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Edgar Allan Poe: Four Beasts In One--the Homo-Cameleopard
Up to the EServer | The Complete Works of Edgar Allan
Poe
FOUR BEASTS IN ONE–THE HOMO-CAMELEOPARD
by Edgar Allan Poe
1850
Chacun a ses vertus.
CREBILLON'S Xerxes.
ANTIOCHUS EPIPHANES is very generally looked upon as the Gog of the
prophet Ezekiel. This honor is, however, more properly attributable to
Cambyses, the son of Cyrus. And, indeed, the character of the Syrian monarch
does by no means stand in need of any adventitious embellishment. His
accession to the throne, or rather his usurpation of the sovereignty, a
hundred and seventy-one years before the coming of Christ; his attempt to
plunder the temple of Diana at Ephesus; his implacable hostility to the
Jews; his pollution of the Holy of Holies; and his miserable death at Taba,
after a tumultuous reign of eleven years, are circumstances of a prominent
kind, and therefore more generally noticed by the historians of his time
than the impious, dastardly, cruel, silly, and whimsical achievements which
make up the sum total of his private life and reputation.
Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is now the year of the world three
thousand eight hundred and thirty, and let us, for a few minutes, imagine
ourselves at that most grotesque habitation of man, the remarkable city of
Antioch. To be sure there were, in Syria and other countries, sixteen cities
of that appellation, besides the one to which I more particularly allude.
But ours is that which went by the name of Antiochia Epidaphne, from its
vicinity to the little village of Daphne, where stood a temple to that
divinity. It was built (although about this matter there is some dispute) by
Seleucus Nicanor, the first king of the country after Alexander the Great,
in memory of his father Antiochus, and became immediately the residence of
the Syrian monarchy. In the flourishing times of the Roman Empire, it was
the ordinary station of the prefect of the eastern provinces; and many of
the emperors of the queen city (among whom may be mentioned, especially,
Verus and Valens) spent here the greater part of their time. But I perceive
we have arrived at the city itself. Let us ascend this battlement, and throw
our eyes upon the town and neighboring country.
"What broad and rapid river is that which forces its way, with
innumerable falls, through the mountainous wilderness, and finally through
the wilderness of buildings?"
That is the Orontes, and it is the only water in sight, with the
exception of the Mediterranean, which stretches, like a broad mirror, about
twelve miles off to the southward. Every one has seen the Mediterranean; but
let me tell you, there are few who have had a peep at Antioch. By few, I
mean, few who, like you and me, have had, at the same time, the advantages
of a modern education. Therefore cease to regard that sea, and give your
whole attention to the mass of houses that lie beneath us. You will remember
that it is now the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and
thirty. Were it later–for example, were it the year of our Lord eighteen
hundred and forty-five, we should be deprived of this extraordinary
spectacle. In the nineteenth century Antioch is–that is to say, Antioch will
be- in a lamentable state of decay. It will have been, by that time, totally
destroyed, at three different periods, by three successive earthquakes.
Indeed, to say the truth, what little of its former self may then remain,
will be found in so desolate and ruinous a state that the patriarch shall
have removed his residence to Damascus. This is well. I see you profit by my
advice, and are making the most of your time in inspecting the
premises–in
-satisfying your eyes
With the memorials and the things of
fame
That most renown this city.-
I beg pardon; I had forgotten that Shakespeare will not flourish for
seventeen hundred and fifty years to come. But does not the appearance of
Epidaphne justify me in calling it grotesque?
"It is well fortified; and in this respect is as much indebted to nature
as to art."
Very true.
"There are a prodigious number of stately palaces."
There are.
"And the numerous temples, sumptuous and magnificent, may bear comparison
with the most lauded of antiquity."
All this I must acknowledge. Still there is an infinity of mud huts, and
abominable hovels. We cannot help perceiving abundance of filth in every
kennel, and, were it not for the over-powering fumes of idolatrous incense,
I have no doubt we should find a most intolerable stench. Did you ever
behold streets so insufferably narrow, or houses so miraculously tall? What
gloom their shadows cast upon the ground! It is well the swinging lamps in
those endless colonnades are kept burning throughout the day; we should
otherwise have the darkness of Egypt in the time of her desolation.
