One Thousand and One Nights, page 296
After awhile, the wife told her kinsfolk of her husband’s conduct, and they complained of him to the King, saying, ‘May God advance the King! This man hired of us a piece of land, for tillage, and tilled it awhile; then left it fallow and tilled it not, neither forsook it, that we might let it to one who would till it. Indeed, harm is come to the field, and we fear its corruption, for that land, if it be not tilled’ spoileth.’ Quoth the King to the man, ‘What hinders thee from tilling thy land?’ ‘May God advance the King!’ answered he. ‘It came to my knowledge that a lion entered the field, wherefore I stood in awe of him and dared not approach it, seeing that I know I cannot cope with the lion, and I stand in fear of him.’ The King understood the parable and rejoined, saying, ‘O fellow, the lion trampled not thy land, and it is good for tillage; so do thou till it and God prosper thee in it, for the lion hath done it no hurt.’ Then he bade give the man and his wife a handsome present and sent them away.
John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents
ABDURREHMAN THE MOOR’S STORY OF THE ROC.
There was once a man of the people of Morocco, called Abdurrehman the Moor, and he was known, to boot, as the Chinaman, for his long sojourn in Cathay. He had journeyed far and wide and traversed many seas and deserts and was wont to relate wondrous tales of his travels. He was once cast upon an island, where he abode a long while and returning thence to his native country, brought with him the quill of the wing-feather of a young roe, whilst yet unhatched and in the egg; and this quill was big enough to hold a skinful of water, for it is said that the length of the young roe’s wing, when it comes forth of the egg, is a thousand fathoms. The folk marvelled at this quill, when they saw it, and Abdurrehman related to them the following adventure.
He was on a voyage in the China seas, with a company of merchants, when they sighted a great island so they steered for it and casting anchor before it, saw that it was large and spacious. The ship’s people went ashore to get wood and water, taking with them skins and ropes and axes, and presently espied a great white gleaming dome, a hundred cubits high. So they made towards it and drawing near, found that it was a roe’s egg and fell on it with axes and stones and sticks, till they uncovered the young bird and found it as it were a firm-set mountain. They went about to pluck out one of its wing-feathers, but could not win to do so, save by helping one another, for all the feathers were not full grown; after which they took what they could carry of the young bird’s flesh and cutting the quill away from the feather-part, returned to the ship. Then they spread the canvas and putting out to sea, sailed with a fair wind all that night, till the sun rose, when they saw the old roc come flying after them, as he were a vast cloud, with a rock in his talons, like a great mountain, bigger than the ship. As soon as he came over the vessel, he let fall the rock upon it; but the ship, having great way on her, forewent the rock, which fell into the sea with a terrible crash. So God decreed them safety and delivered them from destruction; and they cooked the young bird’s flesh and ate it. Now there were amongst them old grey bearded men; and when they awoke on the morrow, they found that their beards had turned black, nor did any who had eaten of the young roc ever grow grey. Some held the cause of the return of youth to them and the ceasing of hoariness from them to be that they had heated the pot with arrow-wood, whilst others would have it that it came of eating the young roe’s flesh; and this is indeed a wonder of wonders.
John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents
ADI BEN ZEID AND THE PRINCESS HIND.
En Numan ben el Mundhir, King of the Arabs [of Irak], had a daughter named Hind, who was eleven years old and was the loveliest woman of her age and time. She went out one Easter, which is a feast-day of the Nazarenes, to the White Church, to take the sacrament. Now that day came to El Hireh a young man called Adi ben Zeid, with presents from Chosroës, to En Numan, and he also went into the White Church, to communicate. He was tall and well-favoured, with handsome eyes and smooth cheeks, and had with him a company of his people. Now there was with Hind a slave-girl named Mariyeh, who was enamoured of Adi, but had not been able to win to him. So, when she saw him in the church, she said to Hind, ‘Look at yonder youth. By Allah, he is handsomer than all thou seest!’ ‘And who is he?’ asked Hind. ‘Adi ben Zeid,’ answered Mariyeh Quoth the princess, ‘I fear lest he know me, if I draw near, to look on him closelier.’ ‘How should he know thee,’ said Mariyeh, ‘when he has never seen thee?’ So she drew near him and found him jesting with his companions; and indeed he surpassed them all, not only in his beauty, but in the excellence of his speech and the eloquence of his tongue and the richness of his apparel. When the princess saw him, she was ravished with him, her reason was confounded and her colour changed; and Mariyeh, seeing her inclination to him, said to her, ‘Speak to him.’ So she spoke to him and went away.
