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AMIR KHAN.
By Peris dipped in Henni's dew,The topaz' rich and golden ray,The opal's flame, the agate gray,The amethyst of violet hue,The sapphire with its heavenly blue,The snow-white jasper sparkling thereNear the carbuncle's deepening glare,The warm carnelian's blushing glowReflected back the brilliant flowOf light, which in refulgent streams,O'er hall, o'er bower, and fountain beams.
O'er beds of roses, bright with dew,Unfolding modestly to view,Each trembling leaf, each blushing breast,In Cashmere's wildest sweetness dressed;Through vistas long, through myrtle bowersWhere Amir Khan once passed his hoursIn gazing on Amreta's face,So full of beauty, full of grace,Through veils of silver bright and clear,It poured its softened radiance far;Or beamed in pure and milky brightness,O'er urns of alabaster whiteness;Through Persian screens of glittering gold,O'er many an altar's sacred fold,Where to Eternity will blazeThe naphtha's never-fading rays,The Gheber's fire which dieth never,But burns, and beams, and glows forever!
