How many a strain do we hear, whose sound * Softens stones and the rock can mollify: And the breeze of morning that sweetly speaks * Of meadows in flowered greenery. And scents and sounds in the morning-tide * Of birds and zephyrs in fragrance vie; But I think of one, of an absent friend, * And tears rail like rain from a showery sky; And the flamy tongues in my breast uprise * As sparks from gleed that in dark air fly. Allah deign vouchsafe to a lover distraught * Someday the face of his dear to descry! For lovers, indeed, no excuse is clear, * Save excuse of sight and excuse of eye."
Then he walked on a little and came to a goodly cage, than which was no goodlier there, and in it a culver of the forest, that is to say, a wood-pigeon, [FN#63] the bird renowned among birds as the minstrel of love-longing, with a collar of jewels about its neck marvellous fine and fair. He considered it awhile and, seeing it absently brooding in its cage, he shed tears and repeated these couplets,
"O culver of copse, [FN#64] with salams I greet; * O brother of lovers who woe must weet! I love a gazelle who is slender-slim, * Whose glances for keenness the scymitar beat: For her love are my heart and my vitals a-fire, * And my frame consumes in love's fever-heat. The sweet taste of food is unlawful for me, * And forbidden is slumber, unlawfullest sweet. Endurance and solace have travelled from me, * And love homes in my heart and grief takes firm seat: How shall life deal joy when they flee my sight * Who are joy and gladness and life and sprite?"
As soon as Uns al-Wujud had ended his verse,--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Three Hundred and Seventy-seventh Night,
