It came to pass that at the dawn one day
Mihráb walked stately from the audience-chamber,
And going toward his women's bower beheld
Two Suns within the hall; one was Rúdába,
The fair of face, the other was Síndukht,
The prudent and devoted; both were decked
Like garths in spring—all colour, scent, and grace.
He gazed upon Rúdába wonderingly,
Invoking blessings on her. In his eyes

She seemed a cypress neath the orbèd moon,
Encrowned with ambergris, decked with brocade
And gems—a very Paradise of wealth!
Síndukht, whose smiles displayed her pearly teeth,
Between her jujube lips asked of Mihráb:—
“How did thy visit prosper? May the hand
Of ill be far from thee! What is he like—
Sám's hoary son? What is he suited for—
A nest or throne? Doth he behave as man,
And walk in chieftains' steps?”

Mihráb replied:—

“O fair-faced Cypress with the silvern breast!
Of all the warrior-paladins of earth
Not one can tread his steps; there is no portrait
Inside our halls with such a bridle-hand,
Or such another cavalier on horseback.
He is in heart a lion and in strength
An elephant: his hands are like the Nile.
When he is on the throne he scattereth gold,
When he is in the fray he scattereth heads.
His cheek is ruddy as the cercis-bloom:
Shrewd, young in years and fortune too is he,
In battle like the baleful crocodile,
On horseback like a dragon with sharp claws.
He layeth in the fight the dust with blood
And brandisheth his falchion of blue-steel.
He hath this one defect—his hair is white;
Fault-finders find in him no other fault;
Yet this white hair of his becometh him,
And thou wouldst say: ‘He fascinateth hearts.’”
On hearing this Rúdába blushed, with cheeks
Red as pomegranate-blossoms, while her heart
Became fulfilled with fire for love of Zál:
She could not eat or rest in peace; a change
Came in her disposition and demeanour,
For passion had usurped the place of wisdom.

How goodly were the teacher's words: “Deny
All talk of men when there are women by;
The heart of woman is the Dív's abode,
If thou suggestest she will find the road.”
Rúdába had five Turkman waiting-maids,
Five faithful slaves, all girls of prudent minds;
To them she said: “I have a secret for you,
Since all of you are in my confidence,
Attend upon me, and dispel my cares;
Know then, all five of you, and understand,
And luck go with you all your years, that I—
I am in love, and like a raging sea
Whose billows surge to heaven! Mine ardent heart
Is full of love for Zál, and in my sleep
I cannot tear my thoughts from him. His love
Possesseth me, heart, mind, and wits; I muse
Upon his features day and night; and now
Means must be found to free me from my woe.
None knoweth of my secret but yourselves,
For ye are good and love me.”

Then the slaves

Thought in amaze: “The princess doth amiss!”
Rose at her like so many Ahrimans
And said: “O crown of ladies in the world!
O daughter eminent among the mighty,
Admired from Hindústán to Chín, and like
A shining signet in the women's bower!
No cypress in the garden equalleth
Thy height; thy cheeks outshine the Pleiades.
Thy portrait hath been sent out to Kannúj,
To Mai, and to the monarch of the West.
Hath modesty departed from thine eyes
And all consideration for thy sire
That thou shouldst long to clasp upon thy bosom
One whose own father hath rejected him—

One fostered on a mountain by a fowl—
A spectacle for all the folk? No mother
Excepting his hath borne an agèd babe.
Such offspring is ignoble. Strange indeed
For two such coral lips and musky hair
To seek a dotard! Why, all folk love thee;
Thy portrait is in all their palaces;
Thy stature, face, and hair are such that Sol
Would come from his fourth heaven to be thy spouse!”
Rúdába heard, her heart flared up like fire
Before a blast of air. She shrieked at them,
With frowns that shut her eyes, exclaiming: “Bah!
Ye strive in vain: it booteth not to hear.
If to some star I lost my heart, could I
Find any satisfaction in the moon?
Clay-eaters do not gaze upon the rose
Although the rose is better than the clay.
If vinegar will cure a body's liver,
Then honey will but make the anguish worse.
I want not Cæsar or Faghfúr of Chín,
Or any of the princelings of Írán:
Zál, son of Sám, is tall enough for me
And lion-like in shoulder, neck, and arm;
For whether people call him old or young
To me he giveth peace of soul and mind.
Talk not of other men, be his my heart,
Bit as it is by love of one whom I
Have never seen! It chooseth by report.
I do not love his face and hair but him;
'Tis for his merits that I seek his love.”
The slaves, on hearing her distracted voice,
And having learned her secret, cried: “Thy slaves
Are we and serve thee with devoted hearts.
Command us! Naught but good will come of it.”
One said: “O Cypress-stem! let none else know.
A hundred thousand of us for thy life!
May all Creation's wisdom be thine aid!
Should there be need to study grammarye,
And stitch up eyes with artifice and spell,
Then will we fly like an enchanter's bird,
Or run along like deer to give thee aid,
So we may bring this king to thee our Moon,
And lay him at thy feet.”

Rúdába smiled,

Turned safflower cheeks toward the slave and said:—
“If thou canst compass this thou wilt have planted
A tall tree bearing rubies day by day
Which wisdom in its breast will bear away.”