Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett Dunsany

Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett Dunsany
Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett, 18th Baron of Dunsany, was an Irish writer born on July 24, 1878, and is best known for his pioneering work in fantasy literature. His extensive body of work includes over 90 books, encompassing novels, short stories, plays, and essays, with notable titles such as "The Gods of Pegāna" and "The King of Elfland's Daughter." Dunsany's imaginative storytelling and richly crafted mythologies have had a profound influence on later fantasy writers, including H.P. Lovecraft and J.R.R. Tolkien.

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In the morning of his two hundred and fiftieth year Shepperalk the centaur went to the golden coffer, wherein the treasure of the centaurs was, and taking from it the hoarded amulet that his father, Jyshak, in the years of his prime, had hammered from mountain gold and set with opals bartered from the gnomes, he put it upon his wrist, and said no word, but walked from his mother's cavern. And he... more...

Being convinced that his end was nearly come, and having lived long on earth (and all those years in Spain, in the golden time), the Lord of the Valleys of Arguento Harez, whose heights see not Valladolid, called for his eldest son. And so he addressed him when he was come to his chamber, dim with its strange red hangings and august with the splendour of Spain: "O eldest son of mine, your younger... more...

POLTARNEES, BEHOLDER OF OCEAN Toldees, Mondath, Arizim, these are the Inner Lands, the lands whose sentinels upon their borders do not behold the sea. Beyond them to the east there lies a desert, for ever untroubled by man: all yellow it is, and spotted with shadows of stones, and Death is in it, like a leopard lying in the sun. To the south they are bounded by magic, to the west by a mountain, and to... more...

CHARON Charon leaned forward and rowed. All things were one with his weariness. It was not with him a matter of years or of centuries, but of wide floods of time, and an old heaviness and a pain in the arms that had become for him part of the scheme that the gods had made and was of a piece with Eternity. If the gods had even sent him a contrary wind it would have divided all time in his memory into... more...

Act I Time: About the time of the decadence in Babylon. Scene: The jungle city of Thek in the reign of King Karnos. Tharmia: You know that my lineage is almost divine. Arolind: My father's sword was so terrible that he had to hide it with a cloak. Tharmia: He probably did that because there were no jewels in the scabbard. Arolind: There were emeralds in it that outstared the sea. * * * * * * * *... more...

When MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI had made the gods and Skarl, Skarl made a drum, and began to beat upon it that he might drum for ever. Then because he was weary after the making of the gods, and because of the drumming of Skarl, did MANA-YOOD-SUSHAI grow drowsy and fall asleep. And there fell a hush upon the gods when they saw that MANA rested, and there was silence on Pegana save for the drumming of Skarl.... more...

A Dirge Of Victory (Sonnet) Lift not thy trumpet, Victory, to the sky,  Nor through battalions nor by batteries blow,  But over hollows full of old wire go,Where among dregs of war the long-dead lieWith wasted iron that the guns passed by.  When they went eastwards like a tide at flow;  There blow thy trumpet that the dead may know,Who waited for thy coming, Victory. It is not we that have... more...

A Tale of London "Come," said the Sultan to his hasheesh-eater in the very furthest lands that know Bagdad, "dream to me now of London." And the hasheesh-eater made a low obeisance and seated himself cross-legged upon a purple cushion broidered with golden poppies, on the floor, beside an ivory bowl where the hasheesh was, and having eaten liberally of the hasheesh blinked seven times... more...

ACT I SCENE 1 A small railway station near London. Time: Ten years ago. BERT'Ow goes it, Bill? BILLGoes it? 'Ow d'yer think it goes? BERTI don't know, Bill. 'Ow is it? BILLBloody. BERTWhy? What's wrong? BILLWrong? Nothing ain't wrong. BERTWhat's up then? BILLNothing ain't right. BERTWhy, wot's the worry? BILLWot's the worry? They don't give... more...

The Sword of Welleran Where the great plain of Tarphet runs up, as the sea in estuaries, among the Cyresian mountains, there stood long since the city of Merimna well-nigh among the shadows of the crags. I have never seen a city in the world so beautiful as Merimna seemed to me when first I dreamed of it. It was a marvel of spires and figures of bronze, and marble fountains, and trophies of fabulous... more...

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