My submission to ERBapa #60, Winter 1999 was a rather strange one. I decided to set ERB's A Princess of Mars into heroic couplets, and what you have before you are my results from the first three chapters. I realize that this project may not interest everyone; indeed, some of you may find it boring, but I had fun doing it. I just thought it might be interesting to see what happens when ERB's prose is treated this way.
    My rule of thumb was to retain as much of ERB's original text as possible, which severely limited my own poetic vision, but this method seemed to do the least amount of damage to his worthy prose. My lines should rhyme in couplets, and each line should hold 10 syllables. For the most part, I was able to achieve this goal, so at least in this little experiment, ERB's prose proves to be amenable to a strict poetic treatment.

Heroic Couplets: The Nature and History of the Form

    The heroic couplet is a verse form in iambic pentameter with lines rhymed in pairs. It is one of the most important meters of English syllabic verse. The credit for development of the form as a medium for sustained expression belongs to Chaucer. Dryden made it the principal medium for dramatic verse. Pope brought its epigrammatic quality to an even higher state of perfection. Johnson, Goldsmith, Crabbe, Cowper, Byron, Hunt, Keats, Shelley, Browning, Swinburne, and Morris all made notable use of the heroic couplet though the form began to decline in prominence early in the romantic period. (from The Princeton Handbook of Poetic Terms)
    The most notable translations of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey into English are those made by Alexander Pope between 1715 and 1726. He employed heroic couplets for these famous translations.

Classic Burroughs

    Erling B. Holtsmark points out in his Tarzan and Tradition: Classical th in Popular Literature that Burroughs' novels "are conceived and to a large extent executed in a manner that speaks of a classical background and classical influences." His landmark study is based on the premise that Burroughs' "use of language and literary technique was deeply influenced by his familiarity with the classical languages and literatures." Holtsmark's makes much use of Homer in his scholarly literary comparisons, especially linking Tarzan to Odysseus.
    Ultimately, my project must be viewed as an homage to ERB rather than a poetic proof of any kind. I have necessarily changed many words to fit the poetic form, yet I hope my efforts have not detracted from the Burroughsian vision. My desire was to utilize the strength of his words by demonstrating how they can be easily set into a poetic form which I believe underlies much of his work.
    For example: ERB's original prose text from the end of chapter two reads as follows:

"Few western wonders are more inspiring
than the beauties of an Arizona moonlit landscape;
the silvered mountains in the distance,
the strange lights and shadows upon hog back
and arroyo, and the grotesque details
of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti form
a picture at once enchanting and inspiring;
as though one were catching for the first time
a glimpse of some dead and forgotten world,
so different is it from the aspect
of any other spot upon our earth."

Few western wonders are more eloquent
Than an Arizona moonlit landscape;
The silvered mountains in the distance drape
Strange lights and shadows upon hog back
And arroyo, and the grotesque night track
Of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti form
A picture at once enchanting and warm;
As though one were catching for the first time
A glimpse of some dead and forgotten clime,
So different is it from the homely berth
Of any other spot upon our earth.

David A. Adams (Nkima)

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs (In the style of Alexander Pope) by David A. Adams

Chapter 1
On The Arizona Hills

I am an old man; my age beyond score.
Possibly a hundred, possibly more
Extend these years, yet I cannot tell when,
For I have never aged as other men;
Nor do I recall any childhood
With fond delights as happy mortals should.
So far as I can measure in my ken,
A man of thirty I have always been,
Appearing today as I did ago;
Yet I feel that even I cannot go
On forever; some day I shall overrun
Death from which there is no resurrection.
I know not why I fear that death arrive,
I who have died twice and am still alive;
Yet I have the same horror of the grave
As one who has never entered that cave,
And for this terror of death's last decree,
I 'm so convinced of my mortality.

And since life is really transitory
I have determined to write the story
Of interesting periods my life
Has shown and outlast death in afterlife.
I cannot explain the phenomena;
I can only set down here the drama
Of an simple soldier of fortune; this
Chronicle of strange metamorphosis
That befell me as my dead body lay
Sequestered deep in Arizona clay.

I have never told this tale from the crypt,
Nor shall mortal man see this manuscript
Until I have passed for eternity.
I know that an average philosophy
Will not believe what it cannot grasp. We'd
Rather not purpose being pilloried
By the public, the pulpit, and the press --
Held up as a liar as we express
Simple truths no human can validate
Which some day science will substantiate.
Possibly suggestions I gained on Mars
And the knowledge set down from distant stars
In this chronicle, will provide the keys --
Give understanding of the mysteries
Of our sister planet, once fantasy,
Now all in all sheer history to me.