When he saw her and heard her speech, he was captivated by her and his wit was dazed; his colour changed and his heart fluttered, so that his companions misdoubted of him, and he whispered one of them to follow her and find out who she was. The man followed her and returning to his master, informed him that she was the princess Hind, daughter of En Numan. So Adi left the church, knowing not whither he went, for stress of love, and reciting the following verses:
Companions mine, yet one more favour I entreat: Address ye to
the ways once more your travelling feet.
Turn me towards the lands, the lands where Hinda dwells; Then
go and her I love with tidings of me greet.
Then he went to his lodging and lay that night, restless nor tasting sleep. On the morrow, Mariyeh accosted him, and he received her kindly, though before he would not hearken to her, and said to her, ‘What is thy will?’ Quoth she, ‘I have a suit to thee.’ ‘Name it,’ answered he; ‘for, by Allah, thou shalt not ask me aught, but I will give it thee!’ So she told him that she was in love with him, and her suit to him was that he would grant her a lover’s privacy; and he agreed to do her will, on condition that she would serve him with Hind and make shift to bring them together. Then he took her into a vintner’s shop, in one of the by-streets of Hireh, and lay with her; after which she returned to Hind and said to her, ‘Dost thou not long to see Adi?’ ‘How can this be?’ replied the princess. ‘Indeed my longing for him makes me restless, and no repose is left me since yesterday, on his account.’ Quoth Mariyeh, ‘I will appoint him to be in such a place, where thou canst look on him from the palace.’ ‘Do what thou wilt,’ replied Hind and agreed with her upon the place.
So Adi came, and the princess looked out upon him; and when she saw him, she was like to fall down from the top of the palace and said to Mariyeh, ‘Except thou bring him in to me this night, I shall die.’ So saying, she fell down in a swoon, and her serving-women lifted her up and bore her into the palace; whilst Mariyeh hastened to En Numan and discovered the whole matter to him, saying, ‘Verily, she is mad for love of Adi; and except thou marry her to him, she will be put to shame and die of love for him.’ The King bowed his head awhile in thought and exclaimed again and again, ‘Verily, we are God’s and to Him we return!’ Then said he, ‘Out on thee! How shall the marriage be brought about, seeing it misliketh me to open the matter to him?’ ‘He is yet more ardently in love and yet more desireful of her than she of him,’ answered Mariyeh; ‘and I will so order the matter that he shall be unaware that his case is known to thee; but do not betray thyself, O King.’
Them she went to Adi and said to him, ‘Make a feast and bid the King thereto; and when wine hath gotten the better of him, ask of him the hand of his daughter, for he will not refuse thee.’ Quoth Adi, ‘I fear lest this enrage him against me and be the cause of enmity between us.’
But she answered, ‘I came not to thee, till I had settled the whole matter with him.’ Then she returned to En Numan and said to him, ‘Seek of Adi that he entertain thee in his house.’ ‘There is no harm in that,’ replied the King and after three days, besought Adi to give him and his lords the morning-meal in his house. The young man consented, and the King went to him; and when the wine had taken effect on En Numan, Adi rose and sought of him his daughter in marriage. He consented and married them and brought her to him after three days; and they abode at En Numan’s court, in all delight and solace of life, three years, at the end of which time the King was wroth with Adi and slew him. Hind mourned for him with an exceeding grief and built her a convent without the city, whither she retired and devoted herself to religious exercises, weeping and bemoaning her husband, till she died. And her convent is extant to this day without El Hireh.
