Oh, pity me, mine own, for I am weak, I am o’erwrought and without strength to-day. The sword of separation cleaves my breast And tints me with the tulip’s ruddied eye. My tears are like the Oxus of mine eyes, Pale as the lime the color of my cheeks. Have pity on me in my feebleness-- My strength and force have ebbed away from me. Have pity on me. Patience dies in me, The sword of absence penetrates my soul. No longer patience can endure the strain, And on thy head my blood will be avenged. Reject me not, O Rose, but pity me, Is not the Rose the Nightingale’s delight? The beauty of the Rose’s charm appeared Long since through coming of the Nightingale. Oh, look not angry on thy paramour; What is he but the mirror of thy charms? For still through Medshnun’s rapture wild and strange Was Leila’s flawless beauty long renowned. And if no moth had ever been consumed The taper ne’er had known the adoring wing, And the more love the pining lover feels, So much the more his love should pine for him. And when the lover still persists in love, The one beloved should never turn away. Oh, thou hard-hearted one, be not incensed, But hear the prayer of one who dies for thee, For through thy hardness and thy self-content Thou hast to nothing brought thy worshipper. Let it be granted I am not thy peer; No grace would be in pity if I were. O queen, with thy compassion make me glad, And free me from the fetters of despair.” And when the Nightingale his letter closed, His next reflection was on sending it. “How shall I light upon a messenger To bring this letter to my best beloved?” At last he found a fitting messenger To take his love epistle to the queen. XXXI THE NIGHTINGALE DESPATCHES THROUGH THE JASMINE THE LETTER WRITTEN OUT OF THE FULLNESS OF HIS HEART