XXIII.

He turns, and lo! on either side The ripples on his path divide; And the track o’er which his boat must pass Is smooth as a sheet of polished glass. Around, their limbs the sea-nymphs lave, With snowy arms half swelling out, While on the glossed and gleamy wave Their sea-green ringlets loosely float; They swim around with smile and song; They press the bark with pearly hand, And gently urge her course along, Toward the beach of speckled sand; And, as he lightly leaped to land, They bade adieu with nod and bow, Then gaily kissed each little hand, And dropped in the crystal deeps below.