The White Ship



This is an Anglish of The White Ship by H. P. Lovecraft.  by Wordwork. See the wender's leaf for more on the wordings and spellings.

English Spelling
I am Basil Elton, keeper of the North light that my father and  kept before me. Far from the shore stands the grey lighthouse, above sunken slimy that  seen when the tide is, but unseen when the tide is high. that beacon for a have swept the   of the seven seas. In the days of my there were many; in the days of my father not so many; and now there  so few that I sometimes feel  alone, as though I were the last man on our.

From far shores came those white-sailed of old; from far Eastern shores where warm suns shine and sweet  linger about   and. The old of the sea came often to my  and told him of these things, which in  he told to my father, and my father told to me in the long  evenings when the wind howled eerily from the East. And I have read more of these things, and of many things besides, in the books men gave me when I was young and filled with wonder.

But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the lore of. , green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or ; that is not. All my days have I watched it and listened to it, and I know it well. At first it told to me only the little tales of calm beaches and near, but with the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things more  and more  in  and in time. Sometimes at twilight the grey of the  have  to  me glimpses of the ways beyond; and sometimes at night the deep waters of the sea have grown  and, to  me glimpses of the ways beneath. And these glimpses have been as often of the ways that were and the ways that might be, as of the ways that are; for is more  than the, and  with the  and the dreams of Time.

Out of the South it was that the White Ship come when the moon was full and high in the heavens. Out of the South it would glide smoothly and  over the sea. And whether the sea was rough or calm, and whether the wind was friendly or, it would always glide smoothly and , its sails and its long   of oars. One night I upon the  a man, bearded and, and he  to beckon me to  for fair unknown shores. Many times afterward I saw him under the full moon, and ever did he beckon me.

brightly did the moon shine on the night I answered the, and I walked out over the waters to the White Ship on a bridge of moonbeams. The man who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me in a soft I  to know well, and the  were filled with soft songs of the oarsmen as we glided away into a  South, golden with the glow of that full, mellow moon.

And when the day dawned, rosy and, I beheld the green shore of far lands, bright and , and to me unknown. Up from the sea rose lordly of, tree-studded, and shewing here and there the gleaming white roofs and  of. As we drew nearer the green shore the bearded man told me of that land, the Land of Zar, where dwell all the dreams and thoughts of that come to men once and then  forgotten. And when I looked upon the  I saw that what he said was true, for among the sights before me were many things I had once seen through the mists beyond the  and in the  depths of. There too were and  more  than any I had ever known; the  of young  who  in  before the world could learn of what  had seen and dreamed. But we did not set foot upon the sloping meadows of Zar, for it is told that who treads  may nevermore  to   shore.

As the White Ship sailed away from the   of Zar, we beheld on the   ahead the spires of a mighty ; and the bearded man said to me: “This is Thalarion, the  of a Thousand Wonders, wherein  all those  that man has   to fathom.” And I looked, at  , and saw that the  was greater than any  I had known or dreamed of before. Into the the spires of its  reached, so that no man might behold  ; and far back beyond the  stretched the grim, grey walls, over which one might  only a few roofs, weird and, yet  with rich  and. I yearned mightily to this  yet , and besought the bearded man to land me at the stone  by the  carven gate Akariel; but he   my wish, saying: “Into Thalarion, the  of a Thousand Wonders, many have  but none. Therein walk only and mad things that  no longer men, and the streets  white with the unburied bones of those who have looked upon the  Lathi, that  over the .” So the White Ship sailed on  the walls of Thalarion, and followed for many days a southward-flying bird, whose   matched the  out of which it had.

Then came we to a   with blossoms of every hue, where as far inland as we could see  lovely groves and   beneath a  sun. From buers beyond our came bursts of song and snatches of ,  with  laughter so  that I  the rowers onward in my  to reach the. And the bearded man spoke no word, but watched me as we the lily-lined shore. , a wind blowing from over the meadows and leafy woods brought a  at which I. The wind grew stronger, and the was filled with the,   of -stricken towns and. And as we sailed madly away from that  the bearded man spoke at last, saying: “This is Xura, the Land of  .”

