X

Thence through the garden I was borne—

A realm of pleasance, many a mound,

And many a shadowchequered lawn

Full of the city's stilly sound.

And deep myrrhthickets blowing round

The stately cedar, tamarisks,

Thick rosaries of scented thorn,

Tall orient shrubs, and obelisks

Graven with emblems of the time,

In honour of the golden prime

Of good Haroun Alraschid.