Of other’s sins to take no harsh account;
And as all crimes have made my breast their site,
So thine all shapes of mercy should unite.
Who from above would mercy seek to know,
Should first be merciful to those below.
Then Nur al-Din and Princess Miriam ceased not from lovers’ chiding which to trace would be tedious, relating each to other that which had befallen them and reciting verses and making moan, one to other, of the violence of passion and the pangs of pine and desire, whilst the tears ran down their cheeks like rivers, till there was left them no strength to say a word and so they continued till day departed and night darkened. Now the Princess was clad in a green dress, purfled with red gold and broidered with pearls and gems which enhanced her beauty and loveliness and inner grace; and right well quoth the poet of her[[522]]:—
Like the full moon she shineth in garments all of green, With loosened vest and collars and flowing hair beseen.
“What is thy name?” I asked her, and she replied, “I’m she Who roasts the hearts of lovers on coals of love and teen.
I am the pure white silver, ay, and the gold wherewith The bondmen from strait prison and dour releasèd been.”
Quoth I, “I’m all with rigours consumed;” but “On a rock,” Said she, “such as my heart is, thy plaints are wasted clean.”