Then rising, with a sudden-ceasing sound

Of wateriness, he stood on the firm ground,
And treading up a little slippery bank,

With jutting myrtles mixed, and verdure dank,
Came to a door ajar,—all hushed, all blind

With darkness; yet he guessed who stood behind;
And entering with a turn, the breathless boy

A breathless welcome finds, and words that die

for joy.

CANTO II.

THUS passed the summer shadows in delight :
Leander came as surely as the night,

And when the morning woke upon the sea,

It saw him not, for back at home was he.

Sometimes, when it blew fresh, the struggling flare
Seemed out; but then he knew his Hero's care,
And that she only walled it with her cloak;
Brighter again from out the dark it broke.
Sometimes the night was almost clear as day,
Wanting no torch; and then, with easy play,
He dipped along beneath the silver moon,
Placidly hearkening to the water's tune.

The people round the country, who from far
Used to behold the light, thought it a star,
Set there perhaps by Venus as a wonder,

To mark the favourite maiden who slept under.
Therefore they trod about the grounds by day
Gently; and fishermen at night, they say,

With reverence kept aloof, cutting their silent way.

But autumn now was over; and the crane
Began to clang against the coming rain,

And peevish winds ran cutting o'er the sea,
Which oft return'd a face of enmity.

The gentle girl, before he went away,

Would look out sadly toward the cold-eyed day,
And often beg him not to come that night;
But still he came, and still she blessed his sight;
And so, from day to day, he came and went,
Till time had almost made her confident.

One evening, as she sat, twining sweet bay And myrtle garlands for a holiday,

And watched at intervals the dreary sky,

In which the dim sun held a languid eye,

She thought with such a full and quiet sweetness Of all Leander's love and his completeness,

All that he was, and said, and looked, and dared, His form, his step, his noble head full-haired, And how she loved him, as a thousand might, And yet he earned her still thus night by night, That the sharp pleasure moved her like a grief, And tears came dropping with their meek relief.

Meantime the sun had sunk; the hilly mark, Across the straits, mixed with the mightier dark, And night came on. All noises by degrees

Were hushed, the fisher's call, the birds, the trees, All but the washing of the eternal seas.

Hero looked out, and trembling augured ill,

The darkness held its breath so very still.
But yet she hoped he might arrive before

The storm began, or not be far from shore;

And crying, as she stretched forth in the air,

"Bless him!" she turned, and said a tearful

prayer,

And mounted to the tower, and shook the torch's

flare.

But he, Leander, almost half across,

Threw his blithe locks behind him with a toss,

And hailed the light victoriously, secure

Of clasping his kind love, so sweet and sure;
When suddenly, a blast, as if in wrath,

Sheer from the hills, came headlong on his path;
Then started off; and driving round the sea,
Dashed up the panting waters roaringly.

The youth at once was thrust beneath the main
With blinded eyes, but quickly rose again,

And with a smile at heart, and stouter pride,

Surmounted, like a god, the rearing tide.

But what? The torch gone out! So long too! See, He thinks it comes! Ah, yes,-'tis she! 'tis she! Again he springs; and though the winds arise Fiercer and fiercer, swims with ardent eyes;