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 The odour of the flowers—the odour of the perfumes—the odour of the lamps—the odour of the fragrant bosoms of the lovely damsels themselves;—the air was sick with odour. The splendour of the lamps, the splendour of the flowers, the splendour of the ornaments, and finally the splendour of the side-glances darted incessantly from the eyes of the women. The music of the vina and other instruments swelled the air, accompanied by the sweeter, clearer strains of the females; at intervals the tinklings proceeding from the feet of a dancing-girl took the soul with 'enchanting ravishment.'

Look there! reader, how yonder female dances; so dances the lotus-embosomed swan when the waves are up. She is looked on by a circle of lovely, cheerful faces. Look where sits she of the blue attire—her cloth glittering in stars of gold—what a pair of expansive eyes! how deliciously blue like the sky!—what lightning flash in her side-glance! Look at the other fair one, who bears a diamond-star on that spot of her forehead where her hair begins to part. Do you see what a sweet forehead she has? Serene, expansive, clear—has such a creature been meant by Heaven for the harem? Look at that lovely brown girl decked in flowers. Do you see how well her floral dress sets off her person? Flowers were meant for the fair. Do you see yonder girl with cherry-ripe lips, which are at present slightly compressed. Mark how her bright complexion comes out from behind her glossy, blue vesture—so looks the moon at its full in the cloudless heavens. Do you see that fair one there with the swan-like neck. She is talking and laughing. Look how her pendants are waving. Who are you, my fair one, with such a