Yoomy

“ Rapidly crossing this place, Yoomy's hands to his ears, old Mohi's to his nostrils, and Babbalanja vainly trying to walk with closed eyes, we toiled among steep, flinty rocks, along a wild, zigzag pathway; like a mule-track in the Andes, not so much onward as upward; Yoomy above Babbalanja, my lord Media above him, and Braid-Beard, our guide, in the air, above all. ”

“ The vicious would be vicious without them.”
“My lord Media,” impetuously resumed Yoomy, “I am sensible of a thousand sweet, merry fancies, limpid with innocence; yet my enemies account them all lewd conceits.”
“There be those in Mardi,” said Babbalanja, “who would never ascribe evil to others, did they not find it in their own hearts; believing none can be different from themselves.”
“My lord, my lord!” cried Yoomy. “The air that breathes my music from me is a mountain air! Purer than others am I; for though not a woman, I feel in me a woman’s soul.” ”

“ In all things, man's own battles, man himself must fight. Yoomy: so far as feeling goes, your sympathies are not more hot than mine; but for these serfs you would cross spears; yet, I would not. Better present woes for some, than future woes for all."
"No need to fight," cried Yoomy, "to liberate that tribe of Hamo instantly; a way may be found, and no irretrievable evil ensue."
"Point it out, and be blessed, Yoomy."
"That is for Vivenza; but the head is dull, where the heart is cold." ”

“ The morrow came; and three abreast, with snorting prows, we raced along; our mat-sails panting to the breeze. All present partook of the life of the air; and unanimously Yoomy was called upon for a song. The canoes were passing a long, white reef, sparkling with shells, like a jeweler's case: and thus Yoomy sang in the same old strain as of yore ”

“ Then, whate'er they be, let us show our worlds; and not seek to hide from men, what Oro knows."
"Truth, my lord," said Yoomy, "but all this applies to men in mass; not specially, to my poor craft. Of all mortals, we poets are most subject to contrary moods. Now, heaven over heaven in the skies; now layer under layer in the dust. This, the penalty we pay for being what we are. But Mardi only sees, or thinks it sees, the tokens of our self-complacency: whereas, all our agonies operate unseen. Poets are only seen when they soar." ”

“ While full of these thoughts, Media interrupted them by saying, that the minstrel was about to begin one of his chants, a thing of his own composing; and therefore, as he himself said, all critics must be lenient; for Yoomy, at times, not always, was a timid youth, distrustful of his own sweet genius for poesy.
The words were about a curious hereafter, believed in by some people in Mardi: a sort of nocturnal Paradise, where the sun and its heat are excluded: one long, lunar day, with twinkling stars to keep company. ”

“ Fishes rippled, and canaries sung.
“Let us break through, my lord,” said Yoomy, “and seek the shore. Its solitudes must prove reviving.” “Solitudes they are,” cried Mohi.
“Peopled but not enlivened,” said Babbalanja. “Hard landing here, minstrel! see you not the isle is hedged?”
“Why, break through, then,” said Media. “Yillah is not here.”
“I mistrusted it,” sighed Yoomy; “an imprisoned island! full of uncomplaining woes: like many others we must have glided by, unheedingly. Yet of them have I heard. ”

“ And in the golden haven ride!
“Quick, quick, my lord,” cried Yoomy, “let us follow them; and from the golden waters where she lies, our Yillah may emerge.”
“No, no,” said Babbalanja,—“no Yillah there!—from yonder promised-land, fewer seekers will return, than go. Under a gilded guise, happiness is still their instinctive aim. But vain, Yoomy, to snatch at Happiness. Of that we may not pluck and eat. It is the fruit of our own toilsome planting; slow it grows, nourished by many teats, and all our earnest tendings. Yet ere it ripen, frosts may nip;—and then, we plant again ”

“ In heavy sighs, the night-winds from shore came over us.
“Ah, vain to seek sweet Yillah here,” cried Yoomy.—“Poor land! curst of man, not Oro! how thou faintest for thy children, torn from thy soil, to till a stranger’s. Vivenza! did these winds not spend their plaints, ere reaching thee, thy every vale would echo them. Oh, tribe of Hamo! thy cup of woe so brims, that soon it must overflow upon the land which holds ye thralls. No misery born of crime, but spreads and poisons wide. Suffering hunteth sin, as the gaunt hound the hare, and tears it in the greenest brakes.” ”

