Then she went to the third door and wept sore and thereon wrote these couplets,
"Fare softly, Masrúr! an her sanctuary * Thou seek, and read what
a-door writ she.
Ne'er forget Love-plight, if true man; how oft * Hast savoured
Nights' bitter and sweetest gree!
O Masrúr! forget not her neighbourhood * For wi' thee must her
gladness and joyance flee!
But beweep those dearest united days * When thou camest veilčd in
secresy;
Wend for sake of us over farthest wone; * Span the wold for us,
for us dive in sea;
Allah bless the past days! Ah, how glad they were * When in
Gardens of Fancy the flowers pluckt we!
The nights of Union from us are fled * And parting-glooms dim
their radiancy;
Ah! had this lasted as hopčd we, but * He left only our breasts
and the rosery.
Will revolving days on Re-union dawn? * Then our vow to the Lord
shall accomplisht be.
Learn thou our lots are in hand of Him * Who on lines of
skull[FN#352] writes our destiny!"
Then she wept with sore weeping and returned to the house, wailing and remembering what had passed and saying, "Glory be to God who hath decreed to us this!" And her affliction redoubled for severance from her beloved and her departure from her mother-land, and she recited these couplets,
"Allah's peace on thee, House of Vacancy! * Ceased in thee all
our joys, all our jubilee.
O thou Dove of the homestead, ne'er cease to bemoan * Whose moons
and full moons[FN#353] sorest severance dree:
Masrúr, fare softly and mourn our loss; * Loving thee our eyes
lose their brilliancy:
Would thy sight had seen, on our marching day, * Tears shed by a
heart in Hell's flagrancy!
Forget not the plight in the garth-shade pledged * When we sat
enveiléd in privacy:"
Then she presented herself before her husband, who lifted her into the litter he had let make for her; and, when she found herself on the camel's back, she recited these couplets,
"The Lord, empty House! to thee peace decree * Long we bore
therein growth of misery:
Would my life-thread were shorn in that safe abode * And o' night
I had died in mine ecstasy!
Home-sickness I mourn, and my strangerhood * Irks my soul, nor
the riddle of future I ree.
Would I wot shall I ever that house resee * And find it, as erst,
home of joy and glee!"
Said her husband, "O Zayn al-Mawasif grieve not for thy departure from thy dwelling; for thou shalt return to it ere long Inshallah!" And he went on to comfort her heart and soothe her sorrow. Then all set out and fared on till they came without the town and struck into the high road, whereupon she knew that separation was certain and this was very grievous to her. And while such things happened Masrur sat in his quarters, pondering his case and that of his mistress, and his heart forewarned him of severance. So he rose without stay and delay and repairing to her house, found the outer door padlocked and read the couplets she had written thereon; upon which he fell down in a fainting fit. When he came to himself, he opened the first door and entering, read what was written upon the second and likewise upon the third doors; wherefore passion and love-longing and distraction grew on him. So he went forth and hastened in her track, till he came up with the light caravan[FN#354] and found her at the rear, whilst her husband rode in the van, because of his merchandise. When he saw her, he clung to the litter, weeping and wailing for the anguish of parting, and recited these couplets,
"Would I wot for what crime shot and pierced are we * Thro' the
days with Estrangement's archery!
O my heart's desire, to thy door I came * One day, when high waxt
mine expectancy:
But I found the home waste as the wold and void * And I 'plained
my pine and groaned wretchedly:
And I asked the walls of my friends who fared * With my heart in
pawn and in pendency;
And they said, 'All marched from the camp and left *An ambushed
sorrow on hill and lea;'
And a writ on the walls did they write, as write * Folk who keep
their faith while the Worlds are three."
Now when Zayn al-Mawasif heard these lines, she knew that it was Masrur.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Eight Hundred and Fifty-fifth Night,