For joy’s excess, o’er all her face Hath cast a clouded sweetness dim; Smiling she leans with languid grace, While round her dreams ecstatic, swim: Fixed in a trance of twilight sleep, She hears at times the magic choir, And scents the mists that o’er the deep Now forward flow, and now retire. Onward the winged vessel flies, Till sudden in a verdant bay It stops: while viewless being’s sighs Waft the meridian fires away. Umbrageous on the kissing hills Tam’rinds and cedars mix their boughs; And sounds are there of trickling rills, And smell of cassia, myrrh, and rose: Satiate with musky breath of flowers, With luscious clove, and sandal sweet, The hot air pants in leafy bowers Where birds and beasts for shade retreat. And now the virgin’s slumbers fade, As clashing cymbals shake the trees: Ah, ’tis not Delos, wretched maid, That rises mid these foreign seas! ’Tis not thy dear, thy native isle, Where green andrachnés shade the vales, Where almonds blush, and olives smile, And spring leads on the freshning gales! ’Tis not the distant coast of Greece That stretches there along the main: Lo! as the spicy heats increase, Thou seek’st thy natal airs in vain. Ah! never, (haply,) shall thou more Thy parents or thy love behold; Thou touchest now, wild Borneo’s shore; Thou see’st the land of crime and gold! A shadowy shape, (more heav’nly bright Than that which opes the gates of day,) Oft melting from her wondering sight, Now points the fearful stranger’s way. Thro’ citron woods, and palmy dells, (Thick set with flowers,) where every sweet, That scattered thro’ the wide world, dwells, Seems there in verdant home to meet; O’er heights with orange blossoms strewn, By springs that gild the dipping grass, By rocks of crystal yet unhewn, And mines of glitt’ring gems, they pass. High in the centre of the isle, Where broad bananas thickly grow, Ascends a fair, majestic pile, Whiter than Lapland’s drifted snow: Around its alabaster base, Unnumber’d flowers their garlands wreathe; There jasmine leads her fragrant race, Carnations bloom, and roses breathe; Above its proud, imperial crest, Like plumed helm of giant mold, The streaming clouds fantastic rest, And shade its battlements of gold. Now to the spot appointed, come, Here stays the lovely stranger’s guide; She flits before the stately dome, And lo! its portals open wide. With rainbow splendour, blinding bright, The di’mond hall at once appears, But sightless with that blaze of light, The thrilling Láis only hears.