Suddenly that Sweet Minister of mine Rebuked me angrily: "What Folly, Jámi, Wearing that indefatigable Pen In celebration of an Alien Shah Whose Throne, not grounded in the Eternal World, Yesterday was, To-day is not!" I answer'd; "Oh Fount of Light!—under an Alien Name I shadow One upon whose Head the Crown Both Was and Is To-day; to whose Firmán The Seven Kingdoms of the World are subject, And the Seas Seven but droppings of his Largess. Good luck to him who under other Name Taught us to veil the Praises of a Power To which the Initiate scarce find open Door." Sat a Lover solitary Self-discoursing in a Corner, Passionate and ever-changing Invocation pouring out; Sometimes Sun and Moon; and sometimes Under Hyacinth half-hidden Roses; or the lofty Cypress, And the little Weed below. Nightingaling thus a Noodle Heard him, and, completely puzzled,— "What!" quoth he, "And you, a Lover, Raving not about your Mistress, But about the Moon and Roses!" Answer'd he; "Oh thou that aimest Wide of Love, and Lover's Language Wholly misinterpreting; Sun and Moon are but my Lady's Self, as any Lover knows; Hyacinth I said, and meant her Hair—her Cheek was in the Rose— And I myself the wretched Weed That in her Cypress Shadow grows." X. Now was Salámán in his Prime of Growth, His Cypress Stature risen to high Top, And the new-blooming Garden of his Beauty Began to bear; and Absál long'd to gather; But the Fruit grew upon too high a Bough, To which the Noose of her Desire was short. She too rejoiced in Beauty of her own No whit behind Salámán, whom she now Began enticing with her Sorcery. Now from her Hair would twine a musky Chain, To bind his Heart—now twist it into Curls Nestling innumerable Temptations; Doubled the Darkness of her Eyes with Surma To make him lose his way, and over them Adorn'd the Bows that were to shoot him then; Now to the Rose-leaf of her Cheek would add Fresh Rose, and then a Grain of Musk lay there, The Bird of the Belovéd Heart to snare. Now with a Laugh would break the Ruby Seal That lockt up Pearl; or busied in the Room Would smite her Hand perhaps—on that pretence To lift and show the Silver in her Sleeve; Or hastily rising clash her Golden Anclets To draw the Crownéd Head under her Feet. Thus by innumerable Bridal wiles She went about soliciting his Eyes, Which she would scarce let lose her for a Moment; For well she knew that mainly by the Eye Love makes his Sign, and by no other Road Enters and takes possession of the Heart.