Anningait was
therefore exposed by idleness to the ravages of
passion. He went thrice to the stern of the boat, with
an intent to leap into the water, and swim back to
his mistress; but, recollecting the misery which they
must endure in the winter, without oil for the lamp,
or skins for the bed, he resolved to employ the
weeks of absence in provision for a night of plenty
and felicity. He then composed his emotions as he
could, and expressed, in wild numbers and uncouth
images, his hopes, his sorrows, and his fears. "O
life!" says he, "frail and uncertain! where shall
wretched man find thy resemblance, but in ice
floating on the ocean? It towers on high, It sparkles
from afar, while the storms drive and the waters
beat it, the sun melts it above, and the rocks shatter
it below. What art thou, deceitful pleasure! but a
sudden blaze streaming from the north, which plays
a moment on the eye, mocks the traveller with the
hopes of light, and then vanishes for ever? What,
love, art thou but a whirlpool, which we approach
without knowledge of our danger, drawn on by
imperceptible degrees, till we have lost all power of
resistance and escape? Till I fixed my eyes on the
graces of Ajut, while I had not yet called her to
the banquet, I was careless as the sleeping morse,
was merry as the singers in the stars.
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