TEXT:  
   
   
   
  Polaris
   
  byH. P.Lovecraft
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
  1918
   
  Into the North Window of my chamber glows the Pole Star with uncanny light. All
  throughthe long hellish hours of blackness it shines there. And in the autumn
  ofthe year, when the winds from the north curse and whine, and the red-leaved
  treesof the swamp mutter things to one another in the small hours of the
  morningunder the horned waning moon, I sit by the casement and watch that star.
  Down from the heights reels the glittering Cassiopeia as the hours wear on,
  whileCharles'Wain lumbers up from behind thevapour -soaked swamp trees that
  swayin the night wind. Just before dawnArcturus winks ruddily from above the
  cemetaryon the low hillock, and ComaBerenices shimmers weirdly afar off in the
  mysteriouseast; but still the Pole Star leers down from the same place in the
  blackvault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye which strives to
  conveysome strange message, yet recalls nothing save that it once had a message
  toconvey. Sometimes, when it is cloudy, I can sleep.
  Well do I remember the night of the greatAurora, when over the swamp played the
  shockingcorruscationsof the daemon light. After the beam came clouds, and then
  I slept.
  And it was under a horned waning moon that I saw the city for the first time.
  Still and somnolent did it lie, on a strange plateau in a hollow between strange
  peaks. Of ghastly marble were its walls and its towers, its columns, domes, and
  pavements. In the marble streets were marble pillars, the upper parts of which
  werecarven into the images of grave bearded men. The air was warm and stirred
  not. And overhead, scarce ten degrees from the zenith, glowed that watching Pole
  Star.Long did I gaze on the city, but the day came not. When the redAldebaran ,
  whichblinked low in the sky but never set, had crawled a quarter of the way
  aroundthe horizon, I saw light and motion in the houses and the streets. Forms
  strangelyrobed, but at once noble and familiar, walked abroad and under the
  hornedwaning moon men talked wisdom in a tongue which I understood, though it
  wasunlike any language which I had ever known. And when the redAldebaran had
  crawledmore than half-way around the horizon, there were again darkness and
  silence.
  When I awaked, I was not as I had been. Upon my memory was graven the vision of
  thecity, and within my soul had arisen another and vaguer recollection, of
  whosenature I was not then certain. Thereafter, on the cloudy nights when I
  couldnot sleep, I saw the city often; sometimes under the hot, yellow rays of a
  
