With a hard flint stone, like the Friend,[2] as she spoke, In a thousand pieces the image she broke. Riven and shattered the idol fell, And with her from that moment shall all be well. She made her ablution, 'mid penitent sighs, With the blood of her heart and the tears of her eyes. She bent down her head to the dust; with a moan She made supplication to God's pure throne:-- "O God, who lovest the humble, Thou To whom idols, their makers, their servants bow; 'Tis to the light which Thy splendour lends To the idol's face that its worshipper bends. Thy love the heart of the sculptor stirs, And the idol is graven for worshippers. They bow them down to the image, and think That they worship Thee as before it they sink. To myself, O Lord, I have done this wrong, If mine eyes to an idol have turned so long. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Thou hast washed the dark stain of my sin away; Now restore the lost blessing for which I pray. May I feel my heart free from the brand of its woes, And cull from the garden of Yúsuf a rose." YÚSUF AND ZULAIKHA MEET AGAIN "Where is thy youth, and thy beauty, and pride?" "Gone, since I parted from thee!" she replied. "Where is the light of thine eye?" said he, "Drowned in blood-tears for the loss of thee." "Why is that cypress tree bowed and bent?" "By absence from thee and my long lament." "Where is thy pearl, and thy silver and gold, And the diadem bright on thy head of old?" "She who spoke of my loved one," she answered, "shed, In the praise of thy beauty, rare pearls on my head. In return for those jewels, a recompense meet, I scattered my jewels and gold at her feet. A crown of pure gold on her forehead I set, And the dust that she trod was my coronet. The stream of my treasure of gold ran dry; My heart is Love's storehouse, and I am I." ZULAIKHA'S YOUTH RETURNS The beauty returned which was ruined and dead, And her cheek gained the splendour which long I had fled. Again shone the waters which sad years had dried, And the rose-bed of youth bloomed again in its pride. The musk was restored and the camphor withdrawn, And the black night followed the grey of the dawn, The cypress rose stately and tall as of old: The pure silver was free from all wrinkle and fold. From each musky tress fled the traces of white: To the black narcissus came beauty and light. ZULAIKHA'S WISH