The seer stands on the sacred hill above the ocean strand, His eyes fixed on the spirit path that leads to the spirit land;

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To the Far North, with many a bend, along the rugged hore
That sad road leads, o'er rocks and weeds, whence none returneth more.
The weak, the strong, all pass along—the coward and the brave;
From that dread track none turneth back, none can escape the grave.