Earth has no fairer sight to show than this its
     blossom-time, With all the gently running streams
          that wander o’er its face,
     It is indeed the handiwork of God Omnipotent, The
     Lord of every noble gift, and Giver of all grace!

Midmost the meadow stood a monastery, and within the inclosure a citadel that rose high into the air in the light of the moon.  The stream passed through the midst of the monastery; and therenigh sat ten damsels like moons, high-bosomed maids clad in dresses and ornaments that dazzled the eyes, as says of them the poet:—­

     The meadow glitters with the troops Of lovely ones
          that wander there;
     Its grace and beauty doubled are By these that are
          so passing fair;
     Virgins, that with their swimming gait, The hearts of
          all that see ensnare,
     Along whose necks, like trails of grapes, Stream down
          the tresses of their hair;
     Proudly they walk, with eyes that dart The shafts and
          arrows of despair,
     And all the champions of the world Are slain by
          their seductive air.

Sherkan looked at the ten girls, and saw in their midst a lady like the moon at its full, with ringleted and shining forehead, great black eyes and curling brow-locks, perfect in person and attributes, as says the poet:—­

     Her beauty beamed on me with glances wonder-bright:  The
       slender Syrian spears are not so straight and slight: 
     She laid her veil aside, and, lo, her cheeks rose-red!  All manner
       of loveliness was in their sweetest sight
     The locks that o’er her brow fell down, were like the night,
       From out of which there shines a morning of delight.

Then Sherkan heard her say to the girls, “Come on, that I may wrestle with you, ere the moon set and the dawn come.”  So they came up to her, one after another, and she overthrew them, one by one, and bound their hands behind them, with their girdles.  When she had thrown them all, there turned to her an old woman who was before her, and said, as if she were wroth with her, “O shameless! dost thou glory in overthrowing these girls?  Behold, I am an old woman, yet have I thrown them forty times!  So what hast thou to boast of?  But if thou have strength to wrestle with me, stand up that I may grip thee, and put thy head between thy feet.”  The young lady smiled at her words, although her heart was full of anger against her, and said, “O my lady Dhat ed Dewahi, wilt indeed wrestle with me—­or dost thou jest with me?” “I mean to wrestle with thee in very deed,” replied she.  “Stand up to me then,” said the damsel, “if thou have strength to do so!” When the old woman heard this she was sore enraged, and her hair stood on end like that of a hedgehog.  Then she sprang up, whilst the damsel confronted her ... and they took hold of one another, whilst Sherkan raised his eyes