’Twas a little golden box,
Richly ornamented over
With incrusted stones and cameos,
And with miniature devices.
Now this casket, in itself
Of inestimable value,
Served to hold the priceless treasures
Of the monarch’s body-jewels.
All the latter Alexander
On his brave commanders lavish’d,
Smiling at the thought of men
Childlike loving colour’d pebbles.
One fair valuable gem he
To his mother dear presented;
’Twas the signet ring of Cyrus,
Turn’d into a brooch henceforward.
To his famous old preceptor
Aristotle he presented
A fine onyx for his splendid
Cabinet of natural history.
In the casket were some pearls too,
Forming quite a wondrous string,
Which were once to Queen Atossa
Given by the false knave Smerdis;
But the pearls were all quite real,
And the merry victor gave them
To a pretty dancer whom he
Brought from Corinth, named Miss Thais.
In her hair the latter wore them,
In bacchantic fashion streaming,
On that night when she was dancing
At Persepolis, and wildly
In the regal castle hurl’d her
Impious torch, till, loudly crackling,
Soon the flames obtain’d the mastery,
And the fortress laid in ruins.
On the death of beauteous Thais
Who of some bad Babylonian
Illness died at Babylon,
All her pearls were sold by auction