Alas, poor helpless one! I knew not I
What was his trouble.--Then again she said
--I did not think him ill enough to die.

MAZHAR.




If I behold her, I am mad,
And if I see her not, I die;
O Love, to tender hearts like mine
Thou art a great calamity.

MAZHAR.




I ask for Allah's pardon, if I dare
To weigh and criticise what He hath done;
But when He made thy beauty shining fair,
What need was there for Him to make the Sun?

MIR DARD.




In spring, O Bulbul, go not in thy grief