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And also the following:
I feed mine eyes on the places where we met long ago; Far distant now is the valley and I’m forslain for woe.
I’m drunk with the wine of passion and the teardrops in mine eyes Dance to the song of the leader of the camels, as we go.
I cease not from mine endeavour to win to fortune fair; Yet in Budour, Suada,[1] all fortune is, I know.
Three things I reckon, I know not of which to most complain; Give ear whilst I recount them and be you judge, I trow.
Firstly, her eyes, the sworders; second, the spearman, her shape, And thirdly, her ringlets that clothe her in armour,[2] row upon row.
Quoth she (and indeed I question, for tidings of her I love, All whom I meet, or townsman or Bedouin, high or low)
Quoth she unto me, “My dwelling is in thy heart; look there And thou shalt see me.” I answer, “And where is my heart? Heigho!”
When Maimouneh heard this, she said, ‘Thou hast done well, O Dehnesh! But tell me, which of the two is the handsomer?’ And he answered, ‘My mistress Budour is certainly handsomer than thy beloved.’ ‘Thou liest, O accursed one!’ cried Maimouneh. ‘Nay, my beloved is more beautiful than thine!’ And they ceased not to gainsay each other, till Maimouneh cried out at Dehnesh and would have laid violent hands on him; but he humbled himself to her and softening his speech, said to her, ‘Let us leave talking, for we do but contradict each other, and rather seek one who shall judge fairly between us, whether of the two is fairer, and let us abide by his sentence.’ ‘I agree to this,’ answered she and smote the earth with her foot, whereupon there came up a one-eyed Afrit, humpbacked and scurvy, with eyes slit endlong in his face. On his head were seven horns and four locks of hair falling to his heels; his hands were like pitchforks, his legs like masts and he had claws like a lion and hoofs like those of
