Volume 5 — TO RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON.

Athwart the welkin slant the snows and pile On sill and balcony, their feathery feet Trip o'er the landscape, and pursuing sleet Earth's brow beglooming, robs the skies of smile: Lies in her mourning-shroud our Northern Isle And bitter winds in battle o'er her meet. Her world is death-like, when behold! we greet Light-gleams from morning-land in welcome while. A light of golden mine and orient pearl— Vistas of fairy-land, where Beauty reigns And Valiance revels; cloudless moon, fierce sun, The wold, the palm-tree; cities; hosts; a whirl Of life in tents and palaces and fanes: The light that streams from THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE.