diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42051.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42051.txt | 1628 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 1628 deletions
diff --git a/42051.txt b/42051.txt deleted file mode 100644 index cf3f8a7..0000000 --- a/42051.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1628 +0,0 @@ - AKRA THE SLAVE - - - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Akra the Slave -Author: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson -Release Date: February 08, 2013 [EBook #42051] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AKRA THE SLAVE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - AKRA THE SLAVE - - - BY - WILFRID WILSON GIBSON - - - - LONDON - ELKIN MATHEWS, VIGO STREET - MCMX - - - - -_Six years ago, I wrote this story down,_ -_While yet the light of Eastern skies_ -_Was in my eyes,_ -_And still my heart, aglow with memories_ -_Of sun-enraptured seas,_ -_And that old sea-girt town._ -_Where, down dark alleys of enchanted night,_ -_We stole, until we came_ -_To where the great dome glimmered white._ -_And every minaret,_ -_A shaft of pearly flame,_ -_Beneath the cloudy moon..._ - -_Six years ago!_ -_Ah! soon--too soon,_ -_Our tale, too, will be told:_ -_And yet, and yet,_ -_From this old Eastern tale we know,_ -_Love's story never can grow old,_ -_Till Love, himself, forget._ - - - - - AKRA THE SLAVE - - -He thought to see me tremble -And totter as an oar-snapt reed, -When he spake death to me-- -My courage, toppled in the dust, -Even as the head of cactus -The camel-keeper slashes -That his beasts may browse, unscathed, -The succulent, wounded green. -He thought to have me, broken, -And grovelling at his feet; -Mouthing and mumbling to his sandal-ties, -In stammering dread of death-- -Aye! even as a king, -Who, having from death's hand, -Received his crown and kingdom, -For ever treads in terror of the hour -When death shall jog his elbow, -Twitch the purple from his shoulders, -And claim again the borrowed crown. -But, little need have I to fear -The crouching, lean camp-follower, -Unto whose ever-gaping maw, -Day after day, I flung -The spoils of bow and arrow, -Ere I was taken captive-- -I, who have often, at my mother's breast, -Awakened in the night-time, -To see death leering on me from the cave-mouth, -A gaunt and slinking shape -That snuffed the dying embers, -Blotting out the friendly stars-- -I, who, a scarce-weaned boy, -Have toddled, gay and fearless, -Down the narrow jungle-track, -Through bodeful forest-darkness, panther-eyed; -And have felt cold snakes uncoiling -And gliding 'neath my naked sole, -From clammy slumber startled; -While, with sharp snap and crackle, -Beast-trodden branches strained behind me, -My father's hand scarce snatching me -Before the spring of crouching death! -But, naught of this the King could know, -He only knew that, on that far-off morning, -When first I came before him, captive, -Among my captive brothers, -And, as he lightly held, in idle fingers, -Above my unbowed head, -In equal poise -Death's freedom -Or the servitude of life, -I clutched at life: -And cared but little that his lips -Should curl, to see me, broken, -A slave among his slaves. -Yet, never slave of his was I; -Nor did I take my new life from his nod-- -I ... I who could have torn -The proud life out of him, -Before his guards could stay me... -Had she not sat beside him, on her throne. - -And he, who knew not then, -Nor ever, till to-day, -Has known me aught but slave, -Remembering that time, -Spake doom of death to me, -Idly, as to a slave: -And I await the end of night, -And dawn of death, -Even as a slave awaits... -Nay! as the unvanquished veteran -Awaits the hour of victory. - -In silence, wheels the night, -Star-marshalled, over dreaming Babylon; -And none in all the sleeping city stirs, -Save the cloaked sentries on the outer walls -Who tread out patience 'twixt the gates of brass, -Numb with scarce-baffled slumber, -Or, maybe, some unsleeping priest of Bel, -A lonely warder of eternity, -Who watches on the temple's seventh stage, -With the unslumbering gods. -Yet, may not she, the Queen, -Whose beauty, slaying my body, -Brings my soul to immortal birth, -Although she does not know -Of my last vigil on the peak of life-- -Yet, may not she awaken, troubled -By strange, bewildering dreams, -With heart a little fearful of the dawn -Of day, yet unrevealed? - -There is no sound at all, -Save only the cool plashing -Of fountains in the courtyard -Without my lonely cell: -For fate has granted to me -This last, least consolation of sweet sound -Though in the plains I perish, -I shall hear the noise of waters, -The noise of running waters, -As I die. -My earliest lullaby shall sing -My heart again to slumber. -And, even now, I hear -Stream-voices, long-forgotten, calling me -Back to the hills of home; -And, dreaming, I remember -The little yellow brooks -That ever, day and night, -Gush down the mountains singing, -Singing by the caves: -And hearkening unto them, -Once more a tiny baby, -A wee brown fist I dabble -In the foaming cool, -Frothing round my wrist, -Spurting up my arm, -Spraying my warm face; -And then again I chuckle, -As I see an empty gourd, -Fallen in the swirling waters, -Bobbing on the tawny eddies, -Swiftly out of sight. - -And yet most clearly to remembrance comes -That far-off night, in early Spring, -When, loud with melted snow from Northern peaks, -The torrent roared and fretted; -While, couched within the cavern, -The clamour kept me wakeful; -And, even when I slept, -Tumbled, tumultuous, through my dreams, -And seemed to surge about me, -As the brawl of armed men. -And once I sprang from slumber, -Hot and startled, -Dreaming that I felt -A warm breath on my cheek, -As if a jackal nuzzled me; -Or some dread, slinking foe -Made certain of my sleeping -Before he plunged the steel. -But nothing stirred within the glimmering cavern, -Where, all around me, lay my sleeping kindred; -And, when I stole without, with noiseless footsteps, -To rouse the smouldering watchfire into flame, -And cast fresh, crackling brushwood on the blaze, -I caught no glint of arms betwixt the branches, -Nor