Unruffled in royal repose,
With her jewels and cloth-of-gold clothes;
And with gay clouds of banners and towers,
With its millions of slaves, white and black.
It was borne by obedient Powers,
As swift as the wind on its track,
And ere one could count ten it was back!
And ever thereafter, Aladdin
Clung close to the lamp of his fate,
Whatever the robe he was clad in,