O beauty of the bride! O beauty of the bride!
And she's a lapping antelope that from her image flees;
And she's a dove caught in two hands, to pant as she shall
please;
O beauty of the bride! O beauty of the bride!
Like torrents over Paradise her lengthy tresses roll:
She moves as doth a swaying rose, and chides her hasty soul;
The thing she will, that will she not, yet can no will control
O beauty, beauty, beauty of the bride!

They were thus together, Abarak leaning under one wing of Koorookh for
shade up the slope of the hill, and Shibli Bagarag called to him, 'Ho,
Abarak! look if there be aught impending over the City.'

So he arose and looked, crying, 'One with plunging legs, high up in air
over the City, between two bright bodies.' Shibli Bagarag exclaimed,
''Tis well! The second chapter of the Event is opened; so call it, thou
that tellest of the Shaving of Shagpat. It will be the shortest.'

Then he said, 'The shadow of yonder palm is now a slanted spear up the
looped wall of the City. Now, the time of Shagpat's triumph, and his
greatest majesty, will be when yonder walls chase the shadow of the palm
up this hill; and then will Baba Mustapha be joining the chorus of
creatures that shriek toward even ere they snooze. There's not an ape in
the woods, nor hyaena in the forest, nor birds on the branches, nor frogs
in the marsh that will outnoise Baba Mustapha under the thong! Wullahy,
'twill grieve his soul in aftertime when he sitteth secure in honours,
courted, with a thousand ears at his bidding, that so much breath 'scaped
him without toll of the tongue! But as the poet says truly: