Lxxxi

"And why not, only she? Since there can be for each, one Best, no more, such Best, For body and mind of him, abolishes the rest O' the simply Good and Better. You please select Elvire To give you this belief in truth, dispel the fear Yourself are, after all, as false as what surrounds; And why not be content? When we two watched the rounds The boatman made, 'twixt shoal and sandbank, yesterday, As, at dead slack of tide, he chose to push his way, With oar and pole, across the creek, and reach the isle After a world of pains--my word provoked your smile, Yet none the less deserved reply: ''T were wiser wait The turn o' the tide, and find conveyance for his freight-- How easily--within the ship to purpose moored, Managed by sails, not oars! But no,--the man 's allured By liking for the new and hard in his exploit! First come shall serve! He makes--courageous and adroit-- The merest willow-leaf of boat do duty, bear His merchandise across: once over, needs he care If folk arrive by ship, six hours hence, fresh and gay?' No: he scorns commonplace, affects the unusual way; And good Elvire is moored, with not a breath to flap The yards of her, no lift of ripple to o'erlap Keel, much less, prow. What care? since here 's a cockle-shell, Fifine, that 's taut and crank, and carries just as well Such seamanship as yours!"