Lo, it is summer---almighty summer! The everlasting gates of life and
summer are thrown open wide; and on the ocean tranquil and verdant as
a savannah, the unknown lady from the dreadful vision and I myself are
floating---she upon a fairy pinnace, and I upon an English three-decker.
Both of us are wooing gales of festive happiness within the domain of
our common country, within that ancient watery park, within that
pathless chase of ocean, where England takes her pleasure as a huntress
through winter and summer, from the rising to the setting sun.
Ah, what a wilderness of floral beauty was hidden, or was suddenly
revealed, upon the tropic islands through which the pinnace moved!
And upon her deck what a bevy of human flowers---young women how lovely,
young men bow noble, that were dancing together, and slowly drifting
toward us amidst music and incense, amidst blossoms from forests and
gorgeous corymbi from vintages, amidst natural carolling, and the echoes
of sweet girlish laughter. Slowly the pinnace nears us, gaily she hails
us, and silently she disappears beneath the shadow of our mighty bows.
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