“_Yet onward still to ear and eye The baffling marvel calls; I fain would look before I die On Norumbega’s walls._” —_John Greenleaf Whittier_ “_Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me?_”…
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