To subtler music moved, than my dull ear
Could catch. Its velvet skin I gently strake,
Watching the light that o'er its heaped coils brake
In glittering waves. Within its small, wise glance,
Flame silent slept, or quick in baleful dance
Before my startled gaze quivering did wake.
Fair is thy woof, soft woven, yet the snake
Out-dazzles it. The beetle that doth boom
Its dull life out among the tangled gloom,
Lift his wide wing above thy weft, or trail
His splendor there, and thy poor web will pale;
Yea, the red wayside lily that doth snare
The girdled bee, is softer still, more fair
Than finest woven cloth." But tenderly
She smoothed the gleaming folds. "Much pleaseth me,
Natlhess," she said, "such loveliness." Then brought
He tapestries of fleeces fine, well wrought
In colors soft as woodland mosses' tinge,
Or glow of autumn blooms: Heavy with fringe
Of downward sweeping gold; arras, where through
Showed mottled stripes, or arabesques of blue,
Broad zones of red, and tender grays, and hue
Of dropping leaves. "Lilith," he said, "when rolled
The storm-tossed billows round these caves, behold
I spun these daintily. 'Twere hard to find
Such twisted weft or woven strand." "Oh, kind,"
She said, "is Eblis, unto whom I fain
Would give due thanks. His gorgeous train
But yesterday I saw the peacock spread;
Bright in the sun gleamed his small crested head;
His haughty neck wrinkled to green and blue,
And since I needs must truly speak, I knew
Not color rich as his: and I have seen
The curious nest among the branches green,
The busy weaver-bird plaits of thick leaves,
And in and out its pliant meshes weaves;
And since thou sayest 'twere hard to match thy fine,
Strong, woven fabrics, watch the weaver twine
His cunning wefts. Though still," she said, "think not
I scorn thy gifts, Prince Eblis; for I wot
Their worth is greater than my tongue can say."
Then Eblis deeper in the cave led her a little way,
And showed a stately screen of such fine art
One almost felt the breeze that seemed to part
The pictured boughs. And o'er the stirless lake
Dreamed the swift, wimpling waters sudden brake
Among the willows on its brink--and flowers
Of scarlet, shining-clean from summer showers;
And Eblis said, "Cold praise a friend should spare