The Gray Mouser, One and Two

The Gray Mouser : 1

The city lifts black roof-shields toward the stars

And shuts the jungle out with mortised stones

And seals the scent of flowers in glass jars

And locks Earth’s secrets up in brass-clasped tomes

No satyr may live there, no faun survive

The stench and clangor of each crowded street.

The white-fanged beasts of night cannot contrive

To gnaw an entrance through its black concrete.

Yet ‘mongst the gargoyles on the slated roofs

One gray-masked face peers down with living  grin

That mocks the scurry of the city’s floor.

Two gray-gloved hands tease ope’ the library’s door

And break the ponderous books and scribble in

Footnotes that give the lie to all proud proofs.

-                                            

                                                                                                                         Fritz Leiber 

The Gray Mouser : 2

Soft-sandaled feet press lightly on the stones

That cobble Lankhmar’s mazy alleyways;

A grayish cloak melts in the river mist

That billowing with many a darting twist

Fumes round the corner from the nighted bays

To chill with sorcery men’s blood and bones;

Only a bat whose sharp ears caught one sound

Knows that the Mouser is on business bound.

A jewel from Quarmall or a girl from Kled,

A caravel said to be docking soon,

A rune that Sheelba magicked from the dead,

Or a dread whisper from beyond the moon

What man can name the thing the Mouser seeks

Or read the smile that links his sallow cheeks?

-                                                                                                                             Fritz Leiber

    Both included in the White Wolf edition of Ill Met in Lankhmar. 

Il    Illustrations by Mike Mignola

            God bless Fritz Leiber.