All who entered the grove in naval uniform, were conducted by two of the nymphs to an open space among the trees; where Lady Susan, in the character of Britannia, was seated on a beautiful throne, curiously carved in marble to represent the white cliffs of Albion; canopied by oaks, and sheltered, on either side, by a luxuriant growth of laurel; the steps of the throne, subject waves spell bound to the stillness of stone, by the presence of their awful mistress; while on one of them stood Triton, with his conch at his lips, in the attitude of awaiting command. The rich harmonies of “Rule, Britannia!” meantime filled the air every where; as though the old oaks themselves had been the performers; for, while the deeper tones seemed to come mellowed from within the imprisonment of their knotted trunks, the softer ones were heard whispering at large among the waving of their lofty tops.
Each claimant being led to the feet of Britannia, she took a laurel wreath from the hands of her attendant nymphs, and, with a gracious smile, (a triumphal flourish from the conch of Triton at the same moment proclaiming the act,) placed it on the brows of the hero.
In the great room appeared a motley crowd in the costumes of all the nations under heaven; so that, on first entering, a traveller’s eye would have been reminded of the great mart at Gibraltar.
Lord Arandale had requested that all officers should wear uniform; Edmund could not, therefore, without incurring the charge of affectation, avoid compliance.
Habited, accordingly, in his full dress, or roast beef coat, and (for things could not be done by halves) decorated with every star and garter he had ever won, he made his appearance in the marine cave. But, having fatally neglected the precaution taken by the wise Ulysses against the voices of Syrens, he found it quite impossible to proceed further; and, indeed, seemed to be so much at home among the sea-nymphs, that landsmen, as they passed, were induced to make many witty comments, vowing they would never again compassionate sailors, on the score of their privations.
They had heard, indeed, of mermaids, and read of Syrens; but, as the former were proverbial for a very uninteresting peculiarity of form, and the latter were called, by Johnson, sea-monsters, they had no idea that the rocks and caves of old ocean were inhabited by such water angels as those they now beheld.