Chapter 32

My Lord Media Summons Mohi To The Stand

While slowly the night wore on, and the now scudding clouds flown
past, revealed again the hosts in heaven, few words were uttered save
by Media; who, when all others were most sad and silent, seemed but
little moved, or not stirred a jot.

But that night, he filled his flagon fuller than his wont, and drank,
and drank, and pledged the stars.

"Here's to thee, old Arcturus! To thee, old Aldebaran! who ever poise
your wine-red, fiery spheres on high. A health to _thee_, my regal
friend, Alphacca, in the constellation of the Crown: Lo! crown to
crown, I pledge thee! I drink to _ye_, too, Alphard! Markab! Denebola!
Capella!--to _ye_, too, sailing Cygnus! Aquila soaring!--All round, a
health to all your diadems! May they never fade! nor mine!"

At last, in the shadowy east, the Dawn, like a gray, distant sail
before the wind, was descried; drawing nearer and nearer, till her
gilded prow was perceived.

And as in tropic gales, the winds blow fierce, and more fierce, with
the advent of the sun; so with King Media; whose mirth now breezed up
afresh. But, as at sunrise, the sea-storm only blows harder, to settle
down at last into a steady wind; even so, in good time, my lord Media
came to be more decorous of mood. And Babbalanja abated his reveries.

For who might withstand such a morn!

As on the night-banks of the far-rolling Ganges, the royal bridegroom
sets forth for his bride, preceded by nymphs, now this side, now that,
lighting up all the flowery flambeaux held on high as they pass; so
came the Sun, to his nuptials with Mardi:--the Hours going on before,
touching all the peaks, till they glowed rosy-red.

By reflex, the lagoon, here and there, seemed on fire; each curling
wave-crest a flame.

Noon came as we sailed.

And now, citrons and bananas, cups and calabashes, calumets and
tobacco, were passed round; and we were all very merry and mellow
indeed. Smacking our lips, chatting, smoking, and sipping. Now a
mouthful of citron to season a repartee; now a swallow of wine to wash
down a precept; now a fragrant whiff to puff away care. Many things
did beguile. From side to side, we turned and grazed, like Juno's
white oxen in clover meads.

Soon, we drew nigh to a charming cliff, overrun with woodbines, on
high suspended from flowering Tamarisk and Tamarind-trees. The
blossoms of the Tamarisks, in spikes of small, red bells; the
Tamarinds, wide-spreading their golden petals, red-streaked as with
streaks of the dawn. Down sweeping to the water, the vines trailed
over to the crisp, curling waves,--little pages, all eager to hold up
their trains.

Within, was a bower; going behind it, like