ot display before thee the rich
And pompous variety of his plumage.
Thy ebon ringlets are chains, which hold
Monarchs in captivity, and make
Them slaves to the power of thy charms.

The dust on which thou treadest becomes an ornament,
Worthy of the imperial diadem of Caus.[7]
Haughty kings now prostrate themselves
Before Khacan,[8] since he has obtained
A favourable look from the object of his love.

II.

That blessing which the fountain of life
Bestowed in former ages on Khezr[9]
Thy lips can communicate in a manner
Infinitely more efficacious.
Nature, confounded at the aspect of thy lovely mouth,
Conceals her rubies within a rock;--
Our hearts, ensnared by those eyes which express
All the softness of amorous intoxication,
Are held captive in the dimples of thy chin.

Love has excited in my soul a fire
Which cannot be extinguished;--
My bosom is become red with flames,
Like a parterre of roses;--
This heart is no longer mine:
It hangs suspended on the ringlets of thy hair--
And thou, cruel fair! thou piercest it
With a glance of thy cold disdain.
Ah! inquire not into the wretched. Khacan's fate:
Thy waving locks have deprived him of reason;
But how many thousand lovers, before him,
Have fallen victims to the magic of thy beauty.

III.

My soul, captivated by thy charms,
Wastes itself away in chains, and bends beneath
The weight of oppression. Thou hast said
"Love will bring thee to the tomb--arise,
And leave his dominions" But, alas!
I wish to expire at thy feet, rather than to abandon
Altogether my hopes of possessing thee.
I swear, by the two bows that send forth
Irresistible arrows from thine eyes,
That my days have lost their lustre:
They are dark as the jet of thy waving ringlets;
And the sweetness of thy lips far exceeds,
In the opinion of Khacan, all that
The richest sugar-cane has ever yielded.

IV.

The humid clouds of spring float over the enamelled meads,
And, like my eyes, dissolve in tears.
My fancy seeks thee in all places; and the beauties
Of Nature retrace, at every moment,
Thy enchanting image. But thou, O cruel fair one!
Thou endeavourest to efface from thy memory
The recollection of my ardent love--my tender constancy.

Thy charms eclipse the growing tulip--
Thy graceful stature puts to shame the lofty cyprus.
Let every nymph, although equal in bea