{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10121/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10121","id":"gutenberg_10121","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10121","summary":null,"tags":["Arabic literature","Category: Literature - Other","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore"],"text":"ORIENTAL LITERATURE\n\nTHE LITERATURE OF ARABIA\n\n\nWith Critical and Biographical Sketches by\n\nEpiphanius Wilson, A.M.\n\n\n1900\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nTHE ROMANCE OF ANTAR\n\nIntroduction\nThe Early Fortunes of Antar\nKhaled and Djaida\nThe Absians and Fazareans\n\n\nARABIAN POETRY\n\nIntroduction\nSELECTIONS.--\n  An Elegy\n  The Tomb of Mano\n  Tomb of Sayid\n  On the Death of His Mistress\n  On Avarice\n  The Battle of Sabla\n  Verses to My Enemies\n  On His Friends\n  On Temper\n  The Song of Maisuna\n  To My Father\n  On Fatalism\n  To the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid\n  Lines to Harun and Yahia\n  The Ruin of Barmecides\n  To Taher Ben Hosien\n  The Adieu\n  To My Mistress\n  To a Female Cup-bearer\n  Mashdud on the Monks of Khabbet\n  Rakeek to His Female Companions\n  Dialogue by Rais\n  To a Lady Weeping\n  On a Valetudinarian\n  On a Miser\n  To Cassim Obio Allah\n  A Friend's Birthday\n  To a Cat\n  An Epigram upon Ebn Naphta-Wah\n  Fire\n  To a Lady Blushing\n  On the Vicissitudes of Life\n  To a Dove\n  On a Thunder Storm\n  To My Favorite Mistress\n  Crucifixion of Ebn Bakiah\n  Caprices of Fortune\n  On Life\n  Extempore Verses\n  On the Death of a Son\n  To Leila\n  On Moderation in our Pleasures\n  The Vale of Boz\u00e2a\n  To Adversity\n  On the Incompatibility of Pride and True Glory\n  The Death of Nedham Almolk\n  Lines to a Lover\n  Verses to My Daughters\n  Serenade to My Sleeping Mistress\n  The Inconsistent\n  The Capture of Jerusalem\n  To a Lady\n  An Epigram\n  On a Little Man with a Very Large Beard\n  Lamiat Alajem\n  To Youth\n  On Love\n  A Remonstrance with a Drunkard\n  Verses\n  On Procrastination\n  The Early Death of Abou Alhassan Aly\n  The Interview\n\n\nARABIAN NIGHTS\n\nTHE SEVEN VOYAGES OF SINDBAD\n  First Voyage\n  Second Voyage\n  Third Voyage\n  Fourth Voyage\n  Fifth Voyage\n  Sixth Voyage\n  Seventh and Last Voyage\nALADDIN'S WONDERFUL LAMP\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROMANCE OF ANTAR\n\n[_Translation by \u00c9tienne Del\u00e9cluse and Epiphanius Wilson_]\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe romantic figure of Antar, or Antarah, takes the same place in\nArabian literature as that of Achilles among the Greeks. The Cid in\nSpain, Orlando in Italy, and Arthur in England, are similar examples of\nnational ideals put forth by poets and romance writers as embodiments of\na certain half-mythic age of chivalry, when personal valor, prudence,\ngenerosity, and high feeling gave the warrior an admitted preeminence\namong his fellows. The literature of Arabia is indeed rich in novels and\ntales. The \"Thousand and One Nights\" is of world-wide reputation, but\nthe \"Romance of Antar\" is much less artificial, more expressive of high\nmoral principles, and certainly superior in literary style to the\nfantastic recitals of the coffee house and bazaar, in which Sindbad and\nMorgiana figure. A true picture of Bedouin society, in the centuries\nbefore Mohammed had conquered the Arabian peninsula, is given us in the\ncharming episodes of Antar. We see the encampments of the tribe, the\ncamels yielding milk and flesh for food, the women friends and\ncouncillors of their husbands, the boys inured to arms from early days,\nthe careful breeding of horses, the songs of poet and minstrel stirring\nall hearts, the mail-clad lines of warriors with lance and sword, the\nsupreme power of the King--often dealing out justice with stern, sudden,\nand inflexible ferocity. Among these surroundings Antar appears, a\ndazzling and irresistible warrior and a poet of wonderful power. The\nArab classics, in years long before Mohammed had taken the Kaaba and\nmade it the talisman of his creed, were hung in the little shrine where\nthe black volcanic stone was kept. They were known as Maallakat, or\nSuspended Books, which had the same meaning among Arabian literati as\nthe term classic bore among the Italian scholars of the Renaissance.\nNumbered with these books of the Kaaba were the poems of Antar, who was\nthus the Taliessin of Arabian chivalry.\n\nIt is indeed necessary to recollect that in reading the episodes of\nAntar we have been taken back to the heroic age in the Arabian\npeninsula. War is considered the noblest occupation of a man, and Khaled\ndespises the love of a noble maiden \"from pride in his passion for war.\"\nAntar has his famous horse as the Cid had his Babicca, and his\nirresistible sword as Arthur his Excalibur. The wealth of chiefs and\nkings consists in horses and camels; there is no mention of money or\njewelry. When a wager is made the stakes are a hundred camels. The\ncommercial spirit of the Arabian Nights is wanting in this spirited\nromance of chivalry. The Arabs had sunk to a race of mere traders when\nAladdin became possessed of his lamp, and the trickery, greed, and\navarice of peddlers and merchants are exhibited in incident after\nincident of the \"Thousand and One Nights.\" War is despised or feared,\ncourage less to be relied upon than astute knavery, and one of the facts\nthat strikes us is the general frivolity, dishonesty, and cruelty which\nprevail through the tales of Bagdad. The opposite is the case with\nAntar. Natural passion has full play, but nobility of character is taken\nseriously, and generosity and sensibility of heart are portrayed with\ntruthfulness and naivet\u00e9. Of course the whole romance is a collection of\nmany romantic stories: it has no epic unity. It will remind the reader\nof the \"Morte d'Arthur\" of Sir Thomas Malory, rather than of the\n\"Iliad.\" We have chosen the most striking of these episodes as best\ncalculated to serve as genuine specimens of Arabian literature. They\nwill transport the modern reader into a new world--which is yet the old,\nlong vanished world of pastoral simplicity and warlike enthusiasm, in\nprimitive Arabia. But the novelty lies in the plot of the tales. Djaida\nand Khaled, Antar and Ibla, and the race between Shidoub and the great\nracers Dahir and Ghabra, bring before our eyes with singular freshness\nthe character of a civilization, a domestic life, a political system,\nwhich were not wanting in refinement, purity, and justice. The\nconception of such a dramatic personage as Antar would be original in\nthe highest degree, if it were not based upon historic fact. Antar is a\nmore real personage than Arthur, and quite as real and historic as the\nCid. Yet his adventures remind us very much of those which run through\nthe story of the Round Table.\n\nThe Arabs, in the days of romance, were a collection of tribes and\nfamilies whose tents and villages were spread along the Red Sea, between\nEgypt and the Indian Ocean. There were some tribes more powerful than\nothers, and the result of their tyranny was often bitter war. There was\nno central monarchy, no priesthood, and no written law. The only stable\nand independent unit was the family. Domestic life with its purest\nvirtues constituted the strong point amongst the Arabian tribes, where\ngentleness, free obedience, and forbearance were conspicuous. Each tribe\nbore the name of its first ancestor, and from him and his successors\ncame down a traditionary, unwritten law, the violation of which was\nconsidered the most heinous of offences. There was no settled religion\nbefore the conquest of Mohammed; each tribe and each family worshipped\nwhom they would--celestial spirits, sun and moon, or certain idols. In\nthe account given in Antar of the Council of War, the ancients, or old\nmen of the tribe, came forth with idols or amulets round their necks,\nand the whole account of the council, in which the bard as well as the\norator addressed the people, is strictly accurate in historic details.\nThe custom of infanticide in the case of female children was perfectly\nauthorized among the Arabs, and illustrates the motive of the pretty\nepisode of Khaled and Djaida. War was individual and personal among the\nArabs, and murder was atoned for by murder, or by the price of a certain\nnumber of camels. Raising of horses, peaceful contests in arms, or\npoetic competitions where each bard recited in public his compositions,\nformed their amusements. They were very sensible to the charms of music,\npoetry and oratory, and as a general rule the Arab chieftain was brave,\ngenerous, and munificent.\n\nAll these historic facts are fully reflected in the highly emotional\ntale of \"Antar,\" which is the greatest of all the national romances of\nArabia. It would scarcely be possible to fix upon any individual writer\nas its author, for it has been edited over and over again by Arabian\nscribes, each adding his own glosses and enriching it with incidents.\nIts original date may have been the sixth century of our era, about five\nhundred years before the production of the \"Thousand and One Nights.\"\n\nE.W.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EARLY FORTUNES OF ANTAR\n\nAt the time the \"Romance of Antar\" opens, the most powerful and the best\ngoverned of the Bedouin tribes were those of the Absians and the\nAdnamians. King Zoheir, chief of the Absians, was firmly established\nupon his throne, so that the kings of other nations, who were subject to\nhim, paid him tribute. The whole of Arabia in short became subject to\nthe Absians, so that all the chiefs of other tribes and all inhabitants\nof the desert dreaded their power and depredations.\n\nUnder these circumstances, and as a consequence of a flagrant act of\ntyranny on the part of Zoheir, several chieftains, among whom was\nShedad, a son of Zoheir, seceded from the Absian tribe, and set out to\nseek adventures, to attack other tribes, and to carry off their cattle\nand treasure. These chieftains arrived at the dwelling-place of a\ncertain tribe, named Djezila, whom they fought with and pillaged.\nAmongst their booty was a black woman of extraordinary beauty, the\nmother of two children. Her name was Zebiba; her elder son was Djaris;\nher younger Shidoub. Shedad became passionately enamoured of this woman,\nand yielded all the rest of his share in the booty in order to obtain\npossession of her and her two children. He dwelt in the fields with this\nnegress, whose sons took care of the cattle. In course of time Zebiba\nbore a son to Shedad. This child was born tawny as an elephant; his eyes\nwere bleared, his head thick with hair, his features hard and fixed. The\ncorners of his mouth drooped, his eyes started from his head, his bones\nwere hard, his feet long; he had ears of prodigious size, and his glance\nflashed like fire. In other respects he resembled Shedad, who was\ntransported with delight at the sight of his son, whom he named Antar.\n\nMeanwhile the child waxed in strength, and his name soon became known.\nThen the companions of Shedad wished to dispute the possession of the\nboy with him, and King Zoheir was informed of the matter. He demanded\nthat the boy should be brought into his presence, and Shedad complied.\nAs soon as the king caught sight of this extraordinary child, he uttered\na cry of astonishment, and flung him a piece of goat's flesh. At the\nsame moment a dog, who happened to be in the tent, seized the meat and\nran off with it. But Antar, filled with rage, pursued the animal, and,\nviolently taking hold of him, drew his jaws apart, splitting the throat\ndown to the shoulders, and thus recovered the meat. King Zoheir, in\namazement, deferred the matter to the Cadi, who confirmed Shedad's\npossession of Zebiba, and her three children, Djaris, Shidoub, and\nAntar.\n\nShedad therefore provided a home for Zebiba, in order that his sons\nmight be educated in their business of tending the herds. It was at this\ntime that Antar began to develop his strength of body, his courage, and\nintelligence. When he was ten years of age he slew a wolf which\nthreatened to attack the herds committed to his charge. Although brutal,\nheadstrong, and passionate, he early exhibited a love of justice, and a\ndisposition to protect the weak, especially women. He put to death a\nslave who beat an old woman, his slave and companion; and this action,\nalthough at first misunderstood, eventually gained the admiration of\nKing Zoheir, who treated Antar with distinction, because of his nobility\nof character. In consequence of this action, which had been so much\napplauded by King Zoheir, the young Arab women and their mothers hung\nround Antar to learn the details of this courageous deed, and to\ncongratulate him on his magnanimity.\n\nAmong the young women was Ibla, daughter of Malek, the son of Zoheir.\nIbla, fair as the full moon, was somewhat younger than Antar. She was\naccustomed to banter him in a familiar way, feeling that he was her\nslave. \"And you,\" she said to him, \"you, born so low, how dared you kill\nthe slave of a prince? What provocation can you have against him?\"\n\"Mistress,\" replied Antar, \"I struck that slave because he deserved it,\nfor he had insulted a poor woman. He knocked her down, and made her the\nlaughing stock of all the servants.\" \"Of course you were right,\"\nanswered Ibla, with a smile, \"and we were all delighted that you escaped\nfrom the adventure safe and sound. Because of the service you have\nrendered us by your conduct, our mothers look upon you as a son, and we\nas a brother.\"\n\nFrom that moment Antar made the service of women his special duty above\nall others. At that time the Arabian ladies had the habit of drinking\ncamel's milk morning and evening, and it was especially the duty of\nthose who waited upon them to milk the camels, and to cool it in the\nwind before offering it to them. Antar had been for some time released\nfrom this duty, when one morning he entered the dwelling of his uncle\nMalek, and found there his aunt, engaged in combing the hair of her\ndaughter Ibla, whose ringlets, black as the night, floated over her\nshoulders. Antar was struck with surprise, and Ibla, as soon as she knew\nthat he had seen her, fled and left him with his eyes fixed abstractedly\non her disappearing form.\n\nIt was from this incident that the love of Antar for the daughter of his\nuncle took its origin. He saw how Ibla shone in society, and his passion\ngrew to such an extent that he ventured to sound her praises, and to\nexpress the feeling she excited in him by writing verses which, while\nthey gained the admiration of the multitude, incurred also the envy of\nthe chieftains. Moreover his father could not pardon the presumption of\nAntar, who, born a slave, had dared to cast eyes on his free-born\ncousin.\n\nWhen therefore he slew a slave who had slandered him, his father ordered\nhim to be flogged, and sent away to watch over the cattle in the\npastures. He had now before him a fresh opportunity for exhibiting his\nprodigious strength and invincible courage. A lion attempted to attack\nthe herds committed to his care. He killed it at the very moment that\nhis father Shedad, enraged against him, had come, accompanied by his\nbrother, to do him ill. But a mingled feeling of admiration and fear\nheld their hands, and in the evening, when Antar returned from the\npastures, his father and his uncle made him seat himself at dinner with\nthem, while the rest of the attendants stood behind them.\n\nMeanwhile King Zoheir was called upon a warlike expedition against the\ntribe of Temin. All his warriors followed him; the women alone remained\nbehind. Shedad entrusted them to the protection of Antar, who pledged\nhis life for their safety. During the absence of the warriors, Semiah,\nthe lawful wife of Shedad, conceived the idea of giving an entertainment\non the bank of the lake Zatoulizard. Ibla attended it with her mother,\nand Antar witnessed all the amusements in which his beloved took part.\nHis passion for her became intensified. He was once tempted to violate\nthe modesty of love by the violence of desire, but, at that moment, he\nsaw a great cloud of dust rise in the distance; the shouts of war were\nheard; and suddenly the warriors of the tribe of Cathan appeared on the\nscene, and, descending on the pleasure-seekers, carried off the women,\nincluding Ibla. Antar, being unarmed, ran after one of the horsemen,\nseized him, strangled and threw him to the ground. Then he put on the\narmor of the vanquished foe, attacked and put to flight the tribe of\nCathan, rescued the women, and obtained a booty of twenty-five horses.\nFrom that moment Semiah, the wife of Shedad, who hitherto had a\npronounced aversion to Antar, conceived a sincere affection for him.\n\nKing Zoheir, meantime, had returned victorious from his expedition.\nShedad returned at the same moment, and went to visit his herds. Seeing\nAntar surrounded by horses which he did not know, and mounted upon a\nfine black courser, he asked, \"Where did these animals, and particularly\nthis superb horse, come from?\" Then Antar, not willing to betray the\nimprudence of Semiah, declared that, as the Cathanians had left their\nhorses behind them, he had seized them. Shedad was indignant, and\ntreated Antar as a robber, reproached him for his wickedness, and after\nrepeatedly telling him how wrong it was to rouse discord among the\nArabs, struck him with his whip, with such violence as to draw blood.