RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.

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II.

Anight my shallop, rustling thro’

The low and bloomed foliage, drove
The fragrant, glistening deeps, and clove

The citron-shadows in the blue :

By garden porches on the brim,
The costly doors flung open wide,
Gold glittering thro' lamplight dim,
And broider'd sophas on each side :
In sooth it was a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

III.

Often, where clear-stemm'd platans guard

The outlet, did I turn away

The boat-head down a broad canal

From the main river sluiced, where all

The sloping of the moon-lit sward

Was damask-work, and deep inlay

Of braided blooms unmown, which crept

Adown to where the waters slept.
A goodly place, a goodly time,

For it was in the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid !

IV.

A motion from the river won

Ridged the smooth level, bearing on

My shallop through the star-strown calm, Until another night in night

I enter'd, from the clearer light,

Imbower'd vaults of pillar'd palm,

Imprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb Heavenward, were stay'd beneath the dome Of hollow boughs.-A goodly time,

For it was in the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid !

V.

Still onward; and the clear canal

Is rounded to as clear a lake.

From the green rivage many a fall
Of diamond rillets musical,

Thro' little crystal arches low

Down from the central fountain's flow

Fall'n silver-chiming, seem'd to shake
The sparkling flints beneath the prow.
A goodly place, a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid !

VI.

Above thro' many a bowery turn

A walk with vary-colour'd shells

Wander'd engrain'd.

On either side

All round about the fragrant marge,

From fluted vase, and brazen urn

In order, eastern flowers large,

Some dropping low their crimson bells
Half-closed, and others studded wide

With disks and tiars, fed the time
With odour in the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid.

The living airs of middle night

Died round the bulbul as he sung;
Not he but something which possess'd

The darkness of the world, delight,

Life, anguish, death, immortal love,
Ceasing not, mingled, unrepress'd,
Apart from place, witholding time,
But flattering the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

VIII.

Black the garden-bowers and grots

Slumber'd: the solemn palms were ranged

Above, unwoo'd of summer wind :

A sudden splendour from behind

Flush'd all the leaves with rich gold-green, And, flowing rapidly between

Their interspaces, counterchanged

The level lake with diamond-plots

Of dark and bright. A lovely time,
For it was in the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid !

XI.

Dark-blue the deep sphere overhead,

Distinct with vivid stars inlaid,

Grew darker from that under-flame :

So, leaping lightly from the boat,
With silver anchor left afloat,

In marvel whence that glory came
Upon me, as in sleep I sank

In cool soft turf upon the bank,

Entranced with that place and time,

So worthy of the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid.

X.

Thence thro' the garden I was drawn

A realm of pleasance, many a mound,

And many a shadow-chequer'd lawn
Full of the city's stilly sound,