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 from experience, that there were both thunder and lightning to come ere it dispersed.

But a sound of distant plaintive melody was heard. A sweet voice sighing to a lute. The Sultan listened. “Bring hither the minstrel,” he said in a subdued tone; and a lovely, fair-haired boy, in a page’s dress of pale-green silk, was led blushing into the presence.

“Sing to me, child,” said the Lord of the East. And the youth touched his lute, with grace and wondrous skill, and sang, in accents soft as the ripple of a rill,





Long ere the lay had ceased, the cloud in the Sultan’s eye had dissolved itself in tears. Never had music so moved his soul.