The Worm Ouroboros

E.R. Eddison
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Title: The Worm Ouroboros Author: E. R. Eddison * A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: 0602051.txt Edition: 1 Language: English Character set encoding: Latin-1(ISO-8859-1)--8 bit Date first posted: June 2006 Date most recently updated: June 2006
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Title: The Worm Ouroboros Author: E. R. Eddison

CONTENTS:
THE INDUCTION I The Castle of Lord Juss II The Wrastling for Demonland III The Red Foliot IV Conjuring in the Iron Tower V King Gorice's Sending VI The Claws of Witchland VII Guests of the King in Carc? VIII The First Expedition to Impland IX Salapanta Hills X The Marchlands of the Moruna XI The Burg of Eshgrar Ogo XII Koshtra Pivrarcha XIII Koshtra Belorn XIV The Lake of Ravary XV Queen Prezmyra XVI The Lady Sriva's Embassage XVII The King Flies His Haggard XVIII The Murther of Gallandus by Corsus XIX Thremnir's Heugh XX King Corinius XXI The Parley Before Krothering XXII Aurwath and Switchwater XXIII The Weird Begun of Ishnain Nemartra XXIV A King in Krothering XXV Lord Gro and the Lady Mevrian XXVI The Battle of Krothering Side XXVII The Second Expedition to Impland XXVIII Zora Rach Nam Psarrion XXIX The Fleet at Muelva XXX Tidings of Melikaphkhaz XXXI The Demons Before Carc? XXXII The Latter End of All the Lords of Witchland XXXIII Queen Sophonisba in Galing ARGUMENT: WITH DATES BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES ON THE VERSES

To W.G.E. and to my friends K.H. and G.C.L.M. I dedicate this book It is neither allegory nor fable but a Story to be read for its own sake.
The proper names I have tried to spell simply. The e in Carc? is long, like that in Phryne, the o in Krothering short and the accent on that syllable: Corund is accented on the first syllable, Prezmyra on the second, Brandoch Daha on the first and fourth, Gorice on the last syllable, rhyming with thrice: Corinius rhymes with Flaminius, Galing with sailing, La Fireez with desire ease: ch is always guttural, as in loch.
E.R.E. 9th January 1922

THE INDUCTION
THERE was a man named Lessingham dwelt in an old low house in Wasdale, set in a gray old garden where yew-trees flourished that had seen Vikings in Copeland in their seedling time. Lily and rose and larkspur bloomed in the borders, and begonias with blossoms big as saucers, red and white and pink and lemon-colour, in the beds before the porch. Climbing roses, honeysuckle, clematis, and the scarlet flame-flower scrambled up the walls. Thick woods were on every side without the garden, with a gap north-eastward opening on the desolate lake and the great fells beyond it: Gable rearing his crag-bound head against the sky from behind the straight clean outline of the Screes.
Cool long shadows stole across the tennis lawn. The air was golden. Doves murmured in the trees; two chaffinches played on the near post of the net; a little water-wagtail scurried along the path. A French window stood open to the garden, showing darkly a dining-room panelled with old oak, its Jacobean table bright with flowers and silver and cut glass and Wedgwood dishes heaped with fruit: greengages, peaches, and green muscat grapes. Lessingham lay back in a hammock-chair watching through the blue smoke of an after-dinner cigar the warm light on the Gloire de Dijon roses that clustered about the bedroom window overhead. He had her hand in his. This was their House.
"Should we finish that chapter of Njal?" she said.
She took the heavy volume with its faded green cover, and read: "He went out on the night of the Lord's day, when nine weeks were still to winter; he heard a great crash, so that he thought both heaven and earth shook. Then he looked into the west airt, and he thought he saw thereabouts a ring of fiery hue, and within the ring a man on a gray horse. He passed quickly by him, and rode hard. He had a flaming firebrand in his hand, and he rode so close to him that he could see him plainly. He was black as pitch, and he sung this song with a mighty voice--"
Here I ride swift steed. His flank flecked with
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