'
He flung himself upon the couch; he buried his awful countenance in his
robes. His mighty heart was convulsed with passion. There did he lie,
that great and solemn man, prostrate and woe-begone.
'The noisy banquet lingers in my ear; I love to be alone.'
'With me?'
'Thou art myself; I have no other life.'
'Sweet bird! It is now a caliph.'
'I am what thou wiliest, soul of my sweet existence! Pomp and dominion,
fame and victory, seem now but flawed and dimly-shaded gems compared
with thy bright smile!'
'My plaintive nightingale, shall we hunt to-day?'
'Alas! my rose, I would rather lie upon this lazy couch, and gaze upon
thy beauty!'
'Or sail upon the cool and azure lake, in some bright barque, like to a
sea-nymph's shell, and followed by the swans?'
'There is no lake so blue as thy deep eye; there is no swan so white as
thy round arm!'
'Or shall we launch our falcons in the air, and bring the golden
pheasant to our feet?'
'I am the golden pheasant at thy feet; why wouldst thou richer prey?'
'Rememberest thou thy earliest visit to this dear kiosk, my gentle mute?
There thou stoodst with folded arms and looks demure as day, and ever
and anon with those dark eyes stealing a glance which made my cheek
quite pale.
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