Hail to thee, monarch of African mountains ! 
Demote, inaccessible, silent, and lone— 
Who from the heart of the tropical fervours 
Liftest to heaven thine alien snows. 
# # # # =& 
I see thee supreme in the midst of thy co-ma^os. 
Standing alone, ’twixt the earth and the heavens, 
Heir of the Sunset and Herald of Moru, 
Zone above zone, to thy snow-crested summits 
The climates of Earth are displayed, as an index, 
Giving the scope of the Book of Creation. 
There, in the gorges that widen, descending 
From cloud and from cold into summer eternal, 
Gather the threads of the ice-gendered fountains— 
Gather to riotous torrents of crystal. 
And, giving each shelvy recess where they dally, 
The blooms of the North and its evergreen turfage, 
Leap to the land of the lion and lotus! 
# * # # * 
Sovereign mountain, thy brothers give welcome: 
Mont Blanc, in the roar of his mad avalanches, 
Hails thy accession ; superb Orizaba, 
Belted with beech and ensandalled with palm ; 
Chimborazo, the lord of the regions of noonday;— 
Mingle their sounds in magnificent chorus. 
They, the baptized and the crowned of ages, 
Watch-towers of continents, altars of Earth, 
Welcome thee now to their mighty assembly. 
# # # # # 
None has a, claim to the honours of story. 
Or the superior splendours of song, 
Greater than thou, in thy mystery mantled — 
Thou the sole monarch of African mountains. 
Take, then, a name, and be filled with existence, 
Yea, be exultant in sovereign glory. 
While from the hand of the wandering poet 
Drops the first garland of song at thy feet. 
# * # # # 
“ Kilima-njaro,” a poem by Bayard Taylor, circa 1S55. 
