![\"\"](\"\/images\/ArabianLogo.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The Arabian Nights have inspired writers, poets, composers and painters in the West.<\/p>\n
In 1882, Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of ‘Treasure Island,’ wrote:<\/p>\n
‘There is one book, for example, more generally loved than Shakespeare, that captivates in childhood, and still delights in age – I mean the ARABIAN NIGHTS – where you shall look in vain for moral or for intellectual interest. No human face or voice greets us among that wooden crowd of kings and genies, sorcerers and beggarmen. Adventure, on the most naked terms, furnishes forth the entertainment and is found enough.’<\/p>\n
The Arabian Nights inspired the poetic imagination of the West in Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem, Recollections of the Arabian Nights (1830).<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"\/images\/TennysonsArabianNights.jpg\")
\nWood Engraving by William Holman Hunt
\nfor Tennyson’s Poem (1857)<\/p>\n
Recollections of the Arabian Nights
\nby Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)<\/p>\n
When the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free
\nIn the silken sail of infancy,
\nThe tide of time flow’d back with me,
\nThe forward-flowing tide of time;
\nAnd many a sheeny summer-morn,
\nAdown the Tigris I was borne,
\nBy Bagdat’s shrines of fretted gold,
\nHigh-walled gardens green and old;
\nTrue Mussulman was I and sworn,
\nFor it was in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Anight my shallop, rustling thro’
\nThe low and bloomed foliage, drove
\nThe fragrant, glistening deeps, and clove
\nThe citron-shadows in the blue:
\nBy garden porches on the brim,
\nThe costly doors flung open wide,
\nGold glittering thro’ lamplight dim,
\nAnd broider’d sofas on each side:
\nIn sooth it was a goodly time,
\nFor it was in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Often where clear-stemm’d platans guard
\nThe outlet, did I turn away
\nThe boat-head down a broad canal
\nFrom the main river sluiced, where all
\nThe sloping of the moon-lit sward
\nWas damask-work, and deep inlay
\nOf braided blooms unmown, which crept
\nAdown to where the water slept.
\nA goodly place, a goodly time,
\nFor it was in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
A motion from the river won
\nRidged the smooth level, bearing on
\nMy shallop thro’ the star-strown calm,
\nUntil another night in night
\nI enter’d, from the clearer light,
\nImbower’d vaults of pillar’d palm,
\nImprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb
\nHeavenward, were stay’d beneath the dome
\nOf hollow boughs. — A goodly time,
\nFor it was in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Still onward; and the clear canal
\nIs rounded to as clear a lake.
\nFrom the green rivage many a fall
\nOf diamond rillets musical,
\nThro’ little crystal arches low
\nDown from the central fountain’s flow
\nFall’n silver-chiming, seemed to shake
\nThe sparkling flints beneath the prow.
\nA goodly place, a goodly time,
\nFor it was in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Above thro’ many a bowery turn
\nA walk with vary-colour’d shells
\nWander’d engrain’d. On either side
\nAll round about the fragrant marge
\nFrom fluted vase, and brazen urn
\nIn order, eastern flowers large,
\nSome dropping low their crimson bells
\nHalf-closed, and others studded wide
\nWith disks and tiars, fed the time
\nWith odour in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Far off, and where the lemon grove
\nIn closest coverture upsprung,
\nThe living airs of middle night
\nDied round the bulbul as he sung;
\nNot he: but something which possess’d
\nThe darkness of the world, delight,
\nLife, anguish, death, immortal love,
\nCeasing not, mingled, unrepress’d,
\nApart from place, withholding time,
\nBut flattering the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Black the garden-bowers and grots
\nSlumber’d: the solemn palms were ranged
\nAbove, unwoo’d of summer wind:
\nA sudden splendour from behind
\nFlush’d all the leaves with rich gold-green,
\nAnd, flowing rapidly between
\nTheir interspaces, counterchanged
\nThe level lake with diamond-plots
\nOf dark and bright. A lovely time,
\nFor it was in the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Dark-blue the deep sphere overhead,
\nDistinct with vivid stars inlaid,
\nGrew darker from that under-flame:
\nSo, leaping lightly from the boat,
\nWith silver anchor left afloat,
\nIn marvel whence that glory came
\nUpon me, as in sleep I sank
\nIn cool soft turf upon the bank,
\nEntranced with that place and time,
\nSo worthy of the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Thence thro’ the garden I was drawn —
\nA realm of pleasance, many a mound,
\nAnd many a shadow-chequer’d lawn
\nFull of the city’s stilly sound,
\nAnd deep myrrh-thickets blowing round
\nThe stately cedar, tamarisks,
\nThick rosaries of scented thorn,
\nTall orient shrubs, and obelisks
\nGraven with emblems of the time,
\nIn honour of the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
With dazed vision unawares
\nFrom the long alley’s latticed shade
\nEmerged, I came upon the great
\nPavilion of the Caliphat.
