The morn broke, and found Juan slumbering still Fast in his cave, and nothing clash’d upon His rest; the rushing of the neighbouring rill, And the young beams of the excluded sun, Troubled him not, and he might sleep his fill; And need he had of slumber yet, for none Had suffer’d more—his hardships were comparative To those related in my grand-dad’s ‘Narrative.’ Not so Haidee: she sadly toss’d and tumbled, And started from her sleep, and, turning o’er Dream’d of a thousand wrecks, o’er which she stumbled, And handsome corpses strew’d upon the shore; And woke her maid so early that she grumbled, And call’d her father’s old slaves up, who swore In several oaths—Armenian, Turk, and Greek— They knew not what to think of such a freak. But up she got, and up she made them get, With some pretence about the sun, that makes Sweet skies just when he rises, or is set; And ’tis, no doubt, a sight to see when breaks Bright Phoebus, while the mountains still are wet With mist, and every bird with him awakes, And night is flung off like a mourning suit Worn for a husband,—or some other brute. I say, the sun is a most glorious sight, I’ve seen him rise full oft, indeed of late I have sat up on purpose all the night, Which hastens, as physicians say, one’s fate; And so all ye, who would be in the right In health and purse, begin your day to date From daybreak, and when coffin’d at fourscore, Engrave upon the plate, you rose at four. And Haidee met the morning face to face; Her own was freshest, though a feverish flush Had dyed it with the headlong blood, whose race From heart to cheek is curb’d into a blush, Like to a torrent which a mountain’s base, That overpowers some Alpine river’s rush, Checks to a lake, whose waves in circles spread; Or the Red Sea—but the sea is not red. And down the cliff the island virgin came, And near the cave her quick light footsteps drew, While the sun smiled on her with his first flame, And young Aurora kiss’d her lips with dew, Taking her for a sister; just the same Mistake you would have made on seeing the two, Although the mortal, quite as fresh and fair, Had all the advantage, too, of not being air. And when into the cavern Haidee stepp’d All timidly, yet rapidly, she saw That like an infant Juan sweetly slept; And then she stopp’d, and stood as if in awe (For sleep is awful), and on tiptoe crept And wrapt him closer, lest the air, too raw, Should reach his blood, then o’er him still as death Bent with hush’d lips, that drank his scarce-drawn breath. And thus like to an angel o’er the dying Who die in righteousness, she lean’d; and there All tranquilly the shipwreck’d boy was lying, As o’er him the calm and stirless air: But Zoe the meantime some eggs was frying, Since, after all, no doubt the youthful pair Must breakfast—and betimes, lest they should ask it, She drew out her provision from the basket.