XXVIII.
By this, the climbing Sun, with rest repair'd,
Look'd through the gold embrasures of the sky,
And ask'd the drowsy world how she had fared;—
The drowsy world shone brighten'd in reply;
And smiling off her fogs, his slanting beam
Spied young Leander in the middle stream.
XXXI.
His face was pallid, but the hectic morn
Had hung a lying crimson on his cheeks,