My name is John Carter; best known as a
Captain Jack Carter of Virginia.
At the close of the Civil War I found
Myself possessed of Confederate ground,
Great wealth, and a cavalry commission
In an army bowed in deep submission;
The servant of a vanished state, her mouth
Closed like the hopes of my beloved South.
Masterless, penniless; my only course
Of livelihood, fighting, gone, my recourse
To work my way southwest and there refold
My fallen fortunes in a search for gold.

I spent nearly a year prospecting, sir,
In company with a dear officer,
Captain James K. Powell of Richmond town.
In good time we were blessed with fortune's crown,
For late in the winter of '65,
After many hardships we did survive
To locate the most remarkable chain,
A mountain with a gold-bearing quartz vein,
A sourdough's dream in a vast frontier.
Powell, who was a mining engineer,
Stated we had uncovered a million
In three months setting of the desert sun.

As our equipment was extremely crude
We next decided that one of us should
Return to purchase more machinery
And gain sufficient force to guarantee
A successful digging as we had planned.

As Powell was familiar with the land,
Well as mechanical requirements,
We determined that it would make most sense
For him to make the trip. It was agreed
I was to hold our claim against misdeed,
The possibility of its being
Jumped by some prospector out wandering.

Powell and I packed his provisions nigh
Two of our burros, and bidding good-bye
He mounted his horse, down toward the valley,
Across which led the first stage of his journey.
The morning of his departure was clear,
Like all Arizona mornings appear;
I could see him and his little beasts glide,
Picking their way down the steep mountainside
And all during the morning I would catch
Occasional glimpses as they would scratch
A hog back or reach a level plateau.
At about three he entered the shadow
Of the range far on the opposite side.

Some time later as I casually spied
Across the valley, I saw three dots wend
Near the same place I had last seen my friend.
I am not given to the anxious spell,
But the more I imagined all was well
With Powell, telling myself that the raid
Of ever closing specks of light and shade
I had seen on his trail were antelope,
The less I was able to gather hope.

Since we had entered the territory
We had not seen the hostile Apache;
So, careless of vain allegories,
We were wont to ridicule the stories
Of the great numbers of these marauders
Supposed to haunt high trails bent on slaughters,
Taking tolls in lives and torture such as
All men who fell into their fierce clutches.

Powell, I knew, was well armed and, further,
An experienced Indian fighter;
But I too had lived and fought hitherto
Among the Sioux in the North, and I knew
His chances were small against a party
Of shrewd trailing Apaches. Finally
I could endure the suspense no longer,
And, arming myself with Colt revolver
And a carbine, two belts of cartridge force
About me and catching my saddle horse,
Started down the trail where Powell was bound.

As soon as I reached certain level ground
I urged my mount into a canter there
And continued where the going was fair,
Until, close upon dusk, I discovered the bend
Where other deep tracks joined those of my friend.
Three unshod ponies left the ground well-scarred,
For the ponies had been galloping hard.

I followed rapidly until darkness
Shutting down, I awaited the progress
Of the rising of the moon, planning this case,
The question of the wisdom of my chase.
Perhaps I had conjured up dangers nearby,
Like some nervous old housewife, and when I
Should catch up with Powell would get a laugh.
Not over-sensitive, my better half
Follows duty, wherever it may lead,
A close fetish with me with every deed,
Accounting for the honors bestowed upon me
And decorations by republics three,
Friendships with emperors and lesser kings
In whose service my red sword nobly sings.

At last the moon was sufficiently bright
For me to proceed into this dread night.
I followed the trail at a fast walk roll;
At a trot 'til I reached the water hole.
I came upon the spot unexpectedly,
Finding it entirely deserted entirely;
No signs of it occupied as a camp.

I noted many deep tracks in the damp
Earth of the pursuing horsemen, for such
I was convinced they must be, inasmuch
They continued hard after Powell's steed
And always at his own rate of speed.

Positive the trailers were Apaches
Who wished to capture Powell alive, seize
Him for the fiendish pleasure of torture,
I urged my horse at dangerous measure,
Hoping against hope that I would catch
With the red rascals before the attack.

Speculation was suddenly cut short
By the sickening sound of a report
Far ahead of me. I knew that Powell
Would need me now if ever I could tell,
And I urged my horse to his topmost scale
Up the narrow and rugged mountain trail.

