The next was of the sapphire stone,
The third with precious metals shone;
The fourth was like the midnight sky,
When every star shines out on high;
The roof was bright with pearl and gem,
Golconda's king might choose ’mid them
The glory of his diadem.
A lady leant upon the throne,
But pale with love, and pale with fear;
For love and fear are at her heart,
The bright and mighty mistress here;
The words are dying on her mouth,
A red rose opening to the south;
The long lash hides her downcast eye,
Downcast, though glorious as the sky:
Whate’er her power, whate’er her will,
A woman is but woman still:
Her raven hair falls o’er her brow,
She's thankful for its shadow now;
Her white hand clasped within his own,
The prince is kneeling at her throne.
Thou lovely port of Araby,
A vision and a dream,
Is on thine own enchanted shore,
Is on thy charmed stream:
Oh! glory to thy fair date-trees,
And to their thousand memories
Of moonlit walks, of midnight tales;
Of all our earlier world,
When all the colours of its youth
Like banners were unfurled;
And fancy, at whose feet take birth
A thousand blossoms o’er our earth,
Was young, and ardent, and sublime,
Ah! little like our actual time.
It is scarce necessary to say, that the story to which the above poem refers, is that of the Fairy Pari-Banou and Prince Ahmed.
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