Above all mountains, clouds, and smoking isles, From one huge base three stately hills arise; A wall extends from them a thousand miles, Steep and unbroken, builded to the skies, _Higher than even the gray-winged condor flies_; And compasseth, with rocks and snowy piles A table land, both wide and wonderful, And only by that gated pass accessible— Crossing a frightful plain which the sun scorches, Which plain is full of chasms and trap-dykes, Scoriæ, cinders, and dry river gorges, With timber petrified, basaltic spikes, And lava-ponds, with hard, black, stony surges We reached the shaded pass below the peaks, And paused to hear the roar of plunging Ulf, And the seven rivers, far within the gulf. Up that defile, with fear and silent wonder, We rode; _our horses seemed but two small mice_. The rivers in the gulf gave forth _large_ thunder, And rocks, above the clouds, fell, bounding thrice, With uproar, from the grim cliffs, cracked asunder. Aloft, like Anakim, with helms of ice The mountains raised their huge Plutonic shoulders, Clothed in Titanic mail of ore and boulders. Three Prophets of grand stature and bald brows Sat by the gates. _They were much older than_ _The river Nile._ One of deep eyes arose And said: “Speak unto us what manner of man Thou art, O, hero; if of some fierce clan Hyperborean, or of pagan Huns?” He of the icebergs spoke with rhetoric fit In words and figures following, to wit; . . . . . . The Prophet said, “Here shalt thou rest this night While the sun sleeps in hollow Erebus; And as the hours pass on in silent flight All known philosophy will we discuss. But thou, O wizard Etheuòlymus, To Himmalaya’s broken pinnacle Fly with this young esquire, that he may see All kingdoms on the continent that be.” Then, with the wizard in a flying mist, I rose along the sides of that steep cone: ’Twas like an iron trunk of girdle vast; The moon’s full globe upon all cities shone; _Tyre_, by the waters; glimmering Ascalon; The City of the Magians, girt with fire; And in the East we saw those mountain ranges Which separate the Nile from sacred Ganges. Alas! all earthly things have been revised Even Learning’s careful patron and Protector, The Inquisition, is disorganized. The world is round, and has a Radius Vector; There’s not a ghost on duty, nor a spectre; Sinbad is dead, and almost any loafer Can go, in steamers, round Cape Horn to Ophir.