And finally the dust becomes my home. Love as I may the beauty of the Rose, Alas, that beauty I may ne’er enjoy. For she is ignorant of my distress, And I may never paint it to her heart. And no man knows the anguish of my mind. I have no friend familiar on this plain, And now I am so wan and courageless, I cannot even speak of my distress.” Now when the Nightingale this poor man saw, He felt compassion for his misery, And each one to the other freely spoke Of all their woes, and many things besides. Then suddenly the royal spy approached, With darkling eyes and cunning looks askew, And while these two together converse held, And mourned over the ardor of their love, The cunning snare was spread above the bird, And corn was scattered for the prey’s decoy. The Nightingale was seized with cruel hand, And in a moment into durance cast. And for the pain and anguish of the wretch A cage was brought with many an iron bar, And then he was imprisoned in the cage. The cage must be his dungeon evermore, And now the Nightingale at last was caught, And banished evermore from peace and joy. Like a poor anxious prisoner was he now, For what more like a prison than a cage? And night and day within that cage he wept, O’erwrought by absence and the pang of love. They brought him in his cage before the shah, Before the shah he sang his well-a-day. The Nightingale was sick from suffering sore. Ah, see, what a deluding world can do! XXXVIII KING AUGUST APPEARS IN THE EAST AND DEVASTATES THE EARTH