Racked on the fiery centre of the sun, Twelve years I saw the ruined world roll round. Shudder not—I have borne it—I deserved My wretched fate—be better thine—farewell.” “Oh, stay, my father! stay one moment more. Let me return thee that embrace—’tis past— Aroar! how could I quit it unreturned! And now the gulf divides us, and the waves Of sulphur bellow through the blue abyss. And is he gone for ever! and I come In vain?” Then sternly said the guide, “In vain! Sayst thou? what wouldst thou more? alas, O prince, None come for pastime here! but is it nought To turn thy feet from evil? is it nought Of pleasure to that shade if they are turned? For this thou camest hither: he who dares To penetrate this darkness, nor regards The dangers of the way, shall reascend In glory, nor the gates of hell retard His steps, nor demon’s nor man’s art prevail. Once in each hundred years, and only once, Whether by some rotation of the world, Or whether willed so by some power above, This flaming arch starts back, each realm descries Its opposite, and Bliss from her repose Freshens and feels her own security.” “Security!” cried out the Gadite king, “And feel they not compassion?” “Child of Earth,” Calmly said Aroar at his guest’s surprise, “Some so disfigured by habitual crimes, Others are so exalted, so refined, So permeated by heaven, no trace remains Graven on earth: here Justice is supreme; Compassion can be but where passions are. Here are discovered those who tortured Law To silence or to speech, as pleased themselves: Here also those who boasted of their zeal And loved their country for the spoils it gave. Hundreds, whose glitt’ring merchandise the lyre Dazzled vain wretches drunk with flattery, And wafted them in softest airs to Heav’n, Doomed to be still deceived, here still attune The wonted strings and fondly woo applause: Their wish half granted, they retain their own, But madden at the mockery of the shades. Upon the river’s other side there grow Deep olive groves; there other ghosts abide, Blest indeed they, but not supremely blest. We cannot see beyond, we cannot see Aught but our opposite, and here are fates How opposite to ours! here some observed Religious rites, some hospitality: Strangers, who from the good old men retired, Closed the gate gently, lest from generous use Shutting and opening of its own accord, It shake unsettled slumbers off their couch: Some stopped revenge athirst for slaughter, some Sowed the slow olive for a race unborn. These had no wishes, therefore none are crowned; But theirs are tufted banks, theirs umbrage, theirs Enough of sunshine to enjoy the shade, And breeze enough to lull them to repose.” Then Gebir cried: “Illustrious host, proceed. Bring me among the wonders of a realm