any sound or rumour, save -The choral noise of cold hill-waters, -Cold hill-waters singing, -Singing to the stars. -And so I turned me from the brooding night; -And, couched again upon the leopard-skins, -I slept, till dawn, in dream-untroubled sleep. - -I woke to see the cold sky kindling red, -Beyond the mounded ash of the spent fire; -And lay, a moment, watching -The pearly light, caught, trembling, -In dewy-beaded spiders' webs -About the cave-mouth woven. -Then I arose; -And left my kindred, slumbering-- -My mother, by my father, -And, at her breast, her youngest babe, -With dimpled fingers clutching at her bosom; -And, all around them, lying -Their sons and daughters, beautiful in sleep, -With parted lips, -And easy limbs outstretched -Along the tumbled bedskins: -And while they slumbered yet in shades of night, -I sprang out naked -Into eager dawn. -The sun had not yet scaled the eastern ridge: -And still the vales were hidden from my eyes -By snowy wreaths of swathing mist: -But, high upon a scar -That jutted sheer and stark, -In cold grey light, -There stood an antelope, -With lifted muzzle snuffing the fresh day; -When scenting me afar, -He plunged into the mist -With one quick, startled bound: -And, from the smoking vapour, -Arose a gentle pattering, -As, down the rocky trail, -The unseen herd went trotting -Upon their leader's heels. -And from the clear horizon -The exultant sun sprang god-like: -And on a little mound I stood, -With eager arms outstretched, -That, over my cold body, -The first warm golden beams -Of his life-giving light might fall. -And thus, awhile, I stood. -In radiant adoration tranced, -Until I caught the call of waters; -And, running downwards to the stream, -That plunged into a darkling pool, -Where, in the rock was scooped a wide, deep basin; -Upon the glassy brink, -A moment, I hung, shivering, -And gazing down through deeps of lucent shadow; -And then I leapt headlong, -And felt the cloven waters -Closing, icy-cold, above me, -And, again, with sobbing breath, -Battled to the light and air: -And I ran into the sunshine, -Shaking from my tingling limbs -Showers of scintillating drops -Over radiant, dewy beds -Of the snowy cyclamen, -And dark-red anemone, -Till my tawny body glowed -With warm, ruddy, pulsing life. -And then again I sought the stream, -And plunged; and now, more boldly, -I crossed the pool, with easy stroke; -And climbed the further crag; -And, turning, plunged again. -And so, I dived and swam, -Till pangs of hunger pricked -My idle fancy homeward: -And eagerly I climbed the hill; -When, not a sling's throw from the cavern, -Stooping to pluck a red anemone, -To prank the wet, black tangle of my hair, -I heard a shout; -And looking up, -I saw strange men -With lifted spears -Bear down on me: -And as I turned, -A javelin sang -Above my shrinking shoulder, -And bit the ground before me. -But, swift as light I sped, -Until I reached the pool, -And leapt therein: -And he who pressed most hotly on my heels, -Fell stumbling after. -Still I never slackened, -Although I heard a floundering splash, -And then the laughter of his comrades: -And, as I swam for life, -Betwixt my thrusting heels, -Another spear that clove the crystal waters -Glanced underneath my body, -And in the stream-bed quivered bolt upright, -Caught in a cleft of rock. -With frantic arm I struck -Straight as a snake across the pool, -And climbed the further bank; -And plunging through deep brake, -Ran wildly onward, -Startling as I went -A browsing herd of antelope, -That, bounding, fled before me down the valley -And after them I raced, -As though the hunter, -Not the hunted, -Until the chase sang in my blood, -And braced my straining thews. -I knew not if men followed, -Yet, on I sped, impetuously, -As speeds the fleet-foot onaga, -That breasts the windy morning, -With lifted head, and nostrils wide, -Exultant in his youth. -So, on and ever on, -Scarce knowing why I ran-- -Enough for me to feel -Earth beaten back behind my heels, -And hear the loud air singing -The blood-song in my ears: -Till, stumbling headlong over -An unseen, fallen branch, -I rolled in a deep bed of withered leaves; -And lay, full-length in shuddering ecstasy -Of hot, tumultuous blood that rioted -Through every throbbing vein. -But when again, I breathed more easily, -And my wild, fluttering heart kept slower beat, -Hot-foot, my thoughts ran, wondering, backward: -And I arose and followed them -With swift and stealthy pace, -Until I reached the stream. -Along the bank I stole with wary step, -Until I came to where the waters -Narrowed, raging through a gorge, -Nigh the threshold of my home: -And across the thunderous flood, -From crag to crag I leapt: -And then I climbed a cedar, -From whose close ambush I could watch -Who came or went about the cavern-mouth. -I lay along a level branch: -And, through the thick, dark screen, -I peered with eager eyes: -But no one crossed my sight. -The whole land lay before me, drowsing -In deepest noonday slumber: -No twig stirred in the breathless blaze; -And underneath the boughs no serpent rustled: -And, in the earth and air, -Naught waked, save one lone eagle, nigh the sun, -With wings, unbaffled, beating -Up the blue, unclouded heavens. -A dreamless, suave security -Seemed brooding o'er the valley's golden slumber, -Whence rang or flashed no hint of lurking peril. -I dropped to earth, -And crouching low, -I stole yet nearer -Through the brake: -Till, drawing nigh the cavern-mouth, -I heard the sound of half-hushed sobbing: -And then I saw, within the gloom, -My mother and my sisters clustering round -My father's body, lying stark and dead, -A spear-wound in his breast. -And as I crept to them, they did not hear me, -Nor ever lift their heads; -But, shuddering, crouched together, -With drooping breasts half-hid in falling hair, -By that familiar form -In such strange slumber bound. -Only the baby, on her shoulder slung, -Saw me, and crowed me greeting, -As I stooped down to touch my weeping mother, -Who, turning suddenly, -With wild tear-fevered eyes; -Arose with whispered warning; -But, even then, too late. -Already, from behind, -Around my throat -An arm was flung; -And heavily