To this day I often
dream of that awful scene, and see the weeping woman, bereaved, and
marked like Cain, cast a last look at her lover, and creep from the
presence of her dread Queen.
Another dream that troubled me originated in the huge pyramid of bones.
I dreamed that they all stood up and marched past me in thousands
and tens of thousands--in squadrons, companies, and armies--with the
sunlight shining through their hollow ribs. On they rushed across the
plain to Kor, their imperial home; I saw the drawbridges fall before
them, and heard their bones clank through the brazen gates. On they
went, up the splendid streets, on past fountains, palaces, and temples
such as the eye of man never saw. But there was no man to greet them in
the market-place, and no woman's face appeared at the windows--only
a bodiless voice went before them, calling: "_Fallen is Imperial
Kor!--fallen!--fallen! fallen!_" On, right through the city, marched
those gleaming phalanxes, and the rattle of their bony tread echoed
through the silent air as they pressed grimly on.
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