And three dead, whom their strength could not avail
"To heave into the deep with those before,
Though the two sharks still follow'd them, and dash'd
The spray into their faces as they splash'd.

As they drew nigh the land, which now was seen
Unequal in its aspect here and there,
They felt the freshness of its growing green,

That waved in forest-tops, and smooth'd the air,
And fell upon their glazed eyes like a screen

From glistening waves, and skies so hot and bare-
Lovely seem'd any object that should sweep
Away the vast, salt, dread, eternal deep.

The shore look'd wild, without a trace of man,
And girt by formidable waves; but they
Were mad for land, and thus their course they ran,
Though right ahead the roaring breakers lay:
A reef between them also now began

To show its boiling surf and bounding spray,
But finding no place for their landing better,
They ran the boat for shore,-and overset her.
But in his native stream, the Guadalquiver,

Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont;
And having learnt to swim in that sweet river,
Had often turn'd the art to some account:
A better swimmer you could scarce see ever,
He could, perhaps, have pass'd the Hellespont,
As once (a feat on which ourselves we prided)
Leander, Mr Ekenhead, and I did.

So here, though faint, emaciated, and stark,

He buoy'd his boyish limbs, and strove to ply
With the quick wave, and gain, ere it was dark,
The beach which lay before him, high and dry;
The greatest danger here was from a shark,

That carried off his neighbour by the thigh;
As for the other two, they could not swim,
So nobody arrived on shore but him.

Nor yet had he arrived but for the oar,

Which, providentially for him, was wash'd

Just as his feeble arms could strike no more,

And the hard wave o'erwhelmed him as t'was dash'd Within his grasp; he clung to it, and sore

The waters beat while he thereto was lash'd;
At last, with swimming, wading, scrambling, he
Roll'd on the beach, half-senseless, from the sea:

There, breathless, with his digging nails he clung
Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave,
From whose reluctant roar his life he wrung,
Should suck him back to her insatiate grave:
And there he lay, full length, where he was flung,
Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave,

With just enough of life to feel its pain,
And deem that it was saved, perhaps, in vain.
With slow and staggering effort he arose,
But sunk again upon his bleeding knee
And quivering hand; and then he look'd for those
Who long had been his mates upon the sea;
But none of them appear'd to share his woes,

Save one, a corpse, from out the famished three,
Who died two days before, and now had found
An unknown barren beach for burial ground.

And as he gazed, his dizzy brain spun fast,

And down he sunk; and as he sunk, the sand
Swam round and round, and all his senses pass'd:
He fell upon his side, and his stretch'd hand
Droop'd dripping on the oar (their jury-mast),
And, like a wither'd lily, on the land
His slender frame and pallid aspect lay
As fair a thing as e'er was form'd of clay.
How long in this 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 tinkling vein, seem'd throbbing back to life, For Death, though vanquish'd, still retired 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 wished 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 sooth
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.

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 hair, I said, was auburn; but her eyes

Were black as death, their lashes the same hue, 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.

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,

(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).
And such was she, the lady of the cave:

Her dress was very different from the Spanish, Simpler, and yet of colours not so grave;

For, as you know, the Spanish women banish Bright hues when out of doors, and yet, while wave Around them (what I hope will never vanish)

The basquina and the mantilla, they
Seem at the same time mystical and gay.

But with our damsel this was not the case:
Her dress was many-colour'd, finely spun;
Her locks curl'd negligently round her face,
But through them gold and gems profusely shone:
Her girdle sparkled, and the richest lace

Flow'd in her veil, and many a precious stone Flash'd on her little hand; but, what was shocking, Her small snow feet had slippers, but no stocking.

The other female's dress was not unlike,
But of inferior materials: she

Had not so many ornaments to strike,
Her hair had silver only, bound to be
Her dowry; and her veil, in form alike,

Was coarser; and her air, though firm, less free;
Her hair was thicker, but less long; her eyes
As black, but quicker, and of smaller size.

And these two tended him, and cheer'd him both
With food and raiment, and those soft attentions,
Which are (as I must own)-of female growth,
And have ten thousand delicate inventions:
They made a most superior mess of broth.

A thing which poesy but seldom mentions,
But the best dish that e'er was cook'd since Homer's
Achilles order'd dinner for new comers.

It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast,
With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore,
Guarded by shoals and rocks as by an host,
With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore
A better welcome to the tempest-tost;

And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar,
Save on the dead long summer days, which make
The outstretch'd ocean glitter like a lake.

HAIDEE.

They carpeted their feet

On crimson satin, border'd with pale blue; Their sofa occupied three parts complete

Of the apartment-and appear'd quite new ; The velvet cushions (for a throne more meet)— Were scarlet, from whose glowing centre grew A sun emboss'd in gold, whose rays of tissue, Meridian-like, were seen all light to issue. Crystal and marble, plate and porcelain,

Had done their work of splendour; Indian mats And Persian carpets, which the heart bled to stain, Over the floors were spread; gazelles and cats, And dwarfs and blacks, and such like things, that gain Their bread as ministers and favourites-(that's To say, by degradation)-mingled there

As plentiful as in a court or fair.

There was no want of lofty mirrors, and

The tables, most of ebony inlaid
With mother of pearl or ivory, stood at hand,
Or were of tortoise-shell or rare woods made,
Fretted with gold or silver :-by command,

The greater part of these were ready spread
With viands and sherbets in ice-and wine-
Kept for all comers, at all hours to dine.

Of all the dresses I select Haidée's:

She wore two jelicks-one was of pale yellow; Of azure, pink, and white was her chemise

'Neath which her breast heaved like a little billow; With buttons formed of pearls as large as peas,

All gold and crimson shone her jelick's fellow,
And the striped white gauze baracan that bound her,
Like fleecy clouds about the moon, flow'd round her.

One large gold bracelet clasp'd each lovely arm,
Lockless-so pliable from the pure gold

That the hand stretch'd and shut it without harm,
The limb which it adorn'd its only mould;
So beautiful-its very shape would charm,
And clinging as if loath to lose its hold,
The purest ore enclosed the whitest skin
That e'er by precious metal was held in.
Around, as princess of her father's land,

A like gold bar above her instep roll'd

Announced her rank; twelve rings were on her hand; Her hair was starr'd with gems; her veil's fine fold Below her breast was fasten'd with a band

Of lavish pearls, whose worth could scarce be told; Her orange silk full Turkish trousers furl'd

About the prettiest ankle in the world.

Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel
Flow'd like an Alpine torrent which the sun
Dyes with his morning light,-and would conceal
Her person if allow'd at large to run,

And still they seem resentfully to feel

The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun
Their bonds whene'er some Zephyr caught began
To offer his young pinion as her fan.

Round her she made an atmosphere of life,
The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes,
They were so soft and beautiful, and rife
With all we can imagine of the skies,
And pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife-
Too pure even for the purest human ties;
Her overpowering presence made
you feel
It would not be idolatry to kneel.

Her eyelashes, though dark as night, were tinged
(It is the country's custom), but in vain ;

For those large black eyes were so blackly fringed,
The glossy rebels mock'd the jetty stain,

And in their native beauty stood avenged:
Her nails were touch'd with henna; but again
The power of art was turn'd to nothing, for
They could not look more rosy than before.

The henna should be deeply dyed to make
The skin relieved appear more fairly fair;