VI

Above through many a bowery turn

A walk with varycoloured shells

Wandered engrained. 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.