So once more the White Ship followed the bird of heaven, over warm blessed seas fanned by, breezes. Day after day and night after night did we sail, and when the moon was full we would listen to soft songs of the oarsmen, sweet as on that night when we sailed away from my far. And it was by moonlight that we at last in the harbour of Sona-Nyl, which is  by twin headlands of  that rise from the sea and meet in a. This is the Land of, and we walked to the shore upon a golden bridge of moonbeams.

In the Land of Sona-Nyl there is neither time nor, neither suffering nor death; and there I dwelt for many. Green the groves and, bright and  the ,  and  the streams,  and cool the , and  and  the , , and  of Sona-Nyl. Of that land there is no bound, for beyond each of  rises another more. Over the and amidst the  of  rove at will the  folk, of whom all  gifted with unmarred  and. For the that I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through  where   peep from   of bushes, and where the white walks   with  blossoms. I climbed hills from whose  I could see   of loveliness, with steepled towns nestling in , and with the golden  of   glittering on the. And I by moonlight the sparkling sea, the  headlands, and the  harbour wherein lay  the White Ship.

It was the full moon one night in the  year of Tharp that I saw outlined the beckoning  of the  bird, and felt the first stirrings of unrest. Then I spoke with the bearded man, and told him of my new yearnings to for  Cathuria, which no man hath seen, but which all believe to lie beyond the basalt  of the West. It is the Land of Hope, and in it shine the  of all that we know elsewhere; or at least so men. But the bearded man said to me: “Beware of those seas wherein men say Cathuria lies. In Sona-Nyl there is no nor death, but who can tell what lies beyond the basalt  of the West?” Natheless at the next full moon I boarded the White Ship, and with the  bearded man left the  harbour for  seas.

And the bird of heaven flew before, and led us toward the basalt of the West, but this time the oarsmen sang no soft songs under the full moon. In my mind I would often the unknown Land of Cathuria with its  groves and, and would wonder what new  there  me. “Cathuria,” I would say to myself, “is the abode of gods and the land of  of gold. Its  of aloe and sandalwood, even as the  groves of Camorin, and among the trees flutter  birds sweet with song. On the green and  of Cathuria stand  of , rich with carven and  , and having in   cool  of silver, where purl with   the  waters that come from the -born  Narg. And the of Cathuria   with golden walls, and   also  of gold. In the of these   , and   whose beds  of coral and. At night the streets and the  lit with    from the three- shell of the, and here  the soft  of the singer and the. And the houses of the of Cathuria  all, each built over a   bearing the waters of the  Narg. Of and porphyry  the houses, and roofed with glittering gold that  the  of the sun and  the  of the  as blissful gods   from the. Fairest of all is the of the great  Dorieb, whom some say to be a  and others a god. High is the of Dorieb, and many  the  of  upon its walls. In its wide halls many, and here hang the  of the. And the roof is of gold, set upon tall  of  and, and having such carven  of gods and  that  who looks up to those heights  to  upon the living Olympus. And the floor of the is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters of the Narg,  with  fish not known beyond the bounds of lovely Cathuria.”

Thus would I speak to myself of Cathuria, but ever would the bearded man warn me to back to the  shores of Sona-Nyl; for Sona-Nyl is known of men, while none hath ever beheld Cathuria.

And on the thirty-first day that we followed the bird, we beheld the basalt of the West. Shrouded in mist were, so that no man might  beyond  or see   — which indeed some say reach even to the heavens. And the bearded man  me to  back, but I heeded him not; for from the mists beyond the basalt  I  there came the  of singer and ; sweeter than the sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl, and  mine own ; the  of me, who had  far under the full moon and dwelt in the Land of.

So to the of  the White Ship sailed into the mist betwixt the basalt  of the West. And when the  and the mist lifted, we beheld not the Land of Cathuria, but a swift-  sea, over which our helpless  was borne toward some unknown goal. Soon to our ears came the thunder of falling waters, and to our eyes  on the far  ahead the  spray of a , wherein the  of the world drop down to  nothingness. Then did the bearded man say to me with tears on his cheek: “We have the  Land of Sona-Nyl, which we may never behold |. The gods greater than men, and  have .” And I  my eyes before the crash that I knew would come, shutting out the sight of the  bird which flapped its   wings over the  of the.

