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[From palaces oft] So from the palace happy quiet flies;
While [gentle] rest dwells in the lowly] rest's calm mansion is the sheltered cot;
Where] When cares disturb the mind sleep shuns the eyes,
Sleep, [rare] [not] the Monarch's [oft] but the peasant's lot;
Tho' on a couch of down proud Osman lies
[Sweet sleep] Repose his weary eye-lids visit not:
'Twas dawn, – the Star of Morning [more] palely shed
Her beams, when o'er him slumbers faintly spread.
The great Arch-fiend expelled from Heaven of old,
Who falsehood frames, & deceit abound,
This , which gorgeous cloth of woven gold,
A gift from distant India, curtain'd round,
Approached; – a feigned shape of human mould
His art bestowed, and voice of human sound;
The form of Mahomet himself he took,
And to the sleeping Monarch thus he spoke.
Identifier: | JB/110/089/003"JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110. |
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110 |
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089 |
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003 |
the war of chocim / a historical poem / by krasicki |
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collectanea |
4 |
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recto |
a1 / / / |
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[[watermarks::[motif]]] |
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36079 |
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