Late, late to-night will Dian cheer

The swain, and chase the boatman's fear;

Till then—no beacon on the cliff

May shape the course of struggling skiff; 540

The scattered lights that skirt the bay,

All, one by one, have died away;

The only lamp of this lone hour

Is glimmering in Zuleika's tower.

Yes! there is light in that lone chamber,

And o'er her silken ottoman

Are thrown the fragrant beads of amber,

O'er which her fairy fingers ran;[156]

Near these, with emerald rays beset,[157]

(How could she thus that gem forget?) 550

Her mother's sainted amulet,[158]

Whereon engraved the Koorsee text,

Could smooth this life, and win the next;

And by her Comboloio[159] lies

A Koran of illumined dyes;

And many a bright emblazoned rhyme

By Persian scribes redeemed from Time;

And o'er those scrolls, not oft so mute,

Reclines her now neglected lute;

And round her lamp of fretted gold 560

Bloom flowers in urns of China's mould;

The richest work of Iran's loom,

And Sheeraz[160] tribute of perfume;

All that can eye or sense delight

Are gathered in that gorgeous room:

But yet it hath an air of gloom.

She, of this Peri cell the sprite,

What doth she hence, and on so rude a night?