I forged ahead perhaps a mile or more
Without hearing further sounds, when the floor
Suddenly debouched onto fields of grass,
A plateau near the summit of the pass.
I passed through a rough, overhanging stand
Just before entering this table land,
And sights which met my eyes upon this way
Filled me with consternation and dismay.

The little stretch of level land was white
With Indian tepees in cold, pale moonlight,
Half a thousand red warriors clustered 'round
Some object near the center of that ground.
Attention so riveted to this place,
Unnoticed, I simply could have turned face
Into the dark recesses of the scree
And made my escape with perfect safety.
The fact that this did not occur to me
Removes any slight possibility
Of heroism to which this story
Might, I guess, otherwise entitle me.

I do not believe I'm made of the stuff
Which constitutes heroes, for in all rough
Hundreds of times that my most willing breath
Has gladly placed me face to face with death,
I cannot recall a single combat
Where any alternative step to that
I took occurred 'til many hours past.
My inner mind is evidently cast
That I'm forced upon the path of duty
Without tiresome mental third degree.
I've never regretted this mystery:
Cowardice is not optional with me.

Since Powell was the center of the show,
Thought preceding action I do not know,
But within an instant from the moment
The horrendous scene became evident
I was charging with blazing revolvers
Down upon the army of warriors,
Whooping like a whole band of mavericks.
I could not have pursued better tactics,
For the red men, swayed by sudden surprise
Of not less than a regiment in size,
Turned and fast fled in every direction
For bows, arrows, and rifle collection.

The view of hurried routing and rampage
Filled me with apprehension and with rage.
'Neath clear rays of the Arizona moon
Lay poor Powell, his body fairly strewn
With hostile arrows of the wicked braves.
His kingdom was now with the dead and graves,
And yet I would have saved his bare body
From mutilation by the Apache
As quickly as I would have saved the breath
Of the faithful young man himself from death.

Riding close, I reached down from the saddle,
And grasping his cartridge belt for a handle
Drew him across the withers of my mount.
A backward glance convinced that an account
By the way I had come would be more slow
Than to continue across the plateau,
So, putting spurs to my poor, plunging beast,
I made a mad dash to be fair released
Through a pass which I had already scanned
On the farther side of the table land.

The Indians had by this time construed
That I was alone, and I was pursued
By imprecations, arrow, and rifle ball.
The fact that it is difficult to squall
Anything but futile imprecations
Accurately by moonlight revelations,
That they were upset by the impudent,
Unexpected manner of my advent,
And that I moved quickly through those defiles
Saved me from the various projectiles
And permitted me to reach the shadows
Of the surrounding peaks before my foes
Could organize an orderly pursuit.

My free horse traveled an unguided route
As I had less knowledge of the only
Locus of the trail to the pass than he,
And thus he entered a defile strange
Which led to the summit of the vast range
And not to the pass which certain degree
Would carry me safely to the valley.
It is to this fact or curious fable
I owe my life and the remarkable
Experiences and adventures flow
Which befell me the ten years to follow.

My first knowledge I was on the wrong trail
Came when I heard the yells of travail
As the pursuing savages lost the way,
Growing fainter and fainter, far away.

I knew then that they had passed the left ledge,
The jagged rock formation at the edge
Of the plateau, right of which my horse well
Had borne me and the body of Powell.

I drew rein on a level promontory
Overlooking the trail, and saw the party
Of pursuing savages quickly streak
Around the point of a neighboring peak.

I knew the Indians would soon attest
They were on the wrong trail and that the quest
For me would be renewed on the right tack
As soon as they located my clear track.

I had gone but a short distance away
When what seemed to be an excellent way
Around the face of a high cliff outspread.
The trail was level and quite broad and led
In the main direction of my retreat.
The cliff arose for several hundred feet
On my right, and on my left was a stop
Of a nearly perpendicular drop
To the bottom of a rocky ravine.

I had followed this trail for perhaps a lean
Hundred yards when a sudden sharp turn gave
Way to the mouth of a most spacious cave.
The opening was about four feet high
And at this grave portal the trail ran dry.

Now morning, with the customary lack
Of dawn which is the usual, startling tack
In Arizona mountains, it had fast
Become daylight without creeping forecast.

