"On, on we went, till at last the east began to blush like the cheek of a girl. Then there came faint rays of primrose light, that changed presently to golden bars, through which the dawn glided out across the desert. The stars grew pale and paler still, till at last they vanished; the golden moon waxed wan, and her mountain ridges stood out against her sickly face like the bones on the cheek of a dying man. Then came spear upon spear of light flashing far away across the boundless wilderness, piercing and firing the veils of mist, till the desert was draped in a tremulous golden glow, and it was day."
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Fantasy authorsNovelists from EnglandAnti-communistsShort story writers from EnglandVictorian novelists
Original Language: English
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Chapter 5, "Our March into the Desert"
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/H._Rider_Haggard
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H. Rider Haggard
Sir Henry Rider Haggard (22 June 1856 – 14 May 1925), born in Bradenham, Norfolk, England, was a Victorian writer of adventure novels set in exotic locations such as southern Africa, Central Asia, Egypt, Iceland and Mexico.
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