Needless to recount all that then befell; what tribes and caravans we
saw; what vast horizons; boundless plains: and sierras, in their every
intervale, a nation nestling.

Enough that still we roamed.

It was evening; and as the red sun, magnified, launched into the wave,
once more, from a wild strand, we launched our three canoes.

Soon, from her clouds, hooded Night, like a nun from a convent, drew
nigh. Rustled her train, yet no spangles were there. But high on her
brow, still shone her pale crescent; haloed by bandelets--violet, red,
and yellow. So looked the lone watcher through her rainbow-iris; so
sad, the night without stars.

The winds were laid; the lagoon, still, as a prairie of an August noon.

"Let us dream out the calm," said Media. "One of ye paddlers, watch:
Ho companions! who's for Cathay?"

Sleep reigned throughout the canoes, sleeping upon the waters. But
nearer and nearer, low-creeping along, came mists and vapors, a
thousand; spotted with twinklings of Will-o-Wisps from
neighboring shores. Dusky leopards, stealing on by crouches, those
vapors seemed.

Hours silently passed. When startled by a cry, Taji sprang to his
feet; against which something rattled; then, a quick splash! and a
dark form bounded into the lagoon.