Strange look’d it there! The willow stream’d
Where silvery waters near it gleam’d;
The lime-bough lured the honey-bee
To murmur by the desert’s tree,
And showers of snowy roses made
A lustre in its fan-like shade.
There came an eve of festal hours—
Rich music fill’d that garden’s bowers;
Lamps, that from flowering branches hung,
On sparks of dew soft colour flung;