Hither come, O seeker after Truth! if joy thou wouldest share, Enter on the Mystic Pathway, follow it, then joy thou'lt share. Harken now what God (exalted high his name!) from naught hath formed. Eden's bower he hath created; Light, its lamp, he did prepare; Loftiest its sites, and best and fairest are its blest abodes; Midst of each a hall of pearls—not ivory nor teak-wood rare. Each pavilion he from seventy ruddy rubies raised aloft— Dwellings these in which the dwellers sit secure from fear or care. Bound within each courtyard seventy splendid houses he hath ranged, Formed of emeralds green—houses these no fault of form that bear. There, within each house, are seventy pearl and gem-incrusted thrones; He upon each throne hath stretched out seventy couches broidered fair; Sits on every couch a maiden of the bourne of loveliness: Moons their foreheads, days their faces, each a jeweled crown doth wear; Wine their rubies, soft their eyes, their eyebrows troublous, causing woe: All-enchanting, Paradise pays tribute to their witching air. Sudden did they see the faces of those damsels dark of eye, Blinded sun and moon were, and Life's Stream grew bitter then and there. Thou wouldst deem that each was formed of rubies, corals, and of pearls; Question there is none, for God thus in the Koran doth declare. Tables seventy, fraught with bounties, he in every house hath placed, And on every tray hath spread out seventy sorts of varied fare. All these glories, all these honors, all these blessings of delight, All these wondrous mercies surely for his sake he did prepare: Through his love unto Mohammed, he the universe hath framed; Happy, for his sake, the naked and the hungry enter there. O Thou Perfectness of Potence! O Thou God of Awful Might! O Thou Majesty of Glory! O Thou King of Perfect Eight!