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Rh While half the mortal languor left my limbs, And I rejoiced with him. From sea to sea! I traversed all the dark, blank continent; And proved it not, as timid idle dream Surmised, an evil waste unprofitable, Huge blot on God's most bountiful, fair world; Rather a promised land of living waters! Like that king's daughter in the fairy tale, Asleep, awaiting her Deliverer.

How clearly do mine inner eyes behold The dear, wild nightly bivouac of yore, When I was in my manhood's vigorous prime! If it were in the prairie, or the desert, Sinbad, my riding ox, with other oxen, Would lie beside the looming bullock-wain, Audibly ruminating, couch'd at ease Upon his shadow, in a luminous moon. If it were in a forest, such as last Appear'd before my musing memory; When I have heard awhile my followers' tales, Wearily close mine ears in first faint sleep,