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Returned from the cave, Hautia reclined in her clematis bower, invisible hands flinging fennel around her. And nearer, and nearer, stole dulcet sounds dissolving my woes, as warm beams, snow. Strange
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Returned from the cave, Hautia reclined in her clematis bower, invisible hands flinging fennel around her. And nearer, and nearer, stole dulcet sounds dissolving my woes, as warm beams, snow. Strange
As their last echoes died away down the valley, Hautia glided near;— zone unbound, the amaryllis in her hand. Her bosom…
Conducted to the arbor, from which the queen had emerged, we came to a sweet-brier bower within; and reclined upon odor…
A jeweled tiara, nodding in spray, looks flowery Flozella, approached from the sea. For, lo you! the glittering foam al…
As if Mardi were a poem, and every island a canto, the shore now in sight was called Flozella-a-Nina, or The-Last-Verse…
That starless midnight, there stole from out the darkness, the Iris flag of Hautia. Again the sirens came. They bore a…
At sunrise, we stood upon the beach. Babbalanja thus:—"My voyage is ended. Not because what we sought is found; b…
Leaving Babbalanja in the old man's bower, deep in meditation; thoughtfully we strolled along the beach, inspiring…
The song was ended; and as we gained the strand, the crowd embraced us; and called us brothers; ourselves and our humbl…
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