I laid Powell down in agitation,
But my painstaking examination
Failed to reveal the man he once had been.
I forced water from my canteen between
His dead lips, bathed his face and rubbed his hands,
Working over him with faithful demands
For the most of an hour in the dread
Face of the fact I knew him to be dead.

I was very fond of Powell; my friend
Was thoroughly a man to recommend,
A polished southern gentleman, in brief,
It was with a feeling of deepest grief
That I finally gave up my station:
Crude endeavors at resuscitation.

Leaving poor Powell's body where it lay,
I crept into the cave to make survey.
I found a large chamber there most complete
In diameter of a hundred feet
And thirty or forty feet in height;
A smooth and well-worn floor, and all the right
Evidences that the cave had, at some
Remote period, been someone's home.
The back of the cave was lost in shadow;
I could not distinguish whether or no
Other spacious apartments opened there.

As I was continuing this affair
I commenced to feel a fair drowsiness
Creeping over me which just might express
The drain of my long and strenuous ride,
And the reaction from the homicide
And relentless pursuit. I felt secure
In my new location as I was sure
That one man could easily guarantee
The trail to the cave against an army.

Soon so drowsy I could scarcely disown
The strong desire to throw myself down
On the cave floor for a few moments' rest,
But I knew the feeling must be repressed
As it would mean certain death at the hands
Of my red friends, those closing savage bands.
With a strong effort I started to flee
The dire cave only to reel drunkenly
Against a wall, feeling for an open door;
And from there I slipped prone upon the floor.

***

Chapter II
The Escape of the Dead

A pure sense of delicious dreaminess
Overcame me, my muscles so helpless,
I was at the juncture of being downed
By my desire to sleep when the sound
Of approaching horses reached my keen ears.
I attempted to rise to meet my fears
But was horrified to discover chill
Limbs that refused to respond to my will.
Thoroughly awake, I was overthrown
To move a muscle as though turned to stone.
It was then, for the first time, that I gave
Notice a slight vapor filling the cave.
It was an extremely tenuous mist
That just seemed noticeably to subsist
Near the opening which led to daylight.
There also came to my nostrils a slight
Pungent odor, and I could only assess
I'd been subdued by some poisonous gas,
But why I should retain my clearest mind
Yet be immobile I could not unwind.

Facing the opening in the cave's veil,
I lay in sight of the short stretch of trail
Between the cave and the turn of the cliff.
The noise of the horses had ceased as if
The Indians were creeping stealthily
Upon their cornered quarry along the
Little ledge which led to my living tomb.
I remember that I hoped that my doom
Would come quickly as I did not relish
The thought of the frightful things they might dish-
Out to me if the spirit prompted them.

I had not long to wait before the problem
Of stealthy sounds apprised me of their trace,
And then a war-bonneted, paint-streaked face
Was thrust cautiously around the incline
Of the cliff, and savage eyes looked into mine.
That he could see me in the cave's dim light
I was sure for the early sun was bright,
Falling upon me through the opening.

The stunned fellow, instead of approaching,
Merely stood and stared; his eyes bulging wide
And his jaw dropped. And then another pied,
Savage face appeared, and a third and fourth
And fifth, craning their curious heads forth
Over the shoulders of their fellow's wedge
They could not pass upon the narrow ledge.
Each face was the picture of awe and fear,
But for what reason did not then appear,
Nor did I learn until ten years later.
That there were still other braves far greater
Than those who observed me was apparent
>From the fact that leaders passed back comment,
Fearful, whispered words to those standing 'round.

Suddenly a low, distinct moaning sound
Issued from the recesses of the cave
Behind me, and, as the tone reached each brave,
They turned and fled in panic-stricken fright.
So frantic were their mad efforts in flight
From the unseen thing behind me that one
Unfortunate was hurled headlong, spun
To the rocks below. Wild cries made chime,
Echoes in the canyon for a short time,
And then all was as still as it once had been.

The frightening sound did not come again,
But it was sufficient enough to start
Speculation on possible black art
Horror which lurked in shadows at my back.
Fear is a relative term and so slack
I can only measure my feelings by
Previous positions of danger I
Have known and by those that I have passed through since;
But I can say without shame of conscience
That if the sensations that did appear
During the next few minutes were of fear,
May God help the coward in his torment;
For cowardice is its own punishment.

To be held paralyzed, a sheer stranger
Toward some horrible and unknown danger
From the very sound of which guaranteed
Apache warriors turn in wild stampede,
As a flock of tense sheep would madly flee
From a pack of ravening wolves, seems to me
The last word in fearsome predicaments
For a man whose profession represents
Fighting for his life against war-bent hounds.