I fell: -Yet, with a desperate wrench, -I slipped the clutch of my assailant: -And picking up a slingstone that lay handy, -I crashed it through his helm; -And dead he dropped. -And now upon me all his fellows thronged, -Like hounds about an antelope; -And gripped my naked limbs, -And dragged me down, -A struggling beast, among them: -And desperately I fought, -As fights the boar at bay, -When all the yelling pack, -With lathered lips, and white teeth gnashing, -Is closing in upon him; -And in his quivering flank, and gasping throat, -He feels the fangs of death: -Till, overcome at last, -They bound me hand and foot, -With knotted, leathern thongs; -And dragged me out to where, beneath the trees, -Trussed in like manner, with defiant eyes, -My brothers lay, already, side by side. -They laid me in the shade; -And flicked my wincing spirit -With laughter and light words: -"Now is the roe-buck taken!" -Then another, -On whose dark, sullen face there burned a livid weal -"A buck in flight's a panther brought to bay!" -And then his fellow: -"True enough! and yet, -For such young thews they give good gold-- -They give good gold in Babylon!" -And, laughing thus, they left us, -To lie through hours of aching silence, -Until, at length, the cool of evening fell; -When they returned from slumber; -And loosed the ankle-cords that we might stand; -And bade our mother feed us; -And she, with tender fingers, held -The milk-bowl to our parching lips; -And thrust dried dates betwixt our teeth; -And wept, to see us standing there, -With helpless hands, before her. -Then, bringing out their mules, they saddled them; -And tied us to the girths on either hand. -They drove my weeping sisters from the cavern; -And sought to tear my mother from her home; -But she escaped them; -And they let her bide -Amid the ruins of her life, -Whose light had dropped, so suddenly, -From out the highest heavens: -And, when I turned to look on her, -And win from her a last farewell, -I saw her, sitting desolate betwixt -Her silent husband and her wailing babe, -With still, strange eyes, -That stared upon the dead, unseeing, -While her own children went from her, -Scarce knowing that they left her, nevermore -To look upon her face. - -Thus, we set out, as over -The darkening, Southern crags -The new moon's keen, curved blade was thrust: -My sisters trooping on before us, -Like a drove of young gazelles, -Which, in the dead of night, -With pards in leash, and torches flaring, -The hunters have encompassed. -They moved with timid steps, -And little runs; -Stumbling, with stifled cries; -And starting, panic-shot, -From every lurking shadow-- -Behind them, terror's lifted lash: -Before them, ever crouching, -The horror of the unknown night-- -While, as they moved before us, -The moonlight shivered off their shrinking shoulders -And naked, glancing limbs, -In shimmering, strange beauty. -And closely on their heels, -I, with my brothers, foremost in the file, -Marched, tethered 'twixt the plodding beasts, -Whose stolid riders sat, -Each with his javelin on the pummel couched, -In watchful silence, with dark eyes alert. -And once, nigh driven crazy -By the tugging of the thongs, -I sprang into the air, -As down a rocky steep we scrambled; -And strove to burst the galling bonds, -Or hurl my guards on one another; -But, all too sure of foot, the beasts, -And too securely girths and cords -Held me, and I stumbled. -Instantly a thong -Struck my wincing shoulders, -Blow on thudding blow. -I bit my lips; and strode on silently; -Nor fought again for freedom. -So on we journeyed through the night, -And down familiar mountain-tracks, -Through deep, dark forest, -Ever down and down; -Fording the streams, whose moon-bright waters flowed, -In eddies of delicious, aching cool, -About our weary thighs. -And, once, when in mid-torrent, -That swirled, girth-high about the plunging beasts, -A startled otter, glancing -Before their very hoofs, -Affrighted them; and, rearing, -With blind and desperate floundering, -They nearly dragged us down to death: -And, ere we righted, -With a fearful cry, -My eldest sister from the bevy broke; -And struck down-stream -With wild arm lashing desperately, -Until the current caught her; -And she sank, to rise no more. -And on again we travelled, -Down through the darkling woodlands: -And once I saw green, burning eyes, -Where, on a low-hung bough, -A night-black panther crouched, -As though to pounce upon my sisters; -But, the sudden crack of whips, -Startling him, he snarled; -And turned with lashing tail, -Crashing through dense brushwood. - -When, once, again we came unto a clearing, -The night was near its noon: -And all the vales that lay before us -Were filled with moving, moonlit mists, -That seemed phantasmal waters -Of that enchanted world, -Where we, in dreams, sail over still lagoons, -Throughout eternal night, -And under unknown stars. -Still, on we fared, unresting, -Until the low moon paled; -When, halting on a mountain-spur, -We first looked down on Babylon, -Far in the dreaming West, -A cluster of dim towers, -Scarce visible to wearied eyes. -We camped within a sheltering cedar-grove; -And all the day, beneath the level boughs, -Upon the agelong-bedded needles lay, -Half-slumbering, with fleeting, fretful dreams -That could not quite forget the chafing cords, -That held our arms in aching numbness: -But, ere the noon, in sounder sleep I sank, -Dreaming I floated on a still, deep pool, -Beneath dark, overhanging branches; -And seemed to feel upon my cheek -The cool caress of waters; -While, far above me, through the night of trees, -Noon glimmered faintly as the glint of stars. -As thus I lay, in indolent ecstasy, -O'er me, suddenly, the waters -Curved, and I was dragged, -Down and down, -Through gurgling deeps -Of swirling, drowning darkness... -When I awoke in terror; -And strove to sit upright; -But, tautly, with a jerk, -The thongs that held me to my brothers, -Dragged me back to earth. - -Awhile I lay, with staring eyes, awake, -Watching a big, grey spider, crouched overhead, -In ambush 'neath a twig, beside her web, -Oft sallying out, to bind yet more securely, -The half-entangled flies. -And then, once more, I