“ Said Yoomy, in reply, adjusting his turban, "Old Mohi, let us not clash. I honor your calling; but, with submission, your chronicles are more wild than my cantos. I deal in pure conceits of my own; which have a shapeliness and a unity, however unsubstantial; but you, Braid-Beard, deal in mangled realities. In all your chapters, you yourself grope in the dark. Much truth is not in thee, historian. Besides, Mohi: my songs perpetuate many things which you sage scribes entirely overlook. ”

“ Gracing us, two buried in the ground, but from Taji’s arm, the third drew blood.
On all sides round we turned; but none were seen. “Still the avengers follow,” said Babbalanja.
“Lo! the damsels three!” cried Yoomy. “Look where they come!”
We joined them by the sumach-wood’s red skirts; and there, they waved their cherry stalks, and heavy bloated cactus leaves, their crimson blossoms armed with nettles; and before us flung shining, yellow, tiger-flowers spotted red.
“Blood!” cried Yoomy, starting, “and leopards on your track!” ”

“ Yoomy buoying Mohi up, and the salt waves dashing the tears from his pallid face, as through the scud, he turned it on me mournfully.
“Now, I am my own soul’s emperor; and my first act is abdication! Hail! realm of shades!”—and turning my prow into the racing tide, which seized me like a hand omnipotent, I darted through.
Churned in foam, that outer ocean lashed the clouds; and straight in my white wake, headlong dashed a shallop, three fixed specters leaning o’er its prow: three arrows poising.
And thus, pursuers and pursued flew on, over an endless sea. ”

“ Fame has dropped more rolls than she displays; and there are more lost chronicles, than the perished books of the historian Livella.' But what is lost forever, my lord, is nothing to what is now unseen. There are more treasures in the bowels of the earth, than on its surface."
"Ah! no gold," cried Yoomy, "but that comes from dark mines."
Said Babbalanja, "Bear witness, ye gods! cries fervent old Bardianna, that besides disclosures of good and evil undreamed of now, there will be other, and more astounding revelations hereafter, of what has passed in Mardi unbeheld." ”

“ Said Yoomy, "Sad your path, but merry Hautia's."
"Then merry may she be, whoe'er she is; and though woe be mine, I turn not from that to Hautia; nor ever will I woo her, though she woo me till I die;—though Yillah never bless my eyes." ”

“ Here Yoomy once more was mute.
"Pause you to invent as you go on?" said old Mohi, elevating his chin, till his beard was horizontal.
Yoomy resumed.
"Little or nothing more, my masters, is extant of the legend; only it must be mentioned, that these little people were very tasteful in their personal adornings; the manikins wearing girdles of fragrant leaves, and necklaces of aromatic seeds; and the little damsels, not content with their vines, and their verdure, sporting pearls in their ears; bracelets of wee little porpoise teeth ”

“ But childhood reeks of no future, and knows no past; hence, its present passes in a vapor.”
“Mohi, how’s your appetite this morning?” said Media.
“Thus, thus, ye gods,” sighed Yoomy, “is feeling ever scouted. Yet, what might seem feeling in me, I can not express.”
“A good commentary on old Bardianna, Yoomy,” said Babbalanja, “who somewhere says, that no Mardian can out with his heart, for his unyielding ribs are in the way. And indeed, pride, or something akin thereto, often holds check on sentiment. My lord, there are those who like not to be detected in the possession of a heart.” ”

“ Yoomy has invented."
"But perhaps he has entertained, old Mohi," said Babbalanja.
"He has not spoken the truth," persisted the chronicler.
"Mohi," said Babbalanja, "truth is in things, and not in words: truth is voiceless; so at least saith old Bardianna. And I, Babbalanja, assert, that what are vulgarly called fictions are as much realities as the gross mattock of Dididi, the digger of trenches; for things visible are but conceits of the eye: things imaginative, conceits of the fancy. If duped by one, we are equally duped by the other."
"Clear as this water," said Yoomy. ”

“ But hoot! hoot! the night-owl ranges through the woodlands of Maramma; its dismal notes pervade our lives; and when we would fain depart in peace, that bird flies on before:— cloud-like, eclipsing our setting suns, and filling the air with dolor."
"Too true!" cried Yoomy. "Our calms must come by storms. Like helmless vessels, tempest-tossed, our only anchorage is when we founder."
"Our beginnings," murmured Mohi, "are lost in clouds; we live in darkness all our days, and perish without an end." ”

