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To even her with greeny bough were vain * Fool he who finds her beauties in the roe: When hath the roe those lively lovely limbs * Or honey dews those lips alone bestow? Those eyne, soul piercing eyne, which slay with love, * Which bind the victim by their shafts laid low? My heart to second childhood they beguiled * No wonder: love sick-man again is child!
"Pray'ee grant me some words from your lips, belike * Such mercy may comfort and cool these eyne: From the stress of my love and my pine for you, * I make light of what makes me despised, indign: Allah guard a folk whose abode was far, * And whose secret I kept in the holiest shrine: Now Fortune in kindness hath favoured me * Thrown on threshold dust of this love o' mine: By me bedded I looked on Budur, whose sun * The moon of my fortunes hath made to shine."
And if yo'd been down seeing all t' folk looking and looking their eyes out, as if they feared they should die afore she came in and brought home the lads they loved, yo'd ha' shaken hands wi' that lass too, and no great harm done. I never set eyne upon her till half an hour ago on th' staithes, and maybe I'll niver see her again.
"This messenger shall give my news to thee; * Patience what while my sight thou canst not see: A lover leav'st in love's insanity, * Whose eyne abide on wake incessantly: I suffer patience-pangs in woes that none * Of men can medicine; such my destiny! Keep cool thine eyes; ne'er shall my heart forget, * Nor without dream of thee one day shall be.
And that of another: The brown, not the white, are first in my love And worthiest eke to be loved of me, For the colour of damask lips have they, Whilst the white have the hue of leprosy. And of a third: Black women, white of deeds, are like indeed to eyne That, though jet-black they be, with peerless splendours shine. Moreover, is the companying together of lovers good but in the night?
An thou wouldst bless these eyne with sight of thee * One day on earth, I crave none other sight: Think not another could possess my mind * Nor length nor breadth for other love I find." Then he walked on till he came to the apartment of his brother's widow, the mother of Badr al-Din Hasan, the Egyptian.
O blamer, cease thy blame, and seek thyself to fly * From love, which makes these eyne a rill of tears to rain. How oft I cry for absence and desire, Ah grief! * But all my crying naught of gain for me shall gain: Thy rigours dealt me sickness passing power to bear, * Thou art my only leach, assain me an thou deign!
So she struck the strings and began to chaunt these lines, "By stress of parting, O beloved one, * Thou mad'st these eyelids torment- race to run: Oh gladness of my sight and dear desire, * Goal of my wishes, my religion! Pity the youth whose eyne are drowned in tears * Of lover gone distraught and clean undone."
"Get yourself healed anon, and be with us when we take Paris town, Norman, for there is booty enough to furnish all Scotland. Shalt thou be with us yet?" "If my strength backs my will, Randal; and truly your face is a sight for sair eyne, and does me more good than all the powers of the apothecary." "Then here is to our next merry meeting," he cried, "under Paris walls!"
'A thin waist maid who shames the willow wand; * Nor sun nor moon can like her rising shine: 'Tis as her honey dew of lips were blent * With wine, and pearls of teeth were bathed in wine: Her form, like heavenly Houri's, graceful slim; * Fair face; and ruin dealt by glancing eyne: How many a dead done man her eyes have slain * Upon her way of love in ruin li'en: An live I she's my death!
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