slumbered; -And dreamed a face leant over me, -More fair than any face -My waking eyes had ever looked upon. -Its beauty burned above me, -Not dusky like my sisters' faces, -But pale as the wan moon, -Reflected in a flood -Of darkly flowing waters, -Or as the creaming froth, -That, born amid the thunder of the fall, -Floats on the river's bosom in the sunshine, -Bubble after bubble, -Perishing in air. -So, a moment, over me, -With frail and fleeting glimmer -Of strange elusive, evanescent light, -The holy vision hovered. -And yet, whenever, with a fervent longing, -I sought to look into the darkling eyes, -The face would fade from me, -As foam caught in an eddy: -Until, at last, I wakened, -And, wondering, saw a pale star gleaming -Betwixt the cedar-branches. -And soon our captors stirred: -And we arose, to see -The walls and towers of Babylon, dark -Against the clear rose of the afterglow, -Already in the surge of shadows caught, -As night, beneath us, slowly Westward swept, -Flooding the dreaming plain that lay before us, -Vast, limitless, bewildering, -And strange to mountain-eyes. -As down the slope we went, -And when, at last, we left behind -The hills and singing waters, -A vague, oppressive fear -Of those dim, silent leagues of level land, -Fell on me; and I almost seemed -To bear upon my shoulders -The vaster dome of overwhelming night; -And, trembling like a child, -I looked askance at my two captors, -As they rode on in heedless silence, -Their swarthy faces sharp -Against the lucent sky. -And then, once more, -The old, familiar watchfires of the stars -Brought courage to my bosom; -And the young moon's brilliant horn -Was exalted in the sky: -And soon, the glooming wilderness -Awoke with glittering waters, -As a friendly wind sang unto me -Among the swaying reeds: -While, cloud on cloud, -The snowy flocks of pelican -Before our coming rose; -And, as they swerved to Southward, -The moonlight shivered off their flashing pinions. - -So, on we marched, till dawn, across the plain; -And, on and on, -Beneath the waxing moon, -Each night we travelled Westward; -Until, at last, we halted -By the broad dull-gleaming flood -Of mighty, roaring Tigris; -And aroused from midnight slumber -The surly, grumbling ferrymen, -And crossed the swollen waters -Upon the great, skin rafts: -Then on again we fared, -Until the far, dim towers soared in the dawnlight -And we encamped beside a stream, -Beneath dry, rustling palms. -And heavily I slumbered: -And only wakened once, at noon, -When, lifting up my head, -I saw the towers of Babylon, burning blue, -Far off, in the blind heat: -And slept again, till sunset, -When we took our Westward course -Along the low bank of a broad canal, -That glimmered wanly 'neath a moonless sky. -Higher, and higher still, -As we drew slowly nearer, -Arose the vasty walls and serried towers, -That seemed to thrust among the stars, -And on embattled summits bear the night, -Unbowed beneath their burden, -As easily as, with unruffled brows, -And limber, upright bodies, -The village-daughters carry -At eve the brimming pitchers, -Poised upon their heads. -And when, above us, the wide-looming walls -Shut out the Western stars; -Beneath their shade, at midnight, we encamped, -To await till dawn should open -The city gates for us. -That night we did not sleep, -But, crouched upon the ground, -We watched the moon rise over Babylon, -Till, far behind us, o'er the glittering waste, -Was flung the wall's huge shadow, -And the moving shades of sentries, -Who, unseen above our heads, -Paced through the night incessantly. -Thus long we sat, hushed with awed expectation, -And gazing o'er the plain that we had travelled, -As, gradually, the climbing moon, -Escaping from the clustering towers, -Revealed far-gleaming waters, -And the sharp, shrill cry of owls, -Sweeping by on noiseless plumes, -Assailed the vasty silence, -Shivering off like darts -From some impenetrable shield. -And, as we waited, -Sometimes, fearfully, -I gazed up those stupendous, soaring walls -Of that great, slumbering city, wondering -What doom behind the bastioned ramparts slept, -What destiny, beneath the brooding night, -Awaited me beyond the brazen gates. -But, naught the blind, indifferent stars revealed, -Though towards the long night's ending, -Half-dazed with gazing up that aching height, -A drowsiness fell over me, -And in a restless waking-trance I lay, -Dreaming that Life and Death before me stood. -And, as each thrust towards me a shrouded cup, -Implacable silence bade me choose and drink. -But, as I stretched a blind, uncertain hand -To take the cup of death, -I wakened, and dawn trembled, -At last, beyond the Eastern hills, -And, star by star, night failed; -And eagerly the sun leapt up the sky, -And, as his flashing rays -Smote kindling towers and flaming gates of brass, -Across the reedy moat -A clattering drawbridge fell, -And wide the glittering portals slowly swung: -And there came streaming out in slow procession -A sleepy caravan of slouching camels, -Groaning and grumbling as they strode along -Beneath their mountainous burdens, -Upon whose swaying summits, -Impassively, the blue-robed merchants sat. -They passed us slowly by, -And then we took the bridge, -And, while our captors parleyed with the guards, -Who stood, on either hand, -With naked swords, -I turned my head, -And saw for the last time, far Eastward, -The cold, snow-brilliant peaks, -Beyond my dim, blue, native hills. -And, as I looked, my thoughts flew homeward, -And I, one dreaming moment, -Stood by my mourning mother in the cavern -Of desolation, looking on the dead. -And then, between the brazen gate-posts, -And underneath the brazen lintel, -At last we entered Babylon. -Before us, yet another wall arose, -And, turning sharply -Down a narrow way, -The living breath of heaven seemed shut from us -As though beneath the beetling crags -Of some deep mountain-gorge-- -By cliffs of wall, on either hand, -That soared up to the narrow sky, -Which with dim lustre lit -The shimmering surface of enamelled brick, -Whereon, through giant groves, -Blue-coated hunters chased the boar, -Or 'loosed red-tasselled falcon -After flying crane. -But soon we reached