“ Yoomy, like me, you sway a scepter.”
“Thou honorest my calling overmuch,” said Yoomy, we minstrels but sing our lays carelessly, my lord Media.”
“Ay: and the more mischief they make.”
“But sometimes we poets are didactic.”
“Didactic and dull; many of ye are but too apt to be prosy unless mischievous.”
“Yet in our verses, my lord Media, but few of us purpose harm.”
“But when all harmless to yourselves, ye may be otherwise to Mardi.”
“And are not foul streams often traced to pure fountains, my lord?” said Babbalanja. “The essence of all good and all evil is in us, not out of us. ”

“ Yet, alas! too often do I swing from these moorings."
"Alas! his fit is coming upon him again," whispered Yoomy.
"Why, Babbalanja," said Media, "I almost pity you. You are too warm, too warm. Why fever your soul with these things? To no use you mortals wax earnest. No thanks, but curses, will you get for your earnestness. You yourself you harm most. Why not take creeds as they come? It is not so hard to be persuaded; never mind about believing."
"True, my lord; not very hard; no act is required; only passiveness. Stand still and receive. Faith is to the thoughtless, doubts to the thinker." ”

“ Your soliloquists, Yoomy, are mostly herons and owls."
Said Babbalanja, "Very clever, my lord; but think you not, there are men eloquent, who never babble in the marketplace?"
"Ay, and arrant babblers at home. In few words, Babbalanja, you espouse a bad cause. Most of you mortals are peacocks; some having tails, and some not; those who have them will be sure to thrust their plumes in your face; for the rest, they will display their bald cruppers, and still screech for admiration. But when a great genius is born into Mardi, he nods, and is known." ”

“ In this dismal seclusion, silently the hermit confronted the minstrel; his gray hair, eyes, and beard all gleaming, as if streaked with phosphorus; while his ghastly gorget grinned hideously, with all its jaws.
Mutely Yoomy waited to be addressed; but hearing no sound, and becoming alive to the strangeness of his situation, he meditated whether it would not be well to subside out of sight, even as he had come—through the floor. An intention which the eremite must have anticipated; for of a sudden, something was slid over the opening ”

“ Love and Alma now prevail. I see with other eyes:—Are these my hands? What wild, wild dreams were mine;—I have been mad. Some things there are, we must not think of. Beyond one obvious mark, all human lore is vain. Where have I lived till now? Had dark Maramma’s zealot tribe but murmured to me as this old man, long since had I, been wise! Reason no longer domineers; but still doth speak. All I have said ere this, that wars with Alma’s precepts, I here recant. Here I kneel, and own great Oro and his sovereign son.”
“And here another kneels and prays,” cried Yoomy. ”

“ Be not offended, my lord. To the nobly ambitious, renown hereafter may be something to anticipate. But analyzed, that feverish typhoid feeling of theirs may be nothing more than a flickering fancy, that now, while living, they are recognized as those who will be as famous in their shrouds, as in their girdles."
Said Yoomy, "But those great and good deeds, Babbalanja, of which the philosophers so often discourse: must it not be sweet to believe that their memory will long survive us; and we ourselves in them?" ”

“ No sooner did we emerge from the defile, than we became sensible of a dull, jarring sound; and Yoomy was almost tempted to turn and flee, when informed that the sea-cavern, whose mouth we had passed, was believed to penetrate deep into the opposite hills; and that the surface of the amphitheater was depressed beneath that of the lagoon. But all over the lowermost hillsides, and sloping into the glen, stood grand old groves; still and stately, as if no insolent waves were throbbing in the mountain's heart.
Such was Willamilla, the hereditary abode of the young monarch of Juam. ”

“ Traitor, I'll stand by this to the last gasp, you are inebriated, Babbalanja."
"Perhaps so, my lord; but I was treating of the imagination, may it please you."
"My lord," added Mohi, "of the unical, and rudimental fundament of things, you remember."
"Ah! there's none of them sober; proceed, proceed, Azzageddi!"
"My lord waves his hand like a banner," murmured Yoomy.
"Without imagination, I say, an armless man, born, blind, could not be made to believe, that he had a head of hair, since he could neither see it, nor feel it, nor has hair any feeling of itself." ”