Chapter 124: Wasting Away

Thine eyes grown dim are now ashamed the fragrant flow'rs to see, Thinking on him, who wand'ring far, leaves us in misery.

The eye, with sorrow wan, all wet with dew of tears, As witness of the lover's lack of love appears.

These withered arms, desertion's pangs abundantly display, That swelled with joy on that glad nuptial day.

When lover went, then faded all their wonted charms, And armlets' golden round slips off from these poor wasted arms.

These wasted arms, the bracelet with their wonted beauty gone, The cruelty declare of that most cruel one.

I grieve, 'tis pain to me to hear him cruel chid, Because the armlet from my wasted arm has slid.

My heart! say ought of glory wilt thou gain, If to that cruel one thou of thy wasted arms complain?

One day the fervent pressure of embracing arms I checked, Grew wan the forehead of the maid with golden armlet decked.

As we embraced a breath of wind found entrance there; The maid's large liquid eyes were dimmed with care.

The dimness of her eye felt sorrow now, Beholding what was done by that bright brow.