another gate, -Sword-guarded, and we entered, -And plunged into the traffic -Of clamorous merchantmen, -Speeding their business ere the heat of day. -And as we jostled, slowly, -Through bewildering bazaars, -The porters and the idler wayfarers -All turned to look upon our shame, -With cold, unpitying eyes, -And indolent, gaping mouths, -Or jested with our captors, -Until we left the busier thoroughfares, -And walked through groves of cypress and of ilex, -Where not a sound or rumour troubled -The silence of the dark-plumed boughs -And glimmering deeps of peace, -Save only the cool spurt of waters -That, from a myriad unseen jets, -Fretted the crystal airs of morning, -And fell in frolic showers -Of twinkling, rainbow drops, -That plashed in unseen basins; -And through the blaze of almond-orchards, -Tremulous with blossom -That flickered in a rosy, silken snow -Of falling petals over us, -And wreathed about our feet -In soft and scented drifts; -Beneath pomegranate trees in young, green leaf, -And through vast gardens, glowing with strange flowers, -Such as no April kindled into bloom -Among the valleys of my native hills. -We came unto a court of many fountains, -Where, leaping off their jaded mules, -Our captors loosed the thongs that held us, -But left our wrists still bound. -And one with great clay pitchers came, -And over our hot bodies, travel-stained, -Poured out cool, cleansing waters -In a gurgling, crystal stream, -And flung coarse robes of indigo -About our naked shoulders. -And here we left behind us -The maidens and the younger boys, -And passing through a gateway, -Came out upon a busy wharf, -Where, southward, midway through the city, -The broad Euphrates flows, -His dark flood thronged with merchant-dhows, -And fishing-boats of reed and bitumen, -Piled high with glistering barbel, freshly-caught; -And foreign craft, with many-coloured sails, -And laden deep with precious merchandise, -That, over wide, bewildering waters, -Across the perilous world, -The adventurous, dark-bearded mariners, -Who swear by unknown gods in alien tongues, -Bring ever to the gates of Babylon. -We crossed the drawbridge, round whose granite piers -Swirled strong, Spring-swollen waters, -Loud and tawny, -And, through great brazen portals, -Passed within the palace gates, -When first I saw afar the hanging-gardens, -Arch on arch, -And tier on tier, -Against a glowing sky. -Two strapping Nubians, like young giants -Hewn from blue-black marble -By some immortal hand in immemorial ages, -Led us slowly onward. -The dappled pard-skins, slung across their shoulders, -Scarcely hid the ox-like thews, -Beneath the dark skin rippling, -As they strode along before us. -Through courts of alabaster, -And painted corridors, - -And chambers fair with flowery tapestries -They led us, wondering, till at last we came -Into a vast, dim hall of glimmering gold, -The end of all our journeying. -And, as we halted on the threshold, -My eyes could see but little for a moment, -In the dusky, heavy air, -Through the ceaseless cloud of incense, -Rising from the smouldering braziers -To the gold, grey-clouded dome, -Tingling strangely in my nostrils, -As I came from morning airs; -Then slowly filling them with drowsy fume, -When, looking up with half-dazed eyes, -I saw the King upon his golden throne: -And through my body -Raged rebellious blood, -In baffled riot beating -At my corded wrists, -As if to burst the galling bonds, -That I might hurl that lean, swart face, -So idly turning towards us, -With thin curled lips, -And cold, incurious eyes, -To headlong death-- -Yea! even though I tumbled -The towers of Babylon round about my head. -And, when our captors bowed their foreheads low, -Obsequious to the throne, -I stood upright, -And gazed my loathing on that listless form-- -The gay, embroidered robe, -The golden cap, that prankt the crisped locks, -The short, square beard, new-oiled and barbered-- -But, in a flash, -A heavy blow -Fell on my head, -And struck me to my knees -Before the sleek, indifferent king. -And then, on either hand, -With gripping palms upon my shoulders set, -The Nubians towered above me -Like mighty men of stone. -And savagely I struggled, -Half-stunned, to rise again; -When, as I vainly battled -In their unrelenting clutch, -My eyes lit for the first time on the Queen, -Who sat upon the dais, by her lord -Half-shadowed, on a throne of ivory, -And all the hate died in me, as I saw -The face that hovered over me in dream, -When I had slept beneath the low-boughed cedar: -The moon-pale brows, o'er which the clustered hair -Hung like the smoke of torches, ruddy-gold, -Against a canopy of peacock plumes: -The deep brown, burning eyes, -From which the soul looked on me in fierce pity. -And, as I gazed on that exultant beauty, -The hunter and the slayer of men -Was slain within me instantly, -And I forgot the mountains and my home; -My desolate mother, and my father's death; -My captive sisters ... and the throned King! -I was as one, that moment, -New-born into the world -Full-limbed and thewed, -Yet, with the wondering heart -Of earth-bewildered childhood. -And, unto me, it seemed -That, as the Queen looked down on me, -There stole into her eyes -Some dim remembrance of old dreams, -That in their brown depths flickered -With strange, elusive light, -Like stars that tremble in still forest-pools. -One spake-- -I scarce knew whom, nor cared-- -And bade me choose, -Before the throne, -Between a life of slavery, -Or merciful, swift death-- -Death, that but a moment since, -I would have dragged, exulting, on me-- -And with my eyes still set on the Queen's face, -I answered: -"I will serve": -And scarcely heeded that my wrists were loosed. - -And, huddled in a stifling hut, -That night, among my fellows, -I could not sleep at all: -But gazed, wild-eyed, till dawn upon that face, -Which hovered o'er me, like the moon of dreams; -And seemed to draw the wandering tides of life -In one vast wave, which ever strove -To climb the heavens wherein she moved, -That it might break in triumphing foam about her. -Not then, nor ever afterwards, -Was I a slave, among my fellow-slaves, -But one, who, with mean drudgery, -And daily penance