\nThen Semiah, distressed by the sight of this unjust treatment, took off\nher veil, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, took Antar into her\narms and told all that had happened and how she and all the other women\nof her tribe were indebted to this hero for their honor and liberty.\nShedad could not restrain his tenderness on learning the magnanimity of\nhis son's silence. Soon afterwards King Zoheir, to whom this incident\nhad been related, summoned Antar into his presence, and declared that a\nman who could exhibit such courage and generosity was bound to become\npreeminent among his companions. All the chieftains who surrounded the\nking congratulated Antar, and one of his friends, in order to give the\ncourt a complete idea of this young man's remarkable gifts, asked him to\nrecite some of his verses.\n\nIn compliance with this request he recited a poem in praise of warriors\nand war, and the king and all the court manifested their delight. Zoheir\nbade Antar approach, gave him a robe of honor, and thanked him. That\nevening Antar departed with his father Shedad, his heart full of joy\nover the honors which had been lavished on him, and his love for Ibla\nstill more heightened.\n\nIn spite of the indisputable virtues of Antar, in spite of the great\nservices he had rendered the Absians, the chieftains of this tribe still\nregarded him as merely a common slave and tender of cattle. The\nbeginning of his rise to favor excited a feeling of keen hatred, and\ncaused many plots to be laid against him. A series of intrigues was\nentered upon, the aim of which was the death of the hero. But each\nattack upon his reputation and his life redounded to his benefit, and\nfurnished him with an opportunity of putting his enemies to silence and\ndefeat. For by his generosity and magnanimity, even his envious foes\nfelt themselves under obligation to him. On each of his triumphs the\nmutual love between himself and Ibla went on increasing.\n\nAfter the performance of many feats as a horseman, Antar came into\npossession of a famous horse named Abjer, and a sword of marvellous\ntemper, Djamy--and every time he appeared on the field of combat, as\nwell as when he returned victorious from the fight, he made a poetic\naddress, finishing with the words, \"I am the lover of Ibla.\" At the\nconclusion of a war in which he had performed prodigies of valor, King\nZoheir gave him the surname of Alboufauris, which means, \"The Father of\nHorsemen.\"\n\nThe greater grew his name, the more highly he was honored by King\nZoheir, so much the more did the hatred of the chieftains and the love\nof Ibla towards him increase. But it came to pass that Ibla was asked in\nmarriage by Amarah, a stupid youth, puffed up by his wealth and lineage.\nAntar, on hearing the news, was transported with rage, and attacked his\nyoung rival with such violence that all the Arabian chiefs begged of\nZoheir to punish the aggressor. The king left to Shedad, Antar's father,\nthe pronouncing of sentence. Shedad had, like the others, viewed the\nrise of Antar, the black slave, to favor, with jealous eye, and sent him\nback to the pastures to keep the herds.\n\nIt was at this point that the greatness of Antar's character appeared in\nits full dimensions. The hero submitted with resignation to the orders\nof his father, \"to whom,\" he said, \"he owed obedience as to his master,\nsince he was his slave\"; and he swore to him, in the presence of\nwitnesses, not to mount horse, nor engage in battle, without his\npermission. Tears flowed from his eyes, and before departing for the\npastures he went to see his mother Zebiba, and to talk with her\nconcerning Ibla. \"Ibla?\" said his mother--\"but a moment ago she was\nhere beside me, and said to me, 'Comfort the heart of Antar, and tell\nhim from me, that even should my father torture me to death in trying to\nchange my mind, I would not desire nor ask for other husband than\nAntar.'\"\n\nThese words of Ibla filled with rapture the heart of Antar, as he\nstarted for the pastures in company with his brothers, Djaris and\nShidoub.\n\nAt this time the tribe of Abs, which Zoheir ruled over, was at war with\nthat of Tex, on account of the carrying off of Anima, daughter of the\nchief of the Tex, a man known as \"The Drinker of Blood.\" Animated by the\ndesire to take vengeance and recover his daughter, this chief and his\narmy fell upon the Absians like a thunderbolt. The Absians were\ndefeated, and their women, among whom was Ibla, taken prisoners. All\npride was then, in this time of need, laid aside, and to their\nassistance Antar was summoned. But before acting Antar laid down his\nconditions, and stipulated that, in case he succeeded in subduing the\nfoe and recovering the women, Ibla should be given him in marriage.\nMalek, the father of Ibla, and Shedad, the father of Antar, assented,\nand bound themselves by an oath to fulfil these conditions and to\nreinstate Antar in all the honors and dignities belonging to him.\n\nAntar was victorious. He rescued Ibla, and received grateful expressions\nof gratitude from his beloved, while King Zoheir gave him the kiss of\nroyal honor. Everything seemed to unite in fulfilling the hopes of\nAntar. But at the very moment in which he was honored by royal\nfelicitations, several chieftains, indignant at the elevation of a black\nslave, employed every means to prevent his marriage with Ibla, and to\nforce him to undertake enterprises which would prove fatal to him.\nShedad, his father, and Malek, the father of Ibla, connived at these\nplots. They demanded of Antar, who was of that trusting disposition\nwhich belongs to generous and brave men, that he give as a wedding\npresent to his bride, a thousand camels, of a particular breed, not to\nbe found excepting on the borders of the Persian kingdom. The hero made\nno remark on hearing this treacherous demand, and was so eager to please\nIbla, that he took no count of the difficulties to be undergone. He set\noff and soon found himself engaged in conflict with a large army of\nPersians, who made him prisoner, and led him off with the view of\nbringing him into the presence of their king. There he was taken, bound\nand on horseback, when at that instant, the news came that a fierce lion\nof extraordinary size was ravaging the country. It was alleged that even\narmed men fled before it. Antar, who was on the point of being put to\ndeath, asked the King of Persia to cause his arms at least to be\nunbound, and to let him confront the lion. His prayer was granted; he\nrushed upon the savage creature, and transfixed it with his lance. Nor\nwas this the only service he did the King of Persia, who in gratitude\nfor many others, not only gave Antar the thousand camels he was looking\nfor, but loaded him with treasures, with which to do homage to Ibla.\n\nOn his return Antar was received with a rapturous welcome by the Absian\ntribe. But the hostile and the envious continued to plot against him.\nThey still aimed at preventing his marriage, and compassing his death.\nAmarah, who aspired to Ibla's hand, backed by all the chieftains hostile\nto Antar, renewed his suit and pretensions. Ibla was carried off from\nher house among the Absians, and taken to another tribe. Then Antar set\nout in search of her, and at length rescued her: their mutual love was\nintensified by this reunion. By a series of wiles and intrigues\nskilfully conducted, the chiefs who surrounded Ibla persuaded her to\ndemand still further dowry from Antar. She spoke of Khaled and Djaida,\nwhose history has already been related; she said, in presence of Antar,\nthat that young warrior girl would not consent to marry Khaled, saving\non the condition that her camel's bridle be held by the daughter of\nMoawich. This word was sufficient for Antar, and he promised to Ibla\nthat Djaida should hold the bridle of her camel on her wedding day; and\nmore than that, the head of Khaled should be slung round the neck of the\nwarrior girl. Thus the hero, constantly loving and beloved by Ibla,\nincessantly deceived by the cunningly devised obstacles raised by his\nfoes, sustained his reputation for greatness of character and strength\nof arm, submitted with resignation to the severest tests, and passed\nvictoriously through them all. After the death of King Zoheir, whom he\navenged, he undertook to assist Cais, Zoheir's son, in all his\nenterprises, and after a long series of adventures which tired the\npatience, love, and courage of Antar, this hero, recognized as chief\namong Arabian chieftains, obtained the great reward of his long\nstruggles and mighty toils, by marriage to his well-loved Ibla.\n\n\n\n\nKHALED AND DJAIDA\n\nMoharib and Zahir were brothers, of the same father and mother; the\nArabs call them \"brothers germane.\" Both were, renowned for courage and\ndaring. But Moharib was chief of the tribe, and Zahir, being subject to\nhis authority, was no more than his minister, giving him counsel and\nadvice. Now it happened that a violent dispute arose between them. Zahir\nsubsequently retired to his tent, in profound sorrow, and not knowing\nwhat course to take. \"What is the matter with you?\" asked his wife, \"Why\nare you so troubled? What has happened to you? Has any one displeased or\ninsulted you--the greatest of Arab chiefs?\" \"What am I to do?\" replied\nZahir; \"the man who has injured me is one whom I cannot lay hands on, or\ndo him wrong; he is my companion in the bosom of my family, my brother\nin the world. Ah, if it had been any one but he, I would have shown him\nwhat sort of a man he was at odds with, and have made an example of him\nbefore all the chiefs of our tribes!\" \"Leave him; let him enjoy his\npossessions alone,\" cried his wife, and, in order to persuade her\nhusband to take this course, she recited verses from a poet of the time,\nwhich dissuade a man from tolerating an insult even at the hands of his\nparents.\n\nZahir assented to the advice of his wife. He made all preparations for\ndeparture, struck his tents, loaded his camels, and started off on the\nroad towards the camp of the Saad tribe, with whom he was in alliance.\nYet in spite of all, he felt a keen pang at separating himself from his\nbrother--and thus he spoke: \"On starting on a journey which removes me\nfrom you, I shall be a thousand years on the way, and each year will\ncarry me a thousand leagues.... Even though the favors you heap upon me\nbe worth a thousand Egypts, and each of these Egypts had a thousand\nNiles, all those favors would be despised. I shall be contented with\nlittle so long as I am far from you. Away from you, I shall recite this\ndistich, which is worth more than a necklace of fine pearls: 'When a man\nis wronged on the soil of his tribe, there is nothing left him but to\nleave it; you, who have so wickedly injured me, before long shall feel\nthe power of the kindly divinity, for he is your judge and mine, he is\nunchangeable and eternal.\"\n\nZahir continued his journey, until he reached the Saad tribe, when he\ndismounted from his horse. He was cordially received and was pressed to\ntake up his abode with them. His wife was at that time soon to become a\nmother, and he said to her: \"If a son is given to us, he will be right\nwelcome; but if it be a daughter, conceal her sex and let people think\nwe have a male child, so that my brother may have no reason to crow over\nus.\" When her time came Zahir's wife brought into the world a daughter.\nThey agreed that her name should be actually Djaida, but that publicly\nshe should be known as Djonder, that people might take her for a boy. In\norder to promote this belief, they kept up feasting and entertainment\nearly and late for many days.\n\nAbout the same time Moharib, the other brother, had a son born to him,\nwhom he named Khaled (The Eternal). He chose this name in gratitude to\nGod, because, since his brother's departure, his affairs had prospered\nwell.\n\nThe two children eventually reached full age, and their renown was\nwidespread among the Arabs. Zahir had taught his daughter to ride on\nhorseback, and had trained her in all the accomplishments fitting to a\nwarrior bold and daring. He accustomed her to the severest toils, and\nthe most perilous enterprises. When he went to war, he put her among the\nother Arabs of the tribe, and in the midst of these horsemen she soon\ntook her rank as one of the most valiant of them. Thus it came to pass\nthat she eclipsed all her comrades, and would even attack the lions in\ntheir dens. At last her name became an object of terror; when she had\novercome a champion she never failed to cry out: \"I am Djonder, son of\nZahir, horseman of the tribes.\"\n\nHer cousin Khaled, on the other hand, distinguished himself equally by\nhis brilliant courage. His father Moharib, a wise and prudent chief, had\nbuilt houses of entertainment for strangers; all horsemen found a\nwelcome there. Khaled had been brought up in the midst of warriors. In\nthis school his spirit had been formed, here he had learned to ride, and\nat last had become an intrepid warrior, and a redoubtable hero. It was\nsoon perceived by the rest of the army that his spirit and valor were\nunconquerable.\n\nEventually he heard tell of his cousin Djonder, and his desire to see\nand know him and to witness his skill in arms became extreme. But he\ncould not satisfy this desire because of the dislike which his father\nshowed for his cousin, the son of his uncle. This curiosity of Khaled\ncontinued unsatisfied until the death of his father Moharib, which put\nhim in possession of rank, wealth, and lands. He followed the example of\nhis father in entertaining strangers, protecting the weak and\nunfortunate, and giving raiment to the naked. He continued also to scour\nthe plains on horseback with his warriors, and in this way waxed greater\nin bodily strength and courage. After some time, gathering together a\nnumber of rich gifts, he started, in company with his mother, to visit\nhis uncle. He did not draw rein until he reached the dwelling of Zahir,\nwho was delighted to see him, and made magnificent preparations for his\nentertainment; for the uncle had heard tell on many occasions of his\nnephew's worth and valor. Khaled also visited his cousin. He saluted\nher, pressed her to his bosom, and kissed her forehead, thinking she was\na young man. He felt the greatest pleasure in her company, and remained\nten days with his uncle, regularly taking part in the jousts and\ncontests of the horsemen and warriors. As for his cousin, the moment she\nhad seen how handsome and valiant Khaled was, she had fallen violently\nin love with him. Her sleep left her; she could not eat; and her love\ngrew to such a pitch that feeling her heart completely lost to him, she\nspoke to her mother and said: \"O mother, should my cousin leave without\ntaking me in his company, I shall die of grief at his absence.\" Then her\nmother was touched with pity for her, and uttered no reproaches, feeling\nthat they would be in vain. \"Djaida,\" she said, \"conceal your feelings,\nand restrain yourself from grief. You have done nothing improper, for\nyour cousin is the man of your choice, and is of your own blood. Like\nhim, you are fair and attractive; like him, brave and skilful in\nhorsemanship. Tomorrow morning, when his mother approaches us, I will\nreveal to her the whole matter; we will soon afterwards give you to him\nin marriage, and finally we will all return to our own country.\"\n\nThe wife of Zahir waited patiently until the following morning, when the\nmother of Khaled arrived. She then presented her daughter, whose head\nshe uncovered, so as to allow the hair to fall to her shoulders. At the\nsight of such charms the mother of Khaled was beyond measure astonished,\nand exclaimed: \"What! is not this your son Djonder?\" \"No! it is\nDjaida--she the moon of beauty, at last has risen.\" Then she told her\nall that had passed between herself and her husband, and how and why\nthey had concealed the sex of their child. \"Dear kinswoman,\" replied the\nmother of Khaled, still quite surprised, \"among all the daughters of\nArabia who have been celebrated for their beauty I have never seen one\nmore lovely than this one. What is her name?\" \"I have already told you\nthat it is Djaida, and my especial purpose in telling you the secret is\nto offer you all these charms, for I ardently desire to marry my\ndaughter to your son, so that we may all be able to return to our own\nland.\" The mother of Khaled at once assented to this proposal, and said:\n\"The possession of Djaida will doubtless render my son very happy.\" She\nat once rose and went out to look for Khaled, and communicated to him\nall she had seen and learned, not failing to extol especially the charms\nof Djaida. \"By the faith of an Arab,\" said she, \"never, my son, have I\nseen in the desert, or in any city, a girl such as your cousin; I do not\nexcept the most beautiful. Nothing is so perfect as she is, nothing more\nlovely and attractive. Make haste, my son, to see your uncle and ask him\nfor his daughter in marriage. You will be happy indeed if he grants your\nprayer: Go, my son, and do not waste time in winning her.