Chapter 29 No.29

"Dared I but say a prophecy,

As sang the holy men of old,

Of rock-built cities yet to be

Along these shining shores of gold,

Crowding athirst into the sea;

What wondrous marvels might be told!

Enough to know that empire here

Shall burn her loftiest, brightest star;

Here art and eloquence shall reign

As o'er the wolf-reare