Slane in Ibn Khallikan's Biographical Dictionary and by Terrick Hamilton in the Romance of Antar, respectively, and a verse translation by Lyall.
The following poem (Ibn Khallikan, V. 2, p. 330) is attributed to Ibn Alaamidi of the eleventh century:
Admire that passionate lover! he recalls to mind the well protected park and sighs aloud; he hears the call of love and stops bewildered. The nightingales awaken the trouble of his heart, and his pains, now redoubled, drive all prudence from his mind. An ardent passion excites his complaints; sadness moves him to tears; his old affections awake, but these were never dormant. His friends say that his fortitude has failed; but the very mountain of Yalamlan would groan, or sink oppressed, under such a weight of love. Think not that compulsion will lead him to forget her; willingly he accepted the burden of love; how then could he cast it off against his will?
—O Otba, faultless in thy charms! be indulgent, be kind, for thy lover's sickness has reached its height. By thee the willow of the hill was taught to wave its branches with grace, when thy form, robed in beauty, first appeared before it. Thou hast lent thy tender glances to the gazelles of the desert, and therefore the fairest object to be seen is the eye of the antelope. Sick with the pains of love, bereft of sleep and confounded, I should never have outlived my nights, unless revived by the appearance of thy favor, deceitful as it was. These four shall witness the sincerity of my attachment: tears, melancholy, a mind deranged, and care, my constant visitor; could Yazbul feel this last; it would become like as—Suha. Some reproach me for loving thee, but I am not to be reclaimed; others bid me forbear, but I heed them not. They tell thee that I desire thee for thy beauty; how very strange! and where is the beauty which is not an object of desire? For thee I am the most loving of lovers; none, I know, are like me (in sincerity) or like thee in beauty.
The next poem represents one of the many outbursts of Antar:
O bird of the tamarisk! thou hast rendered my sorrows more poignant, thou hast redoubled my griefs. O bird of the tamarisk! if thou invokest an absent friend for whom thou art mourning, even then, O bird, is thy affliction like the distress I also feel? Augment my sorrows and my lamentations; aid me to weep till thou seest wonders from the discharge of my eyelids. Weep, too, from the excesses that I endure. Fear not—only guard the trees from the breath of my burning sighs. Quit me not till I die of love, the victim of passion of absence, and separation. Fly, perhaps in the Hijaz thou mayest see some one riding from Aalij to Nomani, wandering with a damsel, she traversing wilds, and drowned in tears, anxious for her native land. May God inspire thee, O dove! when thou truly sees her loaded camels. Announce my death. Say, thou hast left him stretched on the earth, and that his tears are exhausted, but that he weeps in blood. Should the breeze ask thee whence thou art, say, he is deprived of his heart and stupefied; he is in a strange land, weeping for our departure, for the God of heaven has struck him with affliction on account of his beloved; he is lying down like a tender bird, that vultures and eagles have bereft of its young, that grieves in unceasing plaints whilst its offspring are scattered over the plain and the desert!
This poem by an unknown author is tenderness unexcelled:
One Unnamed
Nay, ask on the sandy hill the ben-tree with spreading boughs that stands mid her sisters, if I greeted thy dwelling-place;
And whether their shade looked down upon me at eventide as there in my grief I stood, and that for my portion chose:
And whether, at dawn still there, mine eyelids a burthen bore of tears falling one by one, as pearls from a broken string.
Yea, men long and yearn for Spring, the gladsome: but as for me—my longing and Spring art thou, my yearning to gain thy grace;