danger which is fast rising round you, infatuate that you
are, nor hear the favouring whisper of the western gale?
She is revolving in her bosom thoughts of craft and cruelty,
resolved on death, and surging with a changeful tempest 15
of passion. Will you not haste away while haste is in your
power? You will look on a sea convulsed with ships, an
array of fierce torch-fires, a coast glowing with flame, if
the dawn-goddess shall have found you loitering here on
land. Quick!—burst through delay. A thing of moods 20
and changes is woman ever.” He said, and was lost in the