"It is certainly a strange place! What is the meaning of yonder singular
building? See! it towers above all others, and lies to the eastward of what
I take to be the royal palace."
That is the new Temple of the Sun, who is adored in Syria under the title
of Elah Gabalah. Hereafter a very notorious Roman Emperor will institute
this worship in Rome, and thence derive a cognomen, Heliogabalus. I dare say
you would like to take a peep at the divinity of the temple. You need not
look up at the heavens; his Sunship is not there–at least not the Sunship
adored by the Syrians. That deity will be found in the interior of yonder
building. He is worshipped under the figure of a large stone pillar
terminating at the summit in a cone or pyramid, whereby is denoted Fire.
"Hark–behold!–who can those ridiculous beings be, half naked, with their
faces painted, shouting and gesticulating to the rabble?"
Some few are mountebanks. Others more particularly belong to the race of
philosophers. The greatest portion, however–those especially who belabor the
populace with clubs–are the principal courtiers of the palace, executing as
in duty bound, some laudable comicality of the king's.
"But what have we here? Heavens! the town is swarming with wild beasts!
How terrible a spectacle!–how dangerous a peculiarity!"
Terrible, if you please; but not in the least degree dangerous. Each
animal if you will take the pains to observe, is following, very quietly, in
the wake of its master. Some few, to be sure, are led with a rope about the
neck, but these are chiefly the lesser or timid species. The lion, the
tiger, and the leopard are entirely without restraint. They have been
trained without difficulty to their present profession, and attend upon
their respective owners in the capacity of valets-de-chambre. It is true,
there are occasions when Nature asserts her violated dominions;–but then the
devouring of a man-at-arms, or the throttling of a consecrated bull, is a
circumstance of too little moment to be more than hinted at in
Epidaphne.
"But what extraordinary tumult do I hear? Surely this is a loud noise
even for Antioch! It argues some commotion of unusual interest."
Yes–undoubtedly. The king has ordered some novel spectacle–some
gladiatorial exhibition at the hippodrome–or perhaps the massacre of the
Scythian prisoners–or the conflagration of his new palace- or the tearing
down of a handsome temple–or, indeed, a bonfire of a few Jews. The uproar
increases. Shouts of laughter ascend the skies. The air becomes dissonant
with wind instruments, and horrible with clamor of a million throats. Let us
descend, for the love of fun, and see what is going on! This way–be careful!
Here we are in the principal street, which is called the street of
Timarchus. The sea of people is coming this way, and we shall find a
difficulty in stemming the tide. They are pouring through the alley of
Heraclides, which leads directly from the palace;–therefore the king is most
probably among the rioters. Yes;–I hear the shouts of the herald proclaiming
his approach in the pompous phraseology of the East. We shall have a glimpse
of his person as he passes by the temple of Ashimah. Let us ensconce
ourselves in the vestibule of the sanctuary; he will be here anon. In the
meantime let us survey this image. What is it? Oh! it is the god Ashimah in
proper person. You perceive, however, that he is neither a lamb, nor a goat,
nor a satyr, neither has he much resemblance to the Pan of the Arcadians.
Yet all these appearances have been given–I beg pardon–will be given–by the
learned of future ages, to the Ashimah of the Syrians. Put on your
spectacles, and tell me what it is. What is it?
"Bless me! it is an ape!"
True–a baboon; but by no means the less a deity. His name is a derivation
of the Greek Simia–what great fools are antiquarians! But see!–see!–yonder
scampers a ragged little urchin. Where is he going? What is he bawling
about? What does he say? Oh! he says the king is coming in triumph; that he
is dressed in state; that he has just finished putting to death, with his
own hand, a thousand chained Israelitish prisoners! For this exploit the
ragamuffin is lauding him to the skies. Hark! here comes a troop of a
similar description. They have made a Latin hymn upon the valor of the king,
and are singing it as they go:
Mille, mille, mille,
Mille, mille, mille,
Decollavimus, unus
homo!
Mille, mille, mille, mille, decollavimus!
Mille, mille,
mille,
Vivat qui mille mille occidit!