\"\n\nWhen Khaled had heard these words, he cast his eyes to the ground, and\nremained for some time thoughtful and gloomy. Then he replied: \"My\nmother, I cannot remain here any longer. I must return home amid my\nhorsemen and troops. I have no intention of saying anything more to my\ncousin; I am convinced that she is a person whose temper and ideas of\nlife are uncertain; her character and manner of speech are utterly\ndestitute of stability and propriety. I have always been accustomed to\nlive amid warriors, on whom I spend my wealth, and with whom I win a\nsoldier's renown. As for my cousin's love for me, it is the weakness of\na woman, of a young girl.\" He then donned his armor, mounted his horse,\nbade his uncle farewell, and announced his intention of leaving at once.\n\"What means this haste?\" cried Zahir. \"I can remain here no longer,\"\nanswered Khaled, and, putting his horse to a gallop, he flung himself\ninto the depths of the wilderness. His mother, after relating to Djaida\nthe conversation she held with her son, mounted a camel and made her way\ntowards her own country.\n\nThe soul of Djaida felt keenly this indignity. She brooded over\nit--sleepless and without appetite. Some days afterwards, as her father\nwas preparing with his horsemen to make a foray against his foes, his\nglance fell on Djaida, and seeing how altered she was in face, and\ndejected in spirit, he refrained from saying anything, thinking and\nhoping that she would surely become herself again after a short time.\n\nScarcely was Zahir out of sight of his tents, when Djaida, who felt\nherself like to die, and whose frame of mind was quite unsupportable,\nsaid to her mother: \"Mother, I feel that I am dying, and that this\nmiserable Khaled is still in the vigor of life. I should like, if God\ngives me the power, to make him taste the fury of death, the bitterness\nof its pang and torture.\" So saying, she rose like a lioness, put on her\narmor, and mounted her horse, telling her mother she was going on a\nhunting expedition. Swiftly, and without stopping, she traversed rocks\nand mountains, her excitement increasing as she approached the\ndwelling-place of her cousin. As she was disguised, she entered,\nunrecognized, into the tent where strangers were received. Her visor\nwas, however, lowered, like that of a horseman of Hijaz. Slaves and\nservants received her, offered her hospitality, comporting themselves\ntowards her as to one of the guests, and the most noble personages of\nthe land. That night Djaida took rest; but the following day she joined\nthe military exercises, challenged many cavaliers, and exhibited so much\naddress and bravery, that she produced great astonishment among the\nspectators. Long before noon the horsemen of her cousin were compelled\nto acknowledge her superiority over themselves. Khaled wished to witness\nher prowess, and, surprised at the sight of so much skill, he offered to\nmatch himself with her. Djaida entered the contest with him, and then\nboth of them joining in combat tried, one after another, all the methods\nof attack and defence, until the shadows of night came on. When they\nseparated both were unhurt, and none could say who was the victor. Thus\nDjaida, while rousing the admiration of the spectators, saw the\nannoyance they felt on finding their chief equalled in fight by so\nskilful an opponent. Khaled ordered his antagonist to be treated with\nall the care and honor imaginable, then retired to his tent, his mind\nfilled with thoughts of his conflict. Djaida remained three days at her\ncousin's habitation. Every morning she presented herself on the ground\nof combat, and remained under arms until night. She enjoyed it greatly,\nstill keeping her _incognito_, whilst Khaled, on the other hand,\nmade no enquiries, and asked no questions of her, as to who she was and\nto what tribe she might belong.\n\nOn the morning of the fourth day, while Khaled, according to his custom,\nrode over the plain, and passed close to the tents reserved for\nstrangers, he saw Djaida mounting her horse. He saluted her, and she\nreturned his salute. \"Noble Arab,\" said Khaled, \"I should like to ask\nyou one question. Up to this moment I have failed in courtesy towards\nyou, but, I now beg of you, in the name of that God who has endowed you\nwith such great dexterity in arms, tell me, who are you, and to what\nnoble princes are you allied? For I have never met your equal among\nbrave cavaliers. Answer me, I beseech you, for I am dying to learn.\"\nDjaida smiled, and raising her visor, replied: \"Khaled, I am a woman,\nand not a warrior. I am your cousin Djaida, who offered herself to you,\nand wished to give herself to you; but you refused her--from the pride\nyou felt in your passion for arms.\" As she spoke she turned her horse\nsuddenly, stuck spurs into him, and dashed off at full gallop towards\nher own country.\n\nKhaled filled with confusion withdrew to his tent, not knowing what to\ndo, nor what would be the end of the passionate love which he suddenly\nfelt rise within him. He was seized with disgust for all these warlike\nhabits and tastes, which had reduced him to the melancholy plight in\nwhich he found himself. His distaste for women was changed into love. He\nsent for his mother and related to her all that had occurred. \"My son,\"\nshe said, \"all these circumstances should render Djaida still dearer to\nyou. Wait patiently a little, until I have been able to go and ask her\nof her mother.\" She straightway mounted her camel, and started through\nthe desert on the tracks of Djaida, who immediately on her arrival home\nhad told her mother all that had happened. As soon as the mother of\nKhaled had arrived, she flung herself into the arms of her kinswoman and\ndemanded Djaida in marriage for her son, for Zahir had not yet returned\nfrom his foray. When Djaida heard from her mother the request of Khaled,\nshe said, \"This shall never be, though I be forced to drink the cup of\ndeath. That which occurred at his tents was brought about by me to\nquench the fire of my grief and unhappiness, and soothe the anguish of\nmy heart.\"\n\nAt these words the mother of Khaled, defeated of her object, went back\nto her son, who was tortured by the most cruel anxiety. He rose suddenly\nto his feet, for his love had reached the point of desperation, and\nasked with inquietude what were the feelings of his cousin. When he\nlearned the answer of Djaida his distress became overwhelming, for her\nrefusal only increased his passion. \"What is to be done, my mother,\" he\nexclaimed. \"I see no way of escaping from this embarrassment,\" she\nreplied, \"excepting you assemble all your horsemen from among the Arab\nsheiks, and from among those with whom you are on friendly terms. Wait\nuntil your uncle returns from the campaign, and then, surrounded by your\nfollowers, go to him, and in the presence of the assembled warriors,\ndemand of him his daughter in marriage. If he deny that he has a\ndaughter, tell him all that has happened, and urge him until he gives\nway to your demand.\" This advice, and the plan proposed moderated the\ngrief of Khaled. As soon as he learned that his uncle had returned home,\nhe assembled all the chiefs of his family and told his story to them.\nAll of them were very much astonished, and Madi Kereb. one of the\nKhaled's bravest companions, could not help saying: \"This is a strange\naffair; we have always heard say that your uncle had a son named\nDjonder, but now the truth is known. You are certainly the man who has\nmost right to the daughter of your uncle. It is therefore our best\ncourse to present ourselves in a body and prostrate ourselves before\nhim, asking him to return to his family and not to give his daughter to\na stranger.\" Khaled, without hearing any more, took with him a hundred\nof his bravest horsemen, being those who had been brought up with\nMoharib and Zahir from their childhood, and, having provided themselves\nwith presents even more costly than those they had taken before, they\nstarted off, and marched on until they came to the tribe of Saad. Khaled\nbegan by complimenting his uncle on his happy return from war, but no\none could be more astonished than Zahir at this second visit, especially\nwhen he saw his nephew accompanied by all the chieftains of his family.\nIt never for a moment occurred to him that his daughter Djaida had\nanything to do with Khaled's return, but thought that his nephew merely\nwished to persuade him to return to his native territory. He offered\nthem every hospitality, provided them with tents and entertained them\nmagnificently. He ordered camels and sheep to be killed, and gave a\nbanquet; he furnished his guests with all things needful and proper for\nthree days. On the fourth day Khaled arose, and after thanking his uncle\nfor all his attentions, asked him for his daughter in marriage, and\nbegged him to return to his own land. Zahir denied that he had any child\nbut his son Djonder, but Khaled told him all that he had learned, and\nall that had passed between himself and Djaida. At these words Zahir was\novercome with shame and turned his eyes to the ground. He remained for\nsome moments plunged in thought, and after reflecting that the affair\nmust needs proceed from bad to worse, he addressed those present in the\nfollowing words: \"Kinsmen, I will no longer delay acknowledging this\nsecret; therefore to end the matter, she shall be married to her cousin\nas soon as possible, for, of all the men I know, he is most worthy of\nher.\" He offered his hand to Khaled, who immediately clasped it in\npresence of the chiefs who were witnesses to the contract. The dowry was\nfixed at five hundred brown black-eyed camels, and a thousand camels\nloaded with the choicest products of Yemen. The tribe of Saad, in the\nmidst of which Zahir had lived, were excluded from all part in this\nincident.\n\nBut when Zahir had asked his daughter's consent to this arrangement,\nDjaida was overwhelmed with confusion at the course her father had\ntaken. Since he let his daughter clearly understand that he did not wish\nher to remain unmarried, she at last replied: \"My father, if my cousin\ndesires to have me in marriage, I shall not enter into his tent until he\nundertakes to slaughter at my wedding a thousand camels, out of those\nwhich belong to Gheshem, son of Malik, surnamed 'The Brandisher of\nSpears.'\" Kahled agreed to this condition; but the sheiks and the\nwarriors did not leave Zahir before he had collected all his possessions\nfor transportation to his own country. No sooner were these preparations\ncompleted than Khaled marched forth at the head of a thousand horsemen,\nwith whose assistance he subdued the tribe of Aamir. Having thrice\nwounded \"The Brandisher of Spears,\" and slain a great number of his\nchampions, he carried off their goods and brought back from their\ncountry even a richer spoil than Djaida had demanded. Loaded with booty\nhe returned, and was intoxicated with success. But when he asked that a\nday should be fixed for the wedding, Djaida begged him to approach, and\nsaid to him: \"If you desire that I become your wife, fulfil first of all\nmy wishes, and keep the engagement I make with you. This is my demand: I\nwish that on the day of my marriage, some nobleman's daughter, a\nfree-born woman, hold the bridle of my camel; she must be the daughter\nof a prince of the highest rank, so that I may be the most honored of\nall the daughters of Arabia.\" Khaled consented, and prepared to carry\nout her wishes. That very day he started with his horsemen, and\ntraversed plains and valleys, searching the land of Ymer, even till he\nreached the country of Hijar and the hills of Sand. In this place he\nattacked the tribe-family of Moawich, son of Mizal. He burst upon them\nlike a rain-storm, and cutting a way with his sword through the opposing\nhorsemen, he took prisoner Amima, daughter of Moawich, at the very\nmoment when she was betaking herself to flight.\n\nAfter having accomplished feats which rendered futile the resistance of\nthe most experienced heroes, after having scattered all the tribes in\nflight, and carried off all the wealth of all the Arabs in that country,\nhe returned home. But he did not wish to come near his tents until he\nhad first gathered in all the wealth which he had left at different\npoints and places in the desert.\n\nThe young maidens marched before him sounding their cymbals and other\ninstruments of music. All the tribe rejoiced; and when Khaled appeared,\nhe distributed clothing to the widows and orphans, and invited his\ncompanions and friends to the feast he was preparing for his wedding.\nAll the Arabs of the country came in a crowd to the marriage. He caused\nthem to be regaled with abundance of flesh and wine. But while all the\nguests abandoned themselves to feasting and pleasure, Khaled,\naccompanied by ten slaves, prepared to scour the wild and marshy places\nof the land, in order to attack hand to hand in their caverns the lions\nand lionesses and their cubs, and bear them slain to the tents, in order\nto provide meat for all those who attended the festival.\n\nDjaida had been informed of this design. She disguised herself in coat\nof mail, mounted her horse, and left the tents; as three days of\nfestivities still remained, she hastily followed Khaled into the desert,\nand met him face to face in a cavern. She flung herself upon him with\nthe impetuosity of a wild beast, and attacked him furiously, crying\naloud, \"Arab! dismount from your horse, take off your coat of mail, and\nyour armor; if you hesitate to do so, I will run this lance through your\nheart.\" Khaled was resolved at once to resist her in this demand. They\nengaged in furious combat. The struggle lasted for more than an hour,\nwhen the warrior saw in the eyes of his adversary an expression which\nalarmed him. He remounted his horse, and having wheeled round his steed\nfrom the place of combat, exclaimed: \"By the faith of an Arab, I adjure\nyou to tell me what horseman of the desert you are; for I feel that your\nattack and the violence of your blows are irresistible. In fact, you\nhave prevented me from accomplishing that which I had intended, and all\nthat I had eagerly desired to do.\" At these words Djaida raised her\nvisor, thus permitting him to see her face. \"Khaled,\" she cried, \"is it\nnecessary for the girl you love to attack wild beasts, in order that the\ndaughters of Arabia may learn that this is not the exclusive privilege\nof a warrior?\" At this cutting rebuke Khaled was overcome with shame.\n\"By the faith of an Arab,\" he replied, \"no one but you can overcome me;\nbut is there anyone in this country who has challenged you, or are you\ncome hither merely to prove to me the extent of your valor?\" \"By the\nfaith of an Arab,\" replied Djaida, \"I came into this desert solely for\nthe purpose of helping you to hunt wild beasts, and in order that your\nwarriors might not reproach you for choosing me as your wife.\" At these\nwords Khaled felt thrilled with surprise and admiration, that such\nspirit and resolution should have been exhibited in the conduct of\nDjaida.\n\nThen both of them dismounted from their horses and entered into a\ncavern. There Khaled seized two ferocious wild beasts, and Djaida\nattacked and carried off a lion and two lionesses. After these exploits\nthey exchanged congratulations, and Djaida felt happy to be with Khaled.\n\"Meanwhile,\" she said, \"I shall not permit you to leave our tents until\nafter our marriage.\" She immediately left him in haste and betook\nherself to her own dwelling.\n\nKhaled proceeded to rejoin the slaves whom he had left a little way off,\nand ordered them to carry to the tents the beasts he had slain.\nTrembling with fright at the view of what Khaled had done, they extolled\nhim with admiration above all other champions of the land.\n\nThe feasts meanwhile went on, and all who came were welcomed with\nmagnificence. The maidens sounded their cymbals; the slaves waved their\nswords in the air, and the young girls sang from morn till evening. It\nwas in the midst of such rejoicings that Djaida and Khaled were married.\nAmima, the daughter of Moawich, held the reins of the young bride's\ncamel, and men and women alike extolled the glory of Djaida.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ABSIANS AND FAZAREANS\n\nKing Cais, chief of the Absians, distrusting the evil designs of\nHadifah, the chief of the tribe of Fazarah, had sent out his slaves in\nevery direction to look after Antar. One of these slaves on his return\nsaid to the king: \"As for Antar, I have not even heard his name; but as\nI passed by the tribe of Tenim, I slept one night in the tents of the\ntribe Byah. There I saw a colt of remarkable beauty. He belonged to a\nman named Jahir, son of Awef. I have never seen a colt so fine and\nswift.\" This recital made a profound impression upon Cais. And in truth\nthis young animal was the wonder of the world, and never had a handsomer\nhorse been reared among the Arabs. He was in all points high-bred and\nrenowned for race and lineage, for his sire was Ocab and his dam Helweh,\nand these were horses regarded by the Arabs as quicker than lightning.\nAll the tribes admired their points, and the tribe of Byah had become\ncelebrated above all others, because of the mare and stallion which\npertained to it.