U:be l.lmomen of mempbis. LoVE is ill suited with peace and rest : Scorn and reproaches become him best. Rebuke gives strength to his tongue, and blame Wakes the dull spark to a brighter flame. Blame is the censor of Love's bazaar: It suffers no rust the pure splendour to mar. Blame is the whip whose impending blow Speeds the willing lover and wakes the slow ; And the weary steed who can hardly crawl Is swift of foot when reproaches fall. When the rose of the secret had opened and blown, The voice of reproach was a bulbul in tone.1 The women of Memphis, who heard the tale first, The whispered slander received and nursed. Then, attacking Zulaikha for right and wrong, Their uttered reproaches were loud and long : "Heedless of honour and name she gave The love or her heart to the Hebrew slave,
Who lies so deep in her soul enshrined That to sense and religion her eyes are blind. She loves her servant. 'Tis strange to think That erring folly so _low can sink ; But stranger still that the slave she wooes Should scorn her suit and her love refuse. His cold eye to hers he never will raise ; He never will walk in the path where she strays. He stops if before him her form he sees ; If she lingers a moment he turns and flees. When her lifted veil leaves her cheek exposed, With the stud of his eyelash his eye is closed. If she weeps in her sorrow he laughs at her pain, And closes each door that she opens in vain. It may be that her form is not fair in his eyes, And his cold heart refuses the proffered prize. If once her beloved one sate with us He would sit with us ever, not treat us thus. Our sweet society ne'er would he leave, But joy unending would give and receive. But not all have this gift in their hands : to enthral The heart they would win is not given to all. There is many a woman, fair, good, and kind, To whom never the heart of a man inclined ; .And many a Laila with soft black eye, . The tears of whose heart-blood are never dry."