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- Говард Лавкрафт
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I
know
not
why
my
dreams
were
so
wild
that
night
;
but
ere
the
waning
and
fantastically
gibbous
moon
had
risen
far
above
the
eastern
plain
,
I
was
awake
in
a
cold
perspiration
,
determined
to
sleep
no
more
.
Such
visions
as
I
had
experienced
were
too
much
for
me
to
endure
again
.
And
in
the
glow
of
the
moon
I
saw
how
unwise
I
had
been
to
travel
by
day
.
Without
the
glare
of
the
parching
sun
,
my
journey
would
have
cost
me
less
energy
;
indeed
,
I
now
felt
quite
able
to
perform
the
ascent
which
had
deterred
me
at
sunset
.
Picking
up
my
pack
,
I
started
for
the
crest
of
the
eminence
.
I
have
said
that
the
unbroken
monotony
of
the
rolling
plain
was
a
source
of
vague
horror
to
me
;
but
I
think
my
horror
was
greater
when
I
gained
the
summit
of
the
mound
and
looked
down
the
other
side
into
an
immeasurable
pit
or
canyon
,
whose
black
recesses
the
moon
had
not
yet
soared
high
enough
to
illumine
.
I
felt
myself
on
the
edge
of
the
world
,
peering
over
the
rim
into
a
fathomless
chaos
of
eternal
night
.
Through
my
terror
ran
curious
reminiscences
of
Paradise
Lost
,
and
Satan
’
s
hideous
climb
through
the
unfashioned
realms
of
darkness
.
As
the
moon
climbed
higher
in
the
sky
,
I
began
to
see
that
the
slopes
of
the
valley
were
not
quite
so
perpendicular
as
I
had
imagined
.
Ledges
and
outcroppings
of
rock
afforded
fairly
easy
footholds
for
a
descent
,
whilst
after
a
drop
of
a
few
hundred
feet
,
the
declivity
became
very
gradual
.
Urged
on
by
an
impulse
which
I
cannot
definitely
analyse
,
I
scrambled
with
difficulty
down
the
rocks
and
stood
on
the
gentler
slope
beneath
,
gazing
into
the
Stygian
deeps
where
no
light
had
yet
penetrated
.
.
All
at
once
my
attention
was
captured
by
a
vast
and
singular
object
on
the
opposite
slope
,
which
rose
steeply
about
a
hundred
yards
ahead
of
me
;
an
object
that
gleamed
whitely
in
the
newly
bestowed
rays
of
the
ascending
moon
.
That
it
was
merely
a
gigantic
piece
of
stone
,
I
soon
assured
myself
;
but
I
was
conscious
of
a
distinct
impression
that
its
contour
and
position
were
not
altogether
the
work
of
Nature
.
A
closer
scrutiny
filled
me
with
sensations
I
cannot
express
;
for
despite
its
enormous
magnitude
,
and
its
position
in
an
abyss
which
had
yawned
at
the
bottom
of
the
sea
since
the
world
was
young
,
I
perceived
beyond
a
doubt
that
the
strange
object
was
a
well
-
shaped
monolith
whose
massive
bulk
had
known
the
workmanship
and
perhaps
the
worship
of
living
and
thinking
creatures
.
Dazed
and
frightened
,
yet
not
without
a
certain
thrill
of
the
scientist
’
s
or
archaeologist
’
s
delight
,
I
examined
my
surroundings
more
closely
.
The
moon
,
now
near
the
zenith
,
shone
weirdly
and
vividly
above
the
towering
steeps
that
hemmed
in
the
chasm
,
and
revealed
the
fact
that
a
far
-
flung
body
of
water
flowed
at
the
bottom
,
winding
out
of
sight
in
both
directions
,
and
almost
lapping
my
feet
as
I
stood
on
the
slope
.
Across
the
chasm
,
the
wavelets
washed
the
base
of
the
Cyclopean
monolith
,
on
whose
surface
I
could
now
trace
both
inscriptions
and
crude
sculptures
.
