The girls departed, and Zál thought the night
A year. Meanwhile they reached the palace-gate,
Each with two sprays of roses, where the porter,
On catching sight of them, prepared to chide,
And spake with sternness, hardening his heart:—
“A nice time this to be beyond the gates!
I marvel at your gadding so about.”
The Idols, when they found a word to say,
Flew out at him in their embarrassment:—
“This day is just like any other one:
There is no foul dív in the rosary.
'Tis spring. We gather roses in the garden,
And spikes of hyacinth upon the ground.
Moon-faced Rúdába bade, and so we went
Hence after roses out of love for her;
Then wherefore speak to us in such a tone
For plucking them?”

“But this is not the time,”

He said, “for pranks like these; for bear in mind
That Zál the chieftain now is at Kábul:
The land is covered with his tents and troops.
Do ye not see Mihráb at early dawn
Go from his palace-gate and mount his steed?
Why, every day he goeth to and fro
Now he and Zál have come to be such friends,
And if he saw you carrying your roses
Would have you down upon the ground forthwith.
Quit not the Haram more, and would to God
That nothing great or small may come of this.”
They went within and told the Moon in private:—
“We ne'er saw Sun like this with ruddy cheeks
And hair all white.”

Rúdába's heart inflamed

In expectation of beholding Zál.
They laid his jewels and dínárs before her,
While she minutely questioned them: “How found ye
The son of Sám? Doth he deserve his fame?”
The five, encouraged, chattered on and said:—
“Zál is the finest horseman, with such mien
And Grace—a lofty cypress of a man.
Imperial Grace and dignity are his.
What fragrance, colour, stature, limbs, he hath!
How slim a waist and what an open chest!
His eyes are twin narcissi water-blue,
His lips like coral and his cheeks like blood.
His hand and forearm are like lion's paws.
A shrewd man he, with an archmage's heart
And royal Grace! while as for his white hair
It is a blemish—but no cause for shame.
This chief of paladins hath downy cheeks,
Like cercis-bloom through silver habergeon,

Such as to make one cry: ‘Be ever thus:
No change can make thee dearer than thou art.’
We told him he should see thee; he was hopeful
When we departed. Now devise a scheme
To entertain him. Tell us what to tell him.”
She answered: “Once ye told a different tale!
This Zál, who was the nursling of a bird,
Was so white-headed and so wizened! Now
His cheek is like the cercis-bloom, and he
Is tall and handsome, and a paladin!
And ye have bragged about my face to him
And asked for payment for your gossiping.”
She spake with smiles and blushes on her cheeks,
As 'twere pomegranate-blooms, then bade one damsel:—
“Be off with you at dawn. Take him good news,
Hear what he hath to say and say to him:—
‘Thy wish is granted; be in readiness;
Come and behold thy Moon in all her charms.’”
The waiting-maid departed, gave the message,
And came back to the Cypress of Taraz.
“Devise some means to compass it,” she said,
“For God hath granted thee thy whole desire,
And may the ending be a happy one!”
Rúdába soon made ready, while her kin
Suspected naught. She had her own pavilion
Like jocund spring and decked with great men's portraits.
The servants draped it with brocade of Chín,
Set golden trays about as ornaments,
Then mingled wine with musk and ambergris
And scattered emeralds and carnelians.
Here were narcissus, violet, cercis-bloom
And rose, there lily and the jasmine-spray.
The goblets were compact of gold and turquoise,
The viands saturate with clear rose-water;
Thus from the chamber of the sun-faced one
Rose fragrant odours wafting to the sun.