Lxxxiii

Then, never grudge my poor Fifine her compliment! The rakish craft could slip her moorings in the tent, And, hoisting every stitch of spangled canvas, steer Through divers rocks and shoals,--in fine, deposit here Your Virgil of a spouse, in Attica: yea, thrid The mob of men, select the special virtue hid In him, forsooth, and say--or rather, smile so sweet, "Of all the multitude, you--I prefer to cheat! Are you for Athens bound? I can perform the trip, Shove little pinnace off, while yon superior ship, The Elvire, refits in port!" So, off we push from beach Of Pornic town, and lo, ere eye can wink, we reach The Long Walls, and I prove that Athens is no dream, For there the temples rise! they are, they nowise seem! Earth is not all one lie, this truth attests me true! Thanks therefore to Fifine! Elvire, I 'm back with you! Share in the memories! Embark I trust we shall Together some fine day, and so, for good and all, Bid Pornic Town adieu,--then, just the strait to cross, And we reach harbor, safe, in Iostephanos!