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I ceased not doing after that fashion till, after a sweet night,

I woke one fine morning and found myself beggared, dinar-less and

dirhamless. So said I to myself "All this be Satan's work;" and

began to recite these couplets:-

"Poverty dims the sheen of man whate'er his wealth has been, *

E'en as the sun about to set shines with a yellowing light Absent

he falls from memory, forgotten by his friends; * Present he

shareth not their joys for none in him delight He walks the

market shunned of all, too glad to hide his head, * In desert

places tears he sheds and moans his bitter plight By Allah, 'mid

his kith and kin a man, however good, * Waylaid by want and

penury is but a stranger wight!"