Our hearts are transported by thy glances.
The proud peacock, covered with confusion,
Dares not display before thee the rich
And pompous variety of his plumage.
Thy ebon ringlets are chains, which hold
Monarchs in captivity, and make
Them slaves to the power of thy charms.
The dust on which thou treadest becomes an ornament,
Worthy of the imperial diadem of Caus.[7]
Haughty kings now prostrate themselves