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When hunger presses, from the weeping trees
I gather gums, its cravings to appease;
And herbs and grass, and the transparent rill,
Support me in the state thou seest me still;
But though thy proffer'd food regale not me,
The beasts around enjoy'd the banquetry;

And if I sought on living thing to feed,

Birds might be caught; but I detest the deed;
And he who is contented grass to eat,

Defies the world-the world is at his feet;

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For what can pomp, and wealth, and feasts avail?

I live on grass:-but hear the Záhid's tale.

In ancient times a king, they say,
Through a wild forest took his way;

And marking, as alɔng he rode,

A Záhid's desolate abode,

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Ask'd his attendants if they knew

What the Recluse was wont to do;

What was his food, and where he slept,
And why remote from man he kept.—
A courtier towards the Záhid ran,

And soon brought forth that holy man ;-
"And wherefore dost thou pass thy days
Shunning the world's inviting ways,
Choosing this dismal wretched hole,
Grave of the body and the soul?"

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No

"I have no friends to love me-none;

power, except to live alone."

Then, where his fawns in quiet fed,

Took up some blades of grass, and said—
"This is my food--this, want supplies!"
The courtier look'd with scornful eyes,
And answer'd,-"Taste but royal food,
And thou 'lt not fancy grass so good."
"Indeed!" the Záhid said, and smiled,
"That is a sad mistake, my child!
Worldlings are still to luxury pione;
To thee its sweetness is unknown;
Stranger to such delicious fare,

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No doubt thou 'rt charm'd with food more rare!"

-Soon as this speech the monarch heard,

Noting, attentive, every word,

And wondering such a seer to meet,

Fell at the pious Záhid's feet,

And kiss'd the greensward, as he knelt

Where that contented hermit dwelt.

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XVI.

O'er Majnún's spirit, long in darkness cast,
A fitful gleam of homeward feeling pass'd;
And now he asks for friends he once preferr'd,
Asks for his mother, broken-winged bird;

And wishes e'en to visit home again

As if the maddening fire had left his brain.

F

Selim at this brief glimpse of reason caught,
And to his mother's distant mansion brought
Without delay the wanderer. Deep her grief
To see how wither'd was that verdant leaf 2100
To see the red rose faded from his cheek,

His eye so alter'd, and his frame so weak;
From head to foot she kisses him, and weeps ;
His hair, all matted, in her tears she steeps,
And clasps him fondly to her beating heart,
As if she never from her boy would part:-
"My darling child! the love-game thou hast play'd
Has thus, alas! reduced thee to a shade;

In that encounter sad of mortal scathe

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Thou grasp'dst the two-edged scimitar of death. 2110
Thy father gone, his troubles all are past,
Heart-broken man! and I shall follow fast.
Arise and enter thy own mansion here;

Come, 'tis thy own sweet home, and doubly dear—
Thy nest;-and birds, though distant in their flight,
Always return to their own nests at night.
While yet an infant in thy cradle-bed,

I watch'd thy slumber, pillow'd thy sweet head;
And canst thou now that mother's fondness see,
And mark without remorse her love for thee? 2120

Refuse the joy thy presence can impart,

And cast a shadow o'er her drooping heart?"
A cloud again obscured the orb of day—
Again his wavering intellect gave way;

"Mother, there is no hope-the time is past; With gloom eternal is my fate o'ercast;

No fault of mine-no crime, to press me down-
But all my countless woes to thee are known;
Like a poor bird within its cage immured,
My soul has long this prison-life endured.
Ask me not, mother, to remain at home;

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For there, to me, no peace can ever come.
Oh, better will it be for me to stray

'Mid mountain-glens, and herd with beasts of prey,
Than linger on a spot where human care
Only augments my misery and despair."

He ceased, and kiss'd his mother's feet, and fled
Precipitate along the path which led

To the wild mountains. Dreadful was the stroke!
The mother's heart, like the old father's, broke; 2140
In Death's cold ocean, wave thus follows wave;
And thus she follow'd to the silent grave.

Selim again the maniac's haunts explored,

Again supplied his frugal board,

And, with a mournful voice, the tale reveal'd—

Father and mother gone,

Himself now left alone,

Sole heir-his doom of desolation seal'd

He beat his brows, and from his eyes

Fell tears of blood; his piercing cries
Rang through the forest, and again,
Pouring the saddest, wildest strain,

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He hasten'd from his gloomy cave,
To weep upon his mother's grave.
But when that paroxysm of grief—
That agony intense, but brief-
Had, like a whirlwind, pass'd away,

And left him in a milder mood,
To love and Lailí still a prey,

He trod again his mountain-solitude: For what to him was hoarded store, The wealth of parents now no more? Had he not long, ill-fated one!

Abandon'd all for love alone?

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XVII.

Laili meanwhile had read and seen

What Majnún's thoughts had ever been ;

And though her plighted faith seem'd broken,
From him she held the tenderest token:

Deep in her heart, a thousand woes

Disturb'd her days' and nights' repose:

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A serpent at its very core,

Writhing and gnawing evermore ;

And no relief-a prison-room

Being now the lovely sufferer's doom.

-Fate look'd at last with favouring eye;
The night was dark, no watchman nigh;
And she had gain'd the outer gate,

Where, shrouded, unobserved, she sate,

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