EST HORA 



The Garden of Alcinoiis 



(Translation from the Moorish by Walter Harris of Tangier) 



Close to the gates a spacious garden lies, 

 From storms defended and inclement skies. 

 Four acres was the allotted space of ground, 

 Fenced with a green enclosure all around. 

 Tall thriving trees confessed the fruitful mould; 

 The reddening apple ripens here to gold. 

 Here the blue fig with luscious juice o'erflows, 

 With deeper red the full pomegranate glows; 

 The branch here bends beneath the mighty pear, 

 And verdant olives flourish round the year. 

 The balmy spirit of the western gale 

 Eternal breathes on fruits, untaught to fail; 

 Each dropping pear a following pear supplies, 

 On apples apples, figs on figs arise: 

 The same mild season gives the blooms to blow, 

 The buds to harden, and the fruits to grow. 



Ordered vines in equal ranks appear, 

 With all the united labours of the year; 

 Some to unload the fertile branches run, 

 Some dry the blackening clusters in the sun; 



[23] 



