From fear I faint. I tremble; courage has ebbed out.
Thou seest how pale my face; like ashes I’ve become;
An indication sure of fear, most troublesome.
God hath the countenance the mind’s true index named.
The adept keeps his eye on countenance enchained.385
A face’s colour tell-tale is, like tinkling bell.
A horse’s neigh of other steeds’ approach will tell.
A sound from anything attention brings to pass;
’Tis thus we know the creak of door from bray of ass.
The Prophet said, no point of character t’ asperse: