Arabian Poetry, by W. A. Clouston, , at sacred-texts.com
Sleep from my aching eyes had fled,
And kept as far apart
As sense from Ebn Fadhi's head,
Or virtue from his heart.
The dubious paths my footsteps balked,
I slipped along the sod,
As if on Jaber's faith I'd walked,
Or on his truth had trod.
At length the rising King of Day
Burst on the gloomy wood,
Like Carawash's eye, whose ray
Dispenses every good.