









                      Time and the Gods

                       by Lord Dunsany


Once when the gods were young and only Their swarthy servant
Time was without age, the gods lay sleeping by a broad river
upon earth.  There in a valley that from all the earth the
gods had set apart for Their repose the gods dreamed marble
dreams.  And with domes and pinnacles the dreams arose and
stood up proudly between the river and the sky, all
shimmering white to the morning.  In the city's midst the
gleaming marble of a thousand steps climbed to the citadel
where arose four pinnacles beckoning to heaven, and midmost
between the pinnacles there stood the dome, vast, as the
gods had dreamed it.  All around, terrace by terrace, there
went marble lawns well guarded by onyx lions and carved with
effigies of all the gods striding amid the symbols of the
worlds.  With a sound like tinkling bells, far off in a land
of shepherds hidden by some hill, the waters of many
fountains turned again home.  Then the gods awoke and there
stood Sardathrion.  Not to common men have the gods given to
walk Sardathrion's streets, and not to common eyes to see
her fountains.  Only to those to whom in lonely passes in
the night the gods have spoken, leaning through the stars,
to those that have heard the voices of the gods above the
morning or seen Their faces bending above the sea, only to
those hath it been given to see Sardathrion, to stand where
her pinnacles gathered together in the night fresh from the
dreams of gods.  For round the valley a great desert lies
through which no common traveller may come, but those whom
the gods have chosen feel suddenly a great longing at heart,
and crossing the mountains that divide the desert from the
world, set out across it driven by the gods, till hidden in
the desert's midst they find the valley at last and look
with eyes upon Sardathrion.
   In the desert beyond the valley grow a myriad thorns, and
all pointing towards Sardathrion.  So may many that the gods
have loved come to the marble city, but none can return, for
other cities are no fitting home for men whose feet have
touched Sardathrion's marble streets, where even the gods
have not been ashamed to come in the guise of men with Their
cloaks wrapped about their faces.  Therefore no city shall
ever hear the songs that are sung in the marble citadel by
those in whose ears have rung the voices of the gods.  No
report shall ever come to other lands of the music of the
fall of Sardathrion's fountains, when the waters which went
heavenward return again into the lake where the gods cool
Their brows sometimes in the guise of men.  None may ever
hear the speech of the poets of that city, to whom the gods
have spoken.
   It stands a city aloof.  There hath been no rumour of it
-- I alone have dreamed of it, and I may not be sure that my
dreams are true.
   
      *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
   
   Above the Twilight the gods were seated in the after
years, ruling the worlds.  No longer now They walked at
evening in the Marble City hearing the fountains splash, or
listening to the singing of the men they loved, because it
was in the after years and the work of the gods was to be
done.
   But often as they rested a moment from doing the work of
the gods, from hearing the prayers of men or sending here
the Pestilence or there Mercy, They would speak awhile with
one another of the olden years saying, "Rememberest thou not
Sardathrion?" and another would answer "Ah! Sardathrion, and
all Sardathrion's mist-draped marble lawns whereon we walk
not now."
   Then the gods turned to do the work of the gods,
answering the prayers of men or smiting them, and ever They
sent Their swarthy servant Time to heal or overwhelm.  And
Time went forth into the worlds to obey the commands of the
gods, yet he cast furtive glances at his masters, and the
gods distrusted Time because he had known the worlds or ever
the gods became.
   One day when furtive Time had gone into the worlds to
nimbly smite some city whereof the gods were weary, the gods
above the twilight speaking to one another said:
   "Surely we are the lords of Time and gods of the worlds
besides.  See how our city Sardathrion lifts over other
cities.  Others arise and perish but Sardathrion standeth
yet, the first and the last of cities.  Rivers are lost in
the sea and streams forsake the hills, but ever
Sardathrion's fountains arise in our dream city.  As was
Sardathrion when the gods were young, so are her streets
to-day as a sign that we are the gods."
   Suddenly the swart figure of Time stood up before the
gods, with both hands dripping with blood and a red sword
dangling idly from his fingers, and said:
   "Sardathrion is gone!  I have overthrown it!"
   And the gods said:
   "Sardathrion?  Sardathrion, the marble city?  Thou, thou
hast overthrown it?  Thou, the slave of the gods?"
   And the oldest of the gods said:
   "Sardathrion, Sardathrion, and is Sardathrion gone?"
   And furtively Time looked him in the face and edged
towards him fingering with his dripping fingers the hilt of
his nimble sword.
   Then the gods feared with a new fear that he that had
overthrown Their city would one day slay the gods.  And a
new cry went wailing through the Twilight, the lament of the
gods for Their dream city, crying:
   "Tears may not bring again Sardathrion.
   "But this the gods may do who have seen, and seen with
unrelenting eyes, the sorrows of ten thousand worlds -- thy
gods may weep for thee.
   "Tears may not bring again Sardathrion.
   "Believe it not, Sardathrion, that ever thy gods sent
this doom to thee; he that hath overthrown thee shall
overthrow thy gods.
   "How oft when Night came suddenly on Morning playing in
the fields of Twilight did we watch thy pinnacles emerging
from the darkness, Sardathrion, Sardathrion, dream city of
the gods, and thine onyx lions looming limb by limb from the
dusk.
   "How often have we sent our child the Dawn to play with
thy fountain tops; how often hath Evening, loveliest of our
goddesses, strayed long upon thy balconies.
   "Let one fragment of thy marbles stand up above the dust
for thine old gods to caress, as a man when all else is lost
treasures one lock of the hair of his beloved.
   "Sardathrion, the gods must kiss once more the place
where thy streets were once.
   "There were wonderful marbles in thy streets,
Sardathrion."
   "Sardathrion, Sardathrion, the gods weep for thee."
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