Out of that crash came darkness, and I heard the of men and of things which were not men. From the East winds arose, and chilled me as I  on the  of  stone which had risen beneath my feet. Then as I heard another crash I opened my eyes and beheld myself upon the of that lighthouse from whence I had sailed so many  ago. In the darkness there loomed the  blurred outlines of a  breaking up on the , and as I  out over the  I saw that the light had  for the first time since my  had  its care.

And in the later watches of the night, when I went within the tower, I saw on the wall a which still  as when I had left it at the  I sailed away. With the dawn I the tower and looked for  upon the, but what I found was only this:  dead bird whose hue was as of the  , and a  shattered , of a whiteness greater than that of the wave-tips or of the  snow.

And thereafter the told me its  no more; and though many times since has the moon shone full and high in the heavens, the White Ship from the South came never.

Anglish Spelling
I am Basil Elton, keeper of þe Norþ liht þat my faþer and  kept before me. Far from þe score stands þe grey lihthuse, abuf sunken slimy þat  seen hwen þe tide is, but unseen hwen þe tide is hih. þat beaken for a haf swept þe   of þe sefen seas. In þe days of my þere were many; in þe days of my faþer not so many; and now þere  so few þat I sometimes feel  alone, as þoh I were þe last man on ure.

From far scores came þose hwite-sailed of old; from far Eastern scores hwere warm suns scine and sweet  linger abute   and. Þe old of þe sea came often to my  and told him of þese þings, hwic in  he told to my faþer, and my faþer told to me in þe long  efenings hwen þe wind huled eerily from þe East. And I haf read more of þese þings, and of many þings besides, in þe books men gafe me hwen I was yung and filled wiþ wunder.

But more wunderful þan þe lore of old men and þe lore of books is þe lore of. , green, grey, hwite, or black; smooþ, ruffled, or ; þat is not. All my days haf I waced it and listened to it, and I cnow it well. At first it told to me only þe littel tales of calm beeces and near, but wiþ þe years it grew more frendly and spoke of oþer þings; of þings more  and more  in  and in time. Sumtimes at twiliht þe grey of þe  haf  to  me glimpses of þe ways beyond; and sumtimes at niht þe deep waters of þe sea haf grown  and, to  me glimpses of þe ways beneaþ. And þese glimpses haf been as often of þe ways þat were and þe ways þat miht be, as of þe ways þat ; for is more  þan þe, and  wiþ þe  and þe dreams of Time.

Ute of þe Suþe it was þat þe Hwite Scip cum hwen þe moon was full and hih in þe hefens. Ute of þe Suþe it woold glide smooþly and  ofer þe sea. And hweþer þe sea was ruh or calm, and hweþer þe wind was frendly or, it woold always glide smooþly and , its sails and its long   of oars. One niht I upon þe  a man, bearded and, and he  to beckon me to  for fair uncnown scores. Many times afterward I saw him under þe full moon, and efer did he beckon me.

brihtly did þe moon scine on þe niht I answered þe, and I walked ute ofer þe waters to þe Hwite Scip on a bricg of moonbeams. Þe man hwo had beckoned now spoke a welcum to me in a soft I  to cnow well, and þe  were filled wiþ soft songs of þe oarsmen as we glided away into a  Suþe, golden wiþ þe glow of þat full, mellow moon.

And hwen þe day dawned, rosy and, I beheld þe green score of far lands, briht and , and to me uncnown. Up from þe sea rose lordly of, tree-studded, and scewing here and þere þe gleeming hwite roofs and  of. As we drew nearer þe green score þe bearded man told me of þat land, þe Land of Zar, hwere dwell all þe dreams and þohts of þat cum to men ons and þen  forgotten. And hwen I looked upon þe  I saw þat hwat he said was trew, for among þe sihts before me were many þings I had ons seen þruh þe mists beyond þe  and in þe  depþs of. Þere too were and  more  þan any I had efer cnown; þe  of yung  hwo  in  before þe world cood lern of hwat  had seen and dreamed. But we did not set foot upon þe sloping meadows of Zar, for it is told þat hwo treads  may nefermore  to   score.

