There was once, among the Banu Ozrah, a handsome and accomplished man who was not a single day out of love. One day it chanced that he became enamored of a beauty of his own tribe and sent her many messages. But she treated him with cruelty and disdain. At last, from the stress of love and longing and desire and distraction, he fell sick of a sore sickness and took to his bed and murdered his sleep. His malady redoubled on him and his torments increased, and he was near death when his case became known among the folk and his passion notorious. —

When it was the Three Hundred and Eighty fourth night

Hearing this, she wept bitterly and said to him, "By God, I suspected not that passion had come to such a pass with you as to cast you into the arms of death! Had I known this, I had been favourable to your wish and you should have had your will." At this his tears streamed down

Wazir of Al-Yaman and his Young Brother. 71 even as the clouds pour rain, and he recited this verse:

She drew near when death was departing us, And deigned union grant when it was useless all."

Then he groaned one groan and died. So she fell on him, kissing him and weeping and did not stop weeping till she swooned away; and when she came to herself, she charged her people to bury her in his grave and with streaming eyes recited these two couplets,

We lived on earth a life of fair content; And tribe and house and home of us were proud; But Time in whirling flight departed us, To join us now in womb of earth and shroud.

Then she fell again to weeping, nor gave over shedding tears and lamenting until she fainted away, and she lay three days senseless. Then she died and was buried in his grave. This is one of the strange chances of love. And I have heard related a tale of the