\n\nAs for this fine colt, one day, when his sire Ocab had been put out on\npasture, he was being led by the daughter of Jahir along the side of a\nlake at noonday, and there he saw the mare Helweh, who was tethered\nclose to the tent of her master. He immediately began to neigh, and\nslipped his halter. The young girl in her embarrassment let him go, and\nfor modesty took refuge in the tent of a friend. The stallion remained\non the spot until the girl returned. She seized the halter and took him\nto the stables.\n\nBut her father discerned the anxiety which she could not conceal. He\nquestioned her, and she told him what had happened. He became furious\nwith rage on hearing her story, for he was naturally choleric; he ran\namong the tents, flinging off his turban, and crying at the top of his\nvoice, while all the Arabs crowded round him, \"Tribe of Byah, tribe of\nByah! Kinsmen and friends, hear me.\" Then he related what his daughter\nhad told him. \"I cannot permit,\" he added, \"that the blood of my horse\nshould be blended with that of Helweh; yet I am not willing to sell him\nfor the most costly sheep and camels; and if I cannot otherwise prevent\nHelweh from bearing a colt to my stallion, I shall be glad if some one\nwill put the mare to death.\" \"By all means,\" cried his listeners, \"do as\nyou please, for we can have no objection.\" Such were the usual terms of\nArabian courtesy.\n\nNevertheless, Helweh, in course of time, bore a fine colt, whose birth\nbrought great joy to her master. He named the young horse Dahir. The\ncolt waxed in strength and beauty, until he actually excelled his sire\nOcab. His chest was broad, his neck long, his hoofs hard, his nostrils\nwidely expanded. His tail swept the ground, and he was of the gentlest\ntemper; in short, he was the most perfect creature ever seen. Being\nreared with the greatest care, his shape was perfect as the archway of a\nroyal palace. When the mare Helweh, followed by her colt, was one day\nmoving along the shore of a lake, Ocab's owner chanced to see them. He\nseized the young horse, and took him home with him, leaving his mother\nin grief for his difference. \"As for Jahir,\" he said, \"this colt belongs\nto me, and I have more right to him than anyone else.\"\n\nThe news of the colt's disappearance soon reached his owner's ears. He\nassembled the chiefs of the tribe, and told them what had happened. They\nsent to Jahir, and he was reproached bitterly. \"Jahir,\" they said, \"you\nhave not suffered, yet have done injustice, in that you carried off that\nwhich belonged to another man.\" \"Say no more,\" answered Jahir, \"and\nspare me these reproaches, for, by the faith of an Arab, I will not\nreturn the colt, unless compelled by main force. I will declare war\nagainst you first.\" At that moment the tribe was not prepared for a\nquarrel; and several of them said to Jahir: \"We are too much attached to\nyou to push things to such an extreme as that; we are your allies and\nkinsmen. We will not fight with you, though an idol of gold were at\nstake.\" Then Kerim, son of Wahrab (the latter being the owner of the\nmare and colt, a man renowned among the Arabs for his generosity),\nseeing the obstinacy of Jahir, said to him: \"Cousin, the colt is\ncertainly yours, and belongs to you; as for the mare here, accept her as\na present from my hand, so that mother and colt will not be separated,\nand no one will ever be able to accuse me of wronging a kinsman.\"\n\nThe tribe highly applauded this act, and Jahir was so humiliated by the\ngenerosity with which he had been treated, that he returned mare and\ncolt to Kerim, adding to the gift a pair of male and a pair of female\ncamels.\n\nDahir soon became a horse of absolute perfection in every point, and\nwhen his master Kerim undertook to race him with another horse, he rode\nthe animal himself, and was in the habit of saying to his antagonist,\n\"Even should you pass me like an arrow, I could catch you up, and\ndistance you,\" and in fact this always happened.\n\nAs soon as King Cais heard tell of this horse, he became beside himself\nwith longing and mortification, and his sleep left him. He sent to\nKerim, offering to buy the horse for as much gold or silver as the owner\ndemanded, and adding that the price would be forwarded without delay.\nThis message enraged Kerim. \"Is not this Cais a fool, or a man of no\nunderstanding?\" he exclaimed. \"Does he think I am a man of traffic--a\nhorse-dealer, who cannot mount the horses he owns? I swear by the faith\nof an Arab that if he had asked for Dahir, as a present, I would have\nsent the horse, and a troop of camels besides: but if he thinks of\nobtaining him by bidding a price, he will never have him; even were I\nbound to drink the cup of death.\"\n\nThe messenger returned to Cais, and gave him the answer of Kerim, at\nwhich the latter was much annoyed. \"Am I a king over the tribes of Abs,\nof Adnan, of Fazarah, and of Dibyan,\" he exclaimed, \"and yet a common\nArab dares to oppose me!\" He summoned his people and his warriors.\nImmediately there was the flash of armor, of coats of mail, and swords\nand helmets appeared amid the tents; the champions mounted their steeds,\nshook their spears, and marched forth against the tribe of Byah. As soon\nas they reached their enemy's territory they overran the pastures, and\ngathered an immense booty in cattle, which Cais divided among his\nfollowers. They next made for the tents and surprised the dwellers\nthere, who were not prepared for such an attack: Kerim being absent with\nhis warriors on an expedition of the same sort. Cais at the head of the\nAbsians, pushing his way into the dwellings, carried off the wives and\ndaughters of his foe.\n\nAs for Dahir, he was tethered to one of the tent-pegs, for Kerim never\nused him as a charger, for fear some harm might befall him, or he might\nbe killed. One of the slaves who had been left in the encampment, and\nhad been among the first to see the approach of the Absians, went up to\nDahir for the purpose of breaking the line by which he was hobbled. This\nhe failed to accomplish, but mounting him, and digging his heels into\nhis flanks, he forced the horse, although he was hobbled, to rush off\nprancing like a fawn, until he reached the desert. It was in vain that\nthe Absians pursued him; they could not even catch up with the trail of\ndust that he left behind him.\n\nAs soon as Cais perceived Dahir, he recognized him, and the desire of\npossessing him became intensified. He hurried on, but his chagrin was\ngreat, as he perceived that, do what he would, he never could catch up\nwith him. At last the slave, perceiving that he had quite out-distanced\nthe Absians, dismounted, untied the feet of Dahir, leapt again into the\nsaddle, and galloped off. Cais, who had kept up the pursuit, gained\nground during this stop, and coming within ear-shot of the slave,\nshouted out, \"Stop, Arab, there is no cause for fear; you have my\nprotection; by the faith of a noble Arab, I swear it.\" At these words\nthe slave stopped. \"Do you intend to sell that horse?\" said King Cais to\nhim, \"for in that case you have the most eager buyer of all the Arabian\ntribesmen.\" \"I do not wish to sell him, sire,\" replied the slave,\n\"excepting at one price, the restoration of all the booty.\" \"I will buy\nhim then,\" the King answered, and he clasped the hand of the Arab as\npledge of the bargain. The slave dismounted from the young horse, and\ndelivered him over to King Cais, and the latter overjoyed at having his\nwish, leapt on to his back, and set out to rejoin the Absians, whom he\ncommanded to restore all the booty which they had taken. His order was\nexecuted to the letter. King Cais, enchanted at the success of his\nenterprise, and at the possession of Dahir, returned home. So great was\nhis fondness for the horse that he groomed and fed him with his own\nhands. Soon as Hadifah, chief of the tribe of Fazarah, heard that Cais\nhad possession of Dahir, jealousy filled his heart. In concert with\nother chiefs he plotted the death of this beautiful horse.\n\nNow it came to pass that at this time Hadifah gave a great feast, and\nCarwash, kinsman of King Cais, was present. At the end of the meal, and\nwhile the wine circulated freely the course of conversation turned to\nthe most famous chiefs of the time. The subject being exhausted, the\nguests began to speak about their most celebrated horses, and next, of\nthe journeys made by them in the desert. \"Kinsmen,\" said Carwash, \"none\nof you ever saw a horse like Dahir, which belongs to my ally Cais. It is\nvain to seek his equal; his pace is absolutely terrifying. He chases\naway sorrow from the heart of him who beholds him, and protects like a\nstrong tower the man who mounts him.\" Carwash did not stop here, but\ncontinued to praise, in the highest and most distinguished language, the\nhorse Dahir, until all of the tribe of Fazarah and of the family of\nZyad, felt their hearts swell with rage. \"Do you hear him, brother?\"\nsaid Haml to Hadifah; \"come, that is enough,\" he added, turning towards\nCarwash. \"All that you have said about Dahir is absolute nonsense--for\nat present there are no horses better or finer than mine, and those of\nmy brother.\"\n\nWith these words he ordered his slaves to bring his horses and parade\nthem before Carwash. This was done. \"Come, Carwash, look at that horse.\"\n\"He is not worth the hay you feed him on,\" said the other. Then those of\nHadifah were led out; among them was a mare, named Ghabra, and a\nstallion called Marik. \"Now look at these,\" said Hadifah. \"They are not\nworth the hay they eat,\" replied Carwash. Hadifah, filled with\nindignation at these words: \"What, not even Ghabra?\" \"Not even Ghabra,\nor all the horses in the world,\" repeated Carwash. \"Would you like to\nmake a bet for us with King Cais?\" \"Certainly,\" answered Carwash--\"I\nwill wager that Dahir will beat all the horses of the tribe of Fazarah,\neven if he carries a hundred weight of stone on his back.\" They\ndiscussed the matter for a long time, the one affirming the other\ndenying the statements, until Hadifah closed the altercation by saying,\n\"I hold to the wager, on condition that the winner takes from the loser\nas many male and female camels as he chooses.\" \"You are going to play me\na nice trick,\" said Carwash, \"and for my part I tell you plainly that I\nwon't bet more than twenty camels; the man whose horse loses shall pay\nthis forfeit.\" The matter was arranged accordingly. They sat at table\nuntil nightfall, and then rested.\n\nThe next day Carwash left his tent at early morn, went to the tribe of\nAbs, to find Cais, whom he told about the wager. \"You were wrong,\" said\nCais. \"You might have made a bet with anyone excepting Hadifah, who is a\nman of tricks and treachery. If you have made the wager, you will have\nto declare it off.\" Cais waited until certain persons who were with him\nhad retired, then he at once took horse, and repaired to the tribe of\nFazarah, where everybody was taking their morning meal in their tents.\nCais dismounted, took off his arms, and seating himself among them began\nto eat with them, like a noble Arab. \"Cousin,\" said Hadifah to him\njokingly, \"What large mouthfuls you take; heaven preserve me from having\nan appetite like yours.\" \"It is true,\" said Cais, \"that I am dying of\nhunger, but by Him who abides always, and will abide forever, I came not\nhere merely to eat your victuals. My intention is to annul the wager\nwhich was yesterday made between you and my kinsman Carwash, I beg of\nyou to cancel this bet, for all that is uttered over cups and flagons is\nof no serious account, and ought to be forgotten.\" \"I would have you to\nknow,\" was the answer, \"that I will not withdraw from the challenge,\nunless you forfeit the camels which are staked. If you accept this\ncondition, I shall be perfectly indifferent to everything else.\nNevertheless, if you wish it, I will seize the camels by force, or, if\nit be your good pleasure, I will waive every claim, save as a debt of\nhonor.\" In spite of all that Cais could say, Hadifah remained firm in\nhis resolution, and as his brother began to deride Cais, the latter lost\nhis temper, and with a face blazing with wrath he asked of Hadifah,\n\"What stake did you offer in your wager with my cousin?\" \"Twenty\nshe-camels,\" said Hadifah. \"As for this first wager,\" answered Cais, \"I\ncancel it, and propose another one in its stead: I will bet thirty\ncamels.\" \"And I forty,\" replied Hadifah, \"I make it fifty,\" was the\nretort of Cais. \"Sixty,\" quickly added the other; and they continued\nraising the terms of the wager, until the number of camels staked was\none hundred. The contract of the bet was deposited in the hands of a man\nnamed Sabic, son of Wahhab, and in the presence of a crowd of youths and\nold men. \"What shall be the length of the race?\" asked Hadifah of Cais.\n\"One hundred bow-shots,\" replied Cais, \"and we have an archer here,\nAyas, the son of Mansour, who will measure the ground.\" Ayas was in fact\nthe strongest and most accomplished archer then living among the Arabs.\nKing Cais, by choosing Ayas, wished the course to be made long, knowing\nthe endurance of his horse, and the longer distance Dahir had to travel,\nthe more he gained speed, from the increased excitement of his spirit.\n\"Well now, we had better fix the day for the race,\" said Cais to\nHadifah. \"Forty days will be required,\" replied Hadifah, \"to bring the\nhorses into condition.\" \"You are right,\" said Cais, and they agreed that\nthe horses should be trained for forty days, that the race should take\nplace by the lake Zatalirsad, and that the horse that first reached the\ngoal should be declared winner. All these preliminaries having been\narranged, Cais returned to his tents.\n\nMeanwhile one of the horsemen of the tribe of Fazarah said to his\nneighbors: \"Kinsmen, you may rest assured that there is going to be a\nbreach between the tribe of Abs and that of Fazarah, as a result of this\nrace between Dahir and Ghabra. The two tribes, you must know, will be\nmutually estranged, for King Cais has been there in person; now he is a\nprince and the son of a prince. He has made every effort to cancel the\nbet, but Hadifah would by no means consent. All this is the beginning of\na broil, which may be followed by a war, possibly lasting fifty years,\nand many a one will fall in the struggle.\"\n\nHadifah hearing this prediction, said: \"I don't trouble myself much\nabout the matter, and your suggestion seems to me absurd.\" \"O Hadifah,\"\nexclaimed Ayas, \"I am going to tell you what will be the result of all\nyour obstinacy towards Cais.\" Then he recited some verses, with the\nfollowing meaning: \"In thee, O Hadifah, there is no beauty; and in the\npurity of Cais there is not a single blot. How sincere and honest was\nhis counsels, although they were lacking in prudence and dignity. Make a\nwager with a man who does not possess even an ass, and whose father has\nnever been rich enough to buy a horse. Let Cais alone; he has wealth,\nlands, horses, a proud spirit, and he is the owner of this Dahir, who is\nalways first on the day of a race, whether he is resting or\nrunning--this Dahir, a steed whose feet even appear through the\nobscurity of night like burning brands.\" \"Ayas,\" replied Hadifah, \"do\nyou think I would break my word? I will take the camels of Cais, and\nwill not permit my name to be inscribed among the number of those who\nhave been vanquished. Let things run their course.\"\n\nAs soon as King Cais had regained his tents he hastened to tell his\nslaves to begin the training of his horses, and to pay especial\nattention to Dahir. Then he told his kinsmen all that had taken place\nbetween himself and Hadifah. Antar was present at this recital, and as\nhe took great interest in all that concerned the king, he said, \"Cais,\ncalm your fears, keep your eyes well open, run the race, and have no\nfear. For, by the faith of an Arab, if Hadifah makes any trouble or\nmisunderstanding, I will kill him, as well as the whole tribe of\nFazarah.\"\n\nThe conversation on this subject continued until they reached the tents,\nwhich Antar declined to enter before seeing Dahir. He walked several\ntimes round this animal, and saw at a glance that the horse actually\npossessed qualities which astonished any one who saw him.\n\nHadifah quickly learned the return of Antar, and knew that the hero was\nencouraging King Cais to run the race. Haml, Hadifah's brother, had also\nheard the news, and in the distress which he felt remarked to Hadifah,\n\"I fear lest Antar should fall upon me, or some one of the family of\nBeder, and kill us, and thus render us disgraced. Give up this race, or\nwe are ruined. Let me go to King Cais, and I will not leave him until he\npromises to come to you and cancel the contract.\" \"Do as you please,\"\nanswered Hadifah. Thereupon Haml took horse, and went immediately to\nKing Cais. He found him with his uncle Assyed, a wise and prudent man.\nHaml approached Cais, saluted him by kissing his hand, and after saying\nthat he was the bearer of an important message, added: \"Kinsman, you\nknow that my brother Hadifah is a low fellow, whose mind is full of\nintrigues. I have spent the last three days in trying to persuade him to\ncancel this wager. At last he has said: 'Very good, if Cais comes to me,\nand wishes to be released from the contract, I will annul it; but do not\nlet any Arab think that I abandon the bet through fear of Antar.' Now\nyou, Cais, are aware that the greatest proof of attachment between\nkinsmen is their willingness to give way to one another. So I am here to\nbeg that you will come to the dwelling of my brother Hadifah and ask him\nto give up the race, before it causes trouble, and the tribe be utterly\ndriven away from its territories.