[Footnote 34: For the purposes of his pun on "night-mare," Hood adroitly utilizes the story of the famous Lady Hester Stanhope, whom Kinglake, in his _Eothen_, first made familiar to so many of us. He there speaks of the "quiet women in Somersetshire," and their surprise when they learned that "the intrepid girl who used to break their vicious horses for them" was reigning over the wandering tribes of Western Asia!] 'Twas in the wilds of Lebanon, amongst its barren hills,-- To think upon it, even now, my very blood it chills!-- My sketch-book spread before me, and my pencil in my hand, I gazed upon the mountain range, the red tumultuous sand, The plumy palms, the sombre firs, the cedars tall and proud,-- When lo! a shadow pass'd across the paper like a cloud, And looking up I saw a form, apt figure for the scene, Methought I stood in presence of some oriental queen! The turban on her head was white as any driven snow; A purple bandalette past o'er the lofty brow below, And thence upon her shoulders fell, by either jewell'd ear; In yellow folds voluminous she wore her long cachemere; Whilst underneath, with ample sleeves, a turkish robe of silk Enveloped her in drapery the color of new milk; Yet oft it floated wide in front, disclosing underneath A gorgeous Persian tunic, rich with many a broider'd wreath, Compelled by clasps of costly pearls around her neck to meet-- And yellow as the amber were the buskins on her feet! Of course I bowed my lowest bow--of all the things on earth, The reverence due to loveliness, to rank, or ancient birth, To pow'r, to wealth, to genius, or to anything uncommon, A man should bend the lowest in a _Desert_ to a _Woman_! Yet some strange influence stronger still, though vague and undefin'd, Compell'd me, and with magic might subdued my soul and mind; There was a something in her air that drew the spirit nigh, Beyond the common witchery that dwells in woman's eye! With reverence deep, like any slave of that peculiar land, I bowed my forehead to the earth, and kissed the arid sand; And then I touched her garment's hem, devoutly as a Dervise, Predestinated (so I felt) forever to her service.