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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
And with a piece of pork, moreover, met,
The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had
As there were but two blankets for a sail,
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.
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear
Some trial had been making at a raft,
Unless with people who too much have quaff'd,
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;
And first one universal shriek there rush'd,
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell
Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave--
And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave,
(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
Recall'd his answering spirits back from death;
Then was the cordial pour'd, and mantle flung
And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm,
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.
And lifting him with care into the cave,
The gentle girl, and her attendant,-one
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,
They nearly reach'd her heel; and in her air
Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye
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).
JUAN AND HAIDÉE
(CANTO II, clxxxiii-clxxxix)
It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill,
And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand,
They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow
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,
Such kisses as belong to early days,
Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move,