As
the story was chiefly to be told in song and FERAMORZ had unluckily
forgotten his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the vina of LALLA
ROOKH'S little Persian slave, and thus began:--
THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM.
Who has not heard of the Vale of CASHMERE,
With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,[278]
Its temples and grottos and fountains as clear
As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave?
Oh! to see it at sunset,--when warm o'er the Lake
Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws,
Like a bride full of blushes when lingering to take
A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes!--
When the shrines thro' the foliage are gleaming half shown,
And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own.
Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells,
Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging,
And here at the altar a zone of sweet bells
Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing.[279]
Or to see it by moonlight when mellowly shines
The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and shrines,
When the water-falls gleam like a quick fall of stars
And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenars
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet
From the cool, shining walks where the young people meet.--
Or at morn when the magic of daylight awakes
A new wonder each minute as slowly it breaks,
Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth every one
Out of darkness as if but just born of the Sun.
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