Were I the moon, he would turn away : The sun, he would shrink from his golden ray. If, his own eye's apple, I lent him light, Scarce would he welcome the boon of sight. Ah I if a glance on mine eye he would throw, The pangs that I suffer perchance he might know. Those griefs would find place in his heart; but he Would never languish for love like me. 'Tis not only his beauty that kills me ; no, 'Tis the cold, cold heart, where no spark will glow. Ah ! if but a pang for my sake he had felt, Thus with my lover I never had dealt." " Thou whose beauty casts on the sun a shade "- The nurse to her lady this answer made-" I have wrought a plan, and I trust that rest Will at length be thine from the thought in my breast. Bring forth thy treasure stored up of old, Lade a camel with silver, a mule with gold. I will build a palace like Iram fair, And a skilful painter shall labour there To paint on the walls with seductive charms, Zulaikha folded in Y usuf' s arms. H,. for a moment, he visit the place, He will see thee locked in his own embrace. Then will he yearn for thy touch, and at length The love of thy beauty will grow to its strength.