Pagina 409 de 1116

"How many a joy by Allah's will hath fled * With flight escaping

sight of wisest head! How many a sadness shall begin the day, *

Yet grow right gladsome ere the day is sped! How many a weal

trips on the heels of ill, * Causing the mourner's heart with joy

to thrill!"[FN#278]

But the old man, O my lady, ceased not from his swoon till near

sunset, when he came to himself and, looking upon his dead son,

he recalled what had happened, and how what he had dreaded had

come to pass; and he beat his face and head and recited these

couplets:-