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Dark and bold, thy shores, Marlena; But green, and timorous, thy soft knolls, Crouching behind the woodlands. All shady thy hills; all gleaming thy springs, Like eyes in the earth looking at you. How charming thy haunts Marlena!
Oh, the waters that flow through Onimoo: Oh, the leaves that rustle through Ponoo: Oh, the roses that blossom in Tarma: Come, and see the valley of Vina: How sweet, how sweet, the Isles from Hind: 'Tis aye afternoon of the full, full moon, And ever the season of fruit, And ever the hour of flowers, And never the time of rains and gales, All in and about Marlena.
"Then, minstrel, you shall sing me to sleep every night, especially with that song of Marlena; it is soporific as the airs of Nora-Bamma." "Mean you, old man, that my lines, setting forth the luxurious repose to be enjoyed hereafter, are composed with such skill, that the description begets the reality; or would you ironically suggest, that the song is a sleepy thing itself?"
The words were about a curious hereafter, believed in by some people in Mardi: a sort of nocturnal Paradise, where the sun and its heat are excluded: one long, lunar day, with twinkling stars to keep company. THE SONG Far off in the sea is Marlena, A land of shades and streams, A land of many delights.
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