Arabian Poetry, by W. A. Clouston, , at sacred-texts.com
In vain, to wean my constant heart,
Or quench my glowing flame, they strove:
Each deep-laid scheme, each envious art,
But waked my fears for her I love.
’Twas this compelled the stern decree
That forced thee to those distant towers,
And left me nought but love for thee,
To cheer my solitary hours.
Yet let not Abla sink depressed,
Nor separation's pangs deplore:
We meet not—’tis to meet more blest;
We parted—’tis to part no more.