"By his eyelash tendril curled, by his slender waist I swear, By the dart his witchery feathers, fatal hurtling through the air; By the just roundness of his shape, by his glances bright and keen By the swart limping of his locks, and his fair forehead shining sheen; By his eyebrows which deny that she who looks on them should sleep, Which now commanding, now forbidding, o'er me high dominion keep; By the roses of his cheek, his face as fresh as myrtle wreath His tulip lips, and those pure pearls that hold the places of his teeth; By his noble form, which rises featly turned in even swell To where upon his jutting chest two young pomegranates seem to dwell By his supple moving hips, his taper waist, the silky skin, By all he robbed Perfection of, and holds enchained his form within; By his tongue of steadfastness, his nature true, and excellent, By the greatness of his rank, his noble birth, and high descent, Musk from my love her savour steals, who musk exhales from every limb And all the airs ambergris breathes are but the Zephyr's blow o'er him. The sun, methinks, the broad bright sun, as low before my love should quail As would my love himself transcend the paltry paring of his nail!"[FN#232] So King Shahriman, having accepted the counsel of his Wazir, waited for another year and a great festival,—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say. When it was the One Hundred and Seventy-third Night,