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 | A thousand more verses |  |
50
This is not a ship, but a palace, that flits through the regions of space!
It carries in untold abundance all things that the fancy can please—
Few kings in this world ever journey surrounded with splendors like these.
No wish and no whim but is granted from only a gesture or word,
If also the yellow disc's rattle, or rustling of bank-notes be heard.
The rest-rooms are lavish and stately; the banquet-halls silver-and-white;
The couches that nourish the slumbers, are beautiful nests of delight.
And all of this grandeur seems saying, in words at the deep waters cast,
“Bow low to proud man, ancient Ocean!—your terrors are conquered at last!”
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