As þe Hwite Scip sailed away from þe   of Zar, we beheld on þe   ahead þe spires of a mihty ; and þe bearded man said to me: “Þiss is Þalarion, þe  of a Þusand Wunders, hwerein  all þose  þat man has   to faþom.” And I looked, at  , and saw þat þe  was greater þan any  I had cnown or dreamed of before. Into þe þe spires of its  reaced, so þat no man miht behold  ; and far back beyond þe  streced þe grim, grey walls, ofer hwic one miht  only a few roofs, weerd and, yet  wiþ ric  and. I yearned mihtily to þiss  yet , and besoht þe bearded man to land me at þe stone  by þe  carfen gate Akariel; but he   my wisc, saying: “Into Þalarion, þe  of a Þusand Wunders, many haf  but none. Þerein walk only and mad þings þat  no longer men, and þe streets  hwite wiþ þe unberried bones of þose hwo haf looked upon þe  Laþi, þat  ofer þe .” So þe Hwite Scip sailed on  þe walls of Þalarion, and followed for many days a suþeward-flying bird, hwos   maced þe  ute of hwic it had.

Þen came we to a   wiþ blossoms of efery hew, hwere as far inland as we cood see  lufly grofes and   beneaþ a  sun. From bowers beyond our came bursts of song and snaces of ,  wiþ  lahter so  þat I  þe rowers onward in my  to reace þe. And þe bearded man spoke no word, but waced me as we þe lily-lined score. , a wind blowing from ofer þe meadows and leafy woods broht a  at hwic I. Þe wind grew stronger, and þe was filled wiþ þe,   of -stricken tunes and. And as we sailed madly away from þat  þe bearded man spoke at last, saying: “Þiss is Xura, Þe Land of  .”

So ons more þe Hwite Scip followed þe bird of heafen, ofer warm blessed seas fanned by, breeses. Day after day and niht after niht did we sail, and hwen þe moon was full we woold listen to soft songs of þe oarsmen, sweet as on þat niht hwen we sailed away from my far. And it was by moonliht þat we at last in þe harber of Sona-Nyl, hwic is  by twin headlands of  þat rise from þe sea and meet in a. Þiss is þe Land of, and we walked to þe score upon a golden bricg of moonbeams.

In þe Land of Sona-Nyl þere is neiþer time nor, neiþer suffering nor deaþ; and þere I dwelt for many. Green þe grofes and, briht and  þe ,  and  þe streams,  and cool þe , and  and  þe , , and  of Sona-Nyl. Of þat land þere is no bund, for beyond ece of  rises anoþer more. Ofer þe and amidst þe  of  rofe at will þe  folk, of hwom all   wiþ unmarred  and. For þe þat I dwelt þere I wandered blissfully þrew  hwere   peep from   of busces, and hwere þe hwiht walks   wiþ  blossoms. I climbed hills from hwos  I cood see   of lufliness, wiþ steepled tunes nestling in , and wiþ þe golden  of   glittering on þe. And I by moonliht þe sparkling sea, þe  headlands, and þe  harber hwerein lay  þe Hwite Scip.

It was þe full moon one niht in þe  year of Þarp þat I saw utelined þe beckoning  of þe  bird, and felt þe first stirrings of unrest. Þen I spoke wiþ þe bearded man, and told him of my new yearnings to for  Caþuria, hwic no man haþ seen, but hwic all beleefe to lie beyond þe basalt  of þe West. It is þe Land of Hope, and in it scine þe  of all þat we cnow elshwere; or at least so men. But þe bearded man said to me: “Beware of þose seas hwerein men say Caþuria lies. In Sona-Nyl þere is no nor deþ, but hwo can tell hwat lies beyond þe basalt  of þe West?” Naþeless at þe next full moon I boarded þe Hwite Scip, and wiþ þe  bearded man left þe  harber for  seas.

