96 Our Imaginary Conversations. 



In the extract I am about to give, I think you have very felicitously 

 rendered the characteristics of oriental architecture, and the grotesque 

 ornaments of Eastern temples. 



Look where two cities, strangers and unknown, 



Climb to the clouds from tower to tower up-thrown ; 



Theie with their Gods and people, chariots and delights, 



The sisters lay amid the darkening lights ; 



The shadows floated round their moonlit walls, 



Among that marble chaos of dim halls, 



Aqueducts, and terraces, the eye might see 



Pillars and capitals cold imagery ! 



Hewn out of stone, along the glittering track, 



Elephants bearing domes upon their back, 



And giants watching, from the nooks around, 



Monsters of terror leap upon the ground. 



Rich hanging gardens, full of flower arcades, 



Where the moon cast her light on the cascades ; 



Vast blocks of marble through the temple spread, 



Where, never lifting up their giant heads, 



The Gods of brass, their hands upon their knee, 



Sat gazing in a circle solemnly ! 



The monsters, palaces, the colonnades, 



Where forms unknown are gleaming in the shades, 



Bridges, and aqueducts, and towers the eye 



Turneth in fear from that dark mystery ! 



And temples, with their shadows lowering high, 



Were seen like mountains darkening in the sky. 



A veiled city ! The thick gloom did fall 



On golden floor and portal over all ! 



f Cities of Hades ! in their wishes vain, 



Each hour led forth some pleasure in its train, 



Each moment gave some fearful mystery birth. 



Till like two ulcers they diseased the earth. 



Sleep over all ! upon the city's brow 



Glided athwart the gloom a pallid glow, 



Pale lamps which shine a moment and are not, 



The gleam of feasting in the streets forgot : 



The walls flung out their towers with moonbeams white, 



Or broke the dark, or trembled in the waters bright : 



And from the valley of the singing bird, 



The stifling of sweet kisses on the air was heard, 



The mingling of love-breaths in every word ! 



The sister cities, weary of the light, 



Did pant upon the bosom of delight, 



While the sweet air, beneath the cool gum tree, 



From Sodom to Gomorrah roameth pleasantly. 



Then passed along the thunder-cloud of Fear, 



And from the darkness leapt the death-cry It is here .'" 



But in my opinion, the most powerful composition in the volume, and 

 the one in every way most oriental, both in spirit and expression, is the 

 Turkish March. The fiery and impetuous blood of an Ottoman warrior 

 runs through the poem. 



My dagger with blood from my side doth flow, 

 My battle-axe hangs at my saddle-bow. 



I love the warrior with the eye of fire, 



His turban rent upon his veiny brow ; 



He bows upon the beard of his old sire, 



Unto his sword he makes a filial vow : 



His garments pierced in many a hostile din, 



Have holes more countless than the starry skin 



Of tiger in the pale grass crouching low. 



