Then the King repeated the
following verses, with a heart on fire for the torment of his
despair:
Blame not the mourner for the grief to which he is a prey, For
yearning sure sufficeth him, with all its drear dismay.
He weeps for dreariment and grief and stress of longing pain, And
eke his transport doth the fires, that rage in him, bewray.
Alas, his fortune who's Love's slave, whom languishment hath
bound Never to let his eyelids stint from weeping night and
day!
He mourns the loss of one was like a bright and brilliant moon,
That shone out over all his peers in glorious array.
But Death did proffer to his lips a brimming cup to drink, What
time he left his native land, and now he's far away.
He left his home and went from us unto calamity; Nor to his
brethren was it given to him farewell to say.
Indeed, his loss hath stricken me with anguish and with woe; Yea,
for estrangement from his sight my wits are gone astray.
Whenas the Lord of all vouchsafed to him His Paradise, Upon his
journey forth he fared and passed from us for aye.
Then he returned with the troops to his capital, giving up his
son for lost and deeming that wild beasts or highwaymen had set
on him and torn him in pieces, and made proclamation that all in
the Khalidan Islands should don black in mourning for him.
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