your wine-red, fiery spheres on high. A health to _thee_, my regal
friend, Alphacca, in the constellation of the Crown: Lo! crown to
crown, I pledge thee! I drink to _ye_, too, Alphard! Markab! Denebola!
Capella!--to _ye_, too, sailing Cygnus! Aquila soaring!--All round, a
health to all your diadems! May they never fade! nor mine!"

At last, in the shadowy east, the Dawn, like a gray, distant sail
before the wind, was descried; drawing nearer and nearer, till her
gilded prow was perceived.

And as in tropic gales, the winds blow fierce, and more fierce, with
the advent of the sun; so with King Media; whose mirth now breezed up
afresh. But, as at sunrise, the sea-storm only blows harder, to settle
down at last into a steady wind; even so, in good time, my lord Media
came to be more decorous of mood. And Babbalanja abated his reveries.

For who might withstand such a morn!

As on the night-banks of the far-rolling Ganges, the royal bridegroom
sets forth for his bride, preceded by nymphs, now this side, now that,
lighting up all the flowery flambeaux held on high as they pass; so
came the Sun, to his nuptials with Mardi:--the Hours going on before,
touching all the peaks, till they glowed rosy-red.

By reflex, the lagoon, here and there, seemed on fire; each curling
wave-crest a flame.

Noon came as we sailed.

And now, citrons and bananas, cups and calabashes, calumets and