of the serene and tranquil deep
Tempt my unquiet mind--

Thus said Adrian, quoting a translation of Moschus's poem, as in the clear
morning light, we rowed over the Laguna, past Lido, into the open sea--I
would have added in continuation,

But when the roar
Of ocean's gray abyss resounds, and foam
Gathers upon the sea, and vast waves burst--

But my friends declared that such verses were evil augury;
so in cheerful mood we left the shallow waters, and, when
out at sea, unfurled our sails to catch the favourable breeze.
The laughing morning air filled them, while sun-light bathed earth, sky and
ocean--the placid waves divided to receive our keel, and playfully kissed
the dark sides of our little skiff, murmuring a welcome; as land receded,
still the blue expanse, most waveless, twin sister to the azure empyrean,
afforded smooth conduct to our bark. As the air and waters were tranquil
and balmy, so were our minds steeped in quiet. In comparison with the
unstained deep, funereal earth appeared a grave, its high rocks and stately
mountains were but monuments, its trees the plumes of a herse, the brooks
and rivers brackish with tears for departed man. Farewell to desolate towns
--to fields with their savage intermixture of corn and weeds--to ever
multiplying relics of our lost species. Ocean, we commit ourselves to thee
--even as the patriarch of old floated above the drowned world, let us be
saved, as thus we betake ourselves to thy perennial flood.

Adrian sat at the helm; I attended to the rigging, the breeze right aft
filled our swelling canvas, and we ran before it over the untroubled deep.
The wind died away at noon; its idle breath just permitted us to hold our
course. As lazy, fair-weather sailors, careless of the coming hour, we
talked gaily of our coasting voyage, of our arrival at Athens. We would
make our home of one of the Cyclades, and there in myrtle-groves, amidst
perpetual spring, fanned by the wholesome sea-breezes--we would live long
years in beatific union--Was there such a thing as death in the world?--

The sun passed its zenith, and lingered down the stainless floor of heaven.
Lying in the boat, my face turned up to the sky, I thought I saw on its
blue white, marbled streaks, so slight, so immaterial, that now I said--
They are there--and now, It is a mere imagination. A sudden fear stung me
while I gazed; and, starting up, and running to the prow,--as I stood, my
hair was gently lifted