To whom does this belong? Perchance it is
A spirit's bower. No human voice is heard
But just the cry of 'minahs' and 'bajans.'
Whom shall we call, lest spectres should appear?"
They wandered round the ramparts, and a gate
Discovered, shut with heavy iron bar,
And vainly tried to open it. Then one
Of them went back, and found the King, and said:
"Hail, sovereign lord, we have no water found,
But a _campong_ here in the desert lone,
As splendid as a sultan's, with all sorts
Of trees and flow'rs, and not a mortal there.
'Tis girt about with double ramparts strong.
No name is seen, and all the gates are shut,
So that we could not enter."

Scarce the King
Had heard the _mantri's_ word when off he rushed
To see the fair domain. Before the gate
He stood astonished. "Truly, _mantris_ mine,
It is as you have said. I once was here
And then the wood was filled with thorns and briers."
"'Tis not a nobleman's _campong_. It must
Have recently been made. Now summon all
The _mantris_ here and see what they will say."
They called aloud, "Oh, hasten, friends, and bring
The water here." Seven times they called, but none
Responded. Said the King, "It is enough.
'Tis like as if one called unto the dead."