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As for Mesrour, sleep was not sweet to him nor was peace or patience left unto him, and he ceased not to be thus till, one night, his eyes closed for weariness and he dreamt that he saw Zein el Mewasif come to him in the garden and embrace him; but presently he awoke and found her not: whereupon he fell into a passion of grief. His reason fled and his eyes ran over with tears; love-longing to the utterest possessed his heart and he recited these verses:
Peace be on her, whose image came to visit me by night And passion straight in me renewed and longings did excite!
Indeed, from that my dream I rose, distracted with desire, Fulfilled of love and longing pain for that fair vision’s sight.
Do the imbroglios of sleep say sooth of her I love? Will she yet quench my thirst and heal the sickness of my spright?
Anon she spoke with me, anon she strained me to her breast And now with pleasant speech she soothed my pain and my affright;
And when our lovers’ chiding was accomplished in the dream And in unceasing floods, the tears streamed from mine eyes contrite,
From out her damask lips, for me, as ’twere the best of wine, Whose scent was as the scent of musk, she poured, that lady bright.
I marvel at what chanced ’twixt us in dreams; for lo! I got My wish of her and that I sought of solace and delight;
But, when from sleep I woke, no whit of that fair dream found I Save love-longing and pain; the rest had fled with morning-light.
And since I’ve looked on her, I’m grown, by day, as I were mad; Anights I’m drunken without wine, a love-distracted wight.
O waftings of the zephyr, go, to them I prithee bear The salutation of my love and longing for their sight,
And say to them, ‘Him, whom ye knew, the shifts of sorry Fate Have given to drink the cup of death, of destiny’s despite.’
Then he went out and ceased not to weep till he came to her house and looking on it, saw it deserted. Presently, it seemed to him he saw her image before him, whereupon fires flamed in him and his sorrows redoubled and he fell
