CIX. With slow and staggering effort he arose, But sunk again upon his bleeding knee And quivering hand; and then he looked for those Who long had been his mates upon the sea; But none of them appeared to share his woes, Save one, a corpse, from out the famished three, Who died two days before, and now had found An unknown barren beach for burial ground. CX. And as he gazed, his dizzy brain spun fast, And down he sunk; and as he sunk, the sand Swam round and round, and all his senses passed: He fell upon his side, and his stretched hand Drooped dripping on the oar (their jury-mast), And, like a withered lily, on the land His slender frame and pallid aspect lay, As fair a thing as e'er was formed of clay. CXI. How long in his damp trance young Juan lay[147] He knew not, for the earth was gone for him, And Time had nothing more of night nor day For his congealing blood, and senses dim; And how this heavy faintness passed away He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, And tingling vein, seemed throbbing back to life, For Death, though vanquished, still retired with strife. CXII. His eyes he opened, shut, again unclosed, For all was doubt and dizziness; he thought He still was in the boat, and had but dozed, And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, And wished it Death in which he had reposed, And then once more his feelings back were brought, And slowly by his swimming eyes was seen A lovely female face of seventeen. CXIII. 'T was bending close o'er his, and the small mouth Seemed almost prying into his for breath; And chafing him, the soft warm hand of youth Recalled his answering spirits back from Death: And, bathing his chill temples, tried to soothe Each pulse to animation, till beneath Its gentle touch and trembling care, a sigh To these kind efforts made a low reply. CXIV. Then was the cordial poured, and mantle flung Around his scarce-clad limbs; and the fair arm Raised higher the faint head which o'er it hung; And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm, Pillowed his death-like forehead; then she wrung His dewy curls, long drenched by every storm; And watched with eagerness each throb that drew A sigh from his heaved bosom--and hers, too. CXV. And lifting him with care into the cave, The gentle girl, and her attendant,--one Young, yet her elder, and of brow less grave, And more robust of figure,--then begun To kindle fire, and as the new flames gave Light to the rocks that roofed them, which the sun Had never seen, the maid, or whatsoe'er She was, appeared distinct, and tall, and fair.