But the wise man who this sweet tale relates,
Which he has heard from ancient people, states.
That on the bank of Nile, he will attest,
Wherever Joseph's pure form lay to rest,
Famine and plague there opposite arose,
In place of favours evil's many blows.
One counsel when at last they all embraced,
In a stone coffin they his body placed.
With pitch they closed up of the stone each chink,
And in Nile's bottom let the coffin sink.
Behold the trick performed by faithless Fate,
Her dead from Joseph thus to separate.
What spite it bore to them I cannot say,
Thus to disturb their rest beneath the clay.
The one of them in friendship's sea was drowned,
On separation's land one thirsting found.
How well said he whose feet in love were sore,
Who gain and loss from love no longer bore:
Love at what place its market brisk may be,
It can from unrest never once be free.
A lover's shroud at length it rends away,
Though he himself be sleeping 'neath the clay.
Happy the lover who in absence dead,
To his love's bridal-room his soul has led.
No one can say that with such courage high,
Men in their shrouds can as Zuleikha* lie.
All but one love she from her eye withdrew,
And then life's cash upon his dust she threw.
A thousand graces on her soul and body be,
And by her love her soul enlightened be!