\" At this address of Haml, Cais became\nflushed with shame, for he was trusting and generous. He at once arose,\nand leaving his uncle Assyed in charge of his domestic business, he\naccompanied Haml to the land of Fazarah. When they were midway on their\njourney Haml began to utter lavish praises of Cais to the latter's face,\nand to blame his own brother's faults, in the following terms: \"O Cais,\ndo not let your wrath be stirred up against Hadifah, for he is verily a\nman headstrong and unjust in his actions. O Cais, if you persist in\nholding to the bet, great disasters will follow. Both you and he are\nimpulsive and passionate, and this is what causes me to feel anxiety\nabout you, Cais. Put aside your private feelings, be kind and generous,\nand it will come to pass that the oppressor himself will become the\noppressed.\"\n\nHaml continued to abuse his brother, and to flatter Cais with\nexpressions of admiration all the way, until in the evening they arrived\nat the tribe of Fazarah. Hadifah, who at the moment was surrounded by\nmany powerful chiefs, upon whose aid he depended in the hour of need,\nhad changed his mind since his brother Haml's departure, and in place of\ncoming to terms and making peace with Cais he had determined to yield in\nnothing, but to maintain rigorously the conditions of the coming race.\nHe was speaking of this very matter with one of the chiefs at the moment\nwhen Cais and Haml presented themselves before him. As soon as Hadifah\nsaw Cais, he resolved to cover him with shame. Turning therefore to his\nbrother, he asked: \"Who ordered you to go to this man? By the faith of a\nnoble Arab, even if all the men who cover the surface of the earth were\nto come and importune me, saying, 'O Hadifah, give up one hair of these\ncamels,' I would not yield until a lance had pierced my heart and a\nsword stricken the head from my shoulders.\" Cais crimsoned, and\nimmediately remounted his horse, bitterly reproaching Haml. He returned\nhome with the utmost haste, and found his uncle and brothers waiting for\nhim in extreme anxiety. \"O my son!\" said his uncle Assyed as soon as he\nsaw him, \"you have had a disastrous journey, for it has caused you to be\ndisgraced.\"\n\n\"If Hadifah had not been surrounded by certain chiefs, who gave him\ntreacherous counsels, I could have arranged the whole affair,\" answered\nCais. \"There is now nothing left but to carry out the race and the bet.\"\n\nKing Cais did not sleep the whole of that night. On the morrow he\nthought of nothing but the training of his horses during the forty days'\ninterval before the race. All the Arabs of the land agreed to come to\nthe pastures and see the race, and when the forty days had expired the\nhorsemen of the two tribes came in a crowd to the banks of lake\nZatalirsud. Next arrived the archer Ayas, who, turning his back to the\nlake at the point where the horses were to start, drew his bow as he\nwalked toward the north a hundred times, and measured out to the goal\nthe course of a hundred bow-shots. Soon the horsemen of Ghitfan and\nDibyan arrived, for they were of the same territory, and because of\ntheir friendly relations and kinship were comprised as one tribe under\nthe name of Adnan. King Cais had begged Antar not to show himself on\nthis occasion, fearing that his appearance might cause dissension. Antar\nlistened to this advice, but was unable to rest quiet in the tents. The\ninterest he felt in Cais, and the deep distrust with which the falseness\nof the Fazareans--who were always ready for treason--inspired him,\ninduced him to show himself. Girding on his sword Dhami, and mounting\nhis famous charger, Abjer, he took with him his brother Shidoub, and\nreached the spot fixed upon for the race, in order that he might watch\nover the safety of King Zoheir's sons. On his arrival he seemed to excel\nall that crowd, like a lion clad in coat of mail. He carried his naked\nsword, and his eyes flashed like blazing coals. As soon as he had\nreached the middle of the crowd, he cried out with a loud voice, that\nstruck terror to all hearts: \"Hearken, noble Arabian chieftains and men\nof renown assembled here--all of you know that I was supported and\nfavored by King Zoheir, father of King Cais, that I am a slave bound to\nhim, by his goodness and munificence; that it is he who caused my\nparents to acknowledge me, and gave me my rank, making me to be numbered\namong Arab chiefs. Although he is no longer living, I wish to show my\ngratitude to him, and bring the kings of the land into subjection to\nhim, even after his death. He has left a son, whom his brothers have\nacknowledged, and have set on the throne of his father. This son is\nCais, whom they have thus distinguished, because of his wisdom,\nrectitude, and noble heart. I am the slave of Cais, and am his property;\nI intend to be the supporter of him whom I love, and the enemy of\nwhosoever resists him. It shall never be said, as long as I live, that I\nhave suffered an enemy to affront him. As to the conditions of this\nwager, it is our duty to see them observed. The best thing, accordingly,\nto do is to let the horses race unobstructed, for victory comes from the\ncreator of day and night. I make an oath, therefore, by the holy house\nat Mecca, by the temple, by the eternal God, who never forgets his\nservants and never sleeps, that if Hadifah commits any act of violence,\nI will make him drink the cup of vengeance and of death; and will make\nthe whole tribe of Fazarah the byword of all the world. And you, Arab\nchieftains, if you sincerely desire the race to take place, conduct\nyourselves with justice and impartiality; otherwise, by the eyes of my\ndear Ibla, I will make the horses run the race in blood.\" \"Antar is\nright,\" the horsemen shouted on all sides.\n\nHadifah chose, as the rider of Ghabra, a groom of the tribe of Dibyan.\nThis man had passed all his days and many of his nights in rearing and\ntending horses. Cais, on the other hand, chose as rider of Dahir a groom\nof the tribe of Abs, much better trained and experienced in his\nprofession than was the Dibyanian. When the two contestants had mounted\ntheir horses King Cais gave this parting instruction to his groom: \"Do\nnot let the reins hang too loosely in managing Dahir; if you see him\nflag, stand up in your stirrups, and press his flanks gently with your\nlegs. Do not urge him too much, or you will break his spirit.\" Hadifah\nheard this advice and repeated it, word for word, to his rider.\n\nAntar began to laugh. \"By the faith of an Arab,\" he said to Hadifah,\n\"you will be beaten. Are words so scarce that you are obliged to use\nexactly those of Cais? But as a matter of fact Cais is a king, the son\nof a king; he ought always to be imitated by others, and since you have\nfollowed, word by word, his speech, it is a proof that your horse will\nfollow his in the desert.\"\n\nAt these words the heart of Hadifah swelled with rage and indignation,\nand he swore with an oath that he would not let his horse run that day,\nbut that he wished the race to take place at sunrise, next morning. This\ndelay was indispensable to him in preparing the act of perfidy which he\nmeditated, for he had no sooner seen Dahir than he was speechless with\nastonishment at the beauty and perfections of the horse.\n\nThe judges had already dismounted and the horsemen of the various tribes\nwere preparing to return home, when Shidoub began to cry out with a loud\nvoice, \"Tribes of Abs, of Adnan, of Fazarah and of Dibyan, and all here\npresent attend to me for an instant, and listen to words which shall be\nrepeated from generation to generation.\" All the warriors stood\nmotionless. \"Speak on,\" they cried, \"what is your will? Perhaps there\nmay be something good in your words.\" \"Illustrious Arabs,\" continued\nShidoub, \"you know what happened in consequence of the match between\nDahir and Ghabra: I assure you on my life that I will outstrip both of\nthem in running, even were they swifter than the wind. But listen to the\ncondition I offer; if I am the winner, I am to take the hundred camels\nwhich are at stake; but if I am beaten, I am to forfeit fifty.\" Upon\nthis one of the Sheiks of Fazarah exclaimed, \"What is that you are\nsaying, vile slave? Why should you receive a hundred camels if you win\nand only forfeit fifty if you lose?\" \"Do you ask why, ancient mire of a\ndunghill,\" replied Shidoub, \"because I have but two legs to run on and a\nhorse has four, not counting his tail.\" All the Arabs burst out\nlaughing; yet as they were astonished at the conditions proposed by\nShidoub, and extremely curious to see him run the race, they agreed that\nhe should make the hazardous experiment.\n\nWhen all had returned to the tents Antar said to Shidoub: \"Come, now,\nthou son of a cursed mother, how dared thou say that thou couldst\noutstrip these two horses, whose race all horsemen of our tribes have\nassembled to see, and who all the world admits have no equals in speed,\nnot even among the birds of the air?\" \"By him who created the springs in\nthe rocks and who knows all things,\" replied Shidoub, \"I will outstrip\nthose two horses, be they fleet as the winds. Yes, and my victory will\nhave an advantageous result, for when the Arabs hear of it, they will\ngive up all idea of pursuing me, when I run across the desert.\" Antar\nlaughed, for he was in doubt about Shidoub's plan. The latter went to\nfind King Cais and his brothers, and the other witnesses of the race,\nand made oath on his life that he would outstrip the two horses. All\npresent acknowledged themselves witnesses of the oath, and left the\nspot, filled with astonishment at the proposition.\n\nAs for the trickster Hadifah, in the evening he summoned one of his\nslaves named Dames, a rascal, if ever there was one. \"O Dames,\" he said,\n\"you frequently boast of your cunning, but hitherto I have had no\nopportunity of putting it to the proof.\" \"My Lord,\" answered the slave,\n\"tell me in what way I can be useful to you.\" \"I desire,\" said Hadifah,\n\"that you go and post yourself in the great pass. Remain in this place,\nand go and hide yourself there in the morning. Watch the horses well,\nand see if Dahir is in advance. If he is, show yourself suddenly, strike\nhim on the head, and cause him to stop, so that Ghabra may outstrip him,\nand we may not incur the disgrace of defeat. For I confess that since I\nhave seen Dahir, his excellent points have made me doubt the superiority\nof Ghabra, and I fear my mare will be beaten, and we shall become the\nlaughing stock of all the Arabs.\" \"But, sir, how shall I distinguish\nDahir from Ghabra when they advance, both of them wrapped in a cloud of\ndust?\" Hadifah replied, \"I am going to give you a sign, and to explain\nhow the matter may be free from difficulty.\" As he spoke he picked up\nsome stones from the ground and said: \"Take these stones with you at\nsunrise, begin to count them, and throw them to the earth, four at a\ntime. You must repeat the operation five times, and the last time Ghabra\nwill arrive. That is the calculation I have made, so that if a cloud of\ndust presents itself to you, and some of the stones, a third or a half\nof them, still remain in your hand, you may be sure that Dahir has\ngained first place, and is before your eyes. You must then hurl a stone\nat his head, as I said, and stop his running, so that my mare may gain\nthe lead.\" The slave agreed to do so. He provided himself with stones\nand went to hide himself at the great pass, and Hadifah felt confident\nof gaining the wager.\n\nAt the dawn of day, the Arabs, coming from all quarters, were assembled\non the race ground. The judges gave the signal for the start, and the\ntwo riders uttered loud shouts. The racers started like flashes of\nlightning which dazzle the sight and seemed like the wind when, as it\nblows, it increases in fury. Ghabra passed ahead of Dahir and distanced\nhim. \"Now you are lost, my brother of the tribe of Abs,\" cried the\nFazarean groom to the Absian, \"try and console yourself for this\ndefeat.\" \"You lie,\" retorted the Absian, \"and in a few moments you will\nsee how completely you are mistaken. Wait till we have passed this\nuneven ground. Mares always travel faster on rough roads than on smooth\ncountry.\" And so it happened, for when they arrived in the plain, Dahir\nshot forward like a giant, leaving a trail of dust behind him. It seemed\nas if he went on wings, not legs; in the twinkling of an eye he had\noutstripped Ghabra. \"Here,\" cried the Absian to the Fazarean groom,\n\"send a messenger from me to the family of Beder, and you yourself drink\nthe bitter cup of patience behind me.\" Meanwhile Shidoub, swift as the\nnorth wind, kept ahead of Dahir, bounding like a fawn and running like\nan ostrich, until he reached the defile where Dames was hidden. The\nslave had only thrown down less than a third of his pebbles, when he\nlooked up and saw Dahir approaching.\n\nHe waited till the horse passed close by him, and suddenly showed\nhimself with a shout, and hit the racer violently between the eyes with\na stone. The horse reared, stopped one moment, and the rider was on the\npoint of being unseated. Shidoub was a witness to the incident, and\nhaving looked at the slave, recognized him as belonging to the\ntreacherous Hadifah. In the violence of his rage he flung himself upon\nDames, and struck him dead with his sword: then he approached Dahir for\nthe purpose of speaking soothingly to him, and starting him again on the\nrace; but, alas, the mare Ghabra rushed up like the wind. Then Shidoub,\nfearing defeat, thinking of the camels he would forfeit, set out running\nat full speed towards the lake, where he arrived two bow-shots in\nadvance of the horses. Ghabra followed, then Dahir last, bearing on his\nforehead the mark of the missile; his cheeks were covered with blood and\ntears.\n\nAll the spectators were astounded on seeing the agility and endurance of\nShidoub; but as soon as Ghabra had reached the finish the Fazareans\nuttered loud shouts of joy. Dahir was led home all bleeding, and his\nrider told the men of the tribe of Abs what the slave had done. Cais\nexamined the wound of his horse and asked for full details of the\noccurrence. Antar grew crimson with anger, and laid his hand upon his\ninvincible sword, as if impatient to annihilate the tribe of the\nFazareans. But the sheiks restrained him, although with difficulty,\nafter which they went to Hadifah to cover him with shame, and to\nreproach him with the infamous deed he had done. Hadifah denied it, with\nfalse oaths, affirming that he knew nothing of the blow dealt to Dahir;\nthen he added, \"I demand the camels which are due to me, and I do not\nadmit the treacherous pretext on which they are being withheld.\"\n\n\"That blow is doubtless of evil augury for the tribe of Fazarah,\" said\nCais. \"God will certainly give us victory and triumph, and destroy them.\nFor Hadifah only desired this race to take place in order that it might\ncause trouble and discord, and the disturbance which this contest is\nsure to excite will stir up one tribe against another, so that there\nwill be many men killed, and children made orphans.\" The conversation\nwhich followed among the tribesmen became more and more excited,\nconfusion followed, shouts rang out on all sides, and drawn swords\nflashed. Bloodshed would have resulted had not the sheiks and wise men\ndismounted and with bared heads mingled with the crowd, with humble\nmien, imploring them, until at last the matter was settled as\nharmoniously as possible. It was agreed that Shidoub should receive the\namount of the wager--a hundred camels from the tribe of Fazarah, and\nthat Hadifah should abandon his claims and refrain from all dispute.\nSuch were the measures taken to extinguish the hostility and disorder\nwhich threatened to burst out among the tribes. Then the different\nfamilies retired to their own dwellings, but the hearts of all were\nfilled with bitter hatred. One whose resentment seemed keenest was\nHadifah, especially when he learned of the slave Dames's death. As for\nCais, he was also filled with mute rage and intense hatred. Yet Antar\ntried to reassure him. \"King,\" he said to him, \"do not let your heart be\na prey to mortification; for I swear by the tomb of King Zoheir, your\nfather, that I will cause disgrace and infamy to fall on Hadifah, and it\nis only from regard for you that I have up to this time delayed action.\"\nSoon after all returned to their tents.\n\nThe following morning Shidoub killed twenty of the camels he had won the\nday before, and caused the meat to be distributed among the widows and\nthose who had been wounded and crippled in war. He slaughtered twenty\nothers, which he used in entertaining the tribe of Abs, including women\nand slaves. Finally, the next day, he killed the rest of the camels and\nmade a great feast near the lake Zatalirsad, to which he invited the\nsons of King Zoheir and his noblest chieftains. At the end of this\nbanquet, when the wine circulated among the guests, all praised the\nbehavior of Shidoub. But the news of the camel slaughter and of all the\nfeasting was soon known to the tribe of Fazarah. All the enraged\ntribesmen hastened to seek Hadifah. \"What,\" said they, \"while we were\nfirst in the race, slaves and traitorous Absians have eaten our camels!