Here on a hill the royal palace stood, A gem of art; and near, another hill, Its top crowned by an aged banyan tree, Its sides clad in strange jyotismati grass,[7] By day a sober brown, but in the night Glowing as if the hill were all aflame-- Twin wonders to the dwellers in the plain, Their guides and landmarks day and night, This glittering palace and this glowing hill. Within, above the palace rose a tower, Which memory knew but as the ancient tower, Foursquare and high, an altar and a shrine On its broad top, where burned perpetual fire, Emblem of boundless and eternal love And truth that knows no night, no cloud, no change, Long since gone out, with that most ancient faith In one great Father, source of life and light.[8] Still round this ancient tower, strange hopes and fears, And memories handed down from sire to son, Were clustered thick. An army, old men say, Once camped against the city, when strange lights Burst from this tower, blinding their dazzled eyes. They fled amazed, nor dared to look behind. The people bloody war and cruel bondage saw On every side, and they at peace and free, And thought a power to save dwelt in that tower. And now strange prophecies and sayings old Were everywhere rehearsed, that from this hill Should come a king or savior of the world. Even the poor dwellers in the distant plain Looked up; they too had heard that hence should come One quick to hear the poor and strong to save. And who shall dare to chide their simple faith? This humble reverence for the great unknown Brings men near God, and opens unseen worlds, Whence comes all life, and where all power doth dwell. Morning and evening on this tower the king, Before the rising and the setting sun, Blindly, but in his father's faith, bowed down. Then he would rise and on his kingdom gaze. East, west, hills beyond hills stretched far away, Wooded, terraced, or bleak and bald and bare, Till in dim distance all were leveled lost. One rich and varied carpet spread far south, Of fields, of groves, of busy cities wrought, With mighty rivers seeming silver threads; And to the north the Himalayan chain, Peak beyond peak, a wall of crest and crag, Ice bound, snow capped, backed by intensest blue, Untrod, immense, that, like a crystal wall. In myriad varied tints the glorious light Of rising and of setting sun reflects; His noble city lying at his feet, And his broad park, tinged by the sun's slant rays A thousand softly rich and varied shades.