That she is the perfection of the world. She is the padishah, the queen of light, And as a slave to such a queen I bow; I swiftly speed her errand when she bids, And flash along my journey like the wind.” When Bulbul had these words attentive heard, Straight to the earth he groaning fell for grief; For in his heart the love-fire had been lit And blazed like tapers in a holy place; Endurance now was overcome by love; He flung himself with cries into the dust. His breast was filled with passionate desire, And in the pain itself he found delight. The dew of ardent passion filled his eye, And pangs of love his inmost bosom tore; He cried aloud with anguish, sighed, and groaned, His eyes were wet with tears unworthy love. Then said he to the East Wind anxiously: “Why should this sudden flame consume my life? What is the arrow that unfeeling fate To my bared bosom has this instant shot? What is the goblet whose enticing draught Has robbed me of my senses while I drank? How shall I reason of the dazzling light That flutters round my spirit like a moth? What is this lightning flash, whose sudden blaze Kindles a world of terror in my soul? What blast is this that carries me away And strikes my very being as it flies? What stranger guest is this who comes to me And takes away my reason by his word? Peace like a bird escapes from out my hand, And all my soul in utter ashes lies. The old distress has taken the strength of new, And yonder beauty overwhelms my heart.” XVI THE WITTY EAST WIND COUNSELS THE WANDERING NIGHTINGALE