"Dunsany, Lord - A Tale Of London" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dunsany Lord)

watched his visage well, and though his spirit was wandering
far away and his eyes were bleared with hasheesh yet that
storyteller there and then perceived the look that was
death, and sent his spirit back at once to London as a man
runs into his house when the thunder comes.
"And therefore," he continued, "in the desiderate city,
in London, all their camels are pure white. Remarkable is
the swiftness of their horses, that draw their chariots that
are of ivory along those sandy ways and that are of
surpassing lightness, they have little bells of silver upon
their horses' heads. O Friend of God, if you perceived
their merchants! The glory of their dresses in the
noonday! They are no less gorgeous than those butterflies
that float about their streets. They have overcloaks of
green and vestments of azure, huge purple flowers blaze on
their overcloaks, the work of cunning needles, the centres
of the flowers are of gold and the petals of purple. All
their hats are black --" ("No, no," said the Sultan) --
"but irises are set about the brims, and green plumes float
above the crowns of them.
"They have a river that is named the Thames, on it their
ships go up with violet sails bringing incense for the
braziers that perfume the streets, new songs exchanged for
gold with alien tribes, raw silver for the statues of their
heroes, gold to make balconies where the women sit, great
sapphires to reward their poets with, the secrets of old
cities and strange lands, the learning of the dwellers in
far isles, emeralds, diamonds, and the hoards of the sea.
And whenever a ship comes into port and furls its violet
sails and the news spreads through London that she has come,
then all the merchants go down to the river to barter, and
all day long the chariots whirl through the streets, and the
sound of their going is a mighty roar all day until evening,
their roar is even like--"
"Not so," said the Sultan.
"Truth is not hidden from the Friend of God," replied the
hasheesh-eater, "I have erred being drunken with the
hasheesh, for in the desiderate city, even in London, so
thick upon the ways is the white sea-sand with which the
city glimmers that no sound comes from the path of the
charioteers, but they go softly like a light sea-wind."
("It is well," said the Sultan.) "They go softly down to
the port where the vessels are, and the merchandise in from
the sea, amongst the wonders that the sailors show, on land
by the high ships, and softly they go though swiftly at
evening back to their homes.
"O would that the Munificent, the Illustrious, the Friend
of God, had even seen these things, had seen the jewellers
with their empty baskets, bargaining there by the ships,
when the barrels of emeralds came up from the hold. Or