How long shall I thus question my heart that’s drowned in woe? 
     I’m mute for my complaining; but tears speak, as they flow. 
They have forbid their image to visit me in sleep; So even my
     nightly phantom forsaketh me, heigho!

And when she had made an end of her song, she wept sore.

All this time, the young Damascene was hearkening, and whiles he likened her voice to that of his slave-girl and whiles he put away from him this thought, and the damsel had no whit of knowledge of him.  Then she broke out again into song and chanted the following verses: 

“Forget him,” quoth my censurers, “forget him; what is he?” “If I
     forget him, ne’er may God,” quoth I, “remember me!”
Now God forbid a slave forget his liege lord’s love!  And how Of
     all things in the world should I forget the love of thee? 
Pardon of God for everything I crave, except thy love, For on the
     day of meeting Him, that will my good deed be.

Then she drank three cups and filling the old man other three, sang the following verses: 

His love he’d have hid, but his tears denounced him to the spy,
     For the heat of a red-hot coal that ’twixt his ribs did lie. 
Suppose for distraction he seek in the Spring and its blooms one
     day, The face of his loved one holds the only Spring for his
     eye. 
O blamer of me for the love of him who denieth his grace, Which
     be the delightsome of things, but those which the people
     deny? 
A sun [is my love;] but his heat in mine entrails still rageth,
     concealed; A moon, in the hearts of the folk he riseth, and
     not in the sky.

When she had made an end of her song, she threw the lute from her hand and wept, whilst the old man wept for her weeping.  Then she fell down in a swoon and presently coming to herself, filled the cup and drinking it off, gave the old man to drink, after which she took the lute and breaking out into song, chanted the following verses: 

Thy loss is the fairest of all my heart’s woes; My case it hath
     altered and banished repose. 
The world is upon me all desolate grown.  Alack, my long grief and
     forlornness!  Who knows
But the Merciful yet may incline thee to me And unite us again,
     in despite of our foes!

Then she wept till her voice rose high and her lamentation was discovered [to those without]; after which she again began to drink and plying the old man with wine, sang the following verses: 

They have shut out thy person from my sight; They cannot shut thy
     memory from my spright. 
Favour or flout me, still my soul shall be Thy ransom, in
     contentment or despite. 
My outward of my inward testifies And this bears witness that
that tells aright.[FN#39]