' 'O my daughter,' answered her father, 'have patience with
him yet this third night, and if he go not in to thee and do away
thy maidenhead, we will take order with him and oust him from
the throne and banish him the country.' When the night came, the
princess Budour rose from the throne and betaking herself to the
bride-chamber, found the candles lighted and the princess Heyat
en Nufous sitting awaiting her; whereupon she bethought her of
her husband and recalling the early severance of their loves,
wept and sighed and groaned groan upon groan, repeating the
following verses:
I swear the tidings of my woes fills all the country-side, Like
the sun shining on the hills of Nejed far and wide.
His gesture speaks, but hard to tell the meaning of it is, And
thus my yearning without end is ever magnified.
I hate fair patience since the hour I fell in love with thee.
Hast seen a lover hating love at any time or tide?
One, in whose glances sickness lies, hath smitten me to death,
For looks are deadliest of the things, wherein doth sickness
bide.
He shook his clustered ringlets down and laid his chin-band by,
And beauty thus in him, at once both black and white, I
spied.
Sickness and cure are in his hands; for, to the sick of love, By
him alone who caused their dole can healing be applied.
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