It was a radiant garden,
To which the cavern led,
Heavy with early roses,
A thousand thickets spread;
Roses that breathe of summer,
To colder climes unknown,
With the burning sigh and colour
Of the lovely southern zone:
And there were silver fountains,
That in the noontide hours,
Fell down o’er marble basins,
In cool and fragrant showers;
For the dews of evening fed them,
With the life of many a bloom,
Till blended with their waters
Was every flower's perfume.
And there were graceful cypress-trees,
That drooped above a lake;
Oh, love, how much of loveliness
Was given for thy sake!
And buoyant on the liquid plain,
Which threw their image back again;
A float of water-lilies reared
Their temples to the sun,
Shrines where some insect conqueror keeps
The red gold he has won;
Or it might chance some victor bee
Made them his ivory treasury.
Glittering with light, a palace bright
Now rises on the air,
The meteor's blaze sinks ’mid its rays,
Oh! prince, thy home is there.
He enters, and a thrilling song
Rises those shining halls among;
The first one was with amber lined,
Like that upon the west,
When one pale line of tender light
Shows where the day hours rest:
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