And þe bird of heafen flew before, and led us toward þe basalt of þe West, but þiss time þe oarsmen sang no soft songs under þe full moon. In my mind I woold often þe uncnown Land of Caþuria wiþ its  grofes and, and woold wonder hwat new  þere  me. “Caþuria,” I woold say to myself, “is þe abode of gods and þe land of  of gold. Its  of aloe and sandalwood, efen as þe  grofes of Camorin, and among þe trees flutter  birds sweet wiþ song. On þe green and  of Caþuria stand  of , ric wiþ carfen and  , and hafing in   cool  of silfer, hwere purl wiþ   þe  waters þat come from þe -born  Narg. And þe of Caþuria   wiþ golden walls, and   also  of gold. In þe of þese   , and   hwos beds  of coral and. At niht þe streets and þe  lit wiþ    from þe þree- scell of þe, and here  þe soft  of þe singer and þe. And þe huses of þe of Caþuria  all, ece bilt ofer a   bearing þe waters of þe  Narg. Of and porfyry  þe huses, and roofed wiþ glittering gold þat  þe  of þe sun and  þe  of þe  as blissful gods   from þe. Fairest of all is þe of þe great  Dorieb, hwom sum say to be a  and oþers a god. Hih is þe of Dorieb, and many  þe  of  upon its walls. In its wide halls many, and here hang þe  of þe. And þe roof is of gold, set upon tall  of  and, and hafing suc carfen  of gods and  þat  hwo looks up to þose hihts  to  upon þe lifing Olympus. And þe floor of þe is of glass, under hwic flow þe cunningly lited waters of þe Narg,  wiþ  fisc not cnown beyond þe bunds of lufly Caþuria.”

Þus woold I speak to myself of Caþuria, but efer woold þe bearded man warn me to back to þe  scores of Sona-Nyl; for Sona-Nyl is cnown of men, hwile none haþ efer beheld Caþuria.

And on þe þirty-first day þat we followed þe bird, we beheld þe basalt of þe West. Scruded in mist were, so þat no man miht  beyond  or see   — hwic indeed sum say reace efen to þe hefens. And þe bearded man  me to  back, but I heeded him not; for from þe mists beyond þe basalt  I  þere came þe  of singer and ; sweeter þan þe sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl, and  mine own ; þe  of me, hwo had  far under þe full moon and dwelt in þe Land of.

So to þe of  þe Hwite Scip sailed into þe mist betwixt þe basalt  of þe West. And hwen þe  and þe mist lifted, we beheld not þe Land of Caþuria, but a swift-  sea, ofer hwic ure helpless  was borne toward sum uncnown goal. Soon to ure ears came þe þunder of falling waters, and to ure eyes  on þe far  ahed þe  spray of a , hwerein þe  of þe world drop dune to  noþingness. Þen did þe bearded man say to me wiþ tears on his ceeck: “We haf þe  Land of Sona-Nyl, hwic we may nefer behold. Þe gods greater þan men, and  haf .” And I  my eyes before þe crasc þat I cnew woold cum, scutting ute þe site of þe  bird hwic flapped its   wings ofer þe  of þe.

Ute of þat crasc came darkness, and I heard þe of men and of þings hwic were not men. From þe East winds arose, and cilled me as I  on þe  of  stone hwic had risen beneaþ my feet. Þen as I herd anoþer crasc I opened my eyes and beheld myself upon þe of þat lihthuse from hwenss I had sailed so many  ago. In þe darkness þere loomed þe  blurred utelines of a  breaking up on þe , and as I  ute ofer þe  I saw þat þe liht had  for þe first time sinss my  had  its care.

And in þe later waces of þe niht, hwen I went wiþin þe tuer, I saw on þe wall a hwic still  as hwen I had left it at þe  I sailed away. Wiþ þe dawn I þe tuer and looked for  upon þe, but hwat I fund was only þiss:  dead bird hwos hew was as of þe  , and a   , of a hwiteness greater þan þat of þe wafe-tips or of þe  snow.

And þereafter þe told me its  no more; and þoh many times sinss has þe moon scon full and hie in þe heafens, þe Hwite Scip from þe Suþe came nefer.

