When it was the Eight Hundred and Fifty-fifth Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Zayn
al-Mawasif heard these lines she knew that it was Masrur and
wept, she and her handmaids, and said to him, "O Masrur, I
conjure thee by Allah, turn back, lest my husband see us twain
together!" At her words he swooned away; and when he revived,
they took leave each of other and he recited the following
couplets,

"The Caravan-chief calleth loud o' night * Ere the Breeze bear
his cry in the morninglight:
They girded their loads and prepared to fare, * And hurried while
murmured the leader-wight.
They scent the scene on its every side, * As their march through
the valley they expedite.
After winning my heart by their love they went * O' morn when
their track could deceive my sight.
O my neighbour fair, I reckt ne'er to part, * Or the ground
bedewed with my tears to sight!
Woe betide my heart, now hath Severance hand * To heart and
vitals dealt bane and blight."

Then he clung to the litter, weeping and wailing, whilst she
besought him to turn back ere morn for fear of scorn. So he came
up to her Haudaj and farewelling her a second time, fell down in
a swoon. He lay an hour or so without life, and when he revived
he found the caravan had fared forth of sight. So he turned in
the direction of their wayfare and scenting the breeze which blew
from their quarter, chanted these improvised lines,