Tartary

If I were Lord of Tartary,         Myself and me alone,      My bed should be of ivory,         Of beaten gold my throne;      And in my court should peacocks flaunt,      And in my forests tigers haunt,      And in my pools great fishes slant         Their fins athwart the sun.      If I were Lord of Tartary,         Trumpeters every day      To all my meals should summon me,         And in my courtyards bray;      And in the evenings lamps should shine,      Yellow as honey, red as wine,      While harp, and flute, and mandoline,         Made music sweet and gay.      If I were Lord of Tartary,         I'd wear a robe of beads,      White, and gold, and green they'd be -         And small, and thick as seeds;      And ere should wane the morning-star,      I'd don my robe and scimitar,      And zebras seven should draw my car         Through Tartary's dark glades.      Lord of the fruits of Tartary,         Her rivers silver-pale!      Lord of the hills of Tartary,         Glen, thicket, wood, and dale!      Her flashing stars, her scented breeze,      Her trembling lakes, like foamless seas,      Her bird-delighting citron-trees         In every purple vale!