There hoots the melancholy bird,
Grim cynic of the darksome cell.
Within the Harem’s latticed screen,
Where beauty once its radiance shed,
No bright eyes, save the owl’s are seen—
The rank green jungle rears its head.
A carcanet of gems—the snake
Lies coil’d where jewell’d beauty prest,
Unwinding, seeks the tangled brake,
Or fierce erects his horrid crest.