On, on, for many a weary mile they fare; Till thinner grew the floods, long, dark and dense, From nearness to earth's core; and now, a glare Of grateful light relieved their piercing sense; As when, above, the sun his genial streams Of warmth and light darts mingling with the waves, Whole fathoms down; while, amorous of his beams, Each scaly, monstrous thing leaps from its slimy caves. And now, Phraerion, with a tender cry, Far sweeter than the land-bird's note, afar Heard through the azure arches of the sky, By the long-baffled, storm-worn mariner: "Hold, Zophiel! rest thee now--our task is done, Tahathyam's realms alone can give this light! O! though it is not the life-awakening sun, How sweet to see it break upon such fearful night!" Clear grew the wave, and thin; a substance white, The wide-expanding cavern floors and flanks; Could one have looked from high how fair the sight! Like these, the dolphin, on Bahaman banks, Cleaves the warm fluid, in his rainbow tints, While even his shadow on the sands below Is seen; as through the wave he glides, and glints, Where lies the polished shell, and branching corals grow. No massive gate impedes; the wave, in vain, Might strive against the air to break or fall; And, at the portal of that strange domain, A clear, bright curtain seemed, or crystal wall. The spirits pass its bounds, but would not far Tread its slant pavement, like unbidden guest; The while, on either side, a bower of spar Gave invitation for a moment's rest. And, deep in either bower, a little throne Looked so fantastic, it were hard to know If busy nature fashioned it alone, Or found some curious artist here below. Soon spoke Phraerion: "Come, Tahathyam, come, Thou know'st me well! I saw thee once to love; And bring a guest to view thy sparkling dome Who comes full fraught with tidings from above." Those gentle tones, angelically clear, Past from his lips, in mazy depths retreating, (As if that bower had been the cavern's ear,) Full many a stadia far; and kept repeating, As through the perforated rock they pass, Echo to echo guiding them; their tone (As just from the sweet spirit's lip) at last Tahathyam heard: where, on a glittering throne he solitary sat. Sending through the rock an answering strain, to give the spirits welcome, the gnome prepares to meet them at his palace-door: