VASHTI'S SCROLL
31
And thrice the peaches on the loaded walls
Have slowly rounded into wondrous balls
Of gold and crimson. I will make a feast.
Princes and lords, the greatest and the least,
All Persia and all Media, shall see
The pomp and splendor that encompass me.
The riches of my kingdom shall be shown,
And all my glorious majesty made known
Where'er the shadow of my sceptred hand
Sways a great people with its mute command!"
Then came from far and near a hurrying throng
Of skilled and cunning workmen. All day long
And far into the startled night, they wrought
Most quaint and beautiful devices—still
Responsive to their master's eager will,
And giving form to his creative thought—
Till Shushan grew a marvel!
Never yet
Yon rolling sun on fairer scene has set:
The palace windows were ablaze with light;
And Persia's lords were there, most richly dight
In broidered silks, or costliest cloth of gold,
That kept the sunshine in each lustrous fold,
Or softly flowing tissues, pure and white
As fleecy clouds at noonday. Clear and bright
Shone the pure gold of Ophir, and the gleam
Of burning gems, that mocked the pallid beam
Of the dim, wondering stars, made radiance there,
Splendor undreamed of, and beyond compare!
Up from the gardens floated the perfume
Of rose and myrtle, in their perfect bloom;
The red pomegranate cleft its heart in twain,
Pouring its life blood in a crimson rain;
The slight acacia waved its yellow plumes,
And afar off amid the starlit glooms
Have slowly rounded into wondrous balls
Of gold and crimson. I will make a feast.
Princes and lords, the greatest and the least,
All Persia and all Media, shall see
The pomp and splendor that encompass me.
The riches of my kingdom shall be shown,
And all my glorious majesty made known
Where'er the shadow of my sceptred hand
Sways a great people with its mute command!"
Then came from far and near a hurrying throng
Of skilled and cunning workmen. All day long
And far into the startled night, they wrought
Most quaint and beautiful devices—still
Responsive to their master's eager will,
And giving form to his creative thought—
Till Shushan grew a marvel!
Never yet
Yon rolling sun on fairer scene has set:
The palace windows were ablaze with light;
And Persia's lords were there, most richly dight
In broidered silks, or costliest cloth of gold,
That kept the sunshine in each lustrous fold,
Or softly flowing tissues, pure and white
As fleecy clouds at noonday. Clear and bright
Shone the pure gold of Ophir, and the gleam
Of burning gems, that mocked the pallid beam
Of the dim, wondering stars, made radiance there,
Splendor undreamed of, and beyond compare!
Up from the gardens floated the perfume
Of rose and myrtle, in their perfect bloom;
The red pomegranate cleft its heart in twain,
Pouring its life blood in a crimson rain;
The slight acacia waved its yellow plumes,
And afar off amid the starlit glooms
