ruler.

"Mohi! Yoomy! do we part? then bury in forgetfulness much that
hitherto I've spoken. But let not one syllable of this old man's words
be lost.

"Mohi! Age leads thee by the hand. Live out thy life; and die, calm-
browed.

"But Yoomy! many days are thine. And in one life's span, great circles
may be traversed, eternal good be done. Take all Mardi for thy home.
Nations are but names; and continents but shifting sands.

"Once more: Taji! be sure thy Yillah never will be found; or found,
will not avail thee. Yet search, if so thou wilt; more isles, thou
say'st, are still unvisited; and when all is seen, return, and find
thy Yillah here.

"Companions all! adieu."

And from the beach, he wended through the woods.

Our shallops now refitted, we silently embarked; and as we sailed
away, the old man blessed us.

For a time, each prow's ripplings were distinctly heard: ripple after
ripple.

With silent, steadfast eyes, Media still preserved his noble mien;
Mohi his reverend repose; Yoomy his musing mood.

But as a summer hurricane leaves all nature still, and smiling to the
eye; yet, in deep woods, there lie concealed some anguished roots torn
up:--so, with these.

Much they longed, to point our prows for Odo's isle; saying our search
was over.

But I was fixed as fate.

On we sailed, as when we first embarked; the air was bracing as
before. More isles we visited:--thrice encountered the avengers: but
unharmed; thrice Hautia's heralds but turned not aside;--saw many
checkered scenes--wandered through groves, and open fields--traversed
many vales--climbed hill-tops whence broad views were gained--tarried
in towns--broke into solitudes--sought far, sought near:--Still Yillah
there was none.

Then again they all would fain dissuade me.

"Closed is the deep blue eye," said Yoomy.

"Fate's last leaves are turning, let me home and die," said Mohi.

"So nigh the circuit's done," said Media, "our morrow's sun must rise
o'er Odo; Taji! renounce the hunt."

"I am the hunter, that never rests! the hunter without a home! She I
seek, still flies before; and I will follow, though she lead me beyond
the reef; through sunless seas; and into night and death. Her, will I
seek, through all the isles and stars; and find her, whate'er betide!"

Again they yielded; and again we glided on;--our storm-worn prows, now
pointed here, now there;--beckoned, repulsed;--their half-rent sails,
still courting every breeze.