’Twas theirs to rear the Zehrar’s costly towers,
Its fairy-palace and enchanted bowers;
There all Arabian fiction e’er could tell
Of potent genii or of wizard spell—
All that a poet’s dream could picture bright,
One sweet Elysium, charm’d the wondering sight!
Too fair, too rich, for work of mortal hand,
It seem’d an Eden from Armida’s wand!
Yet vain their pride, their wealth, and radiant state,
When freedom waved on high the sword of fate!