ANIMA LUNAE 
 
Written partly under the great rock Sigiri, 
partly in Arabia, near Aden. 
 
ZÔHRA the king by feathered fans 
Slept lightly through the mid-day heat. 
Swart giants with drawn yataghans 
Guard, standing at his head and feet, 
Zôhra, the mightiest of the khans ! 
 
Each slave Circassian like a moon 
Sits smiling, burning with young bloom 
Of dawn, and weaves an airy tune 
Like a white bird’s song bright and bold 
That dips a fiery plume. 
So the song lulled, lazily rolled 
In tubes of silver, lutes of gold ; 
And all that palace drowsed away 
The hours that fanned with silken fold 
The progress of the Lord of Day. 
Yet, as he slept, a grey 
Shadow of dream drew near, and stooped 
And glided through the ranks of slaves, 
Leaving no shadow where they drooped, 
No echo in the architraves 
As silent as the grave’s. 
II6