No glory’s reached by flowery garden paths—take Hercules for instance, who worked hard for his.
Another such, a knight, in search of fortune went to far romantic lands, a comrade at his side.
They came upon a signpost, thus inscribed:
“Adventurers! Care you to see what no knight errant’s seen? No problem: Cross this torrent first, then lift the elephant of stone you’ll find, and in one breath, transport it to the mountain’s sky-abrading peak.”
“Ridiculous!” our knight’s friend said. The very thought did cause his nose to bleed. “The current’s doubtless swift as well as deep. Supposing we did cross it, there remains the elephant of stone, which, if it’s hollow, one might carry several steps, no more. But to the top, without a breath? A god would struggle at this task! Unless, of course, the elephant’s a pygmy or a dwarf, an ornamental knob with which to top your walking-stick. What honor then in lifting it? This challenge is a trap, some trick to fool a child. I’ll none of it.”
The reasoner departed; and the knight, with eyes shut, hurled himself into the stream—and swam across.
There lay the elephant; he lifted it and carried it; and at the mountain’s top he found an esplanade that led into a city.
From the stone he held there came a cry, and out into the streets there poured a crowd of people armed with weapons.
Most adventurers would flee at such a sight. Not ours. He strode toward the throng, prepared to bravely lose his life—in trade for others.
So imagine his surprise to hear the horde proclaim him king!
He needed little coaxing, though he said, in modesty, the burden wasn’t light.
It’s sometimes wise to not consult one’s wisdom, and prudent not to pause before one’s deeds. Blind fortune follows where blind daring leads.