That portion of the Pacific Ocean in which the Island of Gracia is situated was ruled over by a sea spirit of the name of Borasco. As he was not the king of any particular fish (indeed, he was superior in power to most of them), his appearance was a mixture of many. His body was covered with scales, and from his back mighty wings projected, to aid him in his flight across the ocean, while his feet were like those of a seal; his eyes were large, fierce, and glowing; his mouth had large tusks, and on either side were black bunches, like the feelers of a walrus. On his head grew masses of long hair, like seaweed, streaming in the wind; while his arms and hands had more the appearance of the claws of a shell-fish than of anything else; at the same time that his vast size, and the indistinctness which surrounded him, gave to his appearance a grandeur which partook more of the terrific than the hideous. Borasco had a palace which might vie in magnificence and beauty, though not in size, with that of Neptune. One day he sallied forth, and mounting his prancing steed, which was a huge wave with a foaming crest, he rode furiously off, as he was accustomed to do, over the ocean. The water roared and hissed, the mid wind howled, as, shouting loudly with a voice like thunder, onward he went in his fierce career; and these were the words he uttered:-- "I'm a wandering spirit where rolls the broad sea, For no bonds, for no bonds, can e'er fetter me: My steed is a wave, with a white crest of foam, Which gallantly bears me wherever I roam; Lashed to fury, he dashes the waters on high, As bounding he lifts his proud head to the sky. Oh! no charger of earth can so rapidly flee, While no bonds, while no bonds, can e'er fetter me. "I fly on the tempest while loud shrieks are heard, And more shrilly I cry than the roaming sea-bird: When rocks are resounding with ocean's loud roar, And forms are rebounding, pale waifs on the shore-- When barks are deserted to roam o'er the waves, And mortals are hurled unprepared to their graves-- Then, then is the time I shriek loudest with glee, And no bonds are so strong they can e'er fetter me. "My hair, the thick mist or the wild-driving snow, All wildly floats round when the northern blasts blow; My breath's in the whirlwind, my voice in the clouds, And night, as a mantle, my stern visage shrouds. The vivid fork'd lightnings which dart from mine eyes Flash fearfully over the dark low'ring skies: Oh! then my wild voice is heard shouting with glee, As I ride o'er the boundless and fathomless sea."