{"id":"01KG8AKQ1A4XAPW607C6D7M0P8","cid":"bafkreifzb3ubwmwg36seuco4ah2giqqnrvlwlpilvdc3wq7k77ekja4vjm","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4627,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","start_line":4554,"text":"Home of hard blows, our pouches!\r\nNest of death-eggs!  How quickly they hatch!\r\n\r\nUplift, and couch we our spears, men!\r\nRing hollow on the rocks our war clubs!\r\nBend we our bows, feel the points of our arrows:\r\nAloft, whirl in eddies our sling-nets;\r\nTo the fight, men of Narvi!\r\nSons of battle! Hunters of men!\r\nRaise high your war-wood!\r\nShout Narvi! her groves in the storm!\r\n\r\n\r\n“By Oro!” cried Media, “but Yoomy has well nigh stirred up all\r\nBabbalanja’s devils in me. Were I a mortal, I could fight now on a\r\npretense. And did any man say me nay, I would charge upon him like a\r\nspear-point. Ah, Yoomy, thou and thy tribe have much to answer for; ye\r\nstir up all Mardi with your lays. Your war chants make men fight; your\r\ndrinking songs, drunkards; your love ditties, fools. Yet there thou\r\nsittest, Yoomy, gentle as a dove.—What art thou, minstrel, that thy\r\nsoft, singing soul should so master all mortals? Yoomy, like me, you\r\nsway a scepter.”\r\n\r\n“Thou honorest my calling overmuch,” said Yoomy, we minstrels but sing\r\nour lays carelessly, my lord Media.”\r\n\r\n“Ay: and the more mischief they make.”\r\n\r\n“But sometimes we poets are didactic.”\r\n\r\n“Didactic and dull; many of ye are but too apt to be prosy unless\r\nmischievous.”\r\n\r\n“Yet in our verses, my lord Media, but few of us purpose harm.”\r\n\r\n“But when all harmless to yourselves, ye may be otherwise to Mardi.”\r\n\r\n“And are not foul streams often traced to pure fountains, my lord?”\r\nsaid Babbalanja. “The essence of all good and all evil is in us, not\r\nout of us. Neither poison nor honey lodgeth in the flowers on which,\r\nside by side, bees and wasps oft alight. My lord, nature is an\r\nimmaculate virgin, forever standing unrobed before us. True poets but\r\npaint the charms which all eyes behold. The vicious would be vicious\r\nwithout them.”\r\n\r\n“My lord Media,” impetuously resumed Yoomy, “I am sensible of a\r\nthousand sweet, merry fancies, limpid with innocence; yet my enemies\r\naccount them all lewd conceits.”\r\n\r\n“There be those in Mardi,” said Babbalanja, “who would never ascribe\r\nevil to others, did they not find it in their own hearts; believing\r\nnone can be different from themselves.”\r\n\r\n“My lord, my lord!” cried Yoomy. “The air that breathes my music from\r\nme is a mountain air! Purer than others am I; for though not a woman, I\r\nfeel in me a woman’s soul.”\r\n\r\n“Ah, have done, silly Yoomy,” said Media. “Thou art becoming flighty,\r\neven as Babbalanja, when Azzageddi is uppermost.”\r\n\r\n“Thus ever: ever thus!” sighed Yoomy. “They comprehend us not.”\r\n\r\n“Nor me,” said Babbalanja. “Yoomy: poets both, we differ but in\r\nseeming; thy airiest conceits are as the shadows of my deepest\r\nponderings; though Yoomy soars, and Babbalanja dives, both meet at\r\nlast. Not a song you sing, but I have thought its thought; and where\r\ndull Mardi sees but your rose, I unfold its petals, and disclose a\r\npearl. Poets are we, Yoomy, in that we dwell without us; we live in\r\ngrottoes, palms, and brooks; we ride the sea, we ride the sky; poets\r\nare omnipresent.”\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJRBNZE8XWYAJ1RHW142G","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKQ157EXTW8VA189EBVCW","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:13.354Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:22.361Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}