Tantum vini habet
nemo
Quantum sanguinis effudit!*
Which may be thus paraphrased:
A
thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
A thousand, a thousand, a
thousand,
We, with one warrior, have slain!
A thousand, a thousand, a
thousand, a thousand.
Sing a thousand over again!
Soho!–let us
sing
Long life to our king,
Who knocked over a thousand so
fine!
Soho!–let us roar,
He has given us more
Red gallons of
gore
Than all Syria can furnish of wine!
* Flavius Vospicus says, that the hymn here introduced was sung by the
rabble upon the occasion of Aurelian, in the Sarmatic war, having slain,
with his own hand, nine hundred and fifty of the enemy.
"Do you hear that flourish of trumpets?"
Yes: the king is coming! See! the people are aghast with admiration, and
lift up their eyes to the heavens in reverence. He comes;–he is
coming;–there he is!
"Who?–where?–the king?–do not behold him–cannot say that I perceive
him."
Then you must be blind.
"Very possible. Still I see nothing but a tumultuous mob of idiots and
madmen, who are busy in prostrating themselves before a gigantic
cameleopard, and endeavoring to obtain a kiss of the animal's hoofs. See!
the beast has very justly kicked one of the rabble over–and another–and
another–and another. Indeed, I cannot help admiring the animal for the
excellent use he is making of his feet."
Rabble, indeed!–why these are the noble and free citizens of Epidaphne!
Beasts, did you say?–take care that you are not overheard. Do you not
perceive that the animal has the visage of a man? Why, my dear sir, that
cameleopard is no other than Antiochus Epiphanes, Antiochus the Illustrious,
King of Syria, and the most potent of all the autocrats of the East! It is
true, that he is entitled, at times, Antiochus Epimanes–Antiochus the
madman–but that is because all people have not the capacity to appreciate
his merits. It is also certain that he is at present ensconced in the hide
of a beast, and is doing his best to play the part of a cameleopard; but
this is done for the better sustaining his dignity as king. Besides, the
monarch is of gigantic stature, and the dress is therefore neither
unbecoming nor over large. We may, however, presume he would not have
adopted it but for some occasion of especial state. Such, you will allow, is
the massacre of a thousand Jews. With how superior a dignity the monarch
perambulates on all fours! His tail, you perceive, is held aloft by his two
principal concubines, Elline and Argelais; and his whole appearance would be
infinitely prepossessing, were it not for the protuberance of his eyes,
which will certainly start out of his head, and the queer color of his face,
which has become nondescript from the quantity of wine he has swallowed. Let
us follow him to the hippodrome, whither he is proceeding, and listen to the
song of triumph which he is commencing:
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Say–do you know?
Who is king but
Epiphanes?
Bravo!–bravo!
There is none but Epiphanes,
No–there is
none:
So tear down the temples,
And put out the sun!
Well and strenuously sung! The populace are hailing him 'Prince of
Poets,' as well as 'Glory of the East,' 'Delight of the Universe,' and 'Most
Remarkable of Cameleopards.' They have encored his effusion, and do you
hear?–he is singing it over again. When he arrives at the hippodrome, he
will be crowned with the poetic wreath, in anticipation of his victory at
the approaching Olympics.
"But, good Jupiter! what is the matter in the crowd behind us?"
Behind us, did you say?–oh! ah!–I perceive. My friend, it is well that
you spoke in time. Let us get into a place of safety as soon as possible.
Here!–let us conceal ourselves in the arch of this aqueduct, and I will
inform you presently of the origin of the commotion. It has turned out as I
have been anticipating. The singular appearance of the cameleopard and the
head of a man, has, it seems, given offence to the notions of propriety
entertained, in general, by the wild animals domesticated in the city. A
mutiny has been the result; and, as is usual upon such occasions, all human
efforts will be of no avail in quelling the mob. Several of the Syrians have
already been devoured; but the general voice of the four-footed patriots
seems to be for eating up the cameleopard. 'The Prince of Poets,' therefore,
is upon his hinder legs, running for his life. His courtiers have left him
in the lurch, and his concubines have followed so excellent an example.
