Nathicana
From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki
Title: Nathicana
Author: H.P.Lovecraft
It was in the pale garden of Zais; The mist-shrouded gardens of Zais, Where blossoms the white nephalot, The redolent herald of midnight. There slumber the still lakes of crystal, And streamlets that flow without Murm'ring; Smooth streamlets from caverns of Kathos Where broodth the calm spirits of twilight. And over the lakes and the streamlets Are bridges of pure alabaster, White bridges all cunningly carven With figures of fairies and daemons. Here glimmer strange suns and strange planets, And strange is the cresent Banapis That sets 'yond the the ivy-grown ramparts Where thicken the dusk of the evening.And here in the swirl of the vapours I saw the divine Nathicana; the garlanded, white Nathicana;The slender,black-hair'd Nathicana;The sloe-eyed, red-lipped Nathicana; the silver-voiced,sweet Nathicana;The pale-rob'd, belov'd Nathicana.And ever was she my beloved,From ages when time was un- fashioned;From days when the stars were not fashioned Nor anything fashion'd but Yabon. And here dwelt we ever and ever,The innocent children of Zais,At peace in the paths and the arbours,White-crowned with the blest nephalote. How oft would we float in the twilight O'er flow'r cover'd pastures and hillsides All white with the lowly astalthon; the lowly yet lovely astalthon,And dream in a world made of dreaming The dreams that are fairer that Aidenn; Bright dreams that are truer than reason! So dreamed and so lov'd we thro' ages,Till came the cursed season of Dzannin; The daemon-damn'd season of Dzannin;When red shone the suns and the planets,And red gleamed the cresent Banapis,And red fell the vapours of Yabon. Then redden'd the blossoms and streamlets And lakes that lay under the bridges,And even the calm alabaster Glowed pink with uncanny re- flections Till all the carv'd fairies and daemons Leer'd redly from back- grounds of shadow.Now redden'd my vision, and madly I strove to peer thro' the dense curtain And glimpsed the devine Nathicana;The pure, ever -pale Nathicana;The lov'd, the unchang'd Nathicana. But the vortex on vortex of madness Beclouded my labouring vision;My damnable,reddening vision Tha built a new world for my seeing;A new world of redness and darkness,A horrible coma called living. So now in this coma call'd living I view the bright phantoms of beauty;The false,hollow phantoms of beauty That cloak all the evils of Dzannin. I veiw them with infinite longing,So like they do seem to my lov'd one:Yet foul from their eyes shines their evil; Their cruel and pitless evil,More evil than Thaphron or Latgoz,Twice ill for its gorgeous concealment. And only in slumbers of midnight Appears the lost maid Nathicana,The pallid, the pure Nathicana Who fades at the glance of the dreamer.Again and again do I seek her;I woo with deep draughts of Plathotis,Deep draughts brew'd in wine of Astarte And strenthen'd with tears of long weeping.I yearn for the gardens of Zais;The lovely,lost gardens of Zais Where blossoms the white neph -alot,The redolent herald of midnight.The last potent draught am I brewing;A draught that the daemons delight in;A draught that will banish the redness;The horrible coma call'd living.Soon,soon if I fail not in brewing, The redness and madness will vanish,And deep in the worm-peopl'd darkness Will rot the base chains that have bound me.Once more shall the gardens of Zais Dawn white on my long-tortur'd vision,And there midst the vapours of Yabon Will stand the divine Nathicana; The deathless,restor'd Nathicana Whose like is not met with in living.