part, and the cave to be twenty good
feet aloft, as I have told; so that all made to set us in a lofty place.

And the cave to look toward the two Mountains that did rise upward no
more than twelve good miles off from us, as I do think; and the Country
between to be somewise as a mighty park; for it was spread much about
the feet of the Great Fire-Hills, and did be bare in this place and
that, as that rock did make the earth naked there, or the falling of
some later fire to have wrought thus. And between the bare parts, there
went strange and romantic woods, seen mistily, and in parts the gleaming
of waters, as that hot lakes did be half shown among the broken forests.

And presently the Land did go upward with a monstrous sweep, and was
then in great terraces in the height, and trees to grow very plentiful
upon the mountains, in sundry parts; and so those two Mighty Hills to go
upward to meet the everlasting night; and presently to show strange
uplands that did be seen very wondrous and queer in the light that did
glow from the vast glowing of the fire that did be a crown upon the
hills, that did seem in verity to be that they burned halfway between
that known world, and the lost olden world, that was mayhap two hundred
great miles above in the everlasting night and eternity of darkness.

And I lookt upward for awhile, and was much held by the mighty uplands
that did be on high; yet did lie utter far below the burning crests of
the Mountains, and showed vague and sombre and dreadful seeming, because
that they did be so lost upward, and to have the mystery of the red
shining and of the shadows upon them, and to seem to slope far under the
great fires, but yet to be a place where no life should ever come,
because that they did be so monstrous a way upward beyond the great
shoulders of the Hills, the which did be themselves a huge way up. And
truly, I should give you somewhat of the affecting of those grim and
unknown Uplands, if that I said they did seem to my fancy to be a place
where a sorrowful thing might wander lost forever. But why I to think
this thing, how shall I say; and do tell it to you, only because that it
doth seem to hold in the thought the grimness and utter desolation of
those high and lonesome lands.

And by this, I was done looking, and turned me about, and so did find
that Mine Own did stand silent, and waited that I come to my slumber.
And surely, I lookt at her; but she did have her lids somethin