Wordwork Spelling
I am Basil Elton, céper of þe Norþ lít þat mí faþer and  cept béfoar mé. Far from þe schoar stands þe greg líthúss, abuf suncen slímig þat  sén hwen þe tíd is, but unsén hwen þe tíd is hí. þat bécen for a haf swept þe   of þe sefen sés. In þe degs of mí þer wer menig; in þe degs of mí faþer not só menig; and nú þer  só few þat í sumtíms fél  alón, as þó í wer þe last man on úr.

From far schoars cám þós hwít-sáld of old; from far Éstern schoars hwer warm suns schín and swét  linger abút   and. Þe old of þe sé cám often too mí  and told him of þés þings, hwich in  hé told too mí faþer, and mí faþer told too mé in þe long  éfnings hwen þe wind húld érilig from þe Ést. And í haf red moar of þés þings, and of menig þings besíds, in þe boocs men gafe me hwen í was geung and filld wiþþ wunder.

But moar wunderful þan þe loar of old men and þe loar of boocs is þe loar of. , grén, greg, hwít, or blac; smooþ, ruffeld, or ; þat is not. Oal mí degs haf í wachd it and listend to it, and í cnow it well. At first it told too mé ónlig þe litel táls of calm béchs and nér, but wiþþ þe gérs it grew moar frendlig and spóc of oþer þings; of þings moar  and moar  in  and in tím. Sumtíms at twílít þe greg of þe  haf  too  mé glimpses of þe wegs bégeond; and sumtíms at nít þe deep waters of þe sé haf grown  and, too  mé glimpses of þe wegs benéþþ. And þese glimpses haf bén as often of þe wegs þat wer and þe wegs þat mít bé, as of þe wegs þat ; for is moar  þan þe, and  wiþþ þe  and þe dréms of Tím.

Út of þe Súþ it was þat þe Hwít Schip cum hwen þe moon was full and hí in þe hefens. Út of þe Súþ it wood glíd smooþlig and  ofer þe sé. And hweþer þe sé was ruff or calm, and hweþer þe wind was frendlig or, it wood alwegs glíd smooþlig and , its sáls and its long   of oars. Wun nít í upon þe  a man, bérded and, and hé  too becen mé too  for fear uncnown schoars. Menig tíms afterward í saw him under þe full moon, and efer did hé becen mé.

brítlig did þe moon schín on þe nít í answerd þe, and í walcd út ofer þe waters to þe Hwít Schip on a bricg of moonbéms. Þe man hwoo had becend nú spóc a welcum too mé in a soft í  to cnow well, and þe  wer filld wiþþ soft songs of þe oarsmen as we glíded aweg intoo a  Súþ, golden wiþþ þe glow of þat full, melow moon.

And hwen þe deg dawned, rósig and, í béheld þe grén schoar of far lands, brít and , and to mé uncnown. Up from þe sé rós lordlig of, tré-studed, and schewing hér and þer þe gléming hwít rooffs and  of. As wé drew nérer þe grén schoar þe bérded man told mé of þat land, þe Land of Zar, hwer dwell oal þe dréms and þawts of þat cum to men wunss and þen  forgoten. And hwen í loocd upon þe  í saw þat hwat hé segd was trew, for amung þe síts befoar mé wer menig þings í had wunss sén þrew þe mists begeond þe  and in þe  depþs of. Þer too wer and  moar  þan enig í had efer cnown; þe  of geung  hwoo  in  befoar þe world cood lern of hwat  had sén and drémd. But wé did not set foot upon þe slóping medows of Zar, for it is told þat hwoo treds  meg nefermoar  to   schoar.

