Alas, poor Faristan deluded,
She felt more happy far than you did!
She liked her quarters in the harem so,
That she had not the slightest wish to go,
And took so kindly to her new position,
She quite forgot you and your sad condition.
PART III.
Poor Faristan begins to seek her
Early and late, through all the country round,
But all in vain; his hopes grow weaker,
No trace of her can anywhere be found.
He also searches for his friend the Prophet,
Hoping that he could tell him something of it.—
At length a person who was present
At the adventure, brought the news unpleasant
That Fatima, the good and tender,
Instead of swearing “No surrender!”
Had shown the Prince a preference decided,
And in his harem happily resided.
Our hero now no longer waits,
But hastens to the palace gates,
Past all the servants, heralds, courtiers pushes,
Into the Prince’s very presence rushes,
And there begins he to implore him
His faithful lost one to restore him.
The Prince, kind man (who maybe had enough
Of Fatima ere this), gave no rebuff,
But told him what had pass’d, without concealment,
On learning what this strong appeal meant.
“She doubtless was beside herself with terror,”
Said Faristan, “and thought that you were me;
O let her come, and I’ll explain her error,—
My own dear wife! You presently shall see,
My gracious lord, with how much fervour
She’ll rush to kiss me—heaven preserve her!”
_-_George_Du_Maurier.png)
“’Tis well!” the Prince replied, “so be it!
I’ll at a distance stand to see it.”
The lady came—good Faristan
Was so much dazzled by the splendour
Of her gold clothes and jewels, that, poor man,
He knew her scarce, and felt like some pretender.
But Fatima in half a second
Knew him too well, stepp’d back, turn’d deadly white,
Then fiery red; but soon she reckon’d
With woman’s wit the way to win the fight.
