Page:Lalla Rookh - Moore - 1817.djvu/96



Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way, Where all was waste and silent yesterday? This City of War which, in a few short hours, Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star, Built the high pillared halls of CHILMINAR, Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see, This world of tents and domes and sunbright armory:-- Princely pavilions screened by many a fold Of crimson cloth and topt with balls of gold:-- Steeds with their housings of rich silver spun, Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun; And camels tufted o'er with Yemen's shells Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells!

But yester-eve, so motionless around, So mute was this wide plain that not a sound