In Nefta's* gardens, rich and blest
As groves of the Hesperides,
Whose golden apples Gods could please.
There soars the palm of loftiest shoot,
Of broadest leaf, and choicest fruit ;
Nor this alone, but every tree,
Shrub, vine, most prized by luxury.
Now, when the caravan affords
Sure guard against the robber-hordes,
Thither the pleasure-loving Bey
With friends and followers takes his way,
To linger there till Spring's bright train
Makes Tunis paradise again.
A jet-black courser doth he ride,
That bears his lord with conscious pride ;
A nobler steed, as all may see,
* Nefta, the Negeta of the Romans, a town of 3000 inhabitants, lies
south-west of Tunis, and is remarkable for the abundance and excellent
quality of its waters, its olives, its dates, its pomegrantes, its melons, and,
in short, all the vegetable productions of the climate. The Bey of Tunis
has a palace at Nefta, and formerly made it his winter residence.