dream, and the last sight that I saw, was
Donjalolo:—eyes closed, face pale, locks moist, borne slowly to his
sedan, to cross the hollow, and wake in the seclusion of his harem.
- title
- Chunk 5