serves -Before a holy altar, -That, sometimes, as he labours, his glad eyes -May catch a gleam of the immortal light -Within the secret shrine; -Yea! and, maybe, shall look, one day, with trembling, -On the bright-haired, imperishable god. -And, even when, day after day, -I bore the big reed-baskets, laden -With wet clay, digged beyond the Western moat, -Although I seemed to tread, -As treads the ox that turns the water-wheel, -A blindfold round of servitude, -My quenchless vision ever burned before me: -And when, in after days, I fed -The roaring oven-furnaces; -And toiled by them through sweltering days, -Though over me, at times, would come -Great longing for the hill-tops, -And the noise of torrent-waters: -Or when, more skilled, I moulded -The damp clay into bricks; -And spread the colour and the glaze; -And in strength-giving heat of glowing kilns, -I baked them durable, -Clean-shaped, and meet for service: -My vision flamed yet brighter; -And unto me it seemed -As if my gross and useless clay were burned -In a white ecstasy of lustral fire, -That, in the fashioning of the house of love, -I might serve perfectly the builder's need. -Thus, many months, I laboured; -Till, one day, at the noontide hour of rest, -I lay; and with a sharpened reed-- -As temple-scribes write down the holy lore -On tablets of wet clay-- -On the moist earth beside me, -I limned a young fawn, cropping -A bunch of tender, overhanging leaves. -And, as I slowly drew, -I dreamt a little sadly of the days, -When I, too, roamed, untethered, -And drinking in, unquestioning, -The sunshine and the air, -And all the rapture of the earth that turns, -New every morning to the wondering sun, -Refashioned in still nights of starry dews: -But one, the while, unseen of me, -Watched my unconscious hand, approving: -And I was set, next morning, -Among the craftsmen, who so deftly limned -The hunts and battles for the palace walls. -And, happily, with them I lived -A life of loving labour, for each line -Flowed from the knowledge of my heart: -I drew the startled ostrich -Fleeing from the far-flung noose: -The brindled lynx; the onaga -In dewy-plashing flight; -The bristling boar, at bay, -Crouched in a deadly ring of threatening spears, -With streaming nostrils, and red eyes ablaze; -The striped hyaena; the gaunt, green-eyed wolf; -The skulking jackal; the grey, brush-tailed fox; -The hunting leopard and the antelope, -In mid-chase tense, -With every thew astrain; -The dappled panther; the brown-eyed gazelle, -Butting with black horns through the tangled brake -The nimble hare, alert, with pricked-up ears; -The tiger, crouched, with yellow eyes afire; -The shaggy mountain-goat, -Perched on the utmost crag, -Against the afterglow of lucent ruby, -Or, poised with bunching hoofs -In mid-spring over a dark, yawning chasm; -Or the black stallion, with his tameless troop, -Fording a mountain-river in the dawn. -And, sometimes, as we toiled, -A terrible fleeting rapture -Would come upon me, when the Queen -Passed by us with her maidens; -Or paused, a moment, gazing, -With tranced and kindling eyes upon our labours: -But never did I dare, at any time, -To lift my eyes to hers, -And look, as soul on soul, -As on the day her beauty brought to birth -The strange new life within me. -In silence she would ever leave us; -And ever with her passing perished -The light and colour of my work; -So that my heart failed, daunted by that glimpse -Of the ever-living beauty. -And, sometimes, I would carve in ruddy teak, -Or ivory, from the Indian merchants bought, -Or in the rare, black basalt, little beasts -To please the idle fancies of the King; -Or model in wet clay, and cast in bronze, -Great bulls and lions for the palace-courts; -Or carve him seals of lapis-lazuli, -Of jasper, amethyst and serpentine, -Chalcedony--carnelian, chrysoprase, -Agate, sardonyx, and chalcedonyx-- -Green jade, and alabaster; -Or cut in stones that flashed and flickered -Like a glancing kingfisher, -Or, in the sun-filled amber, -The kite with broad wings spread, -Or little fluttering doves that pecked -A golden bunch of dates: -And then of these in settings of fine gold -Made fillets, rings and ear-rings. - -Thus, one day, -Dreaming, as ever, of the Queen, -I wrought a golden serpent for her hair: -And when I brought it to the King, next morn, -Where he sat brooding over chess, -He bade me bear it to the Queen, myself, -And so, I went unto her, where she sat, -Among her singing maidens, at the loom, -Weaving a silken web of Tyrian dye. -I laid the trinket at her feet, in silence: -And she arose, and set it in her hair, -Whose living lustre far outshone -The cold, dead metal I had fashioned, -As she stood before me, dreaming, -In her robe of flowing blue; -Then looked a moment on me with kind eyes. -And though she spoke no word, -I turned, and fled, in trembling, -Before the light that shivered through me, -And struck my soul with shuddering ecstasy: -And, still, through many days, -Although I did not look again -Upon those dreaming eyes, -Their visionary light -Within my soul, revealed eternity. - -Thus, have the mortal years -Flowed onward to the perfect end-- -This day of days, -That never night shall quench, -Nor darkness vanquish: -And, at dawn, -I die. - -And yet, this morning, as I slowly climbed -The steep, ascending stages -That lead up to the hanging-gardens-- -Where, tier on tier, -The great brick arches bore -Their April wealth of blossoms, -Plumed with palm and dusky cypress-- -I little knew that I -Who came to carve a garland -Round a fountain's porphry basin, -Should scale so soon the utmost peak of life. -Throughout the morn I toiled, -Until an hour ere noon-- -For no one, save the King and Queen, -May walk in those high gardens, after midday-- -When, underneath a cypress shade, -I paused, a moment, resting; -And looking down upon the basking city, -Beneath me slumbering deeply-- -Garden on garden glowing, grove on grove, -Like some green fabric, shot with myriad hues, -And chequered with white clusters of flat roofs, -Aquiver in clear heat: -And then I gazed up through the aching azure, -At the restless kites that hover -Ever over Babylon: -And, as I watched one