This ho would have opposed: but with a smile

She pointed calmly to the craggy isle, And bade him "speed and prosper." She would take

The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake. They parted with this added aid; afar The proa darted like a shooting star,

CANTO IV.

WHITE as a white sail on a dusky sea, When half the horizon's clouded and half free,

Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky, Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity. Her anchor parts; but still her snowy sail Attracts our eye amidst the rudest gale: Though every wave she climbs divides us

more,

The heart still follows from the loneliest shore.

Not distant from the isle of Toobonai, A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray, The haunt of birds, a desart to mankind, Where the rough seal reposes from the wind, And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern-dun, Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun : There shrilly to the passing oar is heard The startled echo of the ocean-bird, Who rears on its bare breast her callow brood,

The feather'd fishers of the solitude.

A narrow segment of the yellow sand
On one side forms the outline of a strand;
Here the young turtle, crawling from his
shell,

Steals to the deep wherein his parents dwell;
Chipp'd by the beam, a nursling of the day,
But hatch'd for ocean by the fostering ray;
The rest was one bleak precipice, as e'er
Gave mariners a shelter and despair,
A spot to make the saved regret the deck
Which late went down, and envy the lost

wreck.

Such was the stern asylum Neuha chose To shield her lover from his following foes; But all its secret was not told; she knew In this a treasure hidden from the view.

Ere the canoes divided, near the spot, The men that mann'd what held her Torquil's lot,

And firm as ever grappled with the sea, And yielded scarce to Torquil's manlier strength. The prow now almost lay within its length Of the crag's steep, inexorable face, With nought but soundless waters for its base;

Within an hundred boats' length was the foe, And now what refuge but their frail canoe? This Torquil ask'd with half upbraiding eye, Which said "Has Neuha brought me here to die?

Is this a place of safety, or a grave, And yon huge rock the tombstone of the wave?"

They rested on their paddles, and uprose Neuha,and, pointing to the approaching foes, Cried, "Torquil, follow me, and fearless

follow!"

Then plunged at once into the ocean's hollow.

There was no time to pause-the foes were

near

Chains in his eye and menace in his ear; With vigour they pull'd on,and as they came, Hail'd him to yield, and by his forfeit name. Headlong he leap'd-to him the swimmer's skill

Was native, and now all his hope from ill; But how or where? He dived, and rose no more;

shore.

The boat's crew look'd amazed o'er sca and There was no landing on that precipice, Steep, harsh, and slippery as a berg of ice. They watch'd awhile to see him float again, But not a trace rebubbled from the main: The wave roll'd on, no ripple on its face, Since their first plunge, recall'd a single trace;

The little whirl which eddied, and slight
foam,
That whitened o'er what seem'd their latest
home,

White as a sepulchre above the pair,
Who left no marble (mournful as an heir),
The quiet proa, wavering o'er the tide,

Even superstition now forbade their stay.
Some said he had not plunged into the wave,
But vanish'd like a corpse-light from a grave;
Others, that something supernatural
Glared in his figure, more than mortal tall;
While all agreed, that in his cheek and eye
There was the dead hue of eternity.
Still as their oars receded from the crag,
Round every weed a moment would they lag,
Expectant of some token of their prey;
But no-he had melted from them like the

spray.

surprise; Led him to where the rock appear'd to jut And form a something like a Triton's hut; For all was darkness for a space, till day Through clefts above let in a sober'd ray; As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle The dusty monuments from light recoil, Thus sadly in their refuge submarine The vault drew half her shadow from the

scene.

Forth from her bosom the young savage drew A pine-torch, strongly girded with gnatoo; A plaintain-leaf o'er all, the more to keep Its latent sparkle from the sapping deep. This mantle kept it dry; then from a nook Of the same plaintain-leaf a flint she took, A few shrunk wither'd twigs, and from the

blade

Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus array'd The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high,

And show'd a self-born Gothic canopy; The arch uprear'd by Nature's architect, The architrave some earthquake might erect; The buttress from some mountain's bosom hurl'd,

When the Poles crash'd and Water was the World;

Or harden'd from some earth-absorbing fire While yet the globe reek'd from its funeral pyre;

The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave, Were there, all scoop'd by Darkness from her Cave.

