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Chapter 8

They Meet The Pilgrims At The Temple Of Oro


Deep, deep, in deep groves, we found the great temple of Oro,
Spreader-of-the-Sky, and deity supreme.

While here we silently stood eyeing this Mardi-renowned image, there
entered the fane a great multitude of its attendants, holding pearl-
shells on their heads, filled with a burning incense. And ranging
themselves in a crowd round Oro, they began a long-rolling chant, a
sea of sounds; and the thick smoke of their incense went up to the
roof.

And now approached Pani and the pilgrims; followed, at a distance, by
the willful boy.

"Behold great Oro," said the guide.

"We see naught but a cloud," said the chief Divino.

"My ears are stunned by the chanting," said the blind pilgrim.

"Receive more gifts, oh guide!" cried Fauna the matron. "Oh Oro!
invisible Oro! I kneel," slow murmured the sad-eyed maid.

But now, a current of air swept aside the eddying incense; and the
willful boy, all eagerness to behold the image, went hither and
thither; but the gathering of attendants was great; and at last he
exclaimed, "Oh Oro! I can not see thee, for the crowd that stands
between thee and me."

"Who is this babbler?" cried they with the censers, one and all
turning upon the pilgrims; "let him speak no more; but bow down, and
grind the dust where he stands; and declare himself the vilest
creature that crawls. So Oro and Alma command."

"I feel nothing in me so utterly vile," said the boy, "and I cringe to
none. But I would as lief _adore_ your image, as that in my heart, for
both mean the same; but more, how can I? I love great Oro, though I
comprehend him not. I marvel at his works, and feel as nothing in his
sight; but because he is thus omnipotent, and I a mortal, it follows
not that I am vile. Nor so doth he regard me. We do ourselves degrade
ourselves, not Oro us. Hath not Oro made me? And therefore am I not
worthy to stand erect before him? Oro is almighty, but no despot. I
wonder; I hope; I love; I weep; I have in me a feeling nigh to fear,
that is not fear; but wholly vile I am not; nor can we love and
cringe. But Oro knows my heart, which I can not speak."

"Impious boy," cried they with the censers, "we will offer thee up,
before the very image thou contemnest. In the name of Alma, seize him."

And they bore him away unresisting.

"Thus perish the ungodly," said Pani to the shuddering pilgrims.

And they quitted the temple, to journey toward the Peak of Ofo.

"My soul bursts!" cried Yoomy. "My lord, my lord, let us save the boy."

"Speak not," said Media. "His fate is fixed. Let Mardi stand."

"Then let us away from hence, my lord; and join the pilgrims; for, in
these inland vales, the lost one may be found, perhaps at the very
base of Ofo."

"Not there; not there;" cried Babbalanja, "Yillah may have touched
these shores; but long since she must have fled."

Herman Melville