THE BAYADERE.
159
He, the fair boy-god, whose nest
Is in the water-lily's breast;
He of the many-arrowed bow,
Of the joys that come and go
Like the leaves, and of the sighs
Like the winds of summer skies,
Blushes like the birds of spring,
Soon seen and soon vanishing;
He of hopes, and he of fears,
He of smiles, and he of tears—
Young Camdeo, he has brought
A sweet dream of coloured thought,
One of love and woman's power,
To Mandalla's sleeping hour.
Joyless and dark was his jewelled throne
When Mandalla awakened and found him alone.
