us plight.
Peace upon thee! Ah, how bitter were the severance from thee! Be
not this thy troth-plight's ending nor the last of our
delight!

Therewithal the young man was moved to delight and exclaimed, "By
Allah, thou sayest well, O Sitt el Milan! Let me hear more." Then
he handselled her with fifty dinars and they drank and the cups
went round among them; and her seller said to her, "O Sitt el
Milah, this is the season of leave-taking; so let us hear
somewhat on the subject." Accordingly she struck the lute and
avouching that which was in her heart, sang the following verses:

I am filled full of longing pain and memory and dole, That from
the wasted body's wounds distract the anguished soul.
Think not, my lords, that I forget: the case is still the same.
When such a fever fills the heart, what leach can make it
whole?
And if a creature in his tears could swim, as in a sea, I to do
this of all that breathe were surely first and sole.
O skinker of the wine of woe, turn from a love-sick maid, Who
drinks her tears still, night and morn, thy bitter-flavoured
bowl.
I had not left you, had I known that severance would prove My
death; but what is past is past, Fate stoops to no control.


As they were thus in the enjoyment of all that in most delicious
of easance and delight, and indeed the wine was sweet to them and
the talk pleasant, behold, there came a knocking at the door. So