Now when it was the Three Hundred and Thirtieth Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Ali son of Mansur continued:—So I seated myself at the table of Jubayr bin Umayr al-Shaybani and, examining it with care, found these couplets engraven upon it:—
On these which once were chicks,
Your mourning glances fix,
Late dwellers in the mansion of the cup,
Now nearly eaten up!
Let tears bedew
The memory of that stew,
Those partridges, once roast,
Now lost!