\nRight to the carven cedarn doors,
\nFlung inward over spangled floors,
\nBroad-based flights of marble stairs
\nRan up with golden balustrade,
\nAfter the fashion of the time,
\nAnd humour of the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
The fourscore windows all alight
\nAs with the quintessence of flame,
\nA million tapers flaring bright
\nFrom twisted silvers look’d to shame
\nThe hollow-vaulted dark, and stream’d
\nUpon the mooned domes aloof
\nIn inmost Bagdat, till there seem’d
\nHundreds of crescents on the roof
\nOf night new-risen, that marvellous time
\nTo celebrate the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Then stole I up, and trancedly
\nGazed on the Persian girl alone,
\nSerene with argent-lidded eyes
\nAmorous, and lashes like to rays
\nOf darkness, and a brow of pearl
\nTressed with redolent ebony,
\nIn many a dark delicious curl,
\nFlowing beneath her rose-hued zone;
\nThe sweetest lady of the time,
\nWell worthy of the golden prime
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
Six columns, three on either side,
\nPure silver, underpropt a rich
\nThrone of the massive ore, from which
\nDown-droop’d, in many a floating fold,
\nEngarlanded and diaper’d
\nWith inwrought flowers, a cloth of gold.
\nThereon, his deep eye laughter-stirr’d
\nWith merriment of kingly pride,
\nSole star of all that place and time,
\nI saw him — in his golden prime,
\nOf good Haroun Alraschid.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"\/images\/TennysonsArabianNights2.jpg\")
\nWood Engraving by William Holman Hunt
\nfor Tennyson’s Poem (1857)<\/p>\n
\n
Here is a piece by William Wordsworth about the Arabian Nights. It is from his poem, ‘Prelude’ (1805).<\/p>\n
Prelude
\n(excerpt from the fifth book)
\nby William Wordsworth<\/p>\n
I had a precious treasure at that time,
\nA little yellow canvass-covered book,
\nA slender abstract of the Arabian Tales;
\nAnd when I learned, as now I first did learn
\nFrom my companions in this new abode,
\nThat this dear prize of mine was but a block
\nHewn from a mighty quarry — in a word,
\nThat there were four large volumes, laden all
\nWith kindred matter — ’twas in truth to me
\nA promise scarcely earthly. Instantly
\nI made a league, a covenant with a friend
\nOf my own age, that we should lay aside
\nThe monies we possessed, and hoard up more,
\nTill our joint Savings had amassed enough
\nTo make this book our own. Through several months
\nReligiously did we preserve that vow,
\nAnd spite of all temptation hoarded up,
\nAnd hoarded up; but firmness failed at length,
\nNor were we ever masters of our wish.
\nAnd afterwards, when, to my father’s house
\nReturning at the holidays, I found
\nThat golden store of books which I had left
\nOpen to my enjoyment once again,
\nWhat heart was mine! Full often through the course
\nOf those glad respites in the summertime
\nWhen armed with rod and line we went abroad
\nFor a whole day together, I have lain
\nDown by thy side, O Derwent, murmuring stream,
\nOn the hot stones and in the glaring sun,
\nAnd there have read, devouring as I read,
\nDefrauding the day’s glory — desperate —
\nTill with a sudden bound of smart reproach
\nSuch as an idler deals with in his shame,
\nI to my sport betook myself again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Arabian Nights have inspired writers, poets, composers and painters in the West. In 1882, Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of ‘Treasure Island,’ wrote: ‘There is one book, for example, more generally loved than Shakespeare, that captivates in childhood, and still delights in age – I mean the ARABIAN NIGHTS – where you shall look […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[89,77,16],"tags":[2487],"class_list":["post-922","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arabian-nights","category-childrens-stories","category-stories","tag-arabian-nights"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/922","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=922"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/922\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":925,"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/922\/revisions\/925"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=922"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=922"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/candlelightstories.com\/Blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=922"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}