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Thus far, through myriad islands, had we searched: of all, no one pen may write: least, mine;—and still no trace of Yillah. But though my hopes revived not from their ashes; yet, so much of Mardi ha…
Ere long the three canoes lurched heavily in a violent swell. Like palls, the clouds swept to and fro, hooding the gibbering winds. At every head-beat wave, our arching prows reared up, and shuddered…
The song was ended; and as we gained the strand, the crowd embraced us; and called us brothers; ourselves and our humblest attendants. "Call ye us brothers, whom ere now ye never saw?" &q…
Leaving Babbalanja in the old man's bower, deep in meditation; thoughtfully we strolled along the beach, inspiring the musky, midnight air; the tropical stars glistening in heaven, like drops of…
At sunrise, we stood upon the beach. Babbalanja thus:—"My voyage is ended. Not because what we sought is found; but that I now possess all which may be had of what I sought in Mardi. Here, tarr…
That starless midnight, there stole from out the darkness, the Iris flag of Hautia. Again the sirens came. They bore a large and stately urn-like flower, white as alabaster, and glowing, as if lit u…
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-of-the-Song. According to Mohi, the origin of this term was traceable to the r…
A jeweled tiara, nodding in spray, looks flowery Flozella, approached from the sea. For, lo you! the glittering foam all round its white marge; where, forcing themselves underneath the coral ledge, a…
Conducted to the arbor, from which the queen had emerged, we came to a sweet-brier bower within; and reclined upon odorous mats. Then, in citron cups, sherbet of tamarinds was offered to Media, Mohi…
As their last echoes died away down the valley, Hautia glided near;— zone unbound, the amaryllis in her hand. Her bosom ebbed and flowed; the motes danced in the beams that darted from her eyes. &qu…
