Of the other, jealous neither,--
Sapphire naught without the red,
Ruby still by blue bested.

But when weary of their life,
They came down to earth at even--
Purple husband, purple wife--
From the upper deeps of heaven,
And reclined upon the grass,
That their little lives might pass.

Wing to wing and arms enwreathed,
Sank they from their life's long dreaming;--
Into earth their souls they breathed;
But when morning's light was streaming,
All their joys and sweet regrets
Bloomed in banks of violets!


As from its dimpled fountain, at its own capricious will,
Each step a note of music, and each fall and flash a thrill,
The rill goes singing to the meadow levels and is still,

So fell from Nourmahal her song upon the captive sense;
It dashed in spray against the throne, it tinkled through the tents,
And died at last among the flowery banks of recompense;

For when great Selim marked her fire, and read her riddle well,
And watched her from the flushing to the fading of the spell,
He sprang forgetful, from his seat, and caught her as she fell.