Leila, with too successful art,
    Has spread for me love’s cruel snare;
  And now, when she has caught my heart,
    She laughs, and leaves it to despair.

  Thus the poor sparrow pants for breath,
    Held captive by a playful boy,
  And while it drinks the draught of death,
    The thoughtless child looks on with joy.

  Ah! were its flutt’ring pinions free,
    Soon would it bid its chains adieu,
  Or did the child its suff’rings see,
    He’d pity and relieve them too.

ON MODERATION IN OUR PLEASURES[29]

  How oft does passion’s grasp destroy
    The pleasure that it strives to gain? 
  How soon the thoughtless course of joy
    Is doom’d to terminate in pain?

  When prudence would thy steps delay,
    She but restrains to make thee blest;
  Whate’er from joy she lops away,
    But heightens and secures the rest.

  Wouldst thou a trembling flame expand,
    That hastens in the lamp to die? 
  With careful touch, with sparing hand,
    The feeding stream of life supply.

  But if thy flask profusely sheds
    A rushing torrent o’er the blaze,
  Swift round the sinking flame it spreads,
    And kills the fire it fain would raise.

Abou Alcassim Ebn Tabataba.

[29] Tabataba deduced his pedigree from Ali Ben Abou Taleb, and Fatima,
     the daughter of Mohammed.  He was born at Ispahan, but passed the
     principal part of his life in Egypt, where he was appointed chief
     of the sheriffs, i.e. the descendants of the Prophet, a dignity
     held in the highest veneration by every Mussulman.  He died in the
     year of the Hegira 418, with the reputation of being one of the
     most excellent poets of his time.

THE VALE OF BOZAA[30]

  The intertwining boughs for thee
    Have wove, sweet dell, a verdant vest,
  And thou in turn shalt give to me
    A verdant couch upon thy breast.

  To shield me from day’s fervid glare
    Thine oaks their fostering arms extend,
  As anxious o’er her infant care
    I’ve seen a watchful mother bend.

  A brighter cup, a sweeter draught,
    I gather from that rill of thine,
  Than maddening drunkards ever quaff’d,
    Than all the treasures of the vine.

  So smooth the pebbles on its shore,
    That not a maid can thither stray,
  But counts her strings of jewels o’er,
    And thinks the pearls have slipp’d away.

Ahmed Ben Yousef Almenazy.

[30] Ben Yousef for many years acted as vizir to Abou Nasser, Sultan
     of Diarbeker.  His political talents are much praised, and he is
     particularly celebrated for the address he displayed while upon
     an embassy to the Greek Emperor at Constantinople.  Yousef’s
     poetry must be looked upon merely as a jeu d’esprit suggested
     by the beauties of the vale of Bozaa, as he passed through it.