The
writing
was
in
a
system
of
hieroglyphics
unknown
to
me
,
and
unlike
anything
I
had
ever
seen
in
books
,
consisting
for
the
most
part
of
conventionalised
aquatic
symbols
such
as
fishes
,
eels
,
octopi
,
crustaceans
,
molluscs
,
whales
and
the
like
.
Several
characters
obviously
represented
marine
things
which
are
unknown
to
the
modern
world
,
but
whose
decomposing
forms
I
had
observed
on
the
ocean
-
risen
plain
.
It
was
the
pictorial
carving
,
however
,
that
did
most
to
hold
me
spellbound
.
Plainly
visible
across
the
intervening
water
on
account
of
their
enormous
size
was
an
array
of
bas
-
reliefs
whose
subjects
would
have
excited
the
envy
of
a
Dore
.
I
think
that
these
things
were
supposed
to
depict
men
—
at
least
,
a
certain
sort
of
men
;
though
the
creatures
were
shown
disporting
like
fishes
in
the
waters
of
some
marine
grotto
,
or
paying
homage
at
some
monolithic
shrine
which
appeared
to
be
under
the
waves
as
well
.
Of
their
faces
and
forms
I
dare
not
speak
in
detail
,
for
the
mere
remembrance
makes
me
grow
faint
.
Grotesque
beyond
the
imagination
of
a
Poe
or
a
Bulwer
,
they
were
damnably
human
in
general
outline
despite
webbed
hands
and
feet
,
shockingly
wide
and
flabby
lips
,
glassy
,
bulging
eyes
,
and
other
features
less
pleasant
to
recall
.
Curiously
enough
,
they
seemed
to
have
been
chiselled
badly
out
of
proportion
with
their
scenic
background
;
for
one
of
the
creatures
was
shown
in
the
act
of
killing
a
whale
represented
as
but
little
larger
than
himself
.
I
remarked
,
as
I
say
,
their
grotesqueness
and
strange
size
;
but
in
a
moment
decided
that
they
were
merely
the
imaginary
gods
of
some
primitive
fishing
or
seafaring
tribe
;
some
tribe
whose
last
descendant
had
perished
eras
before
the
first
ancestor
of
the
Piltdown
or
Neanderthal
Man
was
born
.
Awestruck
at
this
unexpected
glimpse
into
a
past
beyond
the
conception
of
the
most
daring
anthropologist
,
I
stood
musing
whilst
the
moon
cast
queer
reflections
on
the
silent
channel
before
me
.
Then
suddenly
I
saw
it
.
With
only
a
slight
churning
to
mark
its
rise
to
the
surface
,
the
thing
slid
into
view
above
the
dark
waters
.
Vast
,
Polyphemus
-
like
,
and
loathsome
,
it
darted
like
a
stupendous
monster
of
nightmares
to
the
monolith
,
about
which
it
flung
its
gigantic
scaly
arms
,
the
while
it
bowed
its
hideous
head
and
gave
vent
to
certain
measured
sounds
.
I
think
I
went
mad
then
.
Of
my
frantic
ascent
of
the
slope
and
cliff
,
and
of
my
delirious
journey
back
to
the
stranded
boat
,
I
remember
little
.
I
believe
I
sang
a
great
deal
,
and
laughed
oddly
when
I
was
unable
to
sing
.
I
have
indistinct
recollections
of
a
great
storm
some
time
after
I
reached
the
boat
;
at
any
rate
,
I
knew
that
I
heard
peals
of
thunder
and
other
tones
which
Nature
utters
only
in
her
wildest
moods
.
When
I
came
out
of
the
shadows
I
was
in
a
San
Francisco
hospital
;
brought
thither
by
the
captain
of
the
American
ship
which
had
picked
up
my
boat
in
mid
-
ocean
.
In
my
delirium
I
had
said
much
,
but
found
that
my
words
had
been
given
scant
attention
.
