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Mad Tide

nd so fell rightminded Jehairibaul the Phyloshat through the backe door into madness.  And lo, he took him self to be the King, for he were bitten by a Kingsnake.

No king in truth was he, but an apprentice to the King’s footsoaker grown vain upon seeing the King’s toes beside his own.  That view of twenty toes had imbu-ed unto him a feel of destiny; and came then the Kingsnake.

            And after that Jehairibaul was put away, then all the people deceiv-ed them selfs, saying, Well, now is cleard mine own path to the crown, Jehairibaul outen the pictiture.  For an he were not King, then surely, I am.

            For there was that season a main madness upon the land, brought thither from erratic orbitol about the faltering nucleum of the heathen communal natiens by the cultist Neekim

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Shegee, who dwelt only upon sects, night & day, and whose unbufferd notions drave men instantly mad.  Yea, Neekim preacht, among his preachings, that royality runneth not in blood and its deeds, but in soul and its condisien.  Saith he, What man of soul is not a king?  And all having souls were won by this, and Kingship was upon the mind of all men who hearkend upon his gracious rages.  But with every woman, Queenship carried; ne’ertheless, Kingship sprang occasional unto their minds as well, for wherefore shud only men be King?  Title, said they, were but a banner of talent; and they did feel they had it.

            Now upon the actuel throne, the King of fact and law enjoyeth no more thoght of luscious living, no more of auspicious ruling, no more of exulting in the plunders of beaten men and their burghs.  For the King hath been dealt back hard into him self, like as one of life’s losers, in considring his tenuous tenure amidst the morass, prey to the mass who wud all be King.  Quoth he, Only the busy thronecarver danceth these days.  [Tho, neither was there infactuo any moneys being earnt by the throne-hewie, nor any dancing being done; for she her self desiren to be King, declining to carve out any thrones for others, e’en against the attraxien of coin—which coinage, moreover, now depicteth no longer upon’t the visage of the King-in-crown, but in stead the visage of the coinmintner-in-crown, for that he, too, coveteth the purpel walk.]

            And grievous was the tremulo of the King’s vext feet upon the floor, the vibrato of floor into wall, the resonato of wall down thru to ground.  And discussers did hear, and convened an hearing; and an euphonist gat consulted, that he might dub those heard effects.  And he did dub all the rattle of the King’s discomfit this: A Dysphony of Warpt Tympana Playn by Moaning Haints.  Yet, such dubbing were but half apt, ignoring as it did crucial eloments that the meistereuphonists of eld wud been loath to o'erlooke.  

            And the King dredg-ed up from childhood those accounts tolt by his mother concerning regal fears ariding upon the spirit of the auld kudtblaid Grewshus, which tales in their time had seemt to him malarkish, and were by him met with scoffature.  Yet now saith he, I am that Grewshus, etcht thru with fear.  O mother of me, protecter long slain in battle as I sat: Now I do knowe!  Such fear ariseth in the course of rule, neither more go I ascoffing.  Thou hast accoutred me with a point of refer, in those stories; but with no remedies hast thou accoutred me.  I seem to recall that those stories ended on the dismol.

            And he went out and spat upon her sepulchre (empty tho ’twas, for ne’er was her riven corpse scoopt from the field).  And when he saw there the spittol of the mother’s son tracking down, he reviled him self and fell weepfing.  And some children seen him and ran reveling.

            And his rule became unruly, and his dominion dippt.  Sure, the subjecta before him all deep down did bow when that he approach-ed.  But immediot he was passt, then mockt they him with mocky tremblings, and with nosefinger, each saying within him self, These other subjecta out here who bow as he passeth, they in fact bow to me; and I bow in mockery of all, be the only purpose for which I my self do bow deepdown.

            And when at night the King plucketh away his spoild raiment for to stab at sleepf, lo, his yet trembling shoes of smitherbrass do rattle upon their paten in the corner, and set they to dancing, their metol thunder intepreting upon the hollow hall and harrying all from repose.