Onward their slow and stately course they bend To where th’ Alhambra’s ancient towers ascend, Rear’d and adorn’d by Moorish kings of yore, Whose lost descendants there shall dwell no more. They reach those towers--irregularly vast And rude they seem, in mould barbaric cast:[92] They enter--to their wondering sight is given A genii palace--an Arabian heaven![93] A scene by magic raised, so strange, so fair, Its forms and colour seem alike of air. Here, by sweet orange-boughs half shaded o’er, The deep clear bath reveals its marble floor, Its margin fringed with flowers, whose glowing hues The calm transparence of its wave suffuse. There round the court, where Moorish arches bend, Aërial columns, richly deck’d, ascend; Unlike the models of each classic race, Of Doric grandeur or Corinthian grace, But answering well each vision that portrays Arabian splendour to the poet’s gaze: Wild, wondrous, brilliant, all--a mingling glow Of rainbow-tints, above, around, below; Bright streaming from the many-tinctured veins Of precious marble, and the vivid stains Of rich mosaics o’er the light arcade, In gay festoons and fairy knots display’d. On through th’ enchanted realm, that only seems Meet for the radiant creatures of our dreams, The royal conquerors pass--while still their sight On some new wonder dwells with fresh delight. Here the eye roves through slender colonnades, O’er bowery terraces and myrtle shades; Dark olive-woods beyond, and far on high The vast sierra mingling with the sky. There, scattering far around their diamond spray, Clear streams from founts of alabaster play, Through pillar’d halls, where, exquisitely wrought, Rich arabesques, with glittering foliage fraught, Surmount each fretted arch, and lend the scene A wild, romantic, oriental mien: While many a verse, from eastern bards of old, Borders the walls in characters of gold.[94] Here Moslem luxury, in her own domain, Hath held for ages her voluptuous reign Midst gorgeous domes, where soon shall silence brood, And all be lone--a splendid solitude. Now wake their echoes to a thousand songs, From mingling voices of exulting throngs; Tambour and flute, and atabal are there,[95] And joyous clarions pealing on the air; While every hall resounds, “Granada won! Granada! for Castile and Aragon!”[96]