V.

Sand, sand, and still more sand! The desert! Fearful land! Teeming with monsters dread And plagues on every hand! Here in an endless flow, Sandhills of golden glow, Where'er the tempests blow, Like a great flood are spread. Sometimes the sacred spot Hears human sounds profane, when As from Ophir or from Memphre Stretches the caravan. From far the eyes, its trail Along the burning shale Bending its wavering tail, Like a mottled serpent scan. These deserts are of God! His are the bounds alone, Here, where no feet have trod, To Him its centre known! And from this smoking sea Veiled in obscurity, The foam one seems to see In fiery ashes thrown.

"Shall desert change to lake?" cried out the cloud. "Still further!" from heaven's depths sounded that Voice aloud.