I went one year on the pilgrimage to the Holy House of Allah, and when I had accomplished my pilgrimage, I turned back for visitation of the tomb of the Prophet, whom Allah bless and keep! One night, as I sat in the garden,[[80]] between the tomb and the pulpit, I heard a low moaning in a soft voice; so I listened to it and it said:—
Have the doves that moan in the lotus-tree ✿ Woke grief in thy heart and bred misery?
Or doth memory of maiden in beauty deckt ✿ Cause this doubt in thee, this despondency?
O night, thou art longsome for love-sick sprite ✿ Complaining of Love and its ecstacy:
Thou makest him wakeful, who burns with fire ✿ Of a love, like the live coal’s ardency.
The moon is witness my heart is held ✿ By a moonlight brow of the brightest blee:
I reckt not to see me by Love ensnared ✿ Till ensnared before I could reck or see.
Then the voice ceased and not knowing whence it came to me I abode perplexed; but lo! it again took up its lament and recited:—
Came Rayya’s phantom to grieve thy sight ✿ In the thickest gloom of the black-haired Night!
And hath love of slumber deprived those eyes ✿ And the phantom-vision vexed thy sprite?