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- Генри Хаггард
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- Копи царя Соломона
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- Стр. 103/166
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The
moonlight
flickering
along
their
spears
,
played
upon
their
features
and
made
them
ghastly
;
the
chilly
night
wind
tossed
their
tall
and
hearse-like
plumes
.
There
they
lay
in
wild
confusion
,
with
arms
outstretched
and
twisted
limbs
;
their
stern
,
stalwart
forms
looking
weird
and
unhuman
in
the
moonlight
.
"
How
many
of
these
do
you
suppose
will
be
alive
at
this
time
tomorrow
?
"
asked
Sir
Henry
.
I
shook
my
head
and
looked
again
at
the
sleeping
men
,
and
to
my
tired
and
yet
excited
imagination
it
seemed
as
though
Death
had
already
touched
them
.
My
mind
's
eye
singled
out
those
who
were
sealed
to
slaughter
,
and
there
rushed
in
upon
my
heart
a
great
sense
of
the
mystery
of
human
life
,
and
an
overwhelming
sorrow
at
its
futility
and
sadness
.
To-night
these
thousand
slept
their
healthy
sleep
,
tomorrow
they
,
and
many
others
with
them
,
ourselves
perhaps
among
them
,
would
be
stiffening
in
the
cold
;
their
wives
would
be
widows
,
their
children
fatherless
,
and
their
place
know
them
no
more
for
ever
.
Only
the
old
moon
would
shine
on
serenely
,
the
night
wind
would
stir
the
grasses
,
and
the
wide
earth
would
take
its
rest
,
even
as
it
did
æons
before
we
were
,
and
will
do
æons
after
we
have
been
forgotten
.
Yet
man
dies
not
whilst
the
world
,
at
once
his
mother
and
his
monument
,
remains
.
His
name
is
lost
,
indeed
,
but
the
breath
he
breathed
still
stirs
the
pine-tops
on
the
mountains
,
the
sound
of
the
words
he
spoke
yet
echoes
on
through
space
;
the
thoughts
his
brain
gave
birth
to
we
have
inherited
today
;
his
passions
are
our
cause
of
life
;
the
joys
and
sorrows
that
he
knew
are
our
familiar
friends
--
the
end
from
which
he
fled
aghast
will
surely
overtake
us
also
!
Truly
the
universe
is
full
of
ghosts
,
not
sheeted
churchyard
spectres
,
but
the
inextinguishable
elements
of
individual
life
,
which
having
once
been
,
can
never
die
,
though
they
blend
and
change
,
and
change
again
for
ever
.
All
sorts
of
reflections
of
this
nature
passed
through
my
mind
--
for
as
I
grow
older
I
regret
to
say
that
a
detestable
habit
of
thinking
seems
to
be
getting
a
hold
of
me
--
while
I
stood
and
stared
at
those
grim
yet
fantastic
lines
of
warriors
,
sleeping
,
as
their
saying
goes
,
"
upon
their
spears
.
"
"
Curtis
,
"
I
said
,
"
I
am
in
a
condition
of
pitiable
fear
.
"
Sir
Henry
stroked
his
yellow
beard
and
laughed
,
as
he
answered
--
"
I
have
heard
you
make
that
sort
of
remark
before
,
Quatermain
.
"
"
Well
,
I
mean
it
now
.
Do
you
know
,
I
very
much
doubt
if
one
of
us
will
be
alive
tomorrow
night
.
We
shall
be
attacked
in
overwhelming
force
,
and
it
is
quite
a
chance
if
we
can
hold
this
place
.
"
