When it was the Seven Hundred and Twenty-second Night,
She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Ardashir, the King's son said to the old woman, "Allah upon thee, O my mother, take pity on my strangerhood and the streaming of my tears." Replied she, "By Allah, O my son, thy words rend my heart, but my hand hath no cunning wherewith to help thee." Quoth he, "I beseech thee of thy favour, carry her a letter and kiss her hands for me." So she had compassion on him and said, "Write what thou wilt and I will bear it to her." When he heard this, he was ready to fly for joy and calling for ink-case and paper, wrote these couplets,
"O Hay á t al-N ú fus, be gen'rous, and incline * To one who loving thee for parting's doomed to pine. I was in all delight, in gladsomest of life, * B
