1Ere long the three canoes lurched heavily in a violent swell. Like palls, the clouds swept to and fro, hooding the gibbering winds. At every head-beat wave, our arching prows reared up, and shuddered; the night ran out in rain.

2Whither to turn we knew not; nor what haven to gain; so dense the darkness.

3But at last, the storm was over. Our shattered prows seemed gilded. Day dawned; and from his golden vases poured red wine upon the waters.

4That flushed tide rippled toward us; floating from the east, a lone canoe; in which, there sat a mild, old man; a palm-bough in his hand: a bird’s beak, holding amaranth and myrtles, his slender prow.

5“Alma’s blessing upon ye, voyagers! ye look storm-worn.”

6“The storm we have survived, old man; and many more, we yet must ride,” said Babbalanja.

7“The sun is risen; and all is well again. We but need to repair our prows,” said Media.

8“Then, turn aside to Serenia, a pleasant isle, where all are welcome; where many storm-worn rovers land at last to dwell.”

9“Serenia?” said Babbalanja; “methinks Serenia is that land of enthusiasts, of which we hear, my lord; where Mardians pretend to the unnatural conjunction of reason with things revealed; where Alma, they say, is restored to his divine original; where, deriving their principles from the same sources whence flow the persecutions of Maramma,—men strive to live together in gentle bonds of peace and charity;—folly! folly!”

10“Ay,” said Media; “much is said of those people of Serenia; but their social fabric must soon fall to pieces; it is based upon the idlest of theories. Thanks for thy courtesy, old man, but we care not to visit thy isle. Our voyage has an object, which, something tells me, will not be gained by touching at thy shores. Elsewhere we may refit. Farewell! ’Tis breezing; set the sails! Farewell, old man.”

11“Nay, nay! think again; the distance is but small; the wind fair,—but ’tis ever so, thither;—come: we, people of Serenia, are most anxious to be seen of Mardi; so that if our manner of life seem good, all Mardi may live as we. In blessed Alma’s name, I pray ye, come!”

12“Shall we then, my lord?”

13“Lead on, old man! We will e’en see this wondrous isle.”

14So, guided by the venerable stranger, by noon we descried an island blooming with bright savannas, and pensive with peaceful groves.

15Wafted from this shore, came balm of flowers, and melody of birds: a thousand summer sounds and odors. The dimpled tide sang round our splintered prows; the sun was high in heaven, and the waters were deep below.

16“The land of Love!” the old man murmured, as we neared the beach, where innumerable shells were gently rolling in the playful surf, and murmuring from their tuneful valves. Behind, another, and a verdant surf played against lofty banks of leaves; where the breeze, likewise, found its shore.

17And now, emerging from beneath the trees, there came a goodly multitude in flowing robes; palm-branches in their hands; and as they came, they sang:—

18Hail! voyagers, hail!

19Whence e’er ye come, where’er ye rove,

20No calmer strand,

21No sweeter land,

22Will e’er ye view, than the Land of Love!

23Hail! voyagers, hail!

24To these, our shores, soft gales invite:

25The palm plumes wave,

26The billows lave,

27And hither point fix’d stars of light!

28Hail! voyagers, hail!

29Think not our groves wide brood with gloom;

30In this, our isle,

31Bright flowers smile:

32Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom.

33Hail! voyagers, hail!

34Be not deceived; renounce vain things;

35Ye may not find

36A tranquil mind,

37Though hence ye sail with swiftest wings.

38Hail! voyagers, hail!

39Time flies full fast; life soon is o’er;

40And ye may mourn,

41That hither borne,

42Ye left behind our pleasant shore.