Several times I thought I heard more faint sounds
As of somebody moving cautiously,
But even these ceased eventually ,
And I was left to the contemplation
Of my position without sensation.
I could but vaguely conjecture the key
Of my paralysis, and my only
Hope lay in that it might pass suddenly
As it's strange course had fallen upon me.

Late that afternoon my horse under strain,
Which had been standing by with dragging rein
Before the cave,walked slowly down the trail,
On a needed food and water detail,
And I was alone with my mystery,
An unknown comrade and the dead body
Of my friend, which lay within my vision
Where I had placed it in desolation.

From then until possibly midnight's tread
All was silence, the silence of the dead;
Then, suddenly, an awful morning moan
Broke upon my startled ears, and with that groan
From the shadows the sound of a moving thing,
As of dry, dead leaves faintly rustling.
The shock to my already much decreased
System was terrible to say the least,
And with a superhuman effort true
I strove to break my awful bonds anew.
It was an effort of the mind and will,
Not muscular, for I could not instill
Even so much as my little finger,
But none the less strong was my endeavor.
And then something gave, a momentary
Nausea, a sharp click of an airy
Snapping of a steel wire, and I stood
Against the wall of the cave where I could
Realize face to face my unknown foe.

Then the moonlight flooded the cave aglow,
And there before me lay my own body
As it had been lying all these hours free,
Empty eyes staring as though I were drowned,
The hands resting limply upon the ground.
I looked first at my lifeless clay's portent,
Then down at myself in bewilderment;
For there I lay clothed upon the cave's floor,
Apart as a man who had passed death's door,
And yet here I stood upon this same earth
Naked as at the minute of my birth.

The transition had been so sudden, so
Unexpected that it let me to grow
Apace forgetful of no more than this:
The fact of my strange metamorphosis.
My first thought was, is this then my death!
Have I indeed taken my final breath,
Passed o'er into that other life for aye!
But I could not well believe this, as I
Could feel my heart pounding against my chest
From the exertion of my efforts pressed
To release me from the anaesthesis
Which had held me fast in paralysis.
My breath came in quick, short gasps, cold sweat's plea
Stood out from every pore of my body,
And the experiment of pinching hath
The fact I was much more than a wraith.

Again was I suddenly recalled to
My immediate surroundings all through
A dark repetition of the weird moan
Which came from the depths of the cave's unknown.
Naked and unarmed, I had not a plea
To face the unseen thing which menaced me.

Revolvers strapped to my lifeless body
Which, for some unfathomable key,
I could not bring myself to touch again.
My carbine in boot, strapped past this strange plane,
My horse wandered off, I was left to fight
Without means of defense, a sorry plight.
My only alternative I surmised
Was flight; my decision was crystallized
By a recurrence of the rustling progress
From the thing which now seemed, in the darkness
To my distorted imagination,
To be creeping with acceleration.

Unable to resist the temptation
To escape, I leaped for my salvation
Through the opening into the starlight
Of a clear, blazing Arizona night.
The crisp, fresh mountain air outside the cave
Acted as an sudden tonic which gave
Me new life and new courage coursed through me.
Pausing upon the ledge of recovery
I upbraided myself for extension
Of such unwarranted apprehension.
I reasoned with myself that I had lain
Helpless for many hours under strain,
Yet nothing came of the adversity,
And my better judgment then convinced me
That even strange noises most likely tend
From things which all natural causes send;
The conformation of the cave was blurred
That a slight breeze had caused the sounds I heard.

I decided to scrutinize my cure.
Lifting my head to fill my lungs with pure,
Invigorating night air to the full,
I saw far below me the beautiful
Vista of rocky gorge, and the level,
Wrought by the moonlight into a miracle
Of soft splendor and wondrous enchantment.

Few western wonders are more eloquent
Than an Arizona moonlit landscape;
The silvered mountains in the distance drape
Strange lights and shadows upon hog back
And arroyo, and the grotesque night track
Of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti form
A picture at once enchanting and warm;
As though one were catching for the first time
A glimpse of some dead and forgotten clime,
So different is it from the homely berth
Of any other spot upon our earth.

