From that drum, gold-scattering, light was shed,
Like a peacock’s glorious plumes outspread.
In princely garb the Vizier arrayed,
Placed in her litter the moon-bright maid.
In the van, in the rear, on every side,
He ordered his soldiers about the bride,
And golden umbrellas a soft shade threw
O’er the heads of Zulaikhā’s retinue.
The singer’s voices rang loud and high,
As the camels moved at the driver’s cry,