And with these twain onward paced she, and seated them royally
On splendour-gleaming couches—nought passing the truth tell I—
With imagery fair-fashioned with the red gold threads entwined:
Of a truth, in that bower of ladies fair pleasure might they find!
Flashes of swift love-lightning and of yearning of the heart,
From the eyes of each unto other, well might they ofttimes dart!
For shrined in his soul he bare her; she was more unto him than life,
And ere long by noble service he won her to be his wife.
Then spake that goodly war-king: “Belovèd sister mine,
Our desire may be nowise accomplished saving with help of thine.