I stood hushed, thus meditating, and then
Turned my gaze from the land to the heaven
Where the myriad stars formed their plunder,
A gorgeous canopy for the wonder
Of the earthly scene. My attention far
Quickly riveted to a large red star
Close to the distant horizon. As I
Gazed upon it I felt a spell ally
Of overpowering fascination--
It was Mars, the god of war's location,
And for me, the simple fighting man,
It had always been my strong talisman.
As I gazed at it on that far-gone night
It seemed to call across the void and height,
To lure me to it, to draw me as one
Lodestone attracts a fragment of iron.

My longing past the power to oppose;
I closed my eyes, stretched out my arms and chose
The god of my vocation and was brought,
Quickly drawn with the suddenness of thought
Through the trackless immensity of space.
There was an instant of extreme cold apace,
Then utter darkness.

***

Chapter III
My Advent on Mars

I opened my eyes
On a strange and weird landscape. The surmise
That I was on Mars I had to profess
With my sanity and my wakefulness.
I was not asleep, no mere fantasy;
My inner consciousness told me plainly
I was upon Mars as your conscious mind
Tells you that you are upon Earth aligned.
You do not question the fact; nor did I.

I found myself lying to occupy
A soft bed of yellowish, mosslike plant
Which stretched around me and seemed to enchant
The view for interminable miles.
I was lying within deep defiles
Along the outer verge of which I could still
Distinguish the rugged crests of low hills.

It was midday, the sun was shining full
Upon me and the heat was powerful
Upon my naked body, yet never
More than would have been under similar
Conditions on an Arizona desert.
Here and there slight outcroppings of inert
Quartz-bearing rock glistened in the sunlight,
And a hundred yards to my left the sight
Of a walled enclosure four feet in height.
No water, and no other growth at this site
Than the spongy moss was in evidence,
And as I had a mighty thirst to quench,
I determined explore, come the worst.

Springing to my feet I received my first
Martian surprise, for the push, the world
Would have left me standing upright, hurled
Me three yards into the air with a bound.
I alighted softly upon the ground,
However, without the least shock or jar.
Now commenced a series of most bizarre
Events which even then seemed ludicrous.
I relearned walking in this dangerous,
Land as the exertion which carried me
Upon Earth easily and quite safely
Played new, strange antics in this Martian state.

Instead of progressing in a sedate
Sane manner, my attempts to walk were flops,
Resulting in an assortment of hops
Which took me clear of the ground several feet
And landed me sprawling upon my seat
At the end of each second or third bound.
My muscles, perfectly attuned to ground
And gravity on Earth, played sheer havoc
With me attempting the first time to walk
And cope with the lesser gravitation
And air pressure in this situation.

I was resolved, however, to explore
The low structure which was the only shore
Of habitation in sight, and so I
Hit upon an old plan to ratify
First principles in locomotion, by
Creeping. I did fairly well at this try
And in a few moments had reached the small,
Chest-high enclosure's encircling wall.

There appeared to be no windows or door
Upon the side nearest me, but the four-
Foot wall permitted me to peer within,
As I cautiously gained my feet again,
To gaze upon the strangest mystery
It had ever been given me to see.

The enclosure's roof was of solid glass
About four or five inches, a thick mass,
And several hundred large eggs lay in sight,
All perfectly round, clean, and snowy white.
Uniform in size, they seemed to appear
Two and one-half feet in diameter.

The five or six already hatched all spat,
And the grotesque caricatures which sat
Blinking in the sun were society
To cause me to doubt my plain sanity.
They seemed mostly head, with little scrawny
Bodies, long necks, six-legged in degree,
Or, as I afterward learned, two legs free
And two arms, with intermediary
Pair of limbs which could be employed at will
Either as arms or legs most versatile.
At the extreme sides of their heads, thereby
A trifle above center, set each eye
Which protruded with such a special knack
They could be directed forward or back
Or independently of each other,
Thus permitting this queer beast to confer
In any direction, or two instead,
Without the demand of turning the head.

The ears, which were slightly above the eyes
And closer together, were cup-shaped spies,
Small antennae, protruding not more than
Than a mere inch on these young specimen.
Their noses were but longitudinal
Slits in the center of their faces, small
Grooves set midway between their mouths and ears.

Upon their slight bodies no hair appears,
So smooth they seem to glow like tiny spheres.
Light yellowish-green color domineers
The adults, as I was to quite soon learn,
Deepening to an olive green concern
Darker in the male than in the female.
Further, the heads of the adults avail
Not the odd, greater proportion among
Fair bodies as in the case of the young.