broad-winged bird that hung -Above the seven-coloured pyramid -Of Bel's great temple, -With wide pinions spread, -As though it kept eternal vigil over -The golden image in the golden shrine, -I thought of eagles poised -Above the peaks of glittering snows, -Beyond the Eastern plains. -Half-dreaming, thus, I lay, -Lulled by the tinkling waters, -Till, unawares, sleep slowly overcame me; -And noonday drifted by: -And still, I slept, unheeding: -And, in my sleep, -I looked on Beauty in a quiet place -Of forest gloom and immemorial dream: -When, something rousing me from slumber, -With waking eyes that yet seemed dream-enchanted, -I looked upon the Queen, -Where, in a secret close, -Set thickly round with screens of yew and ilex, -She stood upon the dark, broad brim -Of a wide granite basin, gazing down, -With dreaming eyes, into the glooming cool, -Unraimented, save of the flickering gleam, -Reflected from the lucent waters, -That flowed before her silently: -And slowly, from her feet, -The cold light rippled up her body, till, -Entangled in the meshes of her hair, -It flooded the calm rapture of her face: -When, dreaming still, she lifted up her eyes, -Unseeing; and I looked upon her soul, -Unveiled, in naked immortality, -Untrammelled by the trappings of brief time, -And cloaks of circumstance. -How long I looked upon the perfect beauty, -I cannot tell-- -Each moment, flowing to eternity, -Bearing me further from time's narrow shores; -Though, yet, a little while, -From those unshadowed deeps time sought to hold me. - -Suddenly, I felt -A ghostly arrow pierce my life; -And I leapt up, and turning, -I saw the King beside me, -With steely, glittering eyes -Shooting barbed anger, -Though he coldly spake, -With evil, curling lips: -"Slave, thou art dead!" -And yet I did not quail: -But, looking 'twixt his brows, -I answered: and he blenched before my words: -"Nay! I have seen: -"And am newborn, a King!" -And then his craven fingers -Went quaking to his wagging beard, -As if he felt my clutch upon his throat: -Yet, though, with one quick blow, -I might have hurled him down to death, -I never stirred: -And, eyeing me, he summoned -The negro-eunuchs, who kept watch below: -But I, ere they could spring up the first stage, -Went forth to meet them; -And they bound my wrists. - -And so, down from the hills, my life has flowed, -Until, at fullest flood, it meets the sea. -With calm and unregretful heart, I wait -Till dawn shall loose the arrow from the bow. -I, who, with eager, faltering hand have sought -To fashion a little beauty, in the end, -Have looked on the perfect beauty, and I die-- -Even as the priest, who, in the heart of night, -Trembling before the thunder-riven shrine, -Looks on the face of God, and perishes. -I die... -And yet, maybe, when earth lies heavily -Upon the time-o'ertoppled towers, -And tumbled walls, and broken gates of brass; -And the winds whisper one another: -"Where, Oh! where is Babylon?" -In the dim underworld of dreaming shades, -My soul shall seek out beauty -And look, once more, -Upon the unveiled vision... -And not die. - -Night passes: and already in the court, -Amid the plash of fountains, -There sounds the pad of naked feet approaching. -With slow, deliberate pace, -As though they trod out all my perished years, -The Nubians come, to lead me out to death. -Slowly the great door opens; -And clearer comes the call of waters; -Cool airs are on my brow ... -Lo! ... in the East, the dawn. - - - - LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AKRA THE SLAVE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42051 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything -for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may -use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative -works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and -printed and given away - you may do practically _anything_ with public -domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, -especially commercial redistribution. - - - -The Full Project Gutenberg License - - -_Please read this before you distribute or use this work._ - -To protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or -any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg(tm) License available with this file or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use & Redistributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works - - -*1.A.* By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the -terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all -copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in your possession. If -you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg(tm) electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -*1.B.* "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things -that you can do with most Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works even -without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph -1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg(tm) electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -*1.C.* The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of -Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works. Nearly all the individual works -in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you -from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating -derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project -Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the -Project Gutenberg(tm) mission of promoting free access to electronic -works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg(tm) works in compliance with -the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg(tm) name -associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this -agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full -Project Gutenberg(tm) License when you share it without charge with -others. - - -*1.D.* The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg(tm) work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -*1.E.* Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -*1.E.1.