Ptolemy’s daughter; and so, breathing faint cassia and musk,
Veilèd young Moors on divans, singing and sighing at dusk.
Never in opiate dreams have I o’ertaken you, sweet;
Never with henna-tipped hands; never with silken-shod feet;
Still the love-charm of the East must over and over be told:
By-and-by havoc with hearts!... Ah, slowly, my seven-year-old!
CHARONDAS.
He lifted his forehead, and stood at his height,