Remains not, after you are gone, or trace of you or sign, ✿ But hope to see this parting end and break its lengthy line: You went and by your wending made the whole world desolate; ✿ And none may stand this day in stead to fill the yearning eyne. Indeed, you’ve burdened weakling me, by strength and force of you ✿ With load no hill hath power t’upheave nor yet the plain low li’en: And I, whenever fain I scent the breeze your land o’erbreathes, ✿ Lose all my wits as though they were bemused with heady wine. O folk no light affair is Love for lover woe to dree ✿ Nor easy ’tis to satisfy its sorrow and repine. I’ve wandered East and West to hap upon your trace, and when ✿ Springcamps I find the dwellers cry, “They’ve marched, those friends o’ thine!” Never accustomed me to part these intimates I love; ✿ Nay, when I left them all were wont new meetings to design. Now when she had ended her song, she wept with sore weeping, till presently sleep overcame her and she slept. On the morrow, she said to the Shaykh, “Get thee to the Shroff and fetch me the ordinary;” so he repaired to the money-changer and delivered him the message, whereupon he made ready meat and drink, according to his custom, with which the old man returned to the damsel and they ate their sufficiency. When she had eaten, she sought of him wine and he went to the Jew and fetched it. Then the twain sat down and drank; and when she waxed drunken, she took the lute and smiting it, fell a-singing and chanted these couplets:— How long ask I the heart, the heart drowned, and eke ✿ Refrain my complaint while my tear-floods speak? They forbid e’en the phantom to visit me, ✿ (O marvel!) her phantom my couch to seek.[331] And when she had made an end of her song, she wept with sore weeping. All this time, the young Damascene was listening, and now he likened her voice to the voice of his slave-girl and then he put away from him this thought, and the damsel had no knowledge whatever of his presence. Then she broke out again into song and chanted these couplets:— Quoth they, “Forget him! What is he?” To them I cried, ✿ “Allah forget me when forget I mine adored!” Now in this world shall I forget the love o’ you? ✿ Heaven grant the thrall may ne’er forget to love his lord! I pray that Allah pardon all except thy love ✿ Which, when I meet Him may my bestest plea afford. After ending this song she drank three cups and filling the old man other three, improvised these couplets:— His love he hid which tell-tale tears betrayed; ✿ For burn of coal that ’neath his ribs was laid: Giv’n that he seek his joy in spring and flowers ✿ Some day, his spring’s the face of dear-loved maid. O ye who blame me for who baulks my love! ✿ What sweeter thing than boon to man denayed? A sun, yet scorcheth he my very heart! ✿ A moon, but riseth he from breasts a-shade!