THE OCEAN AND ITS LIFE. 87 



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"How sweet . ... 

 With half-dropt eyelids still, 

 Beneath a heaven dark and holy, 

 To watch the long, bright river draw in slowly 

 His waters from the purple hill 

 To hear the emerald-colored water falling 

 Thro' many a woven acanthus-wreath divine! 

 Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine, 

 Only to hear were sweet." TENNYSON. 



TTIGH on the terrible cliff that overhangs the Scylla of 

 the ancients stood King Frederick of Sicily ; and by 

 his side the fairest of Europe's fair daughters. Often and 

 often had he gazed down into the fierce seething cauldron 

 beneath him, and in vain had he offered the gold of his 

 treasure and the honors of his court to him who would dive 

 into the whirlpool and tell him of the fearful mysteries that 

 were hid beneath the hissing, boiling foam. But neither 

 fisherman nor proud knight had dared to tempt the God 

 of mercy, and to venture down into the dread abyss, which 

 threatened death, sure, inevitable death, to the bold in- 



