[123] “The moon,” to wit, the unhappy Layla.  See the note,
        p. 284.

Scarce had these accents reached his listening ear e’er, senseless, Majnun fell as one by lightning struck.  A short time, fainting, thus he lay; recovered, then he raised his head to heaven and thus exclaimed:  “O merciless! what fate severe is this on one so helpless?  Why such wrath?  Why blast a blade of grass with lightning, and on the ant [i.e. himself] thy power exert?  One ant and a thousand pains of hell, when one single spark would be enough!  Why thus with blood the goblet crown, and all my hopes deceive?  I burned with flames that by that lamp were fed; and by that breath which quenched its light I too expire.”  Thus, like Asra, did he complain, and, like Wamik, traversed on every side the desert,[124] his heart broken, and his garments rent; while, as the beasts gazed on him, his tears so constant flowed, that in their eyes the tear-drop stood; and like a shadow Zayd his footsteps still pursued.  When, weeping and mourning, Majnun thus o’er many a hill and many a vale had passed, as grief his path directed, he wished to view the tomb of all he loved; and then inquired of Zayd where was the spot that held her grave, and where the turf that o’er it grew.

  [124] See Note on ‘Wamik and Asra’ at the end of this paper.

But soon as to the tomb he came, struck with its view, his senses fled.  Recovering, then he thus exclaimed:  “O Heaven! what shall I do, or what resource attempt, as like a lamp I waste away?  Alas! that heart-enslaver was all that in this world I prized:  and now, alas! in wrath, dire Fate with ruthless blow has snatched her from me.  In my hand I held a lovely flower; the wind came and scattered all its leaves.  I chose a cypress that in the garden graceful grew; but soon the wind of fate destroyed it.  Spring bade a blossom bloom; but Fortune would not guard the flower.  A group of lilies I preserved, pure as the thoughts that in my bosom rose; but one unjust purloined them.  I sowed, but he the harvest reaped.”

Then, resting within the tomb his head, he mourning wept, and said:  “O lovely floweret, struck by autumn’s blast, and from this world departed ere thou knewest it!  A garden once in bloom, but now laid waste!  O fruit matured, but not enjoyed!  To earth’s mortality can such as thou be subject, and such as thou within the darkness of the tomb repose?  And where is now that mole which seemed a grain of musk?[125] And where those eyes soft as the gazelle’s?  Where those ruby lips?  And where those curling ringlets?  In what bright hues is now thy form adorned?  And through the love of whom does now thy lamp consume?  To whose fond eyes are now thy charms displayed?  And whom to captivate do now thy tresses wave?  Beside the margin of what stream is now that cypress seen?  And in what bower is now the banquet spread?  Ah, can such as thou have felt the pangs of death, and be reclined