DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Phantagraph, v. 6, issue 2, June 1937

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Phantagraph, v. 6, issue 2, June 1937

Page 4

So here again stretch the vale and plain
That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
To shake all the world with awe.

And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stone and brick,
Shall some day be with the rest,
And breed with the shades unblest.

Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
Of horror and death are penn'd,
For the hounds of Time to rend.

On The Trail Of The Weird And Phantastic

Not so long ago, in a musty old book, I came across a poem which sent shivers and chills up and down my spine.

"On a circle of stones they placed the pot
On a circle of stones but barely nine
They heated it red and fiery hot
And the burnished brass did glimmer and shine.
They rolled him up in a sheet of lead--
a sheet of lead for a funeral pall;
They plunged him into the cauldron red
And melted him, body, lead, bones and all."

Just think of the story or stories that could be woven around that scene. Who was he? What did he do? What would his ghost do?

-- H. Koenig

Saving...

So here again stretch the vale and plain That moons long-forgotten saw, And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray, Sprung out of the tomb's black maw To shake all the world with awe. And all that the morn shall greet forlorn, The ugliness and the pest Of rows where thick rise the stone and brick, Shall some day be with the rest, And breed with the shades unblest. Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark, And the leprous spires ascend; For new and old alike in the fold Of horror and death are penn'd, For the hounds of Time to rend. On The Trail Of The Weird And Phantastic Not so long ago, in a musty old book, I came across a poem which sent shivers and chills up and down my spine. "On a circle of stones they placed the pot On a circle of stones but barely nine They heated it red and fiery hot And the burnished brass did glimmer and shine. They rolled him up in a sheet of lead-- a sheet of lead for a funeral pall; They plunged him into the cauldron red And melted him, body, lead, bones and all." Just think of the story or stories that could be woven around that scene. Who was he? What did he do? What would his ghost do? -- H. Koenig