The iris of the eyes is blood red, stark
As in Albinos, while the pupil's dark.
The eyeball itself is of white utmost,
As are the teeth. These latter add a most
Ferocious aspect serving to enhance
A fearsome and terrible countenance,
As the lower tusks curve upward to keen
Points which end about where the eyes are seen
In earthly human beings. The whiteness
Of the teeth is not ivory's brightness,
But of the snowiest and most gleaming
Of china. Against the darker beaming
Of their olive skins their tusks stand out in
A most striking manner, which determine
That these natural weapons will advance
A unique formidable appearance.

Most of these keen details I noted late,
For I had little time to speculate
On the wonders of my discovery.
The unique eggs were hatching rapidly
And as I stood watching the hideous
Little monsters break from their curious
Shells I failed to note the approach of the
Score of full-grown Martians from behind me.

Coming over the soundless, mossy bliss,
Which covers most of the Martian surface
With the exception of the frozen poles
And the more scattered cultivated shoals,
They might have captured me without a stir,
But their intentions were more sinister.
It was the rattling of accouterments
Of the foremost warrior which sped intents.

On such a little thing my life hung free,
I marveled I escaped so easily.
Had not the leader's rifle made rattle
>From its fastenings beside his saddle
In such a way as to strike hard awry
The butt of his great metal shod spear, I
Should have snuffed out without a single plea
Never knowing that death was so near me.
But the little sound caused me to arrest,
And upon me, not ten feet from my breast,
Was the point of that spear forty feet long,
Tipped with gleaming metal, and held there strong
At the side of a mounted replica
Of the little devils I'd watched with awe.

How puny and harmless was their station
Beside this terrific incarnation
Of hate, of vengeance and of death. The man
Himself, for such I may call him, nigh ran
Fully fifteen feet in height and, on Earth,
Would weigh four hundred pounds for all his worth.
He sat his mount as humans sit a horse,
Grasping the animal's barrel of course
With lower limbs, while the hands of two right
Arms held his immense spear low at the site
Of his mount; his two left arms were askance
Laterally to help preserve balance,
The thing he rode having neither bridle
Or reins of any kind to guide or call.

And his mount! How can words come to my aid!
It towered ten feet at the shoulder blade;
Four legs on either side; a broad flat tail,
Larger at the tip than at the root's flail,
Which while running it held straight out behind ;
A gaping mouth which split its head in kind
From a long, massive neck to its broad snout.

Like its master, there was no hair about,
But was of a dark slate color and the
Hide exceedingly smooth and glossy.
Its belly was white, and its legs eclipse
>From the dark slate of its shoulders and hips
To a vivid yellow cast at the feet.
The feet themselves were thick padded complete
And nailless, which had contributed to
The noiselessness of their close rendezvous,
And, in common with a multiplicity
Of legs, is a characteristic key
In the structure of all Martian fauna.
The highest type of man and the strange paw
Of one other beast, the only mammal
Existing on Mars, alone have nails full-
Formed, and absolutely I can declare
No hoofed animals in existence there.

Behind this first charging demon followed
Nineteen others, similarly endowed,
But, as I learned later, bearing rare tricks,
Individual characteristics
Peculiar to themselves; precisely so
No two of us are identical 'though
We are all cast in a similar mold.
This picture, or rather nightmare unrolled,
Which I have described at length, made but one
Certain terrible and swift impression
On me as I turned lone to meet the worst.

Unarmed and naked as I was, the first
Law of nature presented the only
Sure solution of my adversity,
And that was to leave the vicinity
Of the point of the spear. Consequently
I gave an earthly and subsequently
Superhuman leap to the apogee
Of the strange incubator mystery,
For such I had determined it must be.

My effort was crowned with a great success
Which, however, appalled me no less
Than it seemed to awe the green warrior,
For it carried me thirty feet or more
Into the air and landed me anon
A hundred feet from the attack and on
The opposite side of the enclosure.

I alighted upon the soft moss sure
And without mishap, and turning saw all
My enemies lined by the further wall.
Some were surveying me with expressions
Which I afterward learned were confessions
Of extreme astonishment; others were
Investigating the round enclosure,
Proving I had not molested their young.

They were conversing in their mother-tongue,
Gesticulating and pointing toward me.
Their discovery that I had clearly
Not harmed the little Martians, and that I
Was unarmed, must have caused them to espy
Me with less ferocity; but, as I
Learned later, the thing which did most apply
In my favor was my hurdling display.

