Heard, or conceived, the living and the dead. The Caliph Haroun, walking forth by night To see young David and Goliath fight, 670 Rose on his passive fancy—then appear’d The fleshless forms of beings scorn’d or fear’d By just or evil men—the baneful race Of spirits restless, borne from place to place; Rivers of blood from conquer’d armies ran; The flying steed was by, the marble man; Then danced the fairies round their pygmy queen, And their feet twinkled on the dewy green, All in the moon-beams’ glory. As they fled, The mountain loadstone rear’d its fatal head, 680 And drew the iron-bolted ships on shore, } Where he distinctly heard the billows roar, } Mix’d with a living voice of—“Youngster, sleep no more, } But haste to dinner.” Starting from the ground, The waking boy obey’d that welcome sound. He went and sat, with equal shame and pride, A welcome guest at Madam Johnson’s side; At his right hand was Mistress Kitty placed, And Lucy, maiden sly, the stripling faced. Then each the proper seat at table took— 690 Groom, butler, footman, laundress, coachman, cook; For all their station and their office knew, Nor sat as rustics or the rabble do. The Youth to each the due attention paid, And hob-or-nob’d with Lady Charlotte’s maid; With much respect each other they address’d, And all encouraged their enchanted guest. Wine, fruit, and sweetmeats closed repast so long, And Mistress Flora sang an opera song. Such was the Day the happy Boy had spent, 700 And forth delighted from the Hall he went. Bowing his thanks, he mounted on his steed, More largely fed than he was wont to feed; And well for Peter that his pony knew From whence he came, the road he should pursue; For the young rider had his mind estranged From all around, disturb’d and disarranged, In pleasing tumult, in a dream of bliss, Enjoy’d but seldom in a world like this. But though the pleasures of the Day were past— 710 For lively pleasures are not form’d to last— And though less vivid they became, less strong, Through life they lived, and were enjoy’d as long. So deep the impression of that happy Day, Not time nor cares could wear it all away; Ev’n to the last, in his declining years, He told of all his glories, all his fears: How blithely forward in that morn he went, How blest the hours in that fair palace spent, How vast that Mansion, sure for monarch plann’d, 720 The rooms so many, and yet each so grand— Millions of books in one large hall were found, And glorious pictures every room around; Beside that strangest of the wonders there, That house itself contain’d a house of prayer. He told of park and wood, of sun and shade, And how the lake below the lawn was made; He spake of feasting such as never boy, Taught in his school, was fated to enjoy— Of ladies’ maids as ladies’ selves who dress’d, 730}