\nSend for an equal number of camels, by all means; but if he refuses them\nlet us make a terrible war upon the Absians.\"\n\nHadifah raised his eyes upon his son Abou-Firacah. \"Mount horse at\nonce,\" he said to him, \"and go and say to Cais: my father says that you\nmust this instant pay the wager, or he will come and seize the amount by\nmain force, and will bring trouble upon you.\" There was then present a\nchief among the sheiks, who, hearing the order that Hadifah had given to\nhis son, said: \"O Hadifah, are you not ashamed to send such a message to\nthe tribe of the Absians? Are they not our kindred and allies? Does this\nproposal harmonize with the counsel and desire of allaying dissensions?\nThe genuine man shows gratitude for generosity and kindness. I think it\nquite reasonable to expect that you desist from this perverse mood,\nwhich will end in our total extermination. Cais has shown himself quite\nimpartial and has done wrong to no one; cherish, therefore, peace with\nthe horsemen of the tribe of Abs. Take warning from what happened to the\nslave Dames; he struck Dahir, the horse of King Cais, and God punished\nhim at once; he is left bathed in his slavish blood. I beg you to listen\nto none but wise counsels; act nobly, and abandon base designs. While\nyou are thus forewarned as to your situation, keep a prudent eye on your\naffairs.\" This discourse rendered Hadifah furious. \"Contemptible sheik!\nDog of a traitor!\" he exclaimed. \"What! Must I be in fear of Cais and\nthe whole tribe of the Absians? By the faith of an Arab, I will let all\nmen of honor know that if Cais refuse to send the camels I will not\nleave one of his tents standing.\" The sheik was indignant, and to\nincrease the fear he would cast into the heart of Hadifah he spoke to\nhim in verses, to the following effect: \"Insult is cowardliness, for it\ntakes by surprise him who is not expecting it, as the night enwraps\nthose who wander in the desert. When the sword shall once be drawn look\nout for blows. Be just and do not clothe thyself with dishonor. Enquire\nof those who know the fate of Themond and his tribe, when they committed\nacts of rebellion and tyranny. They will tell you that a command of God\nfrom on high destroyed them in one night, and on the morrow they lay\nscattered on the ground, their eyes turned towards the sky.\"\n\nHadifah dissembled his contempt for these verses and the sheik who had\npronounced them, but he ordered his son to go at once to Cais.\nAbou-Firacah started for the tribe of Abs, and as soon as he arrived\nthere repaired to the home of Cais, who was absent. The messenger asked\nthen for his wife Modelilah, the daughter of Rebia. \"What do you desire\nof my husband?\" she asked. \"I demand my due, the prize of the horse\nrace.\" \"Misfortune take you and that which you demand,\" she replied.\n\"Son of Hadifah! Do you not fear the consequences of such perfidy? If\nCais were here he would send you to your death, instantly.\" Abou-Firacah\nreturned to his father, to whom he told all that the wife of Cais had\nsaid \"What, you coward,\" shouted Hadifah, \"do you come back without\ncompleting your errand? Are you afraid of the daughter of Rebia? Go to\nhim again.\"\n\nAs Abou-Firacah reminded his father that it was now near night-fall, the\nmessage was postponed until the next day. As for Cais, when he\nre-entered his home, he learned from his wife that Abou-Firacah had come\nto ask for the camels. \"By the faith of an Arab,\" he said, \"if I had\nbeen here I would have slain him. But the matter is closed; let us think\nno more of it.\" Yet King Cais passed the night in grief and annoyance\nuntil sunrise, at which time he betook himself to his tent Antar came to\nsee him. Cais rose, and making him take a seat, mentioned the name of\nHadifah. \"Would you believe he had the shamelessness to send his son to\ndemand the camels of me? Ah, if I had been present I would have slain\nthe messenger.\" Scarcely had he finished uttering these words when\nAbou-Firacah presented himself on horseback. Without dismounting, and\nuttering no word of salutation or preface, he said: \"Cais, my father\ndesires that you send him that which is his due; by so doing your\nconduct will be that of a generous man; but if you refuse, my father\nwill come against you, carry off his property by force, and plunge you\ninto misfortune.\"\n\nOn hearing these words Cais felt the light change to darkness before his\neyes. \"O thou son of a vile coward,\" he exclaimed \"how is it that you\nare not more respectful in your address to me?\" He seized a javelin and\nplunged it into the breast of Abou-Firacah. Pierced through, the young\nmessenger lost control of his horse.--Antar dragged him down and flung\nhim on the ground. Then, turning the horse's head away from the\ndirection of Fazarah, he struck him on the flank with a holly-stick, and\nthe horse took the road towards the pastures, and finally entered his\nstable, all covered with blood. The shepherds at once led him to the\ntents, crying out, \"Misfortune! Misfortune!\"\n\nHadifah became furious. He smote upon his breast, repeating the words:\n\"Tribe of Fazarah, to arms, to arms, to arms!\" and all the disaffected\ncame to Hadifah once more, begging him to declare war on the Absians,\nand to take vengeance on them. \"Kinsmen!\" replied Hadifah, with\nalacrity, \"let none of us sleep to-night without our armor on.\" And so\nit happened.\n\nAt break of day Hadifah was on horseback; the warriors were ready, and\nonly women and children and the feeble were left in the tents. Cais, on\nthe other hand, after slaying Abou-Firacah, expected that the Fazareans\nwould come and attack himself and his warriors; he therefore prepared\nfor battle. Antar was charged with taking the necessary reconnoitre. He\nleft in the tents only women, children, and those too feeble to bear the\nsword; then he put himself in command of the heroes of Carad. Nothing\ncould be more brilliant than the ranks of the Absians in their coats of\nmail and gleaming weapons. These preparations caused an anxious moment\nfor both parties. They marched forth against each other, and the sun had\nscarcely appeared, before scimitars flashed, and the whole country was\nin a turmoil.\n\nAntar was impatient to press forward, and satisfy his thirst for battle;\nbut, lo! Hadifah, dressed in a black robe, advances, his heart broken by\nthe death of his son. \"Son of Zoheir,\" he cried to Cais, \"it is a base\naction to slay a child; but it is good to meet in battle, to decide with\nthese lances which shall predominate, you or me.\" These words cut Cais\nto the quick. Hurried along by passion he left his standard and rushed\nagainst Hadifah. Then the two chiefs, spurred on by mutual hatred,\nfought together on their noble chargers, until nightfall. Cais was\nmounted on Dahir, and Hadifah on Ghabra. In the course of this combat\nthe exploits of the past were eclipsed. Each tribe despaired of his\nchieftain's safety, and they were eager to make a general attack, in\norder to stop the struggle of the chieftains and the fury with which\nthey contended. Cries began to be heard in the air. Scimitars were\ndrawn, and lances advanced over the ears of Arabian chargers. Antar\napproached certain Absian chiefs and said, \"Let us attack the traitors.\"\nHe prepared to charge, when the ancients of the two tribes came forth\ninto the middle of the plain, with heads uncovered, their feet bared,\nand their idols hung from their shoulders. Standing between the two\narmies they spoke as follows: \"Kinsmen and allies, in the name of that\nharmony which has hitherto prevailed among us, let us do nothing that\nwill make us the byword of our slaves. Let us not furnish our enemies\nwith ground for reproaching us. Let us forget all matter of dispute and\ndissension. Let us not turn wives into widows and our children into\norphans. Satisfy your warlike ardor by attacking those among the Arabs\nwho are your real foes; and you, kinsmen of Fazarah, show yourselves\nmore humble and less haughty, towards your brethren the Absians. Above\nall, forget not that insolent wrong has often caused the destruction of\nmany tribes, which have had sore reason to regret their impious actions;\nin this way many men have been deprived of their possessions, and a vast\nnumber been plunged into the gulf of despair and regret. Expect the\nfatal hour of death, the day of dissolution, for it is upon you. You\nwill be rent asunder by the threatening eagles of destruction, and\nenclosed in the dark prison-house of the tomb. Take care, that when your\nbodies are separated from life, men may think about you without any\nother memory than that of your virtues.\"\n\nThe sheiks talked together for a long time, and meanwhile the flame of\npassion which had been kindled in the soul of the two heroes, Cais and\nHadifah, became quenched. Hadifah withdrew from the fight, and it was\nagreed that Cais should pay as the price of Abou-Firacah's blood a\nquantity of cattle and a string of camels. The sheiks did not wish even\nthen to quit the field of battle until Cais and Hadifah embraced each\nother and had agreed to all the arrangements. Antar was crimson with\nrage. \"O King Cais,\" he exclaimed, \"what have you done? What! while our\nswords flash in our hands shall the tribe of Fazarah exact a price for\nthe blood of its dead? And we never be able to obtain retaliation\nexcepting with our spear points! The blood of our dead is shed, and\nshall we not avenge it?\" Hadifah was beside himself on hearing these\nwords. \"And you, vile bastard,\" said Antar to him, \"you son of a vile\nmother, must your honor be purchased at the expense of our disgrace? But\nfor the presence of these noble sheiks I would annihilate you and all\nyour people this very instant.\"\n\nThen Hadifah's indignation and anger overleaped all bounds. \"By the\nfaith of an Arab,\" he said to the sheiks, \"I wish to hear no talk of\npeace at the moment that the enemy is ready to spear me.\" \"Do not talk\nin that way, dear son of my mother,\" said Haml to his brother. \"Do not\ndart away on the path of imprudence; abandon these gloomy resolutions.\nRemain in peace with the allies of the Absians, for they are shining\nstars: the burnished sun that guides all Arabs who love glory. It was\nbut the other day that you wronged them by causing the horse Dahir to be\nwounded, and thus erred from the path of justice. As for your son, he\nwas justly slain, for you had sent him to demand something that was not\ndue you. After all, nothing is so proper as to make peace, for he who\nwould seek and stir up war is a tyrant, and an oppressor. Accept\ntherefore the compensation offered you, or you are likely to call up\naround us a fire which will burn us in the flames of hell.\" Haml\nconcluded with verses of the following import: \"By the truth of him who\nhas rooted firm the mountains, without foundations, if you decline to\naccept the compensation offered by the Absians, you are in the wrong.\nThey acknowledge Hadifah as their chief; be a chief in very deed, and be\ncontent with the cattle and camels offered you. Dismount from the horse\nof outrage, and mount it not again, for it will carry you to the sea of\ngrief and calamity. Hadifah, renounce like a generous man, all violence,\nbut particularly the idea of contending with the Absians. Make of them\nand of their leader a powerful rampart against the enemies that may\nattack us. Make of them friends that will remain faithful, for they are\nmen of the noblest intentions. Such are the Absians, and if Cais has\nacted unjustly towards you, it is you who first set him the example some\ndays ago.\"\n\nWhen Haml finished these verses, the chiefs of the different tribes\nthanked him, and Hadifah having consented to accept the compensation\noffered, all the Arabs renounced violence and war. All who carried arms\nremained at home. Cais sent to Hadifah two hundred camels, six\nmen-slaves, ten women-slaves, and ten horses. Thus peace was\nreestablished and every one rested in tranquillity throughout the land.\n\n\n\n\nSELECTIONS FROM ARABIAN POETRY\n\n[_Translation by J.D. Carlyle_]\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThe essential qualities of Arabian poetry appear in the \"Romance of\nAntar,\" and the tales of the \"Thousand and One Nights.\" For such a\nblending of prose and verse is the favorite form of Arabian literature\nin its highest and severest form, even in the drama. But the character\nof the people is most clearly shown in the lyrical poems of the Bedouin\ncountry. The pastoral poetry of the peninsula is so local in its\nallusions that it cannot adequately be translated into English. It is in\nthe lyrics that we find that \"touch of nature which makes the whole\nworld kin.\" The gorgeousness of Hindoo literature, with its lavish\ndescription of jewelry and gold, precious stones and marbles, hideous\ndemons, and mighty gods, is not to be looked for in Arabia. There the\nhorizon is clear, and the plain has nothing but human occupants. The\ncommon passions of men are the only powers at work; love, war, sorrow,\nand wine, are the subjects of these little songs, some of which might\nhave been written by \"Anacreon\" Moore, and others by Catullus. The\ninfluence of Greek poetry is indeed manifest in these light and\nsometimes frivolous effusions. The sweetness and grace which distinguish\nsome are only equalled by the wit of others. For wit is the prevailing\ncharacteristic of Arabian poetry, which is attractive for its\ncleverness, its brightness, the alternate smiles and tears which shine\nthrough it, and make the present selections so refreshing and\ninteresting a revelation of the national heart and intellect.\n\nI use the word refreshing, because some of the imagery of these lyrics\nis new to me, and quite unparalleled in European literature. What can\nbe more novel, and at the same time more charming than the following\nsimile, with which a short elegy concludes:--\n\n  \"But though in dust thy relics lie,\n  Thy virtues, Mano, ne'er shall die;\n  Though Nile's full stream be seen no more,\n  That spread his waves from shore to shore,\n  Still in the verdure of the plain\n  His vivifying smiles remain.\"\n\nThe praise of a humble lot has been sung from H\u00e1fiz to Horace, but\nnever illustrated by a prettier conceit than the Arabic poet has\nrecourse to in this stanza:--\n\n  \"Not always wealth, not always force\n    A splendid destiny commands;\n  The lordly vulture gnaws the corse\n    That rots upon yon barren sands.\n\n  \"Nor want nor weakness still conspires\n    To bind us to a sordid state;\n  The fly that with a touch expires,\n    Sips honey from the royal plate.\"\n\nThis is undoubtedly a very original way of stating the philosophic axiom\nof the Augustan poet,\n\n  \"The lord of boundless revenues,\n  Do not salute as happy.\"\n\nI have spoken of the wit of these verses, which is certainly one of\ntheir distinguishing qualities. It is quite Attic in its flavor and\nexquisitely delicate in its combined good-humor and freedom from rancor.\nAn epigram, according to the old definition, should be like a bee; it\nshould carry the sweetness of honey, although it bears a sting at the\nend. Sometimes the end has a point which does not sting, as in the\nfollowing quatrain of an Arabic poet:--\n\n  \"When I sent you my melons, you cried out with scorn,\n    They ought to be heavy and wrinkled and yellow;\n  When I offered myself, whom those graces adorn,\n    You flouted, and called me an ugly old fellow.\"\n\nMartial himself could not have excelled the wit of an epigram addressed\nto a very little man who wore a very big beard, which thus concludes:--\n\n  \"Surely thou cherishest thy beard\n  In hope to hide thyself behind it.\"\n\nTo study a literature like that of the Arabians, even partially and in a\ntranslation, is one of those experiences which enlarge and stimulate the\nmind and expand its range of impressions with a distinctly elevating and\nliberalizing effect. It has the result of genuine education, in that it\nincreases our capacity for sympathy for other peoples, making us better\nacquainted with the language in which they reveal that common human\nheart which they share with us.\n\nE.W.\n\n\n\n\nAN ELEGY[1]\n\n  Those dear abodes which once contain'd the fair,\n    Amidst Mitata's wilds I seek in vain,\n  Nor towers, nor tents, nor cottages are there,\n    But scatter'd ruins and a silent plain.\n\n  The proud canals that once Rayana grac'd,\n    Their course neglected and their waters gone,\n  Among the level'd sands are dimly trac'd,\n    Like moss-grown letters on a mouldering stone.\n\n  Rayana say, how many a tedious year\n    Its hallow'd circle o'er our heads hath roll'd,\n  Since to my vows thy tender maids gave ear,\n    And fondly listened to the tale I told?\n\n  How oft, since then, the star of spring, that pours\n    A never-failing stream, hath drenched thy head?\n  How oft, the summer cloud in copious showers\n    Or gentle drops its genial influence shed?\n\n  How oft since then, the hovering mist of morn\n    Hath caus'd thy locks with glittering gems to glow?\n  How oft hath eve her dewy treasures borne\n    To fall responsive to the breeze below?