All in patterns.
(The first rays of the rising sun.)
(The flaps of the tent move. The warriors hastily disperse, leaving the cannon. From the tent emerges with an easy but imposing gait a beautiful, bright-eyed woman, accompanied by four female slaves with dulcimer, rebec, reed, and a drum. She wears a long silk garment of raspberry colour, plentifully adorned with pearls and gold. On her head a white turban with a high feather. The beautiful woman, as if she had noticed nothing, turns towards the bright sun, raising her hands to it in prayer.)
Queen of Shemakhan.
Answer me, bright orb of day!
Thou com’st to us from the East—
Hast thou visited my native land,
The country of fairy dreams?
Are the roses still glowing there
And the bushes of burning lilies?