Whosoe’er had been ill-contented, a witless wight were he!
Mantles of ermine and sable over the housings flowed;
On lovely arm and white wrist many a bracelet glowed.
Clasps gathered the silk in many a softly-floating fold:—
But of all their splendour-devising the end can ne’er be told.
Full many a rich-wrought girdle with tassels swinging low
Over their shining raiment did hands of ladies throw,
Coiled round the silken loom-work far-fetched from Araby.
—O, the hearts of the noble maidens with joy and hope beat high!
There too did many a fair one over her bosom lace