Bidding adieu to all her sparks--the stars, That erst had woo'd and worshipp'd in her train, Saturn and Hesperus, and gallant Mars-- Never to flirt with heavenly eyes again. Meanwhile, remindful of the convent bars, Bianca did not watch these signs in vain, But turn'd to Julio at the dark eclipse, With words, like verbal kisses, on her lips. XXXIII. He took the hint full speedily, and, back'd By love, and night, and the occasion's meetness, Bestow'd a something on her cheek that smack'd (Tho' quite in silence) of ambrosial sweetness; That made her think all other kisses lack'd Till then, but what she knew not, of completeness; Being used but sisterly salutes to feel, Insipid things--like sandwiches of veal. XXXIV. He took her hand, and soon she felt him wring The pretty fingers all instead of one; Anon his stealthy arm began to cling About her waist that had been clasp'd by none, Their dear confessions I forbear to sing, Since cold description would but be outrun; For bliss and Irish watches have the pow'r, In twenty minutes, to lose half an hour! THE DEMON-SHIP. 'Twas off the Wash--the sun went down--the sea look'd black and grim, For stormy clouds, with murky fleece, were mustering at the brim; Titanic shades! enormous gloom!--as if the solid night Of Erebus rose suddenly to seize upon the light! It was a time for mariners to bear a wary eye With such a dark conspiracy between the sea and sky! Down went my-helm--close reef'd--the tack held freely in my hand-- With ballast snug--I put about, and scudded for the land. Loud hiss'd the sea beneath her lee--my little boat flew fast, But faster still the rushing storm came borne upon the blast. Lord! what a roaring hurricane beset the straining sail! What furious sleet, with level drift, and fierce assaults of hail! What darksome caverns yawn'd before! what jagged steeps behind! Like battle-steeds, with foamy manes, wild tossing in the wind. Each after each sank down astern, exhausted in the chase, But where it sank another rose and galloped in its place; As black as night--they turned to white, and cast against the cloud A snowy sheet, as if each surge upturned a sailor's shroud:-- Still flew my boat; alas! alas! her course was nearly run! Behold yon fatal billow rise--ten billows heap'd in one!