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STORIES FROM OLD ENGLISH POETRY.

sters who spouted about him, he sent him to be cast upon the shore, more dead than alive from fear and punishment.

Florimel had fallen into a deep swoon, and Proteus bore her unconscious to his palace underneath the waves. There he gave her in charge to the aged sea-nymph, Panope, who bore her to a secluded chamber and attended her with gentle kindness.

When Florimel recovered, she found herself in a huge vaulted hall lined with opal and pearl. Corals, red and white, bore upon their branching arms cushioned couches, on one of which the weary maiden found herself reclining. A lamp hung from the arched ceiling, swaying with the motion of the sea-waves, and the gentle rocking of her couch invited soft slumbers to the eyes of Florimel when she should like to refresh herself with sleep.

Here many days did Florimel abide, waited on by Panope, who saw in the maiden’s beauty, as in a glass, the reflex of her own loveliness in those days of her youth when she had sported with the sea-nymphs, her sisters, before the time that Proteus had brought her hither to attend in his rock-built mansion.

Not now were all the troubles of Florimel a at an end. Proteus beheld how fair the maiden was, and forgetful of her mortal birth, he sought