Zulaikha

Thus the masters of speech record.
In whose bosoms the treasures of words are stored :
There was a king in the West. His name,
Taimus, was spread wide by the drum of fame.
Of royal power and wealth possessed,
No wish unanswered remained in his breast.
His brow gave lustre to glory’s crown,
And his foot gave the thrones of the mighty renown.
With Orion from heaven his host to aid,
Conquest was his when he hared his blade.
His child Zulaikha was passing fair.
None in his heart might with her compare ;
Of his royal house the most brilliant star,
A gem from the chest where the treasures are.
Praise cannot equal her beauty, no ;
But its faint, faint shadow my pen may show.
Like her own bright hair falling loosely down,
I will touch each charm to her feet from her crown.
May the soft reflexion of that bright cheek,
Lend light to my spirit and bid me speak,
And that flashing ruby, her mouth, bestow
The power to tell of the things I know.
Her stature was like to a palm-tree grown'
In the garden of grace where no sin is known.
Bedewed by the love of her father the king,
She mocked the cypress that rose by the spring.
Sweet with the odour of musk, a snare
Lor the heart of the wise was the maiden’s hair.
Tangled at night, in the morning through
Her long thick tresses a comb she drew,
And cleft the heart of the musk-deer in twain
As for that rare odour he sighed in vain.
A dark shade fell from her loose hair sweet
As jasmine over the rose of her feet.
A broad silver tablet her forehead displayed
For the heaven-set lessons of beauty made.
Under its edge two inverted Nuns
Showed, black as musk, their splendid half-moons,
And beneath them lively and bright were placed
Two Sads by the pen of her Maker traced.
From Nun to the ring of the Mim there rose.
Pure as silver, like Alif, her nose.
To that cipher her mouth add Alif, then
She had ten strong spells for the conquest of men.
That laughing ruby to view exposed
A Sin when the knot of her lips unclosed
At the touch of her pure white teeth, and between
The lines of crimson their flash was seen.
Her face was the garden of Irani, where
Boses of every hue are fair.
The dusky moles that enhanced the red
Were like Moorish boys playing in each rosebed.
Of silver that paid no tithe, her chin
Had a well with the Water of Life therein.
If a sage in his thirst came near to drink,
He would feel the spray ere he reached the brink,
But lost were his soul if he nearer drew,
For it was a well and a whirlpool too.
Her neck was of ivory. Thither drawn,
Came with her tribute to beauty the fawn ;
And the rose hung her head at the gleam of the skin
Of shoulders fairer than jessamine.
Her breasts were orbs of a light most pure,
Twin bubbles new-risen from fount Kaffir :
Two young pomegranates grown on one spray,
Where bold hope never a finger might lay.
The touchstone itself was proved false when it tried
Her arms’ fine silver thrice purified ;
But the pearl-pure amulets fastened there
Were the hearts of the holy absorbed in prayer.
The loveliest gave her their souls for rue,
And round the charm their own heartstrings drew.
Her arms filled her sleeves with silver from them
Whose brows are bound with the diadem.
To labour and care her soft hand lent aid,
And to wounded hearts healing unction laid.
Like reeds were those taper fingers of hers,
To write on each heart love’s characters.
Each nail on those fingers so long and slim
Showed a new moon laid on a full moon’s brim,
And her small closed hand made the moon confess
That she never might rival its loveliness.
Two columns fashioned of silver upheld
That beauty which never was paralleled,
And, to make the tale of her charms complete,
They were matched by the shape of her exquisite feet.
Feet so light and elastic no maid might show.
So perfectly fashioned from heel to toe.
If on the eye of a lover she stepped,
Her foot would float on the tear he wept.
What shall I say of her gems and gold ?
Weak were my tale when my best were told.
She was not fairer for gold or gem.
But her perfect loveliness glorified them.
Each gem the tax of a realm, she set
On her forehead a glistering coronet ;
And the rubies that hung from her fine ears stole
Each gazer’s senses, and heart and soul.
A thousand jewels most rich and rare
Studded the band that confined her hair.
Hot a hand but hers had the art to twist
The bracelet which circled her delicate wrist.
What need I say of her jewels more ?
Glistering anklets of gold she wore.
She moved through her chambers in raiment wrought
With gold, from Egypt and Syria bought,
Or with languishing looks on her couch she leant
In brocades which China and Bum had sent.
She decked her beauty with some new dress
Each morn that she lit with her loveliness.
As the moon each night by fresh stars is met,
Greece.
So she wore not twice the same coronet.
The hem of her mantle alone might gain
A kiss of that foot while kings sought it in vain ;
And no hand but the fold of her robe embraced
The delicate stem of her dainty waist.
Maidens like cypresses straight and tall,
With Peri faces, obeyed her call ;
And by day and by night in her service stood
The Houris’ loveliest sisterhood. r
No burthen as yet had her sweet soul borne ;
Never her foot had been pierced by a thorn.
No breath of passion her heart might stir,
And to love and be loved was unknown to her.
Like the languid narcissus she slept at night,
And hailed like an opening bud the light.
With silver-faced maidens in childhood’s hour,
And gazelle-like playmates in garden and bower,
Heedless of Fate and its cruel play,
Sport was her business and life was gay.
By no fear of peril or woe oppressed,
Blithe was each thought of her virgin breast,
Bor she knew not the fate that the days would bring,
Or what terrible birth from the nights would spring.