XXVII.
SYLIFA.
"Here the soul has illumined its temporary dwelling with rays of light—the gift of Heaven."
Among the children of poor parents taken care of and educated by my orders, there was a beautiful girl named Sylifa, the daughter of a labouring man who worked in the ravines.
In the early part of my reign I had been struck with her beauty and intelligence, and directed that she should be brought up and educated in my palace.
Her eyes were almond-shaped, large, long, lustrous, and languishing; and might be pictured by fancy as beaming with ethereal flowers, crystalline fountains in all their brightness, painting, sculpture, and poetry.
Her lovely mouth never gave utterance to a thought that was not kind and good; indeed, all her features were beautiful, and the soft and luxuriant hair hung down to her feet in graceful curls—the back hair was much longer, and, when unbound, fell to the ground in rich masses.
She had a musical, merry laugh, which, whether they would or not, could set all present laughing, however seriously inclined.
Her talents were many, her versatility was great; for she was accomplished in various pursuits, and in most of them excelled. When singing or playing the harp, her dreamy eyes were more than earthly, and seemed as though beaming with poetry inspired of Heaven.
The beauty of her mind could be read in her face; she looked so heavenly, that when grown into womanhood I have, in a moment of enthusiasm, been almost tempted to fold her in my arms; but I never forgot my great mission, even in the most perilous moments.