Also shared he his couch with Balkis-Mâkkedah, the Queen of Sheba, who had surpassed all women on earth in beauty, wisdom, riches, and her diversified art in passion; and with Abishag the Shunamite, who had warmed the old age of David,—a kindly, quiet beauty, for whose sake Solomon had put to death his elder brother Adonijah, at the hands of Benaiah, the son of Jehoiada.
And also with the poor maiden of the vineyard, by the name of Sulamith, whom alone among all women the king had loved with all his heart.
Solomon made himself a litter of the best cedar wood, with pillars of silver, with arm-rests of gold in the form of recumbent lions, with a covering of purple Tyrian stuff, while the entire inner side of the covering was ornamented with gold embroidery and with precious stones,—the love-gifts of the women and virgins of Jerusalem. And when well-built black slaves bore Solomon among his people on grand festal days, truly was the king glorious, like the lilies that are in the Valley of Sharon!
Pale was his face; his lips like unto a vivid thread of scarlet; his wavy locks a bluish black, and in them—the adornment of wisdom—gleamed gray hairs, like to the silver threads of mountain streams, falling down from the dark crags of Hermon; gray hairs glistened in his dark beard also, curled, after the custom of the kings of Assyria, in regular, small rows.
As for the eyes of the king, they were dark, like the darkest agate, like the heavens on a moonless night in summer; while his eye-lashes, that spread upward and downward like arrows, resembled dark rays around dark stars. And there was no man in all the universe who could bear the gaze of Solomon without casting down his eyes. And the lightnings of wrath in the eyes of the king would prostrate people to the earth.
But there were moments of heartfelt merriment, when the king would grow intoxicated with love, or wine, or the delight of power, or when he rejoiced over words of wisdom or beauty, fitly spoken. Then his lashes would be softly half-lowered, casting blue shadows upon his radiant face, and in the king’s eyes would kindle the warm flames of a kindly, tender laughter, just like the play of black diamonds; and whosoever might behold this smile was ready to yield up body and soul for it—so indescribably beautiful was it. The mere name of King Solomon, uttered aloud, stirred the hearts of women, like the fragrance of spilt myrrh that recalls nights of love.
The king’s hands were soft, white, warm and beautiful, like a woman’s; but they held such an excess of life energy that, by the laying on of his palms upon the temples of the sick, the king cured headaches, convulsions, black melancholy, and demoniacal possession. Upon the index finger of his left hand the king wore a gem of blood-red asteria that emitted six pearl-coloured rays. Many centuries did this ring number, and upon the reverse side of its stone was graven an inscription, in the tongue of an ancient, vanished people: “All things pass away.”
And so great was the sway of Solomon’s soul that even beasts submitted to it; lions and tigers crawled at the feet of the king, rubbing their muzzles against his knees, and licking his hands with their rough tongues, whenever he entered their quarters. And he, whose heart found joy in the dazzling play of precious stones, in the fragrance of sweet-smelling Ægyptian resins, in the soft touch of light stuffs, in sweet music, in the exquisite taste of red, sparkling wine playing in a chased Ninuanian chalice,—he also loved to stroke the coarse manes of lions, the velvety backs of black panthers, and the tender paws of young, speckled leopards; loved to hear the roar of wild beasts, to see their powerful and superb movements, and to feel the hot feral odour of their breath.
Thus did Jehoshaphat, the son of Ahilud, the historian of his days, depict King Solomon.