"Farewell!" said Juan: "should we meet no more,

I wish you a good appetite."—"Farewell!"

Replied the other; "though it grieves me sore:

When we next meet, we'll have a tale to tell:

We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.

Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell."

"Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't carry me,

Unless his Highness promises to marry me."