Xiv: O, Fond Memory! Poem by Alexander Anderson

What dreams were mine to-night, O fond romance,
That came upon me like a summer sleep,
And bound me so my spirit could not keep
Account with earth, but lay as in a trance
And heard Scherezadé tell again
Her stories to the king, and saw the seas
Brim up with pearls, golden palaces,
Slave-guarded maidens, genii on the plain,
And swarthy fishermen, and gardens rife
With sunny fruitage—heard sweet music play
Accompaniment to the voluptuous day—
And saw a city full of turban'd strife;
While, as if wishing to make all complete,
The Caliph turn'd the corner of a street.