While the Martians are immense, their bones lay
Well-formed, fitting upon a skeleton
In proportion to the gravitation
Which they must overcome by force. And still,
These men are infinitely less agile
And less powerful, in proportion to
Their weight, than an Earth man, and I pursue
That were one of them suddenly to be
Transported to Earth he could not lift free
His own weight from the ground; facts in a row,
I am convinced that he could not do so.

My feat was marvelous in this kingdom
As it would have been upon Earth, and from
Desiring to annihilate me
They suddenly saw this poor refugee
As a most wonderful discovery
To be displayed in their society.

The respite of my wild agility
Permitted me to devise plans for the
Immediate future and to note more
Closely the aspect of each warrior,
For I could not disassociate these
People in my mind from those Apaches
Who, the day past, had been pursuing me.

I noted that each was armed most boldly
With other weapons in addition to
The huge spear which I've described hitherto.
The weapon which caused me to defer an
Attempt at escape by flight began
With what was evidently a rifle
Of some description, which was no trifle,
And I felt, for some reason, they could claim
Efficiency in handling the same.

These rifles were of a white metal, wood-
Stocked, which I learned later was a good,
Light, yet intensely hard growth much prized on
Mars, an wholly unknown phenomenon
To us denizens of Earth. The metal
Of the barrel is an alloy made all
Of aluminum and steel tempered to
A hardness far exceeding steel I knew.
The weight of these rifles is negative,
And with the small caliber, explosive,
Radium projectiles which they employ,
And the length of the barrel, they destroy
At extreme ranges and deal deadly worth
From what would be unthinkable on Earth.
The theoretic effective wiles
Of this rifle is three hundred miles,
But the best they can do in actual
Service when equipped with their versatile,
Wireless finders and sighters compiles
A trifle over two hundred miles.

This is quite far enough to imbue me
With great respect for the gun's majesty,
And some telepathic force must have warned me
Against an attempt to run futily
In broad daylight from under the vile spleens
Of twenty of these death-dealing machines.

The Martians, after talking awhile,
Turned and rode away toward the defile
>From which they had come, leaving one alone
By the enclosure. When they had but known
Two hundred yards they halted, turned slowly
Their mounts, sat watching the warrior and me.

He was the one whose spear had so nearly
Transfixed me here, and was evidently
The leader of the band, as I'd portent
That they seemed to have moved to their present
Position at his order. When his force
Had come to a halt he left his strange horse,
Threw down his spear and small arms, and came 'round
The end of the incubator's low ground
Entirely unarmed, naked as I,
Except where bright ornaments may apply,
Proudly strapped upon his head, limbs, and breast.

When he had about fifty feet progressed,
He unclasped a massive, metal armlet,
And holding it toward me in the quiet
Open palm of his hand, set the grave stage
In the clearest voice, but in a language,
Needless to say, I could not understand.
He then stopped, waiting for my reply, and
Pricking up his antennae-like ears he
Cocked low his strange-looking eyes toward me.

As the silence became painful I spun
A little receptive conversation
On my own part, as I had a sure lease
He was making overtures of peace.
The throwing down of his weapons and the
Troop's exit before his advance toward me
Would have signified peaceful, lowered bars
On civil Earth, so why not, then, on Mars!

Placing my hand over my heart I bowed
Low to the Martian and gently allowed
That while I did not understand his tongue,
His actions spoke peace and friendship among
All beings that at the present moment
Were feelings most dear to my heart's intent.
Of course I might have been a babbling brook
For all the intelligence my speech took,
But the clear actions which followed my word
Stood stronger than all that I had conferred.

Stretching my hand to him, I stepped forth calm,
And took the armlet from his open palm,
Clasping it above my elbow; then I
Smiled at him and stood waiting for reply.
His wide mouth spread into a gracious smile,
And locking one mid arm in mine with style,
We turned abreast and walked back toward his steed.
As he motioned his warriors to proceed.
They started toward us on a wild run,
But were checked to come forward with reason.
Evidently he feared were I to be
Really frightened again I might then flee
Verily out of the landscape again.

He exchanged a few fair words with his men,
Motioned to me that I would share a ride
With one of them, then mounted at our side.
The fellow designated reached down two
Or three hands and lifted me up onto

The glossy back of his mount, where I hung
On as best I could by the belts that swung
Across their great shoulders, those gaudy accents
Which held the Martian's weapons and ornaments.

The entire cavalcade galloped away
Toward the range of hills in the distant day.

***