Joy is nigh, O Masrúr, so rejoice in true rede; ✿ Whenas night shall fall thou shalt do kind-deed:
Crave not of the sordid a loan, fair youth, ✿ Wine stole my wits but they now take heed:
All thy good I reft shall return to thee, ✿ O Masrúr, and I’ll add to them amorous meed;
For indeed th’ art patient, and sweet of soul ✿ When wronged by thy lover’s tyrannic greed.
So haste to enjoy us and luck to thee! ✿ Lest my folk come between us speed, love, all speed!
Hurry uswards thou, nor delay, and while ✿ My mate is far, on Love’s fruit come feed.
Then she folded the paper and gave it to Hubub the handmaid, who carried it to Masrur and found him weeping and reciting in a transport of passion and love-longing these lines:—
A breeze of love on my soul did blow ✿ That consumed my liver for stress of lowe;
When my sweetheart went all my longings grew; ✿ And with tears in torrent mine eyelids flow:
Such my doubt and fears, did I tell their tale ✿ To deaf rocks and pebbles they’d melt for woe.