As þe Hwít Schip sáld aweg from þe   of Zar, wé béheld on þe   ahed þe spírs of a mítig ; and þe bérded man segd too mé: “Þiss is Þalarion, þe  of a Þúsand Wunders, hwerin  oal þós  þat man has   to faþom.” And í loocd, at  , and saw þat þe  was gráter þan enig  í had cnown or drémd of béfoar. Intoo þe þe spírs of its  réchd, só þat nó man mít béhold  ; and far bac begeond þe  strechd þe grim, greg woals, ofer hwich wun mít  onlig a few rooffs, weerd and, get  wiþ rich  and. Í gearnd mítiglig too þiss  get , and besawt þe bérded man too land mé at þe stón  bí þe  carfen geát Akariel; but hé   mí wisch, seging: “Intoo Þalarion, þe  of a Þúsand Wunders, menig haf  but nun. Þerin walc onlig and mad þings þat  no longer men, and þe streets  hwít wiþþ þe unberigd bóns of þós hwoo haf loocd upon þe  Laþi, þat  ofer þe .” Sé þe Hwít Schip sáld on  þe woals of Þalarion, and folowd for menig degs a súþward-flíing bird, hwoos   machd þe  út of hwich it had.

Þen cám wé too a   wiþþ blosoms of eferig hew, hwer as far inland as wé cood sé  luflig grófs and   bénéþþ a  sun. From búrs béyeond úr cám bersts of song and snachs of ,  wiþþ  lafter só  þat í  þe rowers onward in mí  to réch þe. And þe bérded man spóc nó word, but wachd mé as wé þe lilig-línd schoar. , a wind blowing from ófer þe medows and léffy woods brawt a  at hwich í. Þe wind grew stronger, and þe was filld wiþþ þe,   of -stricen túns and. And as wé sáld madlig aweg from þat  þe bérded man spóc at last, seging: “Þiss is Xura, Þe Land of  .”

Só wunss moar þe Hwít Schip folowd þe bird of hefen, ofer warm blessd sés fand bí, bréses. Deg after deg and nít after nít did wé sál, and hwen þe moon was full we wood listen too soft songs of þe oarsmen, swét as on þat nít hwen wé sáld aweg from mí far. And it was bí moonlít þat wé at last in þe harber of Sona-Nyl, hwich is  bí twin hedlands of  þat rís from þe sé and mét in a. Þiss is þe Land of, and we walcd to þe schoar upon a golden bricg of moonbéms.

In þe Land of Sona-Nyl þer is néþer tím nor, néþer suffering nor deþ; and þer í dwelt for menig. Grén þe grófs and, brít and  þe ,  and  þe stréms,  and cool þe , and  and  þe , , and  of Sona-Nyl. Of þat land þer is no búnd, for béyeond éch of  ríses anoþer moar. Ofer þe and amidst þe  of  róf at will þe  folc, of hwoom oal  giftd wiþþ unmard  and. For þe þat í dwelt þere í wanderd blissfullig þrew  hwer   pép from   of booschs, and hwer þe hwít walcs   wiþþ  blosoms. Í clímbd hills from hwoos  í cood sé   of lufligness, wiþþ stépld túnes nesteling in , and wiþþ þe golden  of   glitering on þe. And í bí moonlít þe sparcling sé, þe  hedlands, and þe  harber hwerin leg  þe Hwít Schip.

It was þe full moon wun nít in þe  gér of Þarp þat í saw útlínd þe becening  of þe  bird, and felt þe first stirrings of unrest. Þen í spóc wiþþ þe bérded man, and told him of mí new gearnings too for  Caþuria, hwich nó man haþ sén, but hwich oal béléf too lí bégeond þe basalt  of þe West. It is þe Land of Hóp, and in it schín þe  of oal þat wé cnow elshwer; or at lést só men. But þe bérded man segd too mé: “Béwear of þós sés hwerin men seg Caþuria lís. In Sona-Nyl þer is nó nor deþþ, but hwoo can tell hwat lís begeond þe basalt  of þe West?” Náþeless at þe next full moon í boarded þe Hwít Schip, and wiþþ þe  bérded man left þe  harber for  sés.

