glittering sword-shine in ransomed Tennessee? Is she floating
on a lotus-leaf in Florida lagoons? Has she drunk Nepenthe in
the orange-groves? Is she chasing golden apples under the
magnolias? Are you toying with the tangles of her hair in the
bright sea-foam? O, rouse her from her trance, loose the
fetters from her lovely limbs, and speed her to our Northern
skies, that moan her long delay.

Or is she frightened by the thunders of the cannonade sounding
from shore to shore, and wakening the wild echoes? Does she
fear to breast our bristling bayonets? Is she stifled by the
smoke of powder? Is she crouching down Caribbean shores,
terror-stricken and pallid? Sweet June, fear not! The flash
of loyal steel will only light you along your Northern road.
Beauty and innocence have nothing to dread from the sword a
patriot wields. The storm that rends the heavens will make
earth doubly fair. Your pathway shall lie over Delectable
Mountains, and through vinelands of Beulah. Come quickly,
tread softly, and from your bountiful bosom scatter seeds as
you come, that daisies and violets may softly shine, and
sweetly twine with the amaranth and immortelle that spring
already from heroes' hearts buried in soldiers' graves.

"But there is no use in placarding her," said Halicarnassus.
"We shall have no warm weather till the eclipse is over."

"So ho!" I said. "Having exhausted every other pretext for
delay, you bring out an eclipse! and pray when is this famous
affair to come off?"