A place she named, and on to others passed; Nor blush, nor pulse gave sign, or notice massed. Of lords and citizens she gave report, Of festivals, and seats of gay resort. 135 Town after town, house after house, by name, She spoke about; no blush, no throb still came. Her pulse retained its normal ebb and flow. Till Samarqand’s name made her cheeks to glow, Her pulse beat high, her colour went and came; Of goldsmith youth she there had been the flame. This point drawn forth,--this secret once confessed, More easily our leech the sequel guessed. “O maiden, let me know this youth’s abode.” “At Holywell, near Bridge-end’s public road.” 140
“I knew,” said he, “at once, thy case was such. Now trust me. Thee to serve I will do much. Make thyself happy. Cast away all care, As showers cheer meadows, thee I’ll greatly spare. I’ll prove thy guardian angel; never fear; Thy father’s place I’ll take;--thy burden bear. Tell not this secret unto mortal soul, However much the prince may thee cajole. Keep safe this knowledge in thy own heart’s core; So mayest thou, lass, thy lover see once more. 145 Our holy Prophet’s sacred maxim ’twas: ‘Who keeps his secret, speedy success has.’ The seed to earth committed sure must be, Ere field or garden’s pride men may it see. If gold and silver were not hard to find, How could they grow?[66] They soon would be out-mined.”
The good physician’s soothing words perceived, Our maiden’s mind from carking care’s relieved. Some promises are truly meant, sincere; Others are merely made to cheat the ear. 150 A good man’s promise is a gem of price; Rely not on the words of sons of vice.
Our doctor, now, with subtle speech and wiles, The maiden’s grief had turn’d to sunny smiles. He leaves her then; seeks out the prince; and tells The news he’d learnt, the source of all her ills. “What’s now to do?” the prince’s care inquired; “Delay is dangerous; patience may grow tired.” The doctor then: “Send for him; come he must, From his far home to fill some post of trust. 155 Invite him here; a dress of honour give; On him shower gold; new life ’twill make him live.” The prince assented; took the doctor’s plan; Thought it was sound and wise from such a man. Two trusty messengers he quickly sent, Sedate, fair-spoken, loved where’er they went. To Samarqand they journeyed, prompt and sure. The goldsmith found; the prince’s message bore. “Great man of art, the marvels of thy skill, Are viewed with rapture, or with envy still. 160 Our prince has need of thee, his mint to guide; For none like thee is heard of, far and wide. This dress of honour, yonder gold he sends; Requests thou’lt come, and be his best of friends.”