'Delight of the Universe,' thou art in a sad predicament! 'Glory of the
East,' thou art in danger of mastication! Therefore never regard so
piteously thy tail; it will undoubtedly be draggled in the mud, and for this
there is no help. Look not behind thee, then, at its unavoidable
degradation; but take courage, ply thy legs with vigor, and scud for the
hippodrome! Remember that thou art Antiochus Epiphanes. Antiochus the
Illustrious!–also 'Prince of Poets,' 'Glory of the East,' 'Delight of the
Universe,' and 'Most Remarkable of Cameleopards!' Heavens! what a power of
speed thou art displaying! What a capacity for leg-bail thou art developing!
Run, Prince!–Bravo, Epiphanes! Well done, Cameleopard!–Glorious
Antiochus!–He runs!–he leaps!–he flies! Like an arrow from a catapult he
approaches the hippodrome! He leaps!–he shrieks!–he is there! This is well;
for hadst thou, 'Glory of the East,' been half a second longer in reaching
the gates of the Amphitheatre, there is not a bear's cub in Epidaphne that
would not have had a nibble at thy carcase. Let us be off–let us take our
departure!–for we shall find our delicate modern ears unable to endure the
vast uproar which is about to commence in celebration of the king's escape!
Listen! it has already commenced. See!–the whole town is topsy-turvy.
"Surely this is the most populous city of the East! What a wilderness of
people! what a jumble of all ranks and ages! what a multiplicity of sects
and nations! what a variety of costumes! what a Babel of languages! what a
screaming of beasts! what a tinkling of instruments! what a parcel of
philosophers!"
Come let us be off.
"Stay a moment! I see a vast hubbub in the hippodrome; what is the
meaning of it, I beseech you?"
That?–oh, nothing! The noble and free citizens of Epidaphne being, as
they declare, well satisfied of the faith, valor, wisdom, and divinity of
their king, and having, moreover, been eye-witnesses of his late superhuman
agility, do think it no more than their duty to invest his brows (in
addition to the poetic crown) with the wreath of victory in the footrace–a
wreath which it is evident he must obtain at the celebration of the next
Olympiad, and which, therefore, they now give him in advance.
THE END
Edgar Allan Poe: Four Beasts In One--the Homo-Cameleopard
Up to the EServer | The Complete Works of Edgar Allan
Poe
FOUR BEASTS IN ONE–THE HOMO-CAMELEOPARD
by Edgar Allan Poe
1850
Chacun a ses vertus.
CREBILLON'S Xerxes.
ANTIOCHUS EPIPHANES is very generally looked upon as the Gog of the
prophet Ezekiel. This honor is, however, more properly attributable to
Cambyses, the son of Cyrus. And, indeed, the character of the Syrian monarch
does by no means stand in need of any adventitious embellishment. His
accession to the throne, or rather his usurpation of the sovereignty, a
hundred and seventy-one years before the coming of Christ; his attempt to
plunder the temple of Diana at Ephesus; his implacable hostility to the
Jews; his pollution of the Holy of Holies; and his miserable death at Taba,
after a tumultuous reign of eleven years, are circumstances of a prominent
kind, and therefore more generally noticed by the historians of his time
than the impious, dastardly, cruel, silly, and whimsical achievements which
make up the sum total of his private life and reputation.
Let us suppose, gentle reader, that it is now the year of the world three
thousand eight hundred and thirty, and let us, for a few minutes, imagine
ourselves at that most grotesque habitation of man, the remarkable city of
Antioch. To be sure there were, in Syria and other countries, sixteen cities
of that appellation, besides the one to which I more particularly allude.
But ours is that which went by the name of Antiochia Epidaphne, from its
vicinity to the little village of Daphne, where stood a temple to that
divinity. It was built (although about this matter there is some dispute) by
Seleucus Nicanor, the first king of the country after Alexander the Great,
in memory of his father Antiochus, and became immediately the residence of
the Syrian monarchy. In the flourishing times of the Roman Empire, it was
the ordinary station of the prefect of the eastern provinces; and many of
the emperors of the queen city (among whom may be mentioned, especially,
Verus and Valens) spent here the greater part of their time. But I perceive
we have arrived at the city itself. Let us ascend this battlement, and throw
our eyes upon the town and neighboring country.
