He met the cypress and with honor hailed, And courteous salutation yielded him. Who asked the Bulbul whither he was bound, And who had given peace to his desire; And he related to him every jot, How he had been released from bitter pain. The cypress wore a look of wonderment, Hither and thither did he toss his head, And said to him: “At last, my treasured bird, Upon my summit shall thy home be made.” So there the cypress and the Nightingale, Henceforth consorted in a friendship true. But the East Wind had fluttered to the Rose, Swift as the arrow from the bowstring shot, And in a voice of joy his message said: “O Rose, rejoice! for good the news I bring; The Shah at liberty has Bulbul set, And given happiness to the forlorn,” And then he told her all that had befallen; As everything he had been witness to. The day was warm and the Rose laughed aloud, And rocked herself with pleasure ’mid the leaves. In haste she put her crimson mantle on, And gave her garment, grateful, to the Wind. Into his hand she placed a ruby gem, And breathed upon him all her gracious scent. And gold was strewn about the rose garden, And all the folk for dust walked over gold. And the Rose bloomed in all her stateliest pomp, And laughed with joy in her enkindling heart. LVI DESCRIPTION OF THE MORNING FEAST GIVEN BY THE LOVELY ROSE, TO WHICH SHE ASKS THE NIGHTINGALE, AND ENJOYS HERSELF WITH HIM IN ARDENT PASSION AND KINDNESS AND PURE LOVE