Chapter 35 - Page 2

one of these festivals.

Be that as it might, their joint majesties determined upon another
one; and also upon our tarrying to behold it. We objected, saying we
must depart.

But we were kindly assured, that our canoes had been dragged out of
the water, and buried in a wood; there to remain till the games were
over.

The day fixed upon, was the third subsequent to our arrival; the
interval being devoted to preparations; summoning from their villages
and valleys the warriors of the land; and publishing the royal
proclamations, whereby the unbounded hospitality of the kings'
household was freely offered to all heroes whatsoever, who for the
love of arms, and the honor of broken heads, desired to cross battle-
clubs, hurl spears, or die game in the royal valley of Deddo.

Meantime, the whole island was in a state of uproarious commotion, and
strangers were daily arriving.

The spot set apart for the festival, was a spacious down, mantled with
white asters; which, waving in windrows, lay upon the land, like the
cream-surf surging the milk of young heifers. But that whiteness, here
and there, was spotted with strawberries; tracking the plain, as if
wounded creatures had been dragging themselves bleeding from some
deadly encounter. All round the down, waved scarlet thickets of
sumach, moaning in the wind, like the gory ghosts environing Pharsalia
the night after the battle; scaring away the peasants, who with
bushel-baskets came to the jewel-harvest of the rings of Pompey's
knights.

Beneath the heaped turf of this down, lay thousands of glorious
corpses of anonymous heroes, who here had died glorious deaths.

Whence, in the florid language of Diranda, they called this field "The
Field of Glory."