John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents
DIBIL EL KHUZAÏ WITH THE LADY AND MUSLIM BEN EL WELID.
(Quoth Dibil el Khuzaï), I was sitting one day at the gate of El Kerkh, when a lady came up to me, never saw I a handsomer or better shaped than she, walking with a swaying gait and ravishing, with her flexile grace, all who beheld her. When my eyes fell on her, I was captivated by her and my entrails trembled and meseemed my heart fled forth of my breast; so I accosted her with the following verse:
Unsealed are the springs of tears for mine eyes, heigho! And
sealed are the springs of sleep to my lids, for woe.
She turned her head and looking at me, made answer forthright with the following:
And surely, an ailing eye to have, for him Whom her looks
invite, is a little thing, I trow.
I was astounded at the readiness of her reply and the sweetness of her speech and rejoined with this verse:
And doth then the heart of my fair indeed incline To favour him
whose tears as a river flow?
She answered me, without hesitation, thus:
If thou desire us of love, betwixt us love Is a loan to be returned, I’d have thee know.
Never entered my ears sweeter than her speech nor ever saw I brighter than her face: so I changed the rhyme and measure, to try her, in my wonder at her speech, and repeated the following verse:
Will destiny e’er gladden us with union and delight And one desireful one at last with other one unite?
She smiled at this, (never saw I fairer than her mouth nor sweeter than her lips,) and answered me, without hesitation, as follows:
I prithee, what hath destiny to do betwixt us twain? Thou’rt destiny: rejoice us, then, with union and delight.
At this, I sprang up and kissing her hands, said, “I had not thought that Fortune would vouchsafe me such an opportunity. Do thou follow me, not of command or against thy will, but of thy grace and favour to me.” Then I went on and she after me.
Now I had not, at that time, a lodging I deemed fit for the like of her; Muslim ben El Welid was my fast friend, and he had a handsome house. So I made for his abode and knocked at the door, whereupon he came out, and I saluted him, saying, “It is for a time like this that friends are treasured up.” “With all my heart,” answered he; “enter.” So we entered, I and the lady, but found money scarce with him. However, he gave me a handkerchief, saying, “Carry it to the market and sell it and buy meat and what else thou needest.” So I took the handkerchief and hastening to the market, sold it and bought meat and what else we required; but, when I returned, I found that Muslim had retired, with the lady, to an underground chamber. When he heard me, he came out and said to me, “God requite thee the kindness thou hast done me, O Abou Ali, and reckon it of thy good deeds on the Day of Resurrection!” So saying, he took from me the meat and wine and shut the door in my face His words enraged me and I knew not what to do; but he stood behind the door, shaking for mirth; and when he saw me thus, he said to me, “I conjure thee on my life, O Abou Ali, tell me who it was composed this verse?
I lay in the arms of the fair one all night, Whilst my friend
slept, clean-limbed, but polluted of spright.”
At this, my rage redoubled, and I replied, “He who wrote this other verse:
One, I wish him in’s girdle a thousand of horns, Exceeding the idol Menaf in their height!”
Then I began to revile him and reproach him with the foulness of his conduct and his lack of honour; and he was silent. But, when I had finished, he smiled and said, “Out on thee, O fool! Thou hast entered my house and sold my handkerchief and spent my money: so, with whom art thou wroth, O pimp?” Then he left me and went away to her, whilst I said, “By Allah, thou art right to call me a fool and a pimp!” Then I left his door and went away in sore concern, whereof I feel the trace in my heart to this day; and I never had my desire of her nor ever heard of her more.
John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents
ISAAC OF MOSUL AND THE MERCHANT.
(Quoth Ishac ben Ibrahim el Mausili), One day, being weary of assiduous attendance upon the Khalif, I mounted my horse and went forth, at break of day, having a mind to ride out and take my pleasure in the open country, and I said to my servant, “If there come a messenger from the Khalif or another, say that I set out at daybreak, upon a pressing business, and that thou knowest not whither I am gone.” So I rode forth alone and went round about the city, till the sun grew hot, when I halted in a street, known as El Herem, and stood my horse under the spacious jutting porch of one of the houses there, to shelter me from the glare of the sun.
