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Pigeons and kids, and rich pillaus,
And kaaries bright with golden glow;
While from each sculptured silver vase
The many coloured sherbets flow.
Plucked from the river's sandy bed,
The gushing water melons shed
Their grateful streams; and there in piles,
Heaped up the glossy mango smiles;
Citrons, pomegranates, and the bright
Pistachio nut from far Thibet;
And grapes that gleam with topaz light,
And sweetmeats in a glistening net
Of frosted sugar heaped around,
And all with flower-wreathed garlands crowned.
Thus gaily sped the chieftain's hours,
Or still more happily, amid
The bright Zenana's sacred bowers,
Where in her sweet seclusion hid,