"What broad and rapid river is that which forces its way, with
innumerable falls, through the mountainous wilderness, and finally through
the wilderness of buildings?"
That is the Orontes, and it is the only water in sight, with the
exception of the Mediterranean, which stretches, like a broad mirror, about
twelve miles off to the southward. Every one has seen the Mediterranean; but
let me tell you, there are few who have had a peep at Antioch. By few, I
mean, few who, like you and me, have had, at the same time, the advantages
of a modern education. Therefore cease to regard that sea, and give your
whole attention to the mass of houses that lie beneath us. You will remember
that it is now the year of the world three thousand eight hundred and
thirty. Were it later–for example, were it the year of our Lord eighteen
hundred and forty-five, we should be deprived of this extraordinary
spectacle. In the nineteenth century Antioch is–that is to say, Antioch will
be- in a lamentable state of decay. It will have been, by that time, totally
destroyed, at three different periods, by three successive earthquakes.
Indeed, to say the truth, what little of its former self may then remain,
will be found in so desolate and ruinous a state that the patriarch shall
have removed his residence to Damascus. This is well. I see you profit by my
advice, and are making the most of your time in inspecting the
premises–in
-satisfying your eyes
With the memorials and the things of
fame
That most renown this city.-
I beg pardon; I had forgotten that Shakespeare will not flourish for
seventeen hundred and fifty years to come. But does not the appearance of
Epidaphne justify me in calling it grotesque?
"It is well fortified; and in this respect is as much indebted to nature
as to art."
Very true.
"There are a prodigious number of stately palaces."
There are.
"And the numerous temples, sumptuous and magnificent, may bear comparison
with the most lauded of antiquity."
All this I must acknowledge. Still there is an infinity of mud huts, and
abominable hovels. We cannot help perceiving abundance of filth in every
kennel, and, were it not for the over-powering fumes of idolatrous incense,
I have no doubt we should find a most intolerable stench. Did you ever
behold streets so insufferably narrow, or houses so miraculously tall? What
gloom their shadows cast upon the ground! It is well the swinging lamps in
those endless colonnades are kept burning throughout the day; we should
otherwise have the darkness of Egypt in the time of her desolation.
"It is certainly a strange place! What is the meaning of yonder singular
building? See! it towers above all others, and lies to the eastward of what
I take to be the royal palace."
That is the new Temple of the Sun, who is adored in Syria under the title
of Elah Gabalah. Hereafter a very notorious Roman Emperor will institute
this worship in Rome, and thence derive a cognomen, Heliogabalus. I dare say
you would like to take a peep at the divinity of the temple. You need not
look up at the heavens; his Sunship is not there–at least not the Sunship
adored by the Syrians. That deity will be found in the interior of yonder
building. He is worshipped under the figure of a large stone pillar
terminating at the summit in a cone or pyramid, whereby is denoted Fire.
"Hark–behold!–who can those ridiculous beings be, half naked, with their
faces painted, shouting and gesticulating to the rabble?"
Some few are mountebanks. Others more particularly belong to the race of
philosophers. The greatest portion, however–those especially who belabor the
populace with clubs–are the principal courtiers of the palace, executing as
in duty bound, some laudable comicality of the king's.
"But what have we here? Heavens! the town is swarming with wild beasts!
How terrible a spectacle!–how dangerous a peculiarity!"
Terrible, if you please; but not in the least degree dangerous. Each
animal if you will take the pains to observe, is following, very quietly, in
the wake of its master. Some few, to be sure, are led with a rope about the
neck, but these are chiefly the lesser or timid species. The lion, the
tiger, and the leopard are entirely without restraint. They have been
trained without difficulty to their present profession, and attend upon
their respective owners in the capacity of valets-de-chambre. It is true,
there are occasions when Nature asserts her violated dominions;–but then the
devouring of a man-at-arms, or the throttling of a consecrated bull, is a
circumstance of too little moment to be more than hinted at in
Epidaphne.
"But what extraordinary tumult do I hear? Surely this is a loud noise
even for Antioch! It argues some commotion of unusual interest."
