{"id":"01KG8AKR6TTW97KH57507KD0VV","cid":"bafkreihtwjxjy3da4z3kadck723nhuev3xrs7x7pwwbx4327vpn64ejioa","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":8961,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.931Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","start_line":8886,"text":"CHAPTER LXIV.\r\nConcentric, Inward, With Mardi’s Reef, They Leave Their Wake Around The\r\nWorld\r\n\r\n\r\nWest, West! West, West! Whitherward point Hope and prophet-fingers;\r\nwhitherward, at sun-set, kneel all worshipers of fire; whitherward in\r\nmid-ocean, the great whales turn to die; whitherward face all the\r\nMoslem dead in Persia; whitherward lie Heaven and Hell!—West, West!\r\nWhitherward mankind and empires—flocks, caravans, armies, navies;\r\nworlds, suns, and stars all wend!—West, West!—Oh boundless boundary!\r\nEternal goal! Whitherward rush, in thousand worlds, ten thousand\r\nthousand keels! Beacon, by which the universe is steered!—Like the\r\nnorth-star, attracting all needles! Unattainable forever; but forever\r\nleading to great things this side thyself!—Hive of all sunsets!—\r\nGabriel’s pinions may not overtake thee!\r\n\r\nOver balmy waves, still westward sailing! From dawn till eve, the\r\nbright, bright days sped on, chased by the gloomy nights; and, in glory\r\ndying, lent their luster to the starry skies. So, long the radiant\r\ndolphins fly before the sable sharks but seized, and torn in\r\nflames—die, burning:—their last splendor left, in sparkling scales that\r\nfloat along the sea.\r\n\r\nCymbals, drums and psalteries! the air beats like a pulse with music!\r\n—High land! high land! and moving lights, and painted lanterns!—What\r\ngrand shore is this?\r\n\r\n“Reverence we render thee, Old Orienda!” cried Media, with bared brow,\r\n“Original of all empires and emperors!—a crowned king salutes thee!”\r\n\r\n“Mardi’s father-land!” cried Mohi, “grandsire of the nations,—hail!”\r\n\r\n“All hail!” cried Yoomy. “Kings and sages hither coming, should come\r\nlike palmers,—scrip and staff! Oh Orienda! thou wert our East, where\r\nfirst dawned song and science, with Mardi’s primal mornings! But now,\r\nhow changed! the dawn of light become a darkness, which we kindle with\r\nthe gleam of spears! On the world’s ancestral hearth, we spill our\r\nbrothers’ blood!”\r\n\r\n“Herein,” said Babbalanja, “have many distant tribes proved parricidal.\r\nIn times gone by, Luzianna hither sent her prom; Franko, her scores of\r\ncaptains; and the Dykemen, their peddler hosts, with yard-stick spears!\r\nBut thou, oh Bello! lord of the empire lineage! Noah of the moderns.\r\nSire of the long line of nations yet in germ!— thou, Bello, and thy\r\nlocust armies, are the present curse of Orienda. Down ancient streams,\r\nfrom holy plains, in rafts thy murdered float! The pestilence that\r\nthins thy armies here, is bred of corpses, made by thee. Maramma’s\r\npriests, thy pious heralds, loud proclaim that of all pagans, Orienda’s\r\nmost resist the truth!—ay! vain all pious voices, that speak from\r\nclouds of war! The march of conquest through wild provinces, may be the\r\nmarch of Mind; but not the march of Love.”\r\n\r\n“Thou, Bello!” cried Yoomy, “would’st wrest the crook from Alma’s hand,\r\nand place in it a spear. But vain to make a conqueror of him, who put\r\noff the purple when he came to Mardi; and declining gilded miters,\r\nentered the nations meekly on an ass.”\r\n\r\n“Oh curse of commerce!” cried Babbalanja, “that it barters souls for\r\ngold. Bello! with opium, thou wouldst drug this land, and murder it in\r\nsleep!—And what boot thy conquests here? Seed sown by spears but seldom\r\nsprings; and harvests reaped thereby, are poisoned by the sickle’s\r\nedge.”\r\n\r\nYet on, and on we coasted; counting not the days.\r\n\r\n“Oh, folds and flocks of nations! dusky tribes innumerable!” cried\r\nYoomy, “camped on plains and steppes; on thousand mountains, worshiping\r\nthe stars; in thousand valleys, offering up first-fruits, till all the\r\nforests seem in flames;—where, in fire, the widow’s spirit mounts to\r\nmeet her lord!—Oh, Orienda, in thee ’tis vain to seek our Yillah!”\r\n\r\n“How dark as death the night!” said Mohi, shaking the dew from his\r\nbraids, “the Heavens blaze not here with stars, as over Dominora’s\r\nland, and broad Vivenza.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJVBFBRHGCQDP11C10SBD","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKR6X30X0Y2AT3RVN9MJZ","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:14.554Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:26.891Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}