‘Tis for that sleep like hood enveils their eyes ✿ Right soon, but from our eyes is fair of flight:
When night falls, dread and drear to those who love, ✿ We mourn; they joy to see departing light:
Had they but dree’d the weird, the bitter dole ✿ We dree, their beds like ours had bred them blight.
(Quoth Ibrahim), So I said to him, “By Allah, thou hast shown me a kindness, O my friend, and hast done away from me the pangs of sorrow. Let me hear more trifles of thy fashion.” So he sang these couplets:—
When man keeps honour bright without a stain, ✿ Fair sits whatever robe to robe he’s fain!
She jeered at me because so few we are; ✿ Quoth I:—“There’s ever dearth of noble men!”
Naught irks us we are few, while neighbour tribes ✿ Count many; neighbours oft are base-born strain:
We are a clan which holds not Death reproach, ✿ Which A’mir and Samúl[[151]] hold illest bane:
Leads us our love of death to fated end; ✿ They hate that ending and delay would gain:
We to our neighbours’ speech aye give the lie; ✿ But when we speak none dare give lie again.