A woman, once, through foul adultery’s sin estranged, By God, in punishment, to Venus’ star was changed.[106] From woman into Venus? Sure, that change was sad. To dust and ashes turn. Less shame in this. Art mad? Thy soul it is must lift thee to heaven’s highest home; The flesh can but consign thee deep to hell’s dark dome. 225 Thyself it is that dooms thee to that woful fate; The angels’ envy art thou, here, in man’s estate. Consider, then, this doom; revolve it in thy mind; That woman’s change, compared with this, was joy, thou’lt find. To push ambition’s course beyond the stars thou’st sought? Refused hast thou first Adam to adore, as naught?[107] But seed of Adam art thou, O degenerate man! Why wilt thou then as glory count dark shame’s foul ban? Why proudly vaunt thou’lt conquer all this teeming earth? Why fondly fancy rumor ’ll sound thy passing worth? 230 Should winter’s snow in heaps encumber all earth’s soil, One gleam of summer’s sun the frigid cloak will foil. So, too, that Vazīr’s scheme of fraud, nor his alone, Reduced to nothing was by one word from God’s throne. Such crafty wiles as these He changes into weal; As poisons by His power receive the gift to heal. What doubtful was, becomes confest, at His decree; True love springs up, where hatred plotted was to be. He safely carries through the fire His chosen friend;[108] The fear of death He maketh peace of mind to lend. 235 Through Him are treasures hid beneath the ruin’s waste; Thorns roses yield; our bodies joys of soul foretaste. By workings of the pang of love for Him I burn; Though sophistlike I rave, ’tis unto Him I turn. Another stratagem the Vazīr next conceived; From public life withdrew, and solitude achieved. Admiring followers all were fain to mourn his loss; For forty days, and more, in cell he bore his cross. Their yearning for him grew more fierce from day to day; They missed his good example, words, and zeal to pray. 240 They grieved that he in solitude should vex his flesh; Their sympathies clung round him every day afresh. “Without our teacher we’re a pastorless poor flock; Blind beggars without staff to guide us to our nook. For mercy’s sake, for love of God, have pity now; No longer us deprive of consolation’s show. We’re infants all, and thou our feeder, tutor thou, Protection shed around; forsake us not just now.”