It was in the bright morning of the day, And lo, her face was in the mirror shown; And in the radiance gleamed her lovely face, For it was mirrored in the placid brook. And in a thousand ways the Rose was ware That all the world believed how fair she was. She raised herself above her cloak of night, And freshly in the streaming sunlight waked; To lay her fair attire in fullest view She set herself upon a ruby throne; Radiant indeed her beauty there appeared; ’Twas red on red in brilliancy shone. She sat like monarch ’mid his people throned; All other kings were dust upon the road. But that her beauty may be manifest, Needs must she cast her image on the glass. And lo! the Brook before her ran his course, And laid the glittering mirror at her feet. And when she saw herself reflected there, So lovely, she was rapt in wonderment. And when she saw herself so fresh and bright And lovely, she was touched with vanity; And blushing red in her own charms delight, “Ah, God,” she cried, “there is no god but God! What beauty hast thou given to me, O Lord, What excellence among the flowers is mine! What gracious eyebrows arch above mine eyes! Like to a canopy they set them off. How diamond-like and gray those orbs appear! Their gaze might stir the pulses of the dead. How lustrous are those amber locks! Their light Must strike amazement to the minds of man. And oh, how dazzling are these cheeks of mine! For after these the moon itself is dim. And what a beauty mark that little mole, Which more becoming makes the tender cheek! Who now will value eyes that fiercely scowl, And the fell glances that like swords they wave? But here are eyelashes that twinkle fast, Like friends that stand together ranged in war. And then that mouth, whose breath is sweet enough To bring the mantling life-blush to the dead.” The bolt of self-love pierced her to the heart, And she was pride-struck by her loveliness, “And oh,” she said, “is houri in the world, Or peri, so delightsome to behold? Was ever one with beauty so bedecked, As I am in the universe beheld? Such beauteous charm as God has given to me, To none in this life has he given e’en this. And can my beauty now be paralleled, And is not this my face without compare? The world admits that ne’er in time before Has such a prize of beauty been revealed; I am the beauty that has never like, The only fair with whom not one can vie.” Thus she extolled herself to honor’s height, And made the claim of beauty absolute, Then called the Eastern Wind, her messenger, And said, “O faithful bearer of my words, Assist me in my dire perplexity, And lighten up for me the night of doubt. Traverse the realms of Syria and Kum, And glancing over all the plains you cross,