\n\n  The matted thistles, bending to the gale,\n    Now clothe those meadows once with verdure gay;\n  Amidst the windings of that lonely vale\n    The teeming antelope and ostrich stray.\n\n  The large-eyed mother of the herd that flies\n    Man's noisy haunts, here finds a sure retreat,\n  Here watches o'er her young, till age supplies\n    Strength to their limbs and swiftness to their feet.\n\n  Save where the swelling stream hath swept those walls\n    And giv'n their deep foundations to the light\n  (As the retouching pencil that recalls\n    A long-lost picture to the raptur'd sight).\n\n  Save where the rains have wash'd the gathered sand\n    And bared the scanty fragments to our view,\n  (As the dust sprinkled on a punctur'd hand\n    Bids the faint tints resume their azure hue).\n\n  No mossy record of those once lov'd seats\n    Points out the mansion to inquiring eyes;\n  No tottering wall, in echoing sounds, repeats\n    Our mournful questions and our bursting sighs.\n\n  Yet, midst those ruin'd heaps, that naked plain,\n    Can faithful memory former scenes restore,\n  Recall the busy throng, the jocund train,\n    And picture all that charm'd us there before.\n\n  Ne'e shall my heart the fatal morn forget\n    That bore the fair ones from these seats so dear--\n  I see, I see the crowding litters yet,\n    And yet the tent-poles rattle in my ear.\n\n  I see the maids with timid steps descend,\n    The streamers wave in all their painted pride,\n  The floating curtains every fold extend,\n    And vainly strive the charms within to hide.\n\n  What graceful forms those envious folds enclose!\n    What melting glances thro' those curtains play!\n  Sure Weira's antelopes, or Tudah's roes\n    Thro' yonder veils their sportive young survey!\n\n  The band mov'd on--to trace their steps I strove,\n    I saw them urge the camel's hastening flight,\n  Till the white vapor, like a rising grove,\n    Snatch'd them forever from my aching sight.\n\n  Nor since that morn have I Nawara seen,\n    The bands are burst which held us once so fast,\n  Memory but tells me that such things have been,\n    And sad Reflection adds, that they are past.\n\n_Lebid Ben Rabiat Alamary_.\n\n [1] The author of this poem was a native of Yemen. He was contemporary\n     with Mohammed and was already celebrated as a poet when the prophet\n     began to promulgate his doctrines. Lebid embraced Islamism and was\n     one of the most aggressive helpers in its establishment. He fixed\n     his abode in the city of Cufa, where he died at a very advanced age.\n     This elegy, as is evident, was written previous to Lebid's conversion\n     to Islamism. Its subject is one that must be ever interesting to\n     the feeling mind--the return of a person after a long absence to\n     the place of his birth--in fact it is the Arabian \"Deserted Village.\"\n\n\nTHE TOMB OF MANO\n\n  Friends of my heart, who share my sighs!\n  Go seek the turf where Mano lies,\n  And woo the dewy clouds of spring,\n  To sweep it with prolific wing.\n\n  Within that cell, beneath that heap,\n  Friendship and Truth and Honor sleep,\n  Beneficence, that used to clasp\n  The world within her ample grasp.\n\n  There rests entomb'd--of thought bereft--\n  For were one conscious atom left\n  New bliss, new kindness to display,\n  'Twould burst the grave, and seek the day.\n\n  But tho' in dust thy relics lie,\n  Thy virtues, Mano, ne'er shall die;\n  Tho' Nile's full stream be seen no more,\n  That spread his waves from shore to shore,\n  Still in the verdure of the plain\n  His vivifying smiles remain.\n\n_Hassan Alasady_.\n\n\nTOMB OF SAYID[2]\n\n  Blest are the tenants of the tomb!\n    With envy I their lot survey!\n  For Sayid shares the solemn gloom,\n    And mingles with their mouldering clay.\n\n  Dear youth! I'm doom'd thy loss to mourn\n    When gathering ills around combine;\n  And whither now shall Malec turn,\n    Where look for any help but thine?\n\n  At this dread moment when the foe\n    My life with rage insatiate seeks,\n  In vain I strive to ward the blow,\n    My buckler falls, my sabre breaks.\n\n  Upon thy grassy tomb I knelt,\n    And sought from pain a short relief--\n  Th' attempt was vain--I only felt\n    Intenser pangs and livelier grief.\n\n  The bud of woe no more represt,\n    Fed by the tears that drench'd it there,\n  Shot forth and fill'd my laboring breast\n    Soon to expand and shed despair.\n\n  But tho' of Sayid I'm bereft,\n    From whom the stream of bounty came,\n  Sayid a nobler meed has left--\n    Th' exhaustless heritage of fame.\n\n  Tho' mute the lips on which I hung,\n    Their silence speaks more loud to me\n  Than any voice from mortal tongue,\n    \"What Sayid was let Malec be.\"\n\n_Abd Almalec Alharithy_.\n\n [2] Abd Almalec was a native of Arabia Felix. The exact period when\n     he flourished is unknown, but as this production is taken from the\n     Hamasa it is most probable that he was anterior to Mohammedanism.\n\n\nTHE DEATH OF HIS MISTRESS[3]\n\n  Dost thou wonder that I flew\n  Charm'd to meet my Leila's view?\n  Dost thou wonder that I hung\n  Raptur'd on my Leila's tongue?\n  If her ghost's funereal screech\n  Thro' the earth my grave should reach,\n  On that voice I lov'd so well\n  My transported ghost would dwell:--\n  If in death I can descry\n  Where my Leila's relics lie,\n  Saher's dust will flee away,\n  There to join his Leila's clay.\n\n_Abu Saher Alhedily_.\n\n [3] The sentiment contained in this production determines its\n     antiquity. It was the opinion of the Pagan Arabs that upon the\n     death of any person a bird, by them called Manah, issued from his\n     brain, which haunted the sepulchre of the deceased, uttering a\n     lamentable scream.\n\n\nON AVARICE[4]\n\n  How frail are riches and their joys?\n  Morn builds the heap which eve destroys;\n  Yet can they have one sure delight--\n  The thought that we've employed them right.\n\n  What bliss can wealth afford to me\n  When life's last solemn hour I see,\n  When Mavia's sympathizing sighs\n  Will but augment my agonies?\n\n  Can hoarded gold dispel the gloom\n  That death must shed around his tomb?\n  Or cheer the ghost which hovers there,\n  And fills with shrieks the desert air?\n\n  What boots it, Mavia, in the grave,\n  Whether I lov'd to waste or save?\n  The hand that millions now can grasp,\n  In death no more than mine shall clasp.\n\n  Were I ambitious to behold\n  Increasing stores of treasured gold,\n  Each tribe that roves the desert knows\n  I might be wealthy if I chose:--\n\n  But other joys can gold impart,\n  Far other wishes warm my heart--\n  Ne'er may I strive to swell the heap,\n  Till want and woe have ceas'd to weep.\n\n  With brow unalter'd I can see\n  The hour of wealth or poverty:\n  I've drunk from both the cups of fate,\n  Nor this could sink, nor that elate.\n\n  With fortune blest, I ne'er was found\n  To look with scorn on those around;\n  Nor for the loss of paltry ore,\n  Shall Hatem seem to Hatem poor.\n\n_Hatem Tai_.\n\n [4] Hatem Tai was an Arabian chief, who lived a short time prior to\n     the promulgation of Mohammedanism. He has been so much celebrated\n     through the East for his generosity that even to this day the\n     greatest encomium which can be given to a generous man is to say\n     that he is as liberal as Hatem. Hatem was also a poet; but his\n     talents were principally exerted in recommending his favorite\n     virtue.\n\n\nTHE BATTLE OF SABLA[5]\n\n  Sabla, them saw'st th' exulting foe\n    In fancied triumphs crown'd;\n  Thou heard'st their frantic females throw\n    These galling taunts around:--\n\n  \"Make now your choice--the terms we give,\n    Desponding victims, hear;\n  These fetters on your hands receive,\n    Or in your hearts the spear.\"\n\n  \"And is the conflict o'er,\" we cried,\n    \"And lie we at your feet?\n  And dare you vauntingly decide\n    The fortune we must meet?\n\n  \"A brighter day we soon shall see,\n    Tho' now the prospect lowers,\n  And conquest, peace, and liberty\n    Shall gild our future hours.\"\n\n  The foe advanc'd:--in firm array\n    We rush'd o'er Sabla's sands,\n  And the red sabre mark'd our way\n    Amidst their yielding bands.\n\n  Then, as they writh'd in death's cold grasp,\n    We cried, \"Our choice is made,\n  These hands the sabre's hilt shall clasp,\n    Your hearts shall have the blade.\"\n\n_Jaafer Ben Alba_.\n\n [5] This poem and the one following it are both taken from the Hamasa\n     and afford curious instances of the animosity which prevailed\n     amongst the several Arabian clans, and of the rancor with which\n     they pursued each other, when once at variance.\n\n\nVERSES TO MY ENEMIES\n\n  Why thus to passion give the rein?\n    Why seek your kindred tribe to wrong?\n  Why strive to drag to light again\n    The fatal feud entomb'd so long?\n\n  Think not, if fury ye display,\n    But equal fury we can deal;\n  Hope not, if wrong'd, but we repay\n    Revenge for every wrong we feel.\n\n  Why thus to passion give the rein?\n    Why seek the robe of peace to tear?\n  Rash youths desist, your course restrain,\n    Or dread the wrath ye blindly dare.\n\n  Yet friendship we not ask from foes,\n    Nor favor hope from you to prove,\n  We lov'd you not, great Allah knows,\n    Nor blam'd you that ye could not love.\n\n  To each are different feelings given,\n    This slights, and that regards his brother;\n  'Tis ours to live--thanks to kind heav'n--\n    Hating and hated by each other.\n\n_Alfadhel Ibn Alabas_.\n\n\nON HIS FRIENDS[6]\n\n  With conscious pride I view the band\n  Of faithful friends that round me stand,\n  With pride exult that I alone\n  Can join these scatter'd gems in one:--\n  For they're a wreath of pearls, and I\n  The silken cord on which they lie.\n\n  'Tis mine their inmost souls to see,\n  Unlock'd is every heart to me,\n  To me they cling, on me they rest,\n  And I've a place in every breast:--\n  For they're a wreath of pearls, and I\n  The silken cord on which they lie.\n\n_Meskin Aldaramy_.\n\n [6] These lines are also from the Hamasa.\n\n\nON TEMPER[7]\n\n  Yes, Leila, I swore by the fire of thine eyes,\n    I ne'er could a sweetness unvaried endure;\n  The bubbles of spirit, that sparkling arise,\n    Forbid life to stagnate and render it pure.\n\n  But yet, my dear maid, tho' thy spirit's my pride,\n    I'd wish for some sweetness to temper the bowl;\n  If life be ne'er suffer'd to rest or subside,\n    It may not be flat, but I fear 'twill be foul.\n\n_Nabegat Beni Jaid_.\n\n [7] There have been several Arabian poets of the name of Nabegat. The\n     author of these verses was descended from the family of Jaid. As\n     he died in the fortieth year of the Hegira, aged one hundred and\n     twenty, he must have been fourscore at the promulgation of Islamism;\n     he, however, declared himself an early convert to the new faith.\n\n\nTHE SONG OF MAISUNA[8]\n\n  The russet suit of camel's hair,\n    With spirits light, and eye serene,\n  Is dearer to my bosom far\n    Than all the trappings of a queen.\n\n  The humble tent and murmuring breeze\n    That whistles thro' its fluttering wall,\n  My unaspiring fancy please\n    Better than towers and splendid halls.\n\n  Th' attendant colts that bounding fly\n    And frolic by the litter's side,\n  Are dearer in Maisuna's eye\n    Than gorgeous mules in all their pride.\n\n  The watch-dog's voice that bays whene'er\n    A stranger seeks his master's cot,\n  Sounds sweeter in Maisuna's ear\n    Than yonder trumpet's long-drawn note.\n\n  The rustic youth unspoilt by art,\n    Son of my kindred, poor but free,\n  Will ever to Maisuna's heart\n    Be dearer, pamper'd fool, than thee.\n\n [8] Maisuma was a daughter of the tribe of Calab; a tribe, according\n     to Abulfeda, remarkable both for the purity of dialect spoken in\n     it, and for the number of poets it had produced. She was married,\n     whilst very young, to the Caliph Mowiah. But this exalted situation\n     by no means suited the disposition of Maisuna, and amidst all the\n     pomp and splendor of Damascus, she languished for the simple\n     pleasures of her native desert.\n\n\nTO MY FATHER[9]\n\n  Must then my failings from the shaft\n    Of anger ne'er escape?\n  And dost thou storm because I've quaff'd\n    The water of the grape?\n\n  That I can thus from wine be driv'n\n    Thou surely ne'er canst think--\n  Another reason thou hast giv'n\n    Why I resolve to drink.\n\n  'Twas sweet the flowing cup to seize,\n    'Tis sweet thy rage to see;\n  And first I drink myself to please;\n    And next--to anger thee.\n\n_Yezid_.\n\n [9] Yezid succeeded Mowiah in the Caliphate A.H. 60; and in most\n     respects showed himself to be of a very different disposition from\n     his predecessor. He was naturally cruel, avaricious, and debauched;\n     but instead of concealing his vices from the eyes of his subjects,\n     he seemed to make a parade of those actions which he knew no good\n     Mussulman could look upon without horror; he drank wine in public,\n     he caressed his dogs, and was waited upon by his eunuchs in sight\n     of the whole court.\n\n\nON FATALISM[10]\n\n  Not always wealth, not always force\n    A splendid destiny commands;\n  The lordly vulture gnaws the corse\n    That rots upon yon barren sands.\n\n  Nor want, nor weakness still conspires\n    To bind us to a sordid state;\n  The fly that with a touch expires\n    Sips honey from the royal plate.\n\n_Imam Shafay Mohammed Ben Idris_.\n\n[10] Shafay, the founder of one of the four orthodox sects into\n     which the Mohammedans are divided, was a disciple of Malek Ben\n     Ans, and master to Ahmed Ebn Hanbal; each of whom, like himself,\n     founded a sect which is still denominated from the name of its\n     author. The fourth sect is that of Abou Hanifah. This differs\n     in tenets considerably from the three others, for whilst the\n     Malekites, the Shafaites, and the Hanbalites are invariably\n     bigoted to tradition in their interpretations of the Koran, the\n     Hanifites consider themselves as at liberty in any difficulty to\n     make use of their own reason.\n\n\nTO THE CALIPH HARUN-AL-RASHID[11]\n\n  Religion's gems can ne'er adorn\n  The flimsy robe by pleasure worn;\n  Its feeble texture soon would tear,\n  And give those jewels to the air.\n\n  Thrice happy they who seek th' abode\n  Of peace and pleasure, in their God!\n  Who spurn the world, its joys despise,\n  And grasp at bliss beyond the skies.\n\n_Ibrahim Ben Adham_.\n\n[11] The author of this poem was a hermit of Syria, equally celebrated\n     for his talents and piety. He was son to a prince of Khorasan, and\n     born about the ninety-seventh year of the Hegira. This poem was\n     addressed to the Caliph upon his undertaking a pilgrimage to Mecca.\n\n\nLINES TO HARUN AND YAHIA[12]\n\n  Th' affrighted sun ere while he fled,\n  And hid his radiant face in night;\n  A cheerless gloom the world overspread--\n  But Harun came, and all was bright.\n\n  Again the sun shoots forth his rays,\n  Nature is deck'd in beauty's robe--\n  For mighty Harun's sceptre sways,\n  And Yahia's arm sustains the globe.\n\n_Isaac Almousely_.\n\n[12] Isaac Almousely is considered by the Orientals as the most\n     celebrated musician that ever flourished in the world. He was born\n     in Persia, but having resided almost entirely at Mousel, he is\n     generally supposed to have been a native of that place.\n\n\nTHE RUIN OF BARMECIDES[13]\n\n  No, Barmec! Time hath never shown\n    So sad a change of wayward fate;\n  Nor sorrowing mortals ever known\n    A grief so true, a loss so great.\n\n  Spouse of the world! Thy soothing breast\n    Did balm to every woe afford;\n  And now no more by thee caress'd,\n    The widow'd world bewails her Lord.\n\n[13] The family of Barmec was one of the most illustrious in the\n     East. They were descended from the ancient kings of Persia, and\n     possessed immense property in various countries; they derived still\n     more consequence from the favor which they enjoyed at the court of\n     Bagdad, where, for many years, they filled the highest offices of\n     the state with universal approbation.\n\n\nTO TAHER BEN HOSIEN[14]\n\n  A pair of right hands and a single dim eye\n  Must form not a man, but a monster, they cry:--\n  Change a hand to an eye, good Taher, if you can,\n  And a monster perhaps may be chang'd to man.\n\n[14] Taher Ben Hosien was ambidexter and one-eyed and, strange to say,\n     the most celebrated general of his time.\n\n\nTHE ADIEU[15]\n\n  The boatmen shout, \"Tis time to part,\n    No longer we can stay\"--\n  'Twas then Maimnna taught my heart\n    How much a glance could say.\n\n  With trembling steps to me she came;\n    \"Farewell,\" she would have cried,\n  But ere her lips the word could frame\n    In half-form'd sounds it died.\n\n  Then bending down with looks of love,\n    Her arms she round me flung,\n  And, as the gale hangs on the grove,\n    Upon my breast she hung.\n\n  My willing arms embraced the maid,\n    My heart with raptures beat;\n  While she but wept the more and said,\n    \"Would we had never met!\"\n\n_Abou Mohammed_.\n\n[15] This was sung before the Caliph Wathek, by Abou Mohammed, a\n     musician of Bagdad, as a specimen of his musical talents; and such\n     were its effects upon the Caliph, that he immediately testified his\n     approbation of the performance by throwing his own robe over the\n     shoulders of Abou Mohammed, and ordering him a present of an hundred\n     thousand dirhems.