"Would I wot for what crime shot and pierced are we * Thro' the days with Estrangement's archery! O my heart's desire, to thy door I came * One day, when high waxt mine expectancy: But I found the home waste as the wold and void * And I 'plained my pine and groaned wretchedly: And I asked the walls of my friends who fared * With my heart in pawn and in pendency; And they said, 'All marched from the camp and left *An ambushed sorrow on hill and lea;' And a writ on the walls did they write, as write * Folk who keep their faith while the Worlds are three." Now when Zayn al-Mawasif heard these lines, she knew that it was Masrur.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say. When it was the Eight Hundred and Fifty-fifth Night, She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Zayn al-Mawasif heard these lines she knew that it was Masrur and wept, she and her handmaids, and said to him, "O Masrur, I conjure thee by Allah, turn back, lest my husband see us twain together!" At her words he swooned away; and when he revived, they took leave each of other and he recited the following couplets, "The Caravan-chief calleth loud o' night * Ere the Breeze bear his cry in the morning-light: They girded their loads and prepared to fare, * And hurried while murmured the leader-wight. They scent the scene on its every side, * As their march through the valley they expedite. After winning my heart by their love they went * O' morn when their track could deceive my sight. O my neighbour fair, I reckt ne'er to part, * Or the ground bedewed with my tears to sight! Woe betide my heart, now hath Severance hand * To heart and vitals dealt bane and blight." Then he clung to the litter, weeping and wailing, whilst she besought him to turn back ere morn for fear of scorn. So he came up to her Haudaj and farewelling her a second time, fell down in a swoon. He lay an hour or so without life, and when he revived he found the caravan had fared forth of sight. So he turned in the direction of their wayfare and scenting the breeze which blew from their quarter, chanted these improvised lines, "No breeze of Union to the lover blows * But moan he maketh burnt with fiery woes: The Zephyr fans him at the dawn o' day; * But when he wakes the horizon lonely shows: On bed of sickness strewn in pain he lies, * And weeps he bloody tears in burning throes, For the fair neighbour with my heart they bore * 'Mid travellers urging beasts with cries and blows. By Allah from their stead no Zephyr blew * But sniffed I as the wight on eyeballs goes;[FN#355] And snuff the sweetest South as musk it breathes * And on the longing lover scent bestows."