Nor bid thee draw the nail that makes it stand at man's behest
Oh, may I never say to thee, when for thy aid I call,
Let me attain the height of bliss whate'er may be my fall!
And when I roam from those I love, may never cloud arise
To dim my hope of a return and hide me from their eyes.
Yet doubtless, 'tis the absent are oftenest forgot,
Till those who loved when they were near in absence love them not.
And, Fortune, do thy worst; it is not meant,
By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment.
"And since 'tis my unhappy lot, through slander's cruel wiles,