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Yes, and the glances of her eyes are arrows, and her brows A bow that therewithal is horned with death and with despair.
If to her cheeks and shape thou pass, her cheeks are roses red, Sweet basil, ay, and eglantine and myrtles rich and rare.
’Tis of the saplings’ wont, to be implanted in the meads But, in the saplings of thy shape, how many meads are there!
My colour is like the wholesome day and the newly-gathered orange-blossom and the sparkling star; and indeed quoth God the Most High, in His precious book, to His prophet Moses (on whom be peace), ‘Put thy hand into thy bosom and it shall come forth white without hurt.’[1] And again He saith, ‘As for those whose faces are made white, they are in the mercy of God and dwell for ever therein.’[2] My colour is a miracle and my grace an extreme and my beauty a term. It is in the like of me that clothes show fair and to the like of me that hearts incline. Moreover, in whiteness are many excellences; for instance, the snow falls white from heaven, and it is traditional that white is the most beautiful of colours. The Muslims also glory in white turbans; but I should be tedious, were I to repeat all that may be said in praise of white; little and enough is better than too much. So now I will begin with thy dispraise, O black, O colour of ink and blacksmith’s dust, thou whose face is like the crow that brings about lovers’ parting! Verily, the poet saith in praise of white and dispraise of black:
Seest not that for their milky hue white pearls in price excel And charcoal for a groat a load the folk do buy and sell?
And eke white faces, ’tis well known, do enter Paradise, Whilst faces black appointed are to fill the halls of Hell.
And indeed it is told in certain histories, related on the authority of devout men, that Noah (on whom be peace) was sleeping one day, with his sons Ham and Shem seated at his head, when a wind sprang up and lifting his clothes,