  sunwhich did not set, but which wheeled low in the horizon. And on the clear
  nightsthe Pole Star leered as never before.
  Gradually I came to wonder what might be my place in that city on the strange
  plateaubetwixt strange peaks. At first content to view the scene as an
  all-observantuncorporealpresence, I now desired to define my relation to it,
  andto speak my mind amongst the grave men who conversed each day in the public
  squares. I said to myself, "This is no dream, for by what means can I prove the
  greaterreality of that other life in the house of stone and brick south of the
  sinisterswamp and the cemetery on the low hillock, where the Pole Star peeps
  intomy north window each night?"
  One night as I listened to the discourses in the large square containing many
  statues, I felt a change; and perceived that I had at last a bodily form. Nor
  wasI a stranger in the streets ofOlathoe , which lies on the plateau ofSarkia ,
  betwixtthe peaks ofNoton andKadiphonek . It was my friendAlos who spoke, and
  hisspeech was one that pleased my soul, for it was the speech of a true man and
  patriot. That night had the news come ofDaikos ' fall, and of the advance of the
  Inutos; squat, hellish yellow fiends who five years ago had appeared out of the
  unknownwest to ravage the confines of our kingdom, and to besiege many of our
  towns. Having taken the fortified places at the foot of the mountains, their way
  nowlay open to the plateau, unless every citizen could resist with the strength
  often men. For the squat creatures were mighty in the arts of war, and knew not
  thescruples ofhonour which held back our tall, grey-eyed men ofLomar from
  ruthlessconquest.
  Alos, my friend, was commander of all the forces on the plateau, and in him lay
  thelast hope of our country. On this occasion he spoke of the perils to be
  facedand exhorted the men ofOlathoe , bravest of theLomarians , to sustain the
  traditionsof their ancestors, who when forced to move southward fromZobna
  beforethe advance of the great ice sheet (even as our descendents must some day
  fleefrom thelandofLomar)valiently and victoriously swept aside thehairly ,
  long-armed, cannibalGnophkehs that stood in their way. To meAlos denied the
  warriorspart, for I was feeble and given to strangefaintings when subjected to
  stressand hardships. But my eyes were the keenest in the city, despite the long
  hoursI gave each day to the study of thePnakotic manuscripts and the wisdom of
  theZobnarianFathers; so my friend, desiring not to doom me to inaction,
  rewardedme with that duty which was second to nothing in importance. To the
  watchtowerofThapnen he sent me, there to serve as the eyes of our army. Should
  theInutosattempt to gain the citadel by the narrow pass behind the peakNoton
  andthereby surprise the garrison, I was to give the signal of fire which would
  warnthe waiting soldiers and save the town from immediate disaster.
  Alone I mounted the tower, for every man of stout body was needed in the passes
  below. My brain was sore dazed with excitement and fatigue, for I had not slept
  inmany days; yet was my purpose firm, for I loved my nativelandofLomar, and
  themarble cityOlathoe that lies betwixt the peaksNoton andKadiphonek .
  But as I stood in the tower's topmost chamber, I beheld the horned waning moon,
  redand sinister, quivering through thevapours that hovered over the distant
  valleyofBanof. And through an opening in the roof glittered the pale Pole
  Star, fluttering as if alive, and leering like a fiend and tempter.Methought
  itsspirit whispered evil counsel, soothing me to traitorous somnolence with a
  damnablerhythmical promise which it repeated over and over:
  Slumber, watcher, till the spheres,
  Six and twenty thousand years
  
  Haverevolv'd , and I return
  To the spot where now I burn.
  Other stars anon shall rise
  To the axis of the skies;
  Stars that soothe and stars that bless
  With a sweet forgetfulness:
  Only when my round is o'er
  Shall the past disturb thydoor.
  Vainly did I struggle with my drowsiness, seeking to connect these strangewords
  withsome lore of the skies which I had learnt from thePnakotic manuscripts. My
  head, heavy and reeling, drooped to my breast, and when next I looked up it was
  ina dream, with the Pole Star grinning at me through a window from over the
  horribleand swaying trees of a dream swamp. And I am still dreaming.
  In my shame and despair I sometimes scream frantically, begging the
  dream-creaturesaround me to waken me ere theInutos steal up the pass behind
  thepeakNoton and take the citadel by surprise; but these creatures are
  daemons, for they laugh at me and tell me I am not dreaming. They mock me whilst
  I sleep, and whilst the squat yellow foe may be creeping silently upon us. I
  havefailed in my duties and betrayed the marble city ofOlathoe; I have proven
  falsetoAlos , my friend and commander. But still these shadows of my dreams
  derideme. They say there is nolandofLomar, save in my nocturnal imaginings;
  thatin these realms where the Pole Star shines high, and redAldebaran crawls
  lowaround the horizon, there has been naught save ice and snow for thousands of
  yearsof years, and never a man save squat, yellow creatures, blighted by the
  cold, called "Esquimaux."
  And as I writhe in my guilty agony, frantic to save the city whose peril every
  momentgrows, and vainly striving to shake off this unnatural dream of a house
  ofstone and brick south of a sinister swamp and a cemetery on a low hillock,
  thePole Star, evil and monstrous, leers down from the black vault, winking
  hideouslylike an insane watching eye which strives to convey some message, yet
  recallsnothing save that it once had a message to convey.
   
   
   
   
  © 1998-1999 William Johns
  Last modified:12/18/199918:45:02
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Call of Cthulhu/EXTRAS/Novel/Polaris - H. P. Lovecraft.pdf