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Where some rich caravan, not long before,
Has pass'd, with cassia fraught, and balmy store,
Charm'd with the scent that hills and vales diffuse,

His grateful journey gayly he pursues :
Thus pleas'd, the monarch fed his eager soul,
And from each breeze a cloud of fragrance stole :
Soon the fourth door* he pass'd with eager haste,
And the fourth stream was nectar to his taste.

Before his eyes, on agate columns rear'd, On high a purple canopy appear'd; And under it, in stately form, was plac'd A table with a thousand vases grac'd; Laden with all the dainties that are found In air, in seas, or on the fruitful ground. Here the fair youth reclin'd with decent pride, His wanton nymph was seated by his side : All that could please the taste, the happy pair Cull'd from the loaded board with curious care; O'er their enchanted heads, a mantling vine His curling tendrils wove with amorous twine; From the green stalks the glowing clusters hung, Like rubies on a thread of emeralds strung; With these were other fruits of every hue, The pale, the red, the golden, and the blue.

* Taste.

An hundred smiling pages stood around,

Their shining brows with wreaths of myrtle bound: They, in transparent cups of agate, bore

Of sweetly-sparkling wines a precious store;

The stripling sip'd and revell'd, till the sun
Down heaven's blue vault his daily course had run;
Then rose, and, follow'd by the gentle maid,
Op'd the fifth door: * a stream before them play'd.

The king, impatient for the cooling draught, In a full cup the mystic nectar quaff'd; Then with a smile, (he knew no higher bliss) From her sweet lip he stole a balmy kiss: On the smooth bank of violets they reclin'd: And, whilst a chaplet for his brow she twin'd, With his soft cheek her softer cheek he press'd; His pliant arms were folded round her breast. She smil'd, soft lightning darted from her eyes, And from his fragrant seat she bade him rise; Then, while a brighter blush her face o'erspread, To the sixth gatet her willing guest she led.

The golden lock she softly turn'd around; The moving hinges gave a pleasing sound :

* Touch.

+ The sensual pleasures united.

The boy delighted, ran with eager haste,
And to his lips the living fountain plac'd;
The magic water pierc'd his kindled brain,
And a strange venom shot from vein to vein.
Whatever charms he saw in other bowers,
Were here combin'd, fruits, music, odours, flowers;
A couch besides, with softest silk o'erlaid;
And, sweeter still, a lovely yielding maid,
Who now more charming seem'd, and not so coy,
And in her arms infolds the blushing boy:
They sport and wanton, till, with sleep oppress'd,
Like two fresh rose-buds on one stalk, they rest.

:

When morning spread around her purple flame, To the sweet couch the five fair sisters came; They hail'd the bridegroom with a cheerful voice, And bade him make, with speed, a second choice. Hard task to choose, when all alike were fair! Now this, now that, engag'd his anxious care: Then to the first who spoke, his hand he lent; The rest retir'd, and whisper'd as they went. The prince enamour'd view'd his second bride ; They left the bower, and wander'd side by side; With her he charm'd his ears, with her his sight; With her he pass'd the day, with her the night. Thus, all by turns the sprightly stranger led, And all by turns partook his nuptial bed;

Hours, days, and months, in pleasure flow'd away;
All laugh'd, all sweetly sung, and all were gay.

So had he wanton'd three-score days and seven, More blest, he thought, than any son of heaven : Till on a morn, with sighs and streaming tears, The train of nymphs before his bed appears; And thus the youngest of the sisters speaks, Whilst a sad shower runs trickling down her cheeks:

A custom which we cannot, dare not fail,
(Such are the laws that in our isle prevail,)
Compels us, prince! to leave thee here alone,
Till thrice the sun his rising front has shewn:
Our parents, whom, alas! we must obey,
Expect us at a splendid feast to-day;
What joy to us can all their splendour give?
With thee, with only thee, we wish to live.
Yet may we hope, these gardens will afford
Some pleasing solace to our absent lord!
Six golden keys, that ope yon blissful gates,
Where joy, eternal joy, thy steps awaits,
Accept: the seventh (but that you heard before)
Leads to a cave, where ravening monsters roar;
A sullen, dire, inhospitable cell,
Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell,

:

?

Farewell, dear youth!-how will our bosoms burn Fo the sweet moment of our blest return!'

The king, who wept, yet knew his tears were vain,

Took the seven keys, and kiss'd the parting train.
A glittering car, which bounding coursers drew,
They mounted strait, and through the forest flew.

The youth, unknowing how to pass the day, Review'd the bowers, and heard the fountains play; By hands unseen whate'er he wish'd was brought: And pleasures rose obedient to his thought. Yet all the sweets, that ravish'd him before, Were tedious, now, and charm'd his soul no more : Less lovely still, and still less gay they grew; He sigh'd, he wish'd, and long'd for something new: Back to the hall he turn'd his weary feet,

And sat repining on his royal seat.

Now, on the seventh bright gate he casts his eyes;
And in his bosom rose a bold surmise;
• The nymph,' said he, 'was sure dispos'd to jest,
Who talk'd of dungeons in a place so blest:
What harm to open, if it be a cell
Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell?
If dark or foul, I need not pass the door;
If new or strange, my soul desires no more.'

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