“Good-bye, my soul, to memories of vernal camps, and tryste therein,

And fond farewell to trav’ller fair, yea, bid good-bye to them for aye.

Bewail the time that passed away, when thou hast blackened pages bright,

And never ceased to steep thyself in deeds of shame and heinousness.

How oft the night was spent by thee in sins that none afore has dared,

From lust, indulged without restraint on wanton couch, in chamber still.

How often spedst thou on thy steps to unheard-of depravity,

And brokest repentance, slowly vowed, in swift forgetting sport and play;

How often madest thou bold, O slave, against the Lord of heavens high,

Not heeding Him and proving false, ay, false to thy pretended faith;

How often flungst thou, like a shoe outworn, aside His stern command,

Ungrateful for His benefits and reckless of His tardy wrath;

How often, running pleasure’s course, and glibly speaking lies prepense,

Wast thou neglecting carelessly the duties of His covenant.

So don the garb of penitence, and shower tears of blood, before

Thy foot commits a fatal slip, before thy fall has come to pass;

Humbly confess thy sins and fly for refuge where the guilty flies;

Resist thy lewd propensities and turn from them with purpose firm.

How long in thoughtlessness and sloth wilt thou let drift life’s better part,

To what brings loss as only gain, and never check’st thy mad career.

Perceivest thou not the mingled hue that streaks with hoary lines thy head,

Yet he whose ringlets blend with grey is warned of his approaching death.

Woe thee, my soul, redemption seek, obey, be true, be well advised,

Take warning from those gone before, in generations passed away,

And fear the stealing on of fate, be wary, lest thou be deceived.

Walk in the path of rectitude, for swift, remember, comes thy doom:

To-morrow will thy dwelling be the bottom of a lonely grave;

Alas, that house of sore dismay, that station, waste, disconsolate,

That goal of pilgrims of long syne, of countless pilgrims yet to come;

A house whose inmate will be seen encompassed, after ample space,

Within the bond of cubits three, to hold him in their narrow grip.

Who there alights, it matters not if he a wit be, or a fool,

If poor, or if possessed of all the riches of a Tobba‘ king.

And after it the roll-call comes, that musters timid wight, and bold,

And teacher and disciple, and the ruler and the ruled alike.

Then O the bliss of him that fears his Lord, and earns the thrall’s roward,

Safe from the dread account and from the terrors of that awful day.

But O the loss of those who have sinned and transgressed beyond all bounds,

And kindled discord’s blazing fire, for sake of worldly goods and joys.

O Thou, in whom my trust is placed, how grows my fear with every day,

For all the slips and falls that fill my ill-spent life with guilt and crime.

But, Lord, forgive Thy erring slave, yield mercy to his welling tears,

For the most Merciful art Thou, and Best to whom are prayers raised.”

Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Thus he ceased not repeating these words in a low voice and mingling them with sobs and sighs, until I wept by reason of the weeping of his eyne, as I had wept heretofore anent him. Then he sallied forth to his mosque, cleansed by his night-wake, and I went in his track, and prayed with those who prayed behind him, and when the people present dispersed and separated hither and thither, he took to muttering his lessons and casting his day in the mould of his yesterday, while he wailed with the wailing of a bereft mother, and wept as not Jacob wept, so that I saw clearly that he had joined the seven saints, and that his heart was imbued with the love of seclusion. So I formed within me the resolution to depart and to leave him all by himself in this state. Then it was as if he had read my purpose or had revealed to him that which I kept concealed, for he sighed like one grief-stricken, after which he quoted (from the Koran): “If thou make a resolution, put thy trust in Allah.” Thereupon I testified to the truthfulness of my informants, and knew for certain that in our dispensation inspired ones are found. So I went nigh to him, to put my hand in his, and said: “Give me thy bequest, O servant sincere of counsel,” when he said: “Keep death before thy eye, and this is the parting between me and thee.” With this he bade me farewell, while the tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, and my sighs rose from within my entrails, this being the last of our meetings.