Thrice was the proclamation made,
amid the sound of trumpets, and then began the games.
A thousand horsemen dashed into the arena and threw the jerreed. They
galloped at full speed; they arrested their fiery charges in mid course,
and flung their long javelins at the minute but sparkling target, the
imitative form of a rare and brilliant bird. The conquerors received
their prizes from the hand of the princess herself, bright shawls, and
jewelled daggers, and rosaries of gems. Sometimes the trumpets announced
a prize from the vice-queen, sometimes from the venerable Bostenay,
sometimes from the victorious generals, or the loyal deputations,
sometimes from the united trades, sometimes from the City of Bagdad,
sometimes from the City of Hamadan. The hours flew away in gorgeous and
ceaseless variety.
'I would we were alone, my own Schirene,' said Alroy to his bride.
'I would so too; and yet I love to see all Asia prostrate at the feet of
Alroy.'
'Will the sun never set? Give me thy hand to play with.'
'Hush! See, Miriam smiles.'
'Lovest thou my sister, my own Schirene?'
'None dearer but thyself.'
'Talk not of my sister, but ourselves. Thinkest thou the sun is nearer
setting, love?'
'I cannot see; thine eyes they dazzle me, they are so brilliant, sweet!'
'Oh, my soul! I could pour out my passion on thy breast.
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