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"Racked is my heart by parting fro' my friends * And two rills

ever fro' my eyelids flow: With them[FN#279] went forth my hopes,

Ah, well away! * What shift remaineth me to say or do? Would I

had never looked upon their sight, * What shift, fair sirs, when

paths e'er strainer grow? What charm shall calm my pangs when

this wise burn * Longings of love which in my vitals glow? Would

I had trod with them the road of Death! * Ne'er had befel us

twain this parting blow: Allah: I pray the Ruthful show me ruth *

And mix our lives nor part them evermo'e! How blest were we as

'neath one roof we dwelt * Conjoined in joys nor recking aught of

woe; Till Fortune shot us with the severance shaft; * Ah who

shall patient bear such parting throe? And dart of Death struck

down amid the tribe * The age's pearl that Morn saw brightest

show: I cried the while his case took speech and said:-* Would

Heaven, my son, Death mote his doom foreslow! Which be the

readiest road wi' thee to meet * My Son!