There, too, were tombs of certain wizard-kings—
Antediluvians of visage sombrous—
And holy men, before their moss-grown crypts,
Studied in awful Syriac manuscripts.
Beyond, there dwelleth an immortal folk,
About a stream, which to a lake enlarges:
Pine hills curve greenly round, and groves of oak,
Sometimes they rested on the river marges,
Sometimes they plowed the lake in hollow barges,
And sometimes, on the altars made sweet smoke,