BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR.
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Where many cedars shade Igondo’s shelf,
Like towering Dukes of Edom crowned with plumes;
Where seven rivers to an awful gulf
Fall, with much foam, from Himalaya’s flooms;
And where, from Baal-Phaxi’s caverned rooms,
Through ice-arched galleries pours tumultuous Ulf,
Are built across a swarthy savage glen,
The gates which bar the land of Elpholen.