There, with a little tinge of Phantasy,
Fantastic faces moped and mow'd on high,
And then a mitre or a shrine would fix

The eye upon its seeming crucifix.
Thus Nature play'd with the Stalactites,
And built herself a chapel of the Seas,

And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand, And waved along the vault her kindled brand,

And led him into each recess, and show'd
The secret places of their new abode.
Nor these alone, for all had been prepared
Before, to soothe the lover's lot she shared;
The mat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo,
And sandal-oil to fence against the dew;
For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread
Born of the fruit; for board the plantain
spread

With its broad leaf,or turtle-shell which bore
A banquet in the flesh it cover'd o'er;
The gourd with water recent from the rill,
The ripe banana from the mellow hill;
A pine-torch-pile to keep undying light,
And she herself, as beautiful as Night,
To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene,

And make their subterranean world serene.
She had foreseen,since first the stranger's sail
Drew to their isle, that force or flight
might fail,

And form'd a refuge of the rocky den
For Torquil's safety from his countrymen.
Each dawn had wafted there her light canoe,
Laden with all the golden fruits that grew;
Each eve had seen her gliding through the
hour

With all could cheer or deck their sparry
bower;
And now she spread her little store with
smiles,

The happiest daughter of the loving isles.

She, as he gazed with grateful wonder,
press'd

Her shelter'd love to her impassion'd breast;
And, suited to her soft caresses, told
An elden tale of Love,-for Love is old,
Old as Eternity, but not outworn
With each new being born or to be born:
How a young Chief, a thousand moons ago,
Diving for turtle in the depths below,
Had risen, in tracking fast his ocean-prey,
Into the cave which round and o'er them lay;
How, in some desperate feud of after-time,
He shelter'd there a daughter of the clime,
A foe beloved, and offspring of a foe,
Saved by his tribe but for a captive's woe;
How, when the storm of war was still'd,

he led

His island-clan to where the waters spread Their deep green shadow o'er the rocky door, Then dived-it seem'd as if to rise no more: His wondering mates, amazed within their bark,

Or deem'd him mad,or prey to the blue shark, Row'd round in sorrow the sea-girded rock, Then paused upon their paddles from the shock,

When, fresh and springing from the deep, they saw

A Goddess rise-so deem'd they in their awe; And their companion, glorious by her side, Proud and exulting in his Mermaid-bride; And how, when undeceived, the pair they bore

With sounding conchs and joyous shouts to shore;

How they had gladly loved and calmly died,
And why not also Torquil and his bride?
Not mine to tell the rapturous caress
Which follow'd wildly in that wild recess
This tale; enough that all within that cave
Was Love, though buried strong as in the
grave
Where Abelard, through twenty years of
death,

When Eloisa's form was lower'd beneath
Their nuptial vault, his arms outstretch'd,
and prest
The kindling ashes to his kindled breast.

The waves without sang round their couch, their roar

As much unheeded as if life were o'er: Within, their hearts made all their harmony, Love's broken murmur and more broken sigh.

Which left them exiles of the hollow rock, And they, the cause and sharers of the shock Where were they? O'er the sea for life To seek from Heaven the shelter men denied. they plied, Another course had been their choice-but

where?

The wave which bore them still, their foes

would bear. Who, disappointed of their former chase, In search of Christian now renew'd their race. Eager with anger, their strong arms made Like vultures baffled of their previous prey. way, They gain'd upon them, all whose safety lay In some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay: No further chance or choice remain'd; and For the first further rock which met their right sight

They steer'd, to take their latest view of land, And yield as victims, or die sword in hand; Would still have battled for that scanty Dismiss'd the natives and their shallop, who