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I see Kneph, blooming, dressed in blue, with the crown
of feathers on his head,
I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying
to the people, Do not weep for me,
This is not my true country, I have lived banished from
my true country—I now go back there,
I return to the celestial sphere, where every one goes
in his turn.

17.I see the battle-fields of the earth—grass grows upon
them, and blossoms and corn,
I see the tracks of ancient and modern expeditions.

18.I see the nameless masonries, venerable messages of
the unknown events, heroes, records of the earth.

19.I see the places of the sagas,
I see pine-trees and fir-trees torn by northern blasts,
I see granite boulders and cliffs—I see green meadows
and lakes,
I see the burial-cairns of Scandinavian warriors,
I see them raised high with stones, by the marge of
restless oceans, that the dead men's spirits, when
they wearied of their quiet graves, might rise up
through the mounds, and gaze on the tossing
billows, and be refreshed by storms, immensity,
liberty, action.

20.I see the steppes of Asia,
I see the tumuli of Mongolia—I see the tents of Kamucks
and Baskirs,
I see the nomadic tribes, with herds of oxen and cows,
I see the table-lands notched with ravines—I see the
jungles and deserts,