circles with a shining flutter of innumerable wings and shrill cries of
surprise.

He traversed the fertile fields of Concabar, where the dust from the
threshing-floors filled the air with a golden mist, half hiding the
huge temple of Astarte with its four hundred pillars.

At Baghistan, among the rich gardens watered by fountains from the
rock, he looked up at the mountain thrusting its immense rugged brow
out over the road, and saw the figure of King Darius trampling upon his
fallen foes, and the proud list of his wars and conquests graven high
upon the face of the eternal cliff.

Over many a cold and desolate pass, crawling painfully across the
wind-swept shoulders of the hills; down many a black mountain-gorge,
where the river roared and raced before him like a savage guide; across
many a smiling vale, with terraces of yellow limestone full of vines
and fruit trees; through the oak groves of Carine and the dark Gates of
Zagros, walled in by precipices; into the ancient city of Chala, where
the people of Samaria had been kept in captivity long ago; and out
again by the mighty portal, riven through the encircling hills, where
he saw the image of the High Priest of the Magi sculptured on the wall
of rock, with hand uplifted as if to bless the centuries of pilgrims;
past the entrance of the narrow defile, filled from end to end with
orchards of peaches and figs, through which the river Gyndes foamed
down to meet him; over the broad rice-fields, where the autumnal vapors
spread their deathly mists; following along the course of the river,
under tremulous shadows of poplar and tamarind, among the lower hills;
and out upon the flat plain, where the road ran straight as an arrow
through the stubble-fields and parched meadows; past the city of