The water is of the most beautiful green, like a sheet of molten beryl, and the cloud-piercing mountains that encompass them shut out the sun for nearly half the day.

The Temple shakes, the sounding gates unfold, Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted gold, Raised on a thousand pillars wreathed around With laurel-foliage and with eagles crowned; Of bright transparent beryl were the walls, The friezes gold, and gold the capitals: As heaven with stars, the roof with jewels glows, And ever-living lamps depend in rows.