I had not stood long, before there came up a black slave, leading an ass with jewelled housings, on which sat a damsel, clad in the richest of clothes, richness can go no farther; and I saw that she was elegantly made, with languorous looks and graceful carriage. I asked one of the passers-by who she was, and he said, “She is a singer.” And I fell in love with her at sight, so that I could scarce keep my seat on my horse’s back. She entered the house at whose gate I stood; and as I cast about for a device to gain access to her, there came up two comely young men, who sought admission, and the master of the house gave them leave to enter. So they alighted and entered, and I with them, they supposing that the master of the house had invited me; and we sat awhile, till food was brought and we ate. Then they set wine before us, and the damsel came out, with a lute in her hand. She sang and we drank, till I rose to do an occasion. During my absence, the host questioned the two others of me, and they replied that they knew me not; whereupon quoth he, “This fellow is a spunger, but he is well-bred and pleasant; so entreat him fairly.” Then I came back and sat down in my place, whilst the damsel sang the following verses to a pleasing air:
Say thou unto the she-gazelle, who yet is no gazelle, And the
wild heifer, languorous-eyed, who yet no heifer is,
“One, who in dalliance affects the male, no female is, And he
who is effeminate of step’s no male, ywis.”
She sang it excellent well, and the company drank and her song pleased them. Then she sang various songs to rare tunes, and amongst the rest one of mine, to the following words:
The pleasant girls have gone and left The homesteads empty and
bereft
Of their sweet converse, after cheer, All void and ruined by
Time’s theft.
She sang this even better than the first; then she sang other rare songs, old and new, and amongst them, another of mine, with the following words:
To the loved one, who turneth in anger away And vrithdraweth
himself far apart from thee, say,
“The mischief thou wroughtest, thou wroughtest indeed, For all,
per-adventure, thou west but in play.”
I asked her to repeat the song, that I might correct it for her; whereupon one of the men turned to me and said, “Never saw I a more brazen-faced parasite than thou. Art thou not content with spunging, but thou must meddle, to boot? Verily, in thee is the saying made true, ‘A parasite and a meddler.’” I hung down my head for shame and made him no answer, whilst his companion would have restrained him from me; but he would not be restrained. Presently, they rose to pray, but I hung behind a little and taking the lute, tuned it after a particular fashion and stood up to pray with the rest. When we had made an end of prayer, the same man fell again to flouting and reviling me and persisted in his churlishness, whilst I held my peace. Then the damsel took the lute and touching it, knew that it was other than as she had left it and said, “Who hath touched my lute?” Quoth they, “None of us hath touched it.” “Nay, by Allah,” rejoined she, “some one hath touched it, and he a past master in the craft; for he hath ordered the strings and tuned them after the fashion of one who is right skilled in the art.” Quoth I, “It was I tuned it.” “Then, God on thee,” answered she, “take it and play on it!” So I took it and playing a rare and difficult measure, that came nigh to deaden the live and raise the dead, sang thereto the following verses:
I had a heart, wherewith of yore I lived: ’Twas seared with
fire and all consumed indeed.
Her love, alack I was not vouchsafed to me; Unto the slave
’twas not of Heaven decreed.
If what I taste be passion’s very food, Then all who love upon
its like must feed.
When I had finished, there was not one of the company but sprang from his place and sat down before me, saying “God on thee, O our lord, sing us another song.” “With all my heart,” said I and playing another measure in masterly fashion, sang thereto the following:
O thou whose heart, for fortune’s blows, is all consumed and
sped, Sorrows with whom from every side have taken up
their stead,
Unlawful unto her, my heart who pierces with her shafts, Is
that my blood which, breast-bones ‘twixt and
vitals, she hath shed.
’Twas plain, upon the parting day, that her resolve, our loves
To sunder, unto false suspect must be attributed.
She pours forth blood she had not shed, if passion had not
been. Will none my murderess ensue and wreak me on her
