Project Gutenberg's The Sword of Welleran and Other Stories, by Lord Dunsany

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Title: The Sword of Welleran and Other Stories

Author: Lord Dunsany

Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10806]
[This file was last updated on September 21, 2005]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SWORD OF WELLERAN ***

Produced by Tom Harris

THE SWORD OF WELLERAN AND OTHER STORIES

By Lord Dunsany

Author of "Time and the Gods," etc.

DEDICATED

with deep gratitude to those few, known to me or unknown,
who have cared for either of my former books, "The Gods of
Pegana," "Time and the Gods."

The Sword of Welleran

Where the great plain of Tarphet runs up, as the sea in estuaries,
among the Cyresian mountains, there stood long since the city of
Merimna well-nigh among the shadows of the crags. I have never seen
a city in the world so beautiful as Merimna seemed to me when first
I dreamed of it. It was a marvel of spires and figures of bronze,
and marble fountains, and trophies of fabulous wars, and broad
streets given over wholly to the Beautiful. Right through the
centre of the city there went an avenue fifty strides in width, and
along each side of it stood likenesses in bronze of the Kings of all
the countries that the people of Merimna had ever known. At the end
of that avenue was a colossal chariot with three bronze horses
driven by the winged figure of Fame, and behind her in the chariot
the huge form of Welleran, Merimna's ancient hero, standing with
extended sword. So urgent was the mien and attitude of Fame, and so
swift the pose of the horses, that you had sworn that the chariot
was instantly upon you, and that its dust already veiled the faces
of the Kings. And in the city was a mighty hall wherein were stored
the trophies of Merimna's heroes. Sculptured it was and domed, the
glory of the art of masons a long while dead, and on the summit of
the dome the image of Rollory sat gazing across the Cyresian
mountains towards the wide lands beyond, the lands that knew his
sword. And beside Rollory, like an old nurse, the figure of Victory
sat, hammering into a golden wreat