'Ho, thou heedless of Time and his sore despight! * Ho, thou heart whom hopes of my favours excite! Think O pride-full! would'st win for thyself the skies? * Would'st attain to the moon shining clear and bright? I will burn thee with fire that shall ne'er be quenched, * Or will slay thee with scymitar's sharpest bite! Leave it, friend, and 'scape the tormenting pains, * Such as turn hair- partings[FN#274] from black to white. Take my warning and fly from the road of love; * Draw thee back from a course nor seemly nor right!"
Then she folded the scroll and gave it to the old woman, who was puzzled and perplexed by the matter. She carried it to Ardashir, and the Prince read the letter and bowed his head to the earth, making as if he wrote with his finger and speaking not a word. Quoth the o
