The sky it was a golden dome—
          A golden mist the air;
       But God, the Giver of all this good,
           Was lost in that fierce glare.

      Methought I was the absolute Lord
           Of all the earth and sea,
       And pale kings came, and offered up
           Their sceptres unto me.

                                 II.

      Day after day thus past away;
           No cloud was in the air:
       The steady shine of the gold divine
           Made all seem good and fair.

      At length a comrade spoke, and said
           "Our labour 'gins to rust;
       My heart is sick of this sordid work,
           Of scraping up mere dust:

      "For three nights past I've dreamt one dream.
           Methought I left these sands,
       And traced the river to its source
           Amid the higher lands:-

      "There, in the crannies of the rocks,
           By ceaseless currents roll'd,
       I found great flakes, and heavy lumps,
           And nuggets huge of gold;

      "Their glory shone in that dull place
           Like foam upon the sea!
       I clutched them up—but at that point,
           A darkness fell on me.
       As I stand here, thus has it been
           On each night of the three.

      "Now, hearken, brother, to my plan:
           Which is, that I and you
       Shall seek this fine dream-land of mine,
           Amid the mountains blue.

      "This thrice-dreamt dream can not be false;
           I feel it in my soul:
       My heart speaks loudly to itself
           Vast words beyond control!
       So tell me, friend, if you will seek
           With me this happy goal?"

      The Fate within me answer'd "Yes."—
          We left, next morn, the sands,
      And traced the river to its source,
          And gain'd the higher lands.

      A wild domain it was, all full
          Of crags, and caverns rude—
      Deserts of silence, stretching far,
          And vasts of solitude.

      And in the rocks we found great blocks
           Of the metal which we sought;
       Yea, all things seem'd as my comrade dream'd;
           We had not come for nought.

      Good lack! the spade and the pick-axe made
           All day a merry chime:
       Since my beard was grown, I had not known
           So excellent a time.

      But then the Summer came. The Sun,
           Alone within the sky,
       Struck like a curse the universe
           With his consuming eye.

      And then rains fell; and the ground
           Was sodden through with damp;
       And in our sleep we could almost weep
           In the gripe of the cruel cramp.

                               III.

      Yet still we work'd as best we might
           In the pestilent hot rain,
       Though each could see in the other's eyes
           The picture of his pain.

       At last, my strength was stricken down,
           And I was sorely ill;
       And on the earth I sank, and lay,
           For utter weakness, still.

      Within the shadow of the rocks
           And the shelter of the caves,
       I hid my pain, and in my brain
           There was a noise of waves:—

      For every thought seem'd like a wave,
           And made a surging sound
       In the pauses of the rushing rain,
           When there was silence round:

      Silence, that else was only dashed
           By the thumping of the axe
       Of my comrade wan, who still held on,
           Heaping his gold in stacks.

      But never a thought to me he gave:
           He left me where I lay,
       Watching the light, and the clouds' slow flight,
           Till the dying of the day.

      A week thus past; and, at the last,
           Slowly my strength return'd:
       But in my heart, consuming it,
           A sharp flame leapt and burn'd.

      All through my sickness I had watch'd
           My comrade's wealth increase,
       While mine stood still; and those loud thoughts
           Cried out, and would not cease:—

      "His midnight sleep is dull and deep,
           And looks so much like Death,
       That a single blow would make it so,
           And stop his vigorous breath."

      And it was so.—I struck one blow
           As he slept within the cave.
       My hand was red; but he was dead,
           And I dug a hasty grave.

      I dug a grave in the richest part
           Of that gold-teeming land;
       Put a yellow lump in the gaping mouth,
           And one in either hand:
       "Ho ho!" quoth I, "no king doth lie
           So royally and grand."

      I seiz'd his treasure and my own,
           And fled in sudden fear;
       But the presence of my comrade seem'd
           For ever hovering near.

      He moved before me all the day,
           Like a shadow on my sight;
       And when the darkness fell from Heaven,
           He was a burning light!—
      A ghostly dream within the noon,
           And a living dread at night!