And þe bird of hefen flew befoar, and led us tooward þe basalt of þe West, but þiss tíme þe oarsmen sang nó soft songs under þe full moon. In mí mínd í wood often þe uncnown Land of Caþuria wiþþ its  grófs and, and wood wunder hwat new  þer  mé. “Caþuria,” í wood seg too míself, “is þe ebód of gods and þe land of  of gold. Its  of  and sandalwood, efen as þe  grófs of Camorin, and amung þe trés fluter  birds swét wiþ song. On þe grén and  of Caþuria stand  of , rich wiþþ carfen and  , and hafing in   cool  of silfer, hwer purl wiþ   þe  waters þat cum from þe -born  Narg. And þe of Caþuria   wiþ golden woals, and   alsó  of gold. In þe of þés   , and   hwos beds  of coral and. At nít þe stréts and þe  lit wiþþ    from þe þré- schell of þe, and hér  þe soft  of þe singer and þe. And þe hússes of þe of Caþuria  oal, éch bilt ofer a   bearing þe waters of þe  Narg. Of and   þe hússes, and rooffd wiþþ glitering gold þat  þe  of þe sun and  þe  of þe  as blissful gods   from þe. Fearest of oal is þe of þe grát  Dorieb, hwoom sum seg too bé a  and oþers a god. Hí is þe of Dorieb, and menig  þe  of  upon its woals. In its wíd hoals menig, and hér hang þe  of þe. And þe roof is of gold, set upon toal  of  and, and hafing such carfen  of gods and  þat  hwoo loocs up too þós híts   to  upon þe lifing Olympus. And þe floar of þe is of glass, under hwich flow þe cuninglig lítd waters of þe Narg,  wiþþ  fisch not cnown begeond þe búnds of luflig Caþuria.”

Þuss wood í spék too míself of Caþuria, but efer wood þé bérded man warn mé too bac too þe  schoars of Sona-Nyl; for Sona-Nyl is cnown of men, hwíl nun haþ efer béheld Caþuria.

And on þe þirtig-first deg þat wé folowd þe bird, wé béheld þe basalt of þe West. Schrúded in mist wer, só þat no man mít  begeond  or sé   — hwich indéd sum seg réch éfen too þe hefens. And þe bérded man  mé too  bac, but í héded him not; for from þe mists begeond þe basalt  í  þer came þe  of singer and ; swéter þan þe swétest songs of Sona-Nyl, and  mín own ; þe  of mé, hwoo had  far under þe full moon and dwelt in þe Land of.

So too þe of  þe Hwít Schip sáld intoo þe mist bétwixt þe basalt  of þe West. And hwen þe  and þe mist liftd, wé béheld not þe Land of Caþuria, but a swift-  sé, ófer hwich úr helpless  was born tooward sum uncnown gól. Soon too úr érs cám þe þunder of foaling waters, and to úr ís  on þe far  ahed þe  spreg of a , hwerin þe  of þe world drop dún too  nóþingness. Þen did þe bérded man seg too mé wiþþ térs on his cheec: “Wé haf þe  Land of Sona-Nyl, hwich wé meg nefer béhold. Þe gods gráter þan men, and  haf .” And í  mí ís befoar þe crasch þat í cnew wood cum, schutting út þe sít of þe  bird hwich flapd its   wings ofer þe  of þe.

Út of þat crasch cám darcness, and í herd þe of men and of þings hwich wer not men. From þe Ést winds arós, and chilld mé as í  on þe  of  stón hwich had risen béneeþþ mí fét. Þen as í herd anoþer crasch í opend mí ís and béheld míself upon þe of þat lítehúss from hwenss í had sáld só menig  agó. In þe darcness þere loomd þe  blurd útlíns of a  bráking up on þe , and as í  út ofer þe  í saw þat þe lít had  for þe first tím sinss mí  had  its cear.

And in þe láter wachs of þe nít, hwen í went wiþþin þe túer, í saw on þe woal a hwic still  as hwen í had left it at þe  í sáld away. Wiþ þe dawn í þe tower and loocd for  upon þe, but hwat í fúnd was onlig þiss:  ded bird hwoos hew was as of þe  , and a   , of a hwítness gráter þan þat of þe wáf-tips or of þe  snow.

And þerafter þe told mé its  nó moar; and þow menig tíms sinss has þe moon schon full and hí in þe hefens, þe Hwít Schip from þe Súþ cám nefer.