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Rh

The crimson shawl across the breast Above the graceful shoulder hung, Or sash-wise, round the shining vest, Or o'er the gem-starred turban flung, In all their glittering panoply, The lofty port—the gleaming brand— Appear like those bright genii Who erst had ruled the sunny land. 'Twas a fair pageant, and might seem More like a poet's noon-tide dream Than cold reality—the throng With whirl-wind speed who rush along The tangled wild, arousing there From copse, and dell, and fields of air The forest's tenants from the rocks Uprising with a piercing cry, The startled pea fowl soar in flocks, And spread like clouds along the sky. While the hyena and the wolf, Jackalls and bears, and bounding deer