She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Zayn al-Mawasif took from the Kazi the deed which made over her lover's property to her, she said to him, "O Masrur, now gang thy gait." But her slave-girl Hubub turned to him and said, "Recite us some verses." So he improvised upon that game of chess these couplets, "Of Time and what befel me I complain, * Mourning my loss by chess and eyes of bane. For love of gentlest, softest-sided fair * Whose like is not of maids or mortal strain: The shafts of glances from those eyne who shot * And led her conquering host to battle-plain Red men and white men and the clashing Knights * And, crying 'Look to thee!' came forth amain: And, when down charging, finger-tips she showed * That gloomed like blackest night for sable stain, The Whites I could not rescue, could not save * While ecstasy made tear-floods rail and rain: The Pawns and Castles with their Queens fell low * And fled the Whites nor could the brunt sustain: Yea, with her shaft of glance at me she shot * And soon that shaft had pierced my heart and brain: She gave me choice between her hosts, and I * The Whites like moonlight first to choose was fain, Saying, 'This argent folk best fitteth me * I love them, but the Red by thee be ta'en!' She playčd me for free accepted stake * Yet amorous mercy I could ne'er obtain: O fire of heart, O pine and woe of me, * Wooing a fair like moon mid starry train: Burns not my heart O no! nor aught regrets * Of good or land, but ah! her eyes' disdain! Amazed I'm grown and dazed for drearihead * And blame I Time who brought such pine and pain. Quoth she, 'Why art thou so bedazed!' quoth I * 'Wine-drunken wight shall more of wine assain?' That mortal stole my sense by silk-soft shape, * Which doth for heart-core hardest rock contain. I nervčd self and cried, 'This day she's mine' * By bet, nor fear I prove she unhumŕne: My heart ne'er ceased to seek possession, till * Beggared I found me for conditions twain: Will youth you loveth shun the Love-dealt blow, * Tho' were he whelmed in Love's high-surging main? So woke the slave sans e'en a coin to turn, * Thralled to repine for what he ne'er shall gain!"