Yes–undoubtedly. The king has ordered some novel spectacle–some
gladiatorial exhibition at the hippodrome–or perhaps the massacre of the
Scythian prisoners–or the conflagration of his new palace- or the tearing
down of a handsome temple–or, indeed, a bonfire of a few Jews. The uproar
increases. Shouts of laughter ascend the skies. The air becomes dissonant
with wind instruments, and horrible with clamor of a million throats. Let us
descend, for the love of fun, and see what is going on! This way–be careful!
Here we are in the principal street, which is called the street of
Timarchus. The sea of people is coming this way, and we shall find a
difficulty in stemming the tide. They are pouring through the alley of
Heraclides, which leads directly from the palace;–therefore the king is most
probably among the rioters. Yes;–I hear the shouts of the herald proclaiming
his approach in the pompous phraseology of the East. We shall have a glimpse
of his person as he passes by the temple of Ashimah. Let us ensconce
ourselves in the vestibule of the sanctuary; he will be here anon. In the
meantime let us survey this image. What is it? Oh! it is the god Ashimah in
proper person. You perceive, however, that he is neither a lamb, nor a goat,
nor a satyr, neither has he much resemblance to the Pan of the Arcadians.
Yet all these appearances have been given–I beg pardon–will be given–by the
learned of future ages, to the Ashimah of the Syrians. Put on your
spectacles, and tell me what it is. What is it?
"Bless me! it is an ape!"
True–a baboon; but by no means the less a deity. His name is a derivation
of the Greek Simia–what great fools are antiquarians! But see!–see!–yonder
scampers a ragged little urchin. Where is he going? What is he bawling
about? What does he say? Oh! he says the king is coming in triumph; that he
is dressed in state; that he has just finished putting to death, with his
own hand, a thousand chained Israelitish prisoners! For this exploit the
ragamuffin is lauding him to the skies. Hark! here comes a troop of a
similar description. They have made a Latin hymn upon the valor of the king,
and are singing it as they go:
Mille, mille, mille,
Mille, mille, mille,
Decollavimus, unus
homo!
Mille, mille, mille, mille, decollavimus!
Mille, mille,
mille,
Vivat qui mille mille occidit!
Tantum vini habet
nemo
Quantum sanguinis effudit!*
Which may be thus paraphrased:
A
thousand, a thousand, a thousand,
A thousand, a thousand, a
thousand,
We, with one warrior, have slain!
A thousand, a thousand, a
thousand, a thousand.
Sing a thousand over again!
Soho!–let us
sing
Long life to our king,
Who knocked over a thousand so
fine!
Soho!–let us roar,
He has given us more
Red gallons of
gore
Than all Syria can furnish of wine!
* Flavius Vospicus says, that the hymn here introduced was sung by the
rabble upon the occasion of Aurelian, in the Sarmatic war, having slain,
with his own hand, nine hundred and fifty of the enemy.
"Do you hear that flourish of trumpets?"
Yes: the king is coming! See! the people are aghast with admiration, and
lift up their eyes to the heavens in reverence. He comes;–he is
coming;–there he is!
"Who?–where?–the king?–do not behold him–cannot say that I perceive
him."
Then you must be blind.
"Very possible. Still I see nothing but a tumultuous mob of idiots and
madmen, who are busy in prostrating themselves before a gigantic
cameleopard, and endeavoring to obtain a kiss of the animal's hoofs. See!
the beast has very justly kicked one of the rabble over–and another–and
another–and another. Indeed, I cannot help admiring the animal for the
excellent use he is making of his feet."
Rabble, indeed!–why these are the noble and free citizens of Epidaphne!
Beasts, did you say?–take care that you are not overheard. Do you not
perceive that the animal has the visage of a man? Why, my dear sir, that
cameleopard is no other than Antiochus Epiphanes, Antiochus the Illustrious,
King of Syria, and the most potent of all the autocrats of the East! It is
true, that he is entitled, at times, Antiochus Epimanes–Antiochus the
madman–but that is because all people have not the capacity to appreciate
his merits. It is also certain that he is at present ensconced in the hide
of a beast, and is doing his best to play the part of a cameleopard; but
this is done for the better sustaining his dignity as king. Besides, the
monarch is of gigantic stature, and the dress is therefore neither
unbecoming nor over large. We may, however, presume he would not have
adopted it but for some occasion of especial state. Such, you will allow, is
the massacre of a thousand Jews. With how superior a dignity the monarch
perambulates on all fours! His tail, you perceive, is held aloft by his two
principal concubines, Elline and Argelais; and his whole appearance would be
infinitely prepossessing, were it not for the protuberance of his eyes,
which will certainly start out of his head, and the queer color of his face,
which has become nondescript from the quantity of wine he has swallowed. Let
us follow him to the hippodrome, whither he is proceeding, and listen to the
song of triumph which he is commencing:
Who is king but Epiphanes?
