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we had made an end of prayer, the same man fell again to flouting and reviling me and persisted in his churlishness, whilst I held my peace. Then the damsel took the lute and touching it, knew that it was other than as she had left it and said, “Who hath touched my lute?” Quoth they, “None of us hath touched it.” “Nay, by Allah,” rejoined she, “some one hath touched it, and he a past master in the craft; for he hath ordered the strings and tuned them after the fashion of one who is right skilled in the art.” Quoth I, “It was I tuned it.” “Then, God on thee,” answered she, “take it and play on it!” So I took it and playing a rare and difficult measure, that came nigh to deaden the live and raise the dead, sang thereto the following verses:
I had a heart, wherewith of yore I lived: ’Twas seared with fire and all consumed indeed.
Her love, alack I was not vouchsafed to me; Unto the slave ’twas not of Heaven decreed.
If what I taste be passion’s very food, Then all who love upon its like must feed.
Night ccccix.When I had finished, there was not one of the company but sprang from his place and sat down before me,[1] saying “God on thee, O our lord, sing us another song.” “With all my heart,” said I and playing another measure in masterly fashion, sang thereto the following:
O thou whose heart, for fortune’s blows, is all consumed and sped, Sorrows with whom from every side have taken up their stead,
Unlawful unto her, my heart who pierces with her shafts, Is that my blood which, breast-bones ’twixt and vitals,[2] she hath shed.
’Twas plain, upon the parting day, that her resolve, our loves To sunder, unto false suspect must be attributed.
She pours forth blood she had not shed, if passion had not been. Will none my murderess ensue and wreak me on her head?
When I had made an end of this song, there was not
