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 standing inside the sheet of the falls of the Genesee.
In this arbor we anchored.