Say–do you know?
Who is king but
Epiphanes?
Bravo!–bravo!
There is none but Epiphanes,
No–there is
none:
So tear down the temples,
And put out the sun!
Well and strenuously sung! The populace are hailing him 'Prince of
Poets,' as well as 'Glory of the East,' 'Delight of the Universe,' and 'Most
Remarkable of Cameleopards.' They have encored his effusion, and do you
hear?–he is singing it over again. When he arrives at the hippodrome, he
will be crowned with the poetic wreath, in anticipation of his victory at
the approaching Olympics.
"But, good Jupiter! what is the matter in the crowd behind us?"
Behind us, did you say?–oh! ah!–I perceive. My friend, it is well that
you spoke in time. Let us get into a place of safety as soon as possible.
Here!–let us conceal ourselves in the arch of this aqueduct, and I will
inform you presently of the origin of the commotion. It has turned out as I
have been anticipating. The singular appearance of the cameleopard and the
head of a man, has, it seems, given offence to the notions of propriety
entertained, in general, by the wild animals domesticated in the city. A
mutiny has been the result; and, as is usual upon such occasions, all human
efforts will be of no avail in quelling the mob. Several of the Syrians have
already been devoured; but the general voice of the four-footed patriots
seems to be for eating up the cameleopard. 'The Prince of Poets,' therefore,
is upon his hinder legs, running for his life. His courtiers have left him
in the lurch, and his concubines have followed so excellent an example.
'Delight of the Universe,' thou art in a sad predicament! 'Glory of the
East,' thou art in danger of mastication! Therefore never regard so
piteously thy tail; it will undoubtedly be draggled in the mud, and for this
there is no help. Look not behind thee, then, at its unavoidable
degradation; but take courage, ply thy legs with vigor, and scud for the
hippodrome! Remember that thou art Antiochus Epiphanes. Antiochus the
Illustrious!–also 'Prince of Poets,' 'Glory of the East,' 'Delight of the
Universe,' and 'Most Remarkable of Cameleopards!' Heavens! what a power of
speed thou art displaying! What a capacity for leg-bail thou art developing!
Run, Prince!–Bravo, Epiphanes! Well done, Cameleopard!–Glorious
Antiochus!–He runs!–he leaps!–he flies! Like an arrow from a catapult he
approaches the hippodrome! He leaps!–he shrieks!–he is there! This is well;
for hadst thou, 'Glory of the East,' been half a second longer in reaching
the gates of the Amphitheatre, there is not a bear's cub in Epidaphne that
would not have had a nibble at thy carcase. Let us be off–let us take our
departure!–for we shall find our delicate modern ears unable to endure the
vast uproar which is about to commence in celebration of the king's escape!
Listen! it has already commenced. See!–the whole town is topsy-turvy.
"Surely this is the most populous city of the East! What a wilderness of
people! what a jumble of all ranks and ages! what a multiplicity of sects
and nations! what a variety of costumes! what a Babel of languages! what a
screaming of beasts! what a tinkling of instruments! what a parcel of
philosophers!"
Come let us be off.
"Stay a moment! I see a vast hubbub in the hippodrome; what is the
meaning of it, I beseech you?"
That?–oh, nothing! The noble and free citizens of Epidaphne being, as
they declare, well satisfied of the faith, valor, wisdom, and divinity of
their king, and having, moreover, been eye-witnesses of his late superhuman
agility, do think it no more than their duty to invest his brows (in
addition to the poetic crown) with the wreath of victory in the footrace–a
wreath which it is evident he must obtain at the celebration of the next
Olympiad, and which, therefore, they now give him in advance.
THE END
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