One holy feeling still preserve.

Now night invests with black apparel

Luxurious Tauride's verdant fields,

Whilst her sweet notes from groves of laurel

The plaintive Philomela yields.

But soon night's glorious queen, advancing

Through cloudless skies to the stars' song,

Scatters the hills and dales along,

The lustre of her rays entrancing.

In Bakchesaria's streets roamed free

The Tartars' wives in garb befitting,

They like unprisoned shades were flitting

From house to house their friends to see,

And while the evening hours away

In harmless sports or converse gay.

The inmates of the harem slept;--

Still was the palace, night impending

O'er all her silent empire kept;

The eunuch guard, no more offending

The fair ones by his presence, now

Slumbered, but fear his soul attending

Troubled his rest and knit his brow;

Suspicion kept his fancy waking,

And on his mind incessant preyed,

The air the slightest murmur breaking

Assailed his ear with sounds of dread.

Now, by some noise deceitful cheated,

Starts from his sleep the timid slave,

Listens to hear the noise repeated,

But all is silent as the grave,

Save where the fountains softly sounding

Break from their marble prisons free,

Or night's sweet birds the scene surrounding