Such was my delight, that taking up the guitar which was near me, and putting aside all apprehension for the present, and all care for the future, I tuned it to my voice, and sang the following ode of Hafiz, which I had learnt in my youth, when I used to charm my hearers in the bath:—
What bliss is like to whisp'ring love, Or dalliance in the bowers of spring? Why then delay my bliss t'improve? Haste, haste, my love, the goblet bring.
Each hour that joy and mirth bestow Call it treasure, count it gain; Fool is the man who seeks to know His pleasure will it end in pain!
The links which our existence bind Hang not by one weak thread alone; Of man's distress why tease the mind? Sufficient 'tis, we know our own.
The double charms of love and wine Alike from one sweet source arise: Are we to blame, shall we repine, When unconstrain'd the passions rise?
If innocent in heart and mind, I sin unconscious of offence What use, O casuist, shall I find In absolution's recompense?
Hermits the flowing spring approve; Poets the sparkling bowl enjoy: And, till he's judged by powers above, Hafiz will drink, and sing, and toy.
Zeenab was quite in ecstasy: she had never heard anything so delightful in her life, and forgetting that both of us were but wretched individuals—she a slave, I the most destitute of beings—we did and felt as if all that surrounded us was our own, and that the wine and our love would last for ever.
Having sang several more songs, and emptied several cups of wine, I found that my poetry was exhausted as well as our bottle.
It was still quite early, and we had much time before us. 'Zeenab,' said I, 'you have long promised to tell me the history of your life, and now is a good opportunity; we are not likely to be interrupted for a long while, and, as our meetings at night are very uncertain, an hour cannot be better filled up than by the recital of your adventures.' She assented to my proposal with much good humour, and began as follows.