Fit answer to an evening fair as this,
It looked like fairy land; and she who lean'd
Beside the fount, whose azure mirror gave
A fresh existence to her loveliness,
Seemed one of those etherial forms, the flowers,
In the wild magic of Arabian tale.
I may not name Arabia, and not pay
The slight meed of my homage to its songs:
How oft I've linger'd o'er the page, which told
Of him, the wand'rer of the sea, and all
The marvels he beheld! and when Gulnare
Unveil'd the glories of the ocean depth,
Or where the Persian and his ill-starr’d love,
United in the grave, found sweet repose!
And him, the Fortunate, whose gorgeous hall
Kings could not match—Aladdin, who possest
The mystic lamp; alas! that days like these,
Of fairy wonders, now should be no more.
How have I shudder'd, when the warning voice
