It is the dead of night: Yet more than noonday light Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall. Unnumbered harps are tinkling, Unnumbered lamps are twinkling, In the great city of the fourfold wall. By the brazen castle's moat, The sentry hums a livelier note. The ship-boy chaunts a shriller lay From the galleys in the bay. Shout, and laugh, and hurrying feet Sound from mart and square and street, From the breezy laurel shades, From the granite colonnades, From the golden statue's base, From the stately market-place, Where, upreared by captive hands, The great Tower of Triumph stands, All its pillars in a blaze With the many-coloured rays, Which lanthorns of ten thousand dyes Shed on ten thousand panoplies. But closest is the throng, And loudest is the song, In that sweet garden by the river side, The abyss of myrtle bowers, The wilderness of flowers, Where Cain hath built the palace of his pride. Such palace ne'er shall be again Among the dwindling race of men. From all its threescore gates the light Of gold and steel afar was thrown; Two hundred cubits rose in height The outer wall of polished stone. On the top was ample space For a gallant chariot race, Near either parapet a bed Of the richest mould was spread, Where amidst flowers of every scent and hue Rich orange trees, and palms, and giant cedars grew. In the mansion's public court All is revel, song, and sport; For there, till morn shall tint the east, Menials and guards prolong the feast. The boards with painted vessels shine; The marble cisterns foam with wine. A hundred dancing girls are there With zoneless waists and streaming hair; And countless eyes with ardour gaze, And countless hands the measure beat, As mix and part in amorous maze Those floating arms and bounding feet. But none of all the race of Cain, Save those whom he hath deigned to grace With yellow robe and sapphire chain, May pass beyond that outer space. For now within the painted hall The Firstborn keeps high festival. Before the glittering valves all night Their post the chosen captains hold. Above the portal's stately height The legend flames in lamps of gold: "In life united and in death "May Tirzah and Ahirad be, "The bravest he of all the sons of Seth, "Of all the house of Cain the loveliest she."