Page:The Coming Race, etc - 1888.djvu/142

128 following song, to the air and very words of which the feet of the dancing-girls kept time, while with the chorus rang the silver bells of the musical instrument which each of the dancers carried.

Softly, oh, softly glide,

Gentle Music, thou silver tide,

Bearing, the lull'd air along,

'his leaf from the Rose of Song!

To its port in his soul let it float,

The frail, but the fragrant boat,—

Bear it, soft Air, along!

With the burthen of sound we are laden,

Like the beels on the trees of Aden,

When they thrill with a tinkling tone

At the Wind from the Holy Throne,

Hark, as we move around,

We shake off the buds of sound;—

Thy presence, Belov'd, is Aden !

Sweet chimes that I hear and wake:

I would, for my lov'd one's sake,

That I were a sound like thee,

To the depths of his heart to flee.

If my breath had his senses blest;

If my voice in his heart could rest;

What pleasure to die like thee!

The music ceased; the dancers remained motionless in their graceful postures, as if arrested into statues of alabaster; and the young songstress cast herself on a cushion at the feet of the monarch, and looked up fondly, but silently, into his yet melancholy eyes,—when a man, whose entrance had not been noticed, was seen to stand within the chamber.

He was about the middle stature,—lean, muscular, and strongly though sparely built. A plain black robe, something in the fashion of the Armenian gown, hung long and loosely over a tunic of bright scarlet, girded by a broad belt, from the centre of which was suspended a small golden key, while at the left side appeared the jewelled hilt of a crooked dagger. His features were cast in a larger and grander mould than was common amongst the Moors of