The worst of all was, that in their condition, Having been several days in great distress, 'Twas difficult to get out such provision

As now might render their long suffering less: Men, even when dying, dislike inanition;

Their stock was damaged by the weather's stress: Two casks of biscuit, and a keg of butter, Were all that could be thrown into the cutter.

But in the long-boat they contrived to stow

Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet; Water, a twenty-gallon cask or so;

Six flasks of wine: and they contrived to get
A portion of their beef up from below,

And with a piece of pork, moreover, met,
But scarce enough to serve them for a luncheon-
Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon.

The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had
Been stove in the beginning of the gale;
And the long-boat's condition was but bad,

As there were but two blankets for a sail,
And one oar for a mast, which a young lad

Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail; And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, To save one half the people then on board.

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'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown,
And grimly darkled o'er the faces pale,

And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear
Been their familiar, and now Death was here.

Some trial had been making at a raft,
With little hope in such a rolling sea,
A sort of thing at which one would have laugh'd,
If any laughter at such times could be,

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Unless with people who too much have quaff'd,
And have a kind of wild and horrid glee,
Half epileptical, and half hysterical :-
Their preservation would have been a miracle.

At half-past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars, And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose, That still could keep afloat the struggling tars,

For yet they strove, although of no great use: There was no light in heaven but a few stars,

The boats put off o'ercrowded with their crews;
She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port,
And, going down head foremost-sunk, in short.

And first one universal shriek there rush'd,
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd,
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd,
Accompanied with a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.

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Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell

Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave--
Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their
grave;
And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell,

And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave,
Like one who grapples with his enemy,
And strives to strangle him before he die.

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240

HAIDÉE

(CANTO II, cxi-cxviii)

How long in his damp trance young Juan lay

He knew not, for the earth was gone for him, And Time had nothing more of night nor day

For his congealing blood, and senses dim ; And how this heavy faintness pass'd away

He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, And tingling vein, seem'd throbbing back to life, For Death, though vanquish'd, still retir'd with strife.

His eyes he open'd, shut, again unclosed,

For all was doubt and dizziness; he thought He still was in the boat, and had but dozed,

And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, And wish'd it death in which he had reposed,

And then once more his feelings back were brought, And slowly by his swimming eyes was seen A lovely female face of seventeen.

'Twas bending close o'er his, and the small mouth
Seem'd almost prying into his for breath;
And chafing him, the soft warm hand of youth

Recall'd his answering spirits back from death;
And, bathing his chill temples, tried to soothe
Each pulse to animation, till beneath
Its gentle touch and trembling care, a sigh
To these kind efforts made a low reply.

Then was the cordial pour'd, and mantle flung
Around his scarce-clad limbs; and the fair arm
Raised higher the faint head which o'er it hung;

And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm,
Pillow'd his death-like forehead; then she wrung

His dewy curls, long drench'd by every storm; And watch'd with eagerness each throb that drew A sigh from his heaved bosom—and hers, too.

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And lifting him with care into the cave,

The gentle girl, and her attendant,-one
Young, yet her elder, and of brow less grave,
And more robust of figure-then begun
To kindle fire, and as the new flames gave

Light to the rocks that roof'd them, which the sun Had never seen, the maid, or whatsoe'er She was, appear'd distinct, and tall, and fair.

Her brow was overhung with coins of gold,

That sparkled o'er the auburn of her hair,
Her clustering hair, whose longer locks were roll'd
In braids behind; and though her stature were
Even of the highest for a female mould,

They nearly reach'd her heel; and in her air
There was a something which bespoke command,
As one who was a lady in the land.

Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye
Like twilight rosy still with the set sun;
Short upper lip-sweet lips! that make us sigh
Ever to have seen such; for she was one
Fit for the model of a statuary

Her hair, I said, was auburn; but her eyes

Were black as death, their lashes the same hue, 50 Of downcast length, in whose silk shadow lies Deepest attraction; for when to the view Forth from its raven fringe the full glance flies,

Ne'er with such force the swiftest arrow flew ; "Tis as the snake late coil'd, who pours his length, And hurls at once his venom and his strength.

(A race of mere impostors, when all's done— I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal).

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60

JUAN AND HAIDÉE

(CANTO II, clxxxiii-clxxxix)

It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded,
Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded

On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill,
Upon the other, and the rosy sky,
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.

And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand,
Over the shining pebbles and the shells,
Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand,
And in the worn and wild receptacles
Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd,
In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells,
They turn'd to rest; and, each clasp'd by an arm,
Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm.

They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow
Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright;
They gazed upon the glittering sea below,

Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; 20 They heard the waves splash, and the wind so low, And saw each other's dark eyes darting light Into each other—and, beholding this, Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss ;

A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love,
And beauty, all concentrating like rays
Into one focus, kindled from above;

ΙΟ

Such kisses as belong to early days,

Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move,
And the blood's lava, and the pulse a blaze,
Each kiss a heart-quake, for a kiss's strength,
I think, it must be reckon'd by its length.

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