Keep them in mind and trouble me no more.”
The scorn of the father’s reply had been, if possible, more bitter than the insulting demand, and Syd Omri turned indignantly to his followers and ordered the homeward march. The desert fates were stern, and
“When Majnūn saw his hopes decay,
Their fairest blossoms fade away,
And friends and sire who might have been
Kind intercessors, rush between
Him and the only wish that shed
One ray of comfort round his head,
He beat his hands, his garments tore,
He cast his fetters on the floor