XVIII.

He cast a saddened look around, But he felt new joy his bosom swell, When, glittering on the shadowed ground, He saw a purple mussel shell; Thither he ran, and he bent him low, He heaved at the stern, and he heaved at the bow, And he pushed her over the yielding sand, Till he came to the verge of the haunted land. She was as lovely a pleasure-boat As ever fairy had paddled in, For she glowed with purple paint without, And shone with silver pearl within; A sculler’s notch in the stern he made, An oar he shaped of the bootle-blade; Then sprung to his seat with a lightsome leap, And launched afar on the calm blue deep.