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Now, our prows we turned due west, across the blue
lagoon.

Soon, no land appeared. Far as the eye could sweep,
one azure plain; all over flaked with foamy fleeces:—a
boundless flock upon a boundless mead!

Again, all changed. Like stars in multitude, bright islets
multiplied around. Emerald-green, they dotted shapes fantastic:
circles, arcs, and crescents;—atolls all, or coral carcanets,
begemmed and flashing in the sun.

By these we glided, group after group; and through the
foliage, spied sweet forms of maidens, like Eves in Edens ere
the Fall, or Proserpines in Ennas. Artless airs came from
the shore; and from the censer-swinging roses, a bloom, as
if from Hebe's cheek.

“Here, at last, we find sweet Yillah!” murmured Yoomy.
“Here must she lurk in innocence! Quick! Let us land
and search.”

“If here,” said Babbalanja, “Yillah will not stay our
coming, but fly before us through the groves. Wherever a
canoe is beached, see you not the palm-trees pine? Not
so, where never keel yet smote the strand. In mercy, let
us fly from hence. I know not why, but our breath here,
must prove a blight.”

These regions passed, we came to savage islands, where
the glittering coral seemed bones imbedded, bleaching in the
sun. Savage men stood naked on the strand, and brandished
uncouth clubs, and gnashed their teeth like boars.

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