Страница 291 из 1116

"How long shall last, how long this rigour rife of woe * May not

suffice thee all these tears thou seest flow? Our parting thus

with purpose fell thou dost prolong * Is't not enough to glad the

heart of envious foe? Were but this lying world once true to

lover heart * He had not watched the weary night in tears of woe:

Oh pity me whom overwhelmed thy cruel will * My lord, my king,

'tis time some ruth to me thou show: To whom reveal my wrongs, O

thou who murdered me? * Sad, who of broken troth the pangs must

undergo! Increase wild love for thee and phrenzy hour by hour *

And days of exile minute by so long, so slow; O Moslems, claim

vendetta[FN#184] for this slave of Love * Whose sleep Love ever

wastes, whose patience Love lays low: Doth law of Love allow

thee, O my wish! to lie * Lapt in another's arms and unto me cry

Go!? Yet in thy presence, say, what joys shall I enjoy * When he

I love but works my love to overthrow?"