Chant me a word of the twilight,
Of roses that mourn in the fall.
Bring me a song like hashish
That will comfort the stale and the sad,
For I would be mending my spirit,
Forgetting these days that are bad,
Forgetting companions too shallow,
Their quarrels and arguments thin,
Forgetting the shouting Muezzin:’–
‘I AM YOUR SLAVE,’ said the Jinn.
‘Bring me old wines,’ said Aladdin.
‘I have been a starved pauper too long.
Serve them in vessels of jade and of shell,
Serve them with fruit and with song:–
Wines of pre-Adamite Sultans
Digged from beneath the black seas:–
New-gathered dew from the heavens
Dripped down from Heaven’s sweet trees,
Cups from the angels’ pale tables
That will make me both handsome and wise,
For I have beheld her, the princess,
Firelight and starlight her eyes.
Pauper I am, I would woo her.
And–let me drink wine, to begin,
Though the Koran expressly forbids it.’
‘I AM YOUR SLAVE,’ said the Jinn.
‘Plan me a dome,’ said Aladdin,
‘That is drawn like the dawn of the MOON,
When the sphere seems to rest on the mountains,
Half-hidden, yet full-risen soon.’
Build me a dome,’ said Aladdin,’
That shall cause all young lovers to sigh,
The fullness of life and of beauty,
Peace beyond peace to the eye–
A palace of foam and of opal,
Pure moonlight without and within,
Where I may enthrone my sweet lady.’
‘I AM YOUR SLAVE,’ said the Jinn.

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