ZEPHORANIM,

written in scintillating letters of fire, indicated to all
beholders the name and abode of the powerful Monarch under whose
dominion, according to Sah-luma, Al-Kyris had reached its present
height of wealth and prosperity.

Theos looked everywhere about him, seeing yet scarcely realizing
the wonders on which he gazed,--leaning one arm on the burnished
edge of the car, he glanced now and then up at the dusky skies
growing thick with swarming worlds, and meditated dreamily whether
it might not be within the range of possibility to be lifted with
Sah-luma, chariot, steeds and all into that beautiful, fathomless
empyrean, and drive among planets as though they were flowers,
reining in at last before some great golden gate, which unbarred
should open into a lustrous Glory-Land fairer than all fair
regions ever pictured!

How like a god Sah-luma looked, he mused! ... his eyes resting
tenderly on the light, glittering form he was never weary of
contemplating. Could there be a more perfect head than that dark
one crowned with myrtle? ... could there be a more dazzling
existence than that enjoyed by this child of happy fortune, this
royal Laureate of a mighty King? How many poets starving in
garrets and waiting for a hearing, would not curse their unlucky
destinies when comparing themselves with such a Prince of Poesy,
each word of whose utterance was treasured and enshrined in the
hearts of a grateful and admiring people!

This was Fame indeed, . . Fame at its utmost best,--and Theos sighed