Conquest of the Iilaans

by Aston

Translated by Bartholemew Zax

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Translator's Note
-----------------

Aston's classic work is a work of poetry, 45 cantos of rhyming Old
Oron in iambic Hexameter. I have rendered here a translation in prose
in order to provi... version possible. The reduction
in poetic flourish (which is substantial) will I hope be offest by a
more faithful conveyance of the symbolism and metaphor of Aston. I
hope the student will read this translation with the Old Oron version
closeby.


Conquest of the Iilaans
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ORONTES--the man with gilded step and cracked helm, who wore pelted
boar and bracelets of silver wrought, ORONTES--wise counsellor beyond
which no bloodthirst ha....age and wile, of depth and scorn, ORONTES
--unknowable mind and fierce as the day is bright, noble, Wanderer.
Great Goddess of the birds, reveal to me the song of this noble man of
men, show to me his faith and the granules of his grit. Preserve in me
his living-force, his insipidity, his breadth.  .... all-seeing Dawn
leapt from house to house by rooftops bearing Her sister, Light.  Upon
the head of Orontes Light danced and played, him gazing out upon the
plain in wait of an urgent message.  .... Cablion Zuexarxes, corrupt
and wicked despot of J'raithra, spake a curse upon
Orontes..... J'raithra was rent from the earth, each stone
unlimbered. And the tower of J'raithra was pulled from its height and
scattered, and the priests of J'raithra were shattered upon the
rocks. And the people of J'raithra were dispersed on the winds and
into the soil. And Orontes lorded over the devastation..... The grin
of Orontes glistened, and the men with him were in awe, and the
attendants were amazed, and the men of the allies were struck with
astonishment. Lips parted, his teeth shone pure white in supreme
satisfaction...."The doom of great peoples," Orontes boomed, "is
nothing less than over-flowering growth. We must flourish upon the
surface of the earth like so many blooms. As a gardener tills his
soil, making sure each inch is watered and clear, but after tilling
his soil, the gardener casts good seeds here and there, as many as he
can, in a wild fashion. So we must now cast ourselves here and there."
The men of Orontes shouted in ....The woman of the well then
said....And Orontes lifted his head and drank from the cup.