85. CHAPTER LXXXV.
As in dreams I behold thee again, Willamila! as in
dreams, once again I stroll through thy cool shady groves,
oh fairest of the vallies of Mardi! the thought of that mad
merry feasting steals over my soul till I faint.
Prostrate here and there over the bones of Donjalolo's
sires, the royal bacchanals lay slumbering till noon.
“Which are the deadest?” said Babbalanja, peeping in,
“the live kings, or the dead ones?”
But the former were drooping flowers sought to be revived
by watering. At intervals the sedulous attendants went to
and fro, besprinkling their heads with the scented contents
of their vases.
At length, one by one, the five-and-twenty kings lifted
their ambrosial curls; and shaking the dew therefrom, like
eagles opened their right royal eyes, and dilated their aquiline
nostrils, full upon the golden rays of the sun.
But why absented himself, Donjalolo? Had he cavalierly
left them to survive the banquet by themselves? But
this apparent incivility was soon explained by heralds, an-nouncing
to their prone majesties, that through the over
solicitude of his slaves, their lord the king had been borne
to his harem, without being a party to the act. But to
make amends, in his sedan, Donjalolo was even now drawing
nigh. Not, however, again to make merry; but socially
to sleep in company with his guests; for, together they had
all got high, and together they must all lie low.
So at it they went: each king to his bones, and slumbered
like heroes till evening; when, availing themselves of
the cool moonlight approaching, the royal guests bade adieu
to their host; and summoning their followers, quitted the
glen.
Early next day, having determined to depart for our
canoes, we proceeded to the House of the Morning, to take
leave of Donjalolo.
An amazing change, one night of solitude had wrought!
Pale and languid, we found him reclining: one hand on his
throbbing temples.
Near an overturned vessel of wine, the royal girdle lay
tossed at his feet. He had waved off his frightened attendants,
who crouched out of sight.
We advanced.
“Do ye too leave me? Ready enough are ye to partake
of my banquetings, which, to such as ye, are but mad incidents
in one round of more tranquil diversions. But heed
me not, Media;—I am mad. Oh, ye gods! am I forever
a captive?—Ay, free king of Odo, when you list, condescend
to visit the poor slave in Willamilla. I account them but
charity, your visits; would fain allure ye by sumptuous fare.
Go, leave me; go, and be rovers again throughout blooming
Mardi. For me, I am here for aye.—Bring me wine,
slaves! quick! that I may pledge my guests fitly. Alas,
Media, at the bottom of this cup are no sparkles as at top.
Oh, treacherous, treacherous friend! full of smiles and daggers.
Yet for such as me, oh wine, thou art e'en a prop,
though it pierce the side; for man must lean. Thou wine
art the friend of the friendless, though a foe to all. King
Media, let us drink. More cups!—And now, farewell.”
Falling back, he averted his face; and silently we quitted
the palace.