* The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with - almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away - or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License - included with this eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org - -*1.E.2.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is -derived from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating -that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can -be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying -any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a -work with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on -the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs -1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -*1.E.3.* If an individual Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic work is -posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and -distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and -any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg(tm) License for all works posted -with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of -this work. - -*1.E.4.* Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project -Gutenberg(tm) License terms from this work, or any files containing a -part of this work or any other work associated with Project -Gutenberg(tm). - -*1.E.5.* Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg(tm) License. - -*1.E.6.* You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg(tm) work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg(tm) web site -(http://www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or -expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a -means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include -the full Project Gutenberg(tm) License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -*1.E.7.* Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg(tm) works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -*1.E.8.* You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works -provided that - - - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg(tm) works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - - - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg(tm) - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) - works. - - - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - - - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) works. - - -*1.E.9.* If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg(tm) electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg(tm) trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3. below. - -*1.F.* - -*1.F.1.* Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection. -Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works, and the -medium on which they may be stored, may contain "Defects," such as, but -not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription -errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a -defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer -codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. - -*1.F.2.* LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg(tm) trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg(tm) electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. -YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, -BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN -PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND -ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR -ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES -EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. - -*1.F.3.* LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -*1.F.4.* Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -*1.F.5.* Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -*1.F.6.* INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg(tm) -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg(tm) work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg(tm) - - -Project Gutenberg(tm) is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg(tm)'s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg(tm) collection will remain -freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and -permanent future for Project Gutenberg(tm) and future generations. To -learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and -how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the -Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org . - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state -of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue -Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification number is -64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf . Contributions to the -Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the -full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. -S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official page -at http://www.pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - - -Project Gutenberg(tm) depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where -we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any -statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside -the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways -including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, -please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic -works. - - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg(tm) -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg(tm) eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg(tm) eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. unless -a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks -in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's eBook -number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, -compressed (zipped), HTML and others. - -Corrected _editions_ of our eBooks replace the old file and take over -the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. -_Versions_ based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving -new filenames and etext numbers. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg(tm), -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |