But some rode up unto the gorgeous clouds _Around the necks of monstrous eagles clinging._ The people which do there have their abodes Welcoméd them with flags, and wild bell-ringing; With musical cannon from th’ embrasures flinging Puffs of white vapor, bombs, and rattling grape:— The Goblin-populace of Cloud-land we Could well behold:—Ah, they a brisk folk be! And caravans continually crossed the plains. Camels and elephants innumerable— With carriages, and pigmy oxen trains, And scampering knights, in armor of black shell, Lords, bearded patriarchs, and gay rabble, And baggage-wagons full of chattering dames, And mounted archers, shooting slender arrows, Wound slowly round the curving river narrows. But some came down the rivers on broad rafts; _With shells, and bells, and crooked bugles, waking_ _Numberless echoes on the rocks_. The shafts Of the forests stood, like champions unquaking, Though many clamors, the old silence breaking, Startled the musing Hermits. Now arose The stars, and moon, and all the hosts of night: We stood above a plain upon a height. Three noble rivers, in the moonlight shining, Sparkled from three defiles in East, and West, And North—in silence to a blue gulf winding, Which, by the distant mountains, lay at rest; And there a city with a massive crest Of turrets, overlooked that rock-bound sheet. The rivers round it, in broad girdles pressed; Bridges there were, and groves, and gardens meet; And in the bay lay moored an idle fleet. Unto that city did all people flow: In the deep plain we saw their circular camps, Like islands of an archipelago; And as we looked, _a belt of fiery lamps_ _Was wound around the crowning citadel;_ Whereat each watching pilgrim said: “Full well I know, that now within yon distant dell The Lord of blessed Elpholen doth dwell. “To him we will present our offering Of fruits, and herds, and many precious ores, Which rivers from the mountain-summits bring:— Upon the gulf’s cool strand, and shady shores Our ancient games we will perform long hours: Then we will go again to our dear tribes, And to our cattle in the pleasant meadows, And dappled deer browsing in mountain shadows.” That night we camped upon the sandy margent Of an unknown sea; and when, behind sharp peaks, The moon retired in her skiff of argent, Then certain meteors filled the sky with streaks, And diving, from the zenith-ridge divergent, Through the purple heavens fell in flakes, Which, as they struck the water, lost their light, And grew a portion of its night.