Now when it was the Six Hundred and Eighty-eighth Night,
She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Shaykh said to Abu Ishak, “If thou wilt sing something more we will requite thee,” I dissembled my annoyance (continued Ibrahim) and, taking the lute, sang again with great attention to my singing and rising altogether thereto, in consideration of his saying, “We will requite thee.” He was delighted, and cried, “Well done, O my lord!”; presently adding, “Dost thou give me leave to sing?” “As thou wilt,” answered I, deeming him weak of wit, in that he should think to sing in my presence, after that which he had heard from me. So he took the lute and swept the strings, and by Allah, I fancied they spoke in Arabic tongue, with a sweet and liquid and murmurous voice; then he began and sang these couplets:—
I bear a hurt heart, who will sell me for this ✿ A heart whole and free from all canker and smart?
Nay, none will consent or to barter or buy ✿ Such loss, ne’er from sorrow and sickness to part:
I groan wi’ the groaning of wine-wounded men ✿ And pine for the pining ne’er freeth my heart.
And by Allah, meseemed the doors and the walls and all that was in the house answered and sang with him, for the beauty of his voice, so that I fancied my very limbs and clothes replied to him, and I abode amazed and unable to speak or move, for the trouble of my heart. Then he sang these couplets:—
Culvers of Liwa![[121]] to your nests return; ✿ Your mournful voices thrill this heart of mine.
Then back a-copse they flew, and well-nigh took ✿ My life and made me tell my secret pine.
With cooing call they one who’s gone, as though ✿ Their breasts were maddened with the rage of wine:
Ne’er did mine eyes their like for culvers see ✿ Who weep yet tear-drops never dye their eyne.