The mystic mode has naught except the inner changes of the heart. The talk of Mullah on his creed is merely piece of fiery art.

The Poet's song of zeal; bereft is dead and struck with frost: To outward eyes he seems awake, though in thoughts completely lost.

Alas! My eyes do not behold the Holy Knight whose fervour high may cause his blood to seethe and boil in veins that lend such might to thigh.