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A zephyr of delight breathes round your camping-place And scattering perfume thence, abroad the East wind hies.
O censor, cease to blame and counsel me; indeed, Thou profferest advice on right unwelcome wise.
What ails thee to upbraid my passion, seeing thou No knowledge hast thereof nor whence it doth arise?
Eyes languorous and soft have captivated me And cast me into love, perforce and by surprise.
I pour forth tears galore what while I string my rhymes; Ye are the theme whereon I prose and poetise.
Red cheeks have all consumed my entrails, and my heart Burns, as on blazing coals, with fire that never dies.
If this my speech I leave, tell me, with what discourse Shall I my breast dilate and stay my tears and sighs?
I’m weary of my life for passion for the fair; But God belike shall bring relief, with Whom it lies.
Then the old woman was moved to pity for him and coming up to him, comforted him, saying, ‘Be of good heart and cheerful eye and put away trouble from thy thought, for, by Allah, I will venture myself with thee, till thou attain thy desire or death overtake me!’ With this, Hassan’s heart was comforted and his bosom dilated and he sat talking with the old woman till the end of the day, when the girls dispersed, some entering their mansions in the city and others passing the night in the tents.
Then the old woman carried him into the city and lodged him in a place apart, lest any should come to know of him and tell the queen of him and she should kill him and her who had brought him thither. Moreover, she served him herself and strove to put him in fear of the mischief of the Supreme King, his wife’s father; whilst he wept before her and said, ‘O my lady, I choose death for myself and loathe the world, if I foregather not with my wife and children: I have set my life on the venture and will either attain my wish or die.’ So the old woman fell to pondering the means of bringing him
