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The White Ship
I
am
Basil
Elton
,
keeper
of
the
North
Point
light
that
my
father
and
grandfather
kept
before
me
.
Far
from
the
shore
stands
the
gray
lighthouse
,
above
sunken
slimy
rocks
that
are
seen
when
the
tide
is
low
,
but
unseen
when
the
tide
is
high
.
Past
that
beacon
for
a
century
have
swept
the
majestic
barques
of
the
seven
seas
.
In
the
days
of
my
grandfather
there
were
many
;
in
the
days
of
my
father
not
so
many
;
and
now
there
are
so
few
that
I
sometimes
feel
strangely
alone
,
as
though
I
were
the
last
man
on
our
planet
.
From
far
shores
came
those
white-sailed
argosies
of
old
;
from
far
Eastern
shores
where
warm
suns
shine
and
sweet
odors
linger
about
strange
gardens
and
gay
temples
.
The
old
captains
of
the
sea
came
often
to
my
grandfather
and
told
him
of
these
things
which
in
turn
he
told
to
my
father
,
and
my
father
told
to
me
in
the
long
autumn
evenings
when
the
wind
howled
eerily
from
the
East
.
And
I
have
read
more
of
these
things
,
and
of
many
things
besides
,
in
the
books
men
gave
me
when
I
was
young
and
filled
with
wonder
.
But
more
wonderful
than
the
lore
of
old
men
and
the
lore
of
books
is
the
secret
lore
of
ocean
.
Blue
,
green
,
gray
,
white
or
black
;
smooth
,
ruffled
,
or
mountainous
;
that
ocean
is
not
silent
.
All
my
days
have
I
watched
it
and
listened
to
it
,
and
I
know
it
well
.
At
first
it
told
to
me
only
the
plain
little
tales
of
calm
beaches
and
near
ports
,
but
with
the
years
it
grew
more
friendly
and
spoke
of
other
things
;
of
things
more
strange
and
more
distant
in
space
and
time
.
Sometimes
at
twilight
the
gray
vapors
of
the
horizon
have
parted
to
grant
me
glimpses
of
the
ways
beyond
;
and
sometimes
at
night
the
deep
waters
of
the
sea
have
grown
clear
and
phosphorescent
,
to
grant
me
glimpses
of
the
ways
beneath
.
And
these
glimpses
have
been
as
often
of
the
ways
that
were
and
the
ways
that
might
be
,
as
of
the
ways
that
are
;
for
ocean
is
more
ancient
than
the
mountains
,
and
freighted
with
the
memories
and
the
dreams
of
Time
.
Out
of
the
South
it
was
that
the
White
Ship
used
to
come
when
the
moon
was
full
and
high
in
the
heavens
.
Out
of
the
South
it
would
glide
very
smoothly
and
silently
over
the
sea
.
And
whether
the
sea
was
rough
or
calm
,
and
whether
the
wind
was
friendly
or
adverse
,
it
would
always
glide
smoothly
and
silently
,
its
sails
distant
and
its
long
strange
tiers
of
oars
moving
rhythmically
.
One
night
I
espied
upon
the
deck
a
man
,
bearded
and
robed
,
and
he
seemed
to
beckon
me
to
embark
for
far
unknown
shores
.
Many
times
afterward
I
saw
him
under
the
full
moon
,
and
ever
did
he
beckon
me
.
Very
brightly
did
the
moon
shine
on
the
night
I
answered
the
call
,
and
I
walked
out
over
the
waters
to
the
White
Ship
on
a
bridge
of
moonbeams
.
The
man
who
had
beckoned
now
spoke
a
welcome
to
me
in
a
soft
language
I
seemed
to
know
well
,
and
the
hours
were
filled
with
soft
songs
of
the
oarsmen
as
we
glided
away
into
a
mysterious
South
,
golden
with
the
glow
of
that
full
,
mellow
moon
.
And
when
the
day
dawned
,
rosy
and
effulgent
,
I
beheld
the
green
shore
of
far
lands
,
bright
and
beautiful
,
and
to
me
unknown
.
Up
from
the
sea
rose
lordly
terraces
of
verdure
,
tree-studded
,
and
shewing
here
and
there
the
gleaming
white
roofs
and
colonnades
of
strange
temples
.
As
we
drew
nearer
the
green
shore
the
bearded
man
told
me
of
that
land
,
the
land
of
Zar
,
where
dwell
all
the
dreams
and
thoughts
of
beauty
that
come
to
men
once
and
then
are
forgotten
.
And
when
I
looked
upon
the
terraces
again
I
saw
that
what
he
said
was
true
,
for
among
the
sights
before
me
were
many
things
I
had
once
seen
through
the
mists
beyond
the
horizon
and
in
the
phosphorescent
depths
of
ocean
.
There
too
were
forms
and
fantasies
more
splendid
than
any
I
had
ever
known
;
the
visions
of
young
poets
who
died
in
want
before
the
world
could
learn
of
what
they
had
seen
and
dreamed
.
But
we
did
not
set
foot
upon
the
sloping
meadows
of
Zar
,
for
it
is
told
that
he
who
treads
them
may
nevermore
return
to
his
native
shore
.
As
the
White
Ship
sailed
silently
away
from
the
templed
terraces
of
Zar
,
we
beheld
on
the
distant
horizon
ahead
the
spires
of
a
mighty
city
;
and
the
bearded
man
said
to
me
,
"
This
is
Thalarion
,
the
City
of
a
Thousand
Wonders
,
wherein
reside
all
those
mysteries
that
man
has
striven
in
vain
to
fathom
.
"
And
I
looked
again
,
at
closer
range
,
and
saw
that
the
city
was
greater
than
any
city
I
had
known
or
dreamed
of
before
.
Into
the
sky
the
spires
of
its
temples
reached
,
so
that
no
man
might
behold
their
peaks
;
and
far
back
beyond
the
horizon
stretched
the
grim
,
gray
walls
,
over
which
one
might
spy
only
a
few
roofs
,
weird
and
ominous
,
yet
adorned
with
rich
friezes
and
alluring
sculptures
.
I
yearned
mightily
to
enter
this
fascinating
yet
repellent
city
,
and
besought
the
bearded
man
to
land
me
at
the
stone
pier
by
the
huge
carven
gate
Akariel
;
but
he
gently
denied
my
wish
,
saying
,
"
Into
Thalarion
,
the
City
of
a
Thousand
Wonders
,
many
have
passed
but
none
returned
.
Therein
walk
only
daemons
and
mad
things
that
are
no
longer
men
,
and
the
streets
are
white
with
the
unburied
bones
of
those
who
have
looked
upon
the
eidolon
Lathi
,
that
reigns
over
the
city
.
"
So
the
White
Ship
sailed
on
past
the
walls
of
Thalarion
,
and
followed
for
many
days
a
southward-flying
bird
,
whose
glossy
plumage
matched
the
sky
out
of
which
it
had
appeared
.
