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Updated: May 4, 2025
E'en the sea-god thither fares; Sudden, with his trident's blow, He the granite columns tears From earth's entrails far below; In his mighty hands, on high, Waves he them, like some light ball, And with nimble Hermes by, Raises up the rampart-wall. But from out the golden strings Lures Apollo harmony, Measured time's sweet murmurings, And the might of melody.
This grim, desolate, silent landscape! Beyond the ramp, fifty feet below us, a tumbled naked plain stretched away into blurred distance. But I could see mountains off there. Behind us, the towering, frowning rampart-wall of Archimedes loomed against the sky. I had turned to look back at the Planetara. She lay broken, wedged between spires of upstanding rock. A few of her lights still gleamed.
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