\n\n\nTO MY MISTRESS[16]\n\n  Ungenerous and mistaken maid,\n    To scorn me thus because I'm poor!\n  Canst thou a liberal hand upbraid\n    For dealing round some worthless ore?\n\n  To spare's the wish of little souls,\n    The great but gather to bestow;\n  Yon current down the mountain rolls,\n    And stagnates in the swamp below.\n\n_Abou Teman Habib_.\n\n[16] Abou Teman is considered the most excellent of all the Arabian\n     poets. He was born near Damascus A.H. 190, and educated in Egypt;\n     but the principal part of his life was spent at Bagdad, under the\n     patronage of the Abasside Caliphs.\n\n\nTO A FEMALE CUP-BEARER[17]\n\n  Come, Leila, fill the goblet up,\n    Reach round the rosy wine,\n  Think not that we will take the cup\n    From any hand but thine.\n\n  A draught like this 'twere vain to seek,\n    No grape can such supply;\n  It steals its tint from Leila's cheek,\n    Its brightness from her eye.\n\n_Abd Alsalam Ben Ragban_.\n\n[17] Abd Alsalam was a poet more remarkable for abilities than morality.\n     We may form an idea of the nature of his compositions from the\n     nickname he acquired amongst his contemporaries of Cock of the\n     Evil Genii. He died in the 236th year of the Hegira, aged near\n     eighty.\n\n\nMASHDUD ON THE MONKS OF KHABBET[18]\n\n  Tenants of yon hallow'd fane!\n    Let me your devotions share,\n  There increasing raptures reign--\n    None are ever sober there.\n\n  Crowded gardens, festive bowers\n    Ne'er shall claim a thought of mine;\n  You can give in Khabbet's towers--\n    Purer joys and brighter wine.\n\n  Tho' your pallid faces prove\n    How you nightly vigils keep,\n  'Tis but that you ever love\n    Flowing goblets more than sleep.\n\n  Tho' your eye-balls dim and sunk\n    Stream in penitential guise,\n  'Tis but that the wine you've drunk\n    Bubbles over from your eyes.\n\n[18] The three following songs were written by Mashdud, Rakeek, and\n     Rais, three of the most celebrated improvisators in Bagdad, at an\n     entertainment given by Abou Isy.\n\n\nRAKEEK TO HIS FEMALE COMPANIONS\n\n  Tho' the peevish tongues upbraid,\n    Tho' the brows of wisdom scowl,\n  Fair ones here on roses laid,\n    Careless will we quaff the bowl.\n\n  Let the cup, with nectar crown'd,\n    Thro' the grove its beams display,\n  It can shed a lustre round,\n    Brighter than the torch of day.\n\n  Let it pass from hand to hand,\n    Circling still with ceaseless flight,\n  Till the streaks of gray expand\n    O'er the fleeting robe of night.\n\n  As night flits, she does but cry,\n    \"Seize the moments that remain\"--\n  Thus our joys with yours shall vie,\n    Tenants of yon hallow'd fane!\n\n\nDIALOGUE BY RAIS\n\n  _Rais_:\n\n  Maid of sorrow, tell us why\n    Sad and drooping hangs thy head?\n  Is it grief that bids thee sigh?\n    Is it sleep that flies thy bed?\n\n  _Lady_:\n\n  Ah! I mourn no fancied wound,\n    Pangs too true this heart have wrung,\n  Since the snakes which curl around\n    Selim's brows my bosom stung.\n\n  Destin'd now to keener woes,\n    I must see the youth depart,\n  He must go, and as he goes\n    Rend at once my bursting heart.\n\n  Slumber may desert my bed,\n    Tis not slumber's charms I seek--\n  'Tis the robe of beauty spread\n    O'er my Selim's rosy cheek.\n\n\nTO A LADY WEEPING[19]\n\n  When I beheld thy blue eyes shine\n    Thro' the bright drop that pity drew,\n  I saw beneath those tears of thine\n    A blue-ey'd violet bath'd in dew.\n\n  The violet ever scents the gale,\n    Its hues adorn the fairest wreath,\n  But sweetest thro' a dewy veil\n    Its colors glow, its odors breathe.\n\n  And thus thy charms in brightness rise--\n    When wit and pleasure round thee play,\n  When mirth sits smiling in thine eyes,\n    Who but admires their sprightly ray?\n  But when thro' pity's flood they gleam,\n    Who but must love their soften'd beam?\n\n_Ebn Alrumi_.\n\n[19] Ebn Alrumi is reckoned by the Arabian writers as one of the most\n     excellent of all their poets. He was by birth a Syrian, and passed\n     the greatest part of his time at Emessa, where he died A.H. 283.\n\n\nON A VALETUDINARIAN\n\n  So careful is Isa, and anxious to last,\n    So afraid of himself is he grown,\n  He swears thro' two nostrils the breath goes too fast,\n    And he's trying to breathe thro' but one.\n\n_Ebn Alrumi_.\n\n\nON A MISER\n\n  \"Hang her, a thoughtless, wasteful fool,\n    She scatters corn where'er she goes\"--\n  Quoth Hassan, angry at his mule,\n    That dropt a dinner to the crows.\n\n_Ebn Alrumi_.\n\n\nTO CASSIM OBIO ALLAH[20]\n\n  Poor Cassim! thou art doom'd to mourn\n      By destiny's decree;\n  Whatever happens it must turn\n      To misery for thee.\n\n  Two sons hadst thou, the one thy pride,\n      The other was thy pest;\n  Ah, why did cruel death decide\n      To snatch away the best?\n\n  No wonder thou shouldst droop with woe,\n      Of such a child bereft;\n  But now thy tears must doubly flow,\n      For, ah! the other's left.\n\n_Aly Ben Ahmed Ben Mansour_.\n\n[20] Aly Ben Ahmed distinguished himself in prose as well as poetry,\n     and an historical work of considerable reputation, of which he was\n     the author, is still extant. But he principally excelled in satire,\n     and so fond was he of indulging this dangerous talent that no one\n     escaped his lash; if he could only bring out a sarcasm, it was\n     matter of indifference to him whether an enemy or a brother smarted\n     under its severity. He died at Bagdad A.H. 302.\n\n\nA FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY[21]\n\n  When born, in tears we saw thee drown'd,\n  While thine assembled friends around,\n    With smiles their joy confest;\n  So live, that at thy parting hour,\n  They may the flood of sorrow pour,\n    And thou in smiles be drest!\n\n[21] The thought contained in these lines, appears so natural and so\n     obvious, that one wonders it did not occur to all who have attempted\n     to write upon a birthday or a death.\n\n\nTO A CAT\n\n  Poor Puss is gone! 'Tis fate's decree--\n    Yet I must still her loss deplore,\n  For dearer than a child was she,\n    And ne'er shall I behold her more.\n\n  With many a sad presaging tear\n    This morn I saw her steal away,\n  While she went on without a fear\n    Except that she should miss her prey.\n\n  I saw her to the dove-house climb,\n    With cautious feet and slow she stept\n  Resolv'd to balance loss of time\n    By eating faster than she crept.\n\n  Her subtle foes were on the watch,\n    And mark'd her course, with fury fraught,\n  And while she hoped the birds to catch,\n    An arrow's point the huntress caught.\n\n  In fancy she had got them all,\n    And drunk their blood and suck'd their breath;\n  Alas! she only got a fall,\n    And only drank the draught of death.\n\n  Why, why was pigeons' flesh so nice,\n    That thoughtless cats should love it thus?\n  Hadst thou but liv'd on rats and mice,\n    Thou hadst been living still, poor Puss.\n\n  Curst be the taste, howe'er refined,\n    That prompts us for such joys to wish,\n  And curst the dainty where we find\n    Destruction lurking in the dish.\n\n_Ibn Alalaf Alnaharwany_.\n\n\nAN EPIGRAM UPON EBN NAPHTA-WAH[22]\n\n  By the former with ruin and death we are curst,\n  In the latter we grieve for the ills of the first;\n  And as for the whole, where together they meet,\n  It's a drunkard, a liar, a thief, and a cheat.\n\n_Mohammed Ben Zeid Almotakalam_.\n\n[22] Mohammed Ben Arfa, here called Naphta-Wah, was descended from a\n     noble family in Khorasan. He applied himself to study with\n     indefatigable perseverance, and was a very voluminous author in\n     several branches of literature, but he is chiefly distinguished as\n     a grammarian. He died in the year of the Hegira 323.\n\n\nFIRE[23]\n\n_A Riddle_.\n\n  The loftiest cedars I can eat,\n    Yet neither paunch nor mouth have I,\n  I storm whene'er you give me meat,\n    Whene'er you give me drink, I die.\n\n[23] This composition seems a fit supplement to the preceding one;\n     notwithstanding its absurdity, however. It is inserted merely to\n     show that this mode of trifling was not unknown to the Orientals.\n     It is taken from the Mostatraf, where a great number of similar\n     productions on various subjects are preserved.\n\n\nTO A LADY BLUSHING[24]\n\n  Leila, whene'er I gaze on thee\n    My altered cheek turns pale,\n  While upon thine, sweet maid, I see\n    A deep'ning blush prevail.\n\n  Leila, shall I the cause impart\n    Why such a change takes place?\n  The crimson stream deserts my heart,\n    To mantle on thy face.\n\n_The Caliph Radhi Billah_.\n\n[24] Radhi Billah, son to Moctader, was the twentieth Caliph of the\n     house of Abbas, and the last of these princes who possessed any\n     substantial power.\n\n\nON THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE\n\n  Mortal joys, however pure,\n    Soon their turbid source betray;\n  Mortal bliss, however sure,\n    Soon must totter and decay.\n\n  Ye who now, with footsteps keen,\n    Range through hope's delusive field,\n  Tell us what the smiling scene\n    To your ardent grasp can yield?\n\n  Other youths have oft before\n    Deem'd their joys would never fade,\n  Till themselves were seen no more\n    Swept into oblivion's shade.\n\n  Who, with health and pleasure gay,\n    E'er his fragile state could know,\n  Were not age and pain to say\n    Man is but the child of woe?\n\n_The Caliph Radhi Billah_.\n\n\nTO A DOVE\n\n  The Dove to ease an aching breast,\n    In piteous murmurs vents her cares;\n  Like me she sorrows, for opprest,\n    Like me, a load of grief she bears.\n\n  Her plaints are heard in every wood,\n    While I would fain conceal my woes;\n  But vain's my wish, the briny flood,\n    The more I strive, the faster flows.\n\n  Sure, gentle Bird, my drooping heart\n    Divides the pangs of love with thine,\n  And plaintive murm'rings are thy part,\n    And silent grief and tears are mine.\n\n_Serage Alwarak_.\n\n\nON A THUNDER STORM\n\n  Bright smil'd the morn, till o'er its head\n  The clouds in thicken'd foldings spread\n      A robe of sable hue;\n  Then, gathering round day's golden king,\n  They stretch'd their wide o'ershadowing wing,\n      And hid him from our view.\n\n  The rain his absent beams deplor'd,\n  And, soften'd into weeping, pour'd\n      Its tears in many a flood;\n  The lightning laughed with horrid glare;\n  The thunder growl'd, in rage; the air\n      In silent sorrow stood.\n\n_Ibrahim Ben Khiret Abou Isaac_.\n\n\nTO MY FAVORITE MISTRESS\n\n  I saw their jealous eyeballs roll,\n    I saw them mark each glance of mine,\n  I saw thy terrors, and my soul\n    Shar'd ev'ry pang that tortur'd thine.\n\n  In vain to wean my constant heart,\n    Or quench my glowing flame, they strove;\n  Each deep-laid scheme, each envious art,\n    But wak'd my fears for her I love.\n\n  'Twas this compelled the stern decree,\n    That forc'd thee to those distant towers,\n  And left me nought but love for thee,\n    To cheer my solitary hours.\n\n  Yet let not Abla sink deprest,\n    Nor separation's pangs deplore;\n  We meet not--'tis to meet more blest;\n    We parted--'tis to part no more.\n\n_Saif Addaulet, Sultan of Aleppe_.\n\n\nCRUCIFIXION OF EBN BAKIAH[25]\n\n  Whatever thy fate, in life and death,\n    Thou'rt doom'd above us still to rise,\n  Whilst at a distance far beneath\n    We view thee with admiring eyes.\n\n  The gazing crowds still round thee throng,\n    Still to thy well-known voice repair,\n  As when erewhile thy hallow'd tongue\n    Pour'd in the Mosque the solemn prayer.\n\n  Still, generous Vizir, we survey\n    Thine arms extended o'er our head,\n  As lately, in the festive day,\n    When they were stretch'd thy gifts to shed.\n\n  Earth's narrow boundaries strove in vain\n    To limit thy aspiring mind,\n  And now we see thy dust disdain\n    Within her breast to be confin'd.\n\n  The earth's too small for one so great,\n    Another mansion thou shalt have--\n  The clouds shall be thy winding sheet,\n    The spacious vault of heaven thy grave.\n\n_Abou Hassan Alanbary_.\n\n[25] Ebn Bakiah was vizir to Azzad Addaulet or Bachteir, Emir Alomra\n     of Bagdad, under the Caliphs Moti Lillah and Tay Lillah; but Azzad\n     Addaulet being deprived of his office, and driven from Bagdad by\n     Adhed Addaulet, Sultan of Persia, Ebn Bakiah was seized and\n     crucified at the gates of the city, by order of the conqueror.\n\n\nCAPRICES OF FORTUNE[26]\n\n  Why should I blush that Fortune's frown\n    Dooms me life's humble paths to tread?\n  To live unheeded, and unknown?\n    To sink forgotten to the dead?\n\n  'Tis not the good, the wise, the brave,\n    That surest shine, or highest rise;\n  The feather sports upon the wave,\n    The pearl in ocean's cavern lies.\n\n  Each lesser star that studs the sphere\n    Sparkles with undiminish'd light:\n  Dark and eclips'd alone appear\n    The lord of day, the queen of night.\n\n_Shems Almaali Cabus_.\n\n[26] History can show few princes so amiable and few so unfortunate\n     as Shems Almaali Cabus. He is described as possessed of almost every\n     virtue and every accomplishment: his piety, justice, generosity, and\n     humanity, are universally celebrated; nor was he less conspicuous\n     for intellectual powers; his genius was at once penetrating, solid,\n     and brilliant, and he distinguished himself equally as an orator, a\n     philosopher, and a poet.\n\n\nON LIFE\n\n  Like sheep, we're doom'd to travel o'er\n    The fated track to all assign'd,\n  These follow those that went before,\n    And leave the world to those behind.\n\n  As the flock seeks the pasturing shade,\n    Man presses to the future day,\n  While death, amidst the tufted glade,\n    Like the dun robber,[A] waits his prey.\n\n[A] The wolf.\n\n\nEXTEMPORE VERSES[27]\n\n  Lowering as Barkaidy's face\n    The wintry night came in,\n  Cold as the music of his bass,\n    And lengthen'd as his chin.\n\n  Sleep from my aching eyes had fled,\n    And kept as far apart,\n  As sense from Ebn Fahdi's head,\n    Or virtue from his heart.\n\n  The dubious paths my footsteps balk'd,\n    I slipp'd along the sod,\n  As if on Jaber's faith I'd walk'd,\n    Or on his truth had trod.\n\n  At length the rising King of day\n    Burst on the gloomy wood,\n  Like Carawash's eye, whose ray\n    Dispenses every good.\n\n_Ebn Alramacram_.\n\n[27] The occasion of the following composition is thus related by\n     Abulfeda. Carawash, Sultan of Mousel, being one wintry evening\n     engaged in a party of pleasure along with Barkaidy, Ebn Fahdi, Abou\n     Jaber, and the improvisatore poet, Ebn Alramacram, resolved to\n     divert himself at the expense of his companions. He therefore\n     ordered the poet to give a specimen of his talents, which at the\n     same time should convey a satire upon the three courtiers, and a\n     compliment to himself. Ebn Alramacram took his subject from the\n     stormy appearance of the night, and immediately produced these\n     verses.\n\n\nON THE DEATH OF A SON[28]\n\n  Tyrant of man! Imperious Fate!\n    I bow before thy dread decree,\n  Nor hope in this uncertain state\n    To find a seat secure from thee.\n\n  Life is a dark, tumultuous stream,\n    With many a care and sorrow foul,\n  Yet thoughtless mortals vainly deem\n    That it can yield a limpid bowl.\n\n  Think not that stream will backward flow,\n    Or cease its destin'd course to keep;\n  As soon the blazing spark shall glow\n    Beneath the surface of the deep.\n\n  Believe not Fate at thy command\n    Will grant a meed she never gave;\n  As soon the airy tower shall stand,\n    That's built upon a passing wave.\n\n  Life is a sleep of threescore years,\n    Death bids us wake and hail the light,\n  And man, with all his hopes and fears,\n    Is but a phantom of the night.\n\n_Aly Ben Mohammed Altahmany_.\n\n[28] Aly Ben Mohammed was a native of that part of Arabia called Hejaz;\n     and was celebrated not only as a poet, but as a politician.\n\n\nTO LEILA\n\n  Leila, with too successful art,\n    Has spread for me love's cruel snare;\n  And now, when she has caught my heart,\n    She laughs, and leaves it to despair.\n\n  Thus the poor sparrow pants for breath,\n    Held captive by a playful boy,\n  And while it drinks the draught of death,\n    The thoughtless child looks on with joy.\n\n  Ah! were its flutt'ring pinions free,\n    Soon would it bid its chains adieu,\n  Or did the child its suff'rings see,\n    He'd pity and relieve them too.\n\n\nON MODERATION IN OUR PLEASURES[29]\n\n  How oft does passion's grasp destroy\n    The pleasure that it strives to gain?\n  How soon the thoughtless course of joy\n    Is doom'd to terminate in pain?\n\n  When prudence would thy steps delay,\n    She but restrains to make thee blest;\n  Whate'er from joy she lops away,\n    But heightens and secures the rest.\n\n  Wouldst thou a trembling flame expand,\n    That hastens in the lamp to die?\n  With careful touch, with sparing hand,\n    The feeding stream of life supply.\n\n  But if thy flask profusely sheds\n    A rushing torrent o'er the blaze,\n  Swift round the sinking flame it spreads,\n    And kills the fire it fain would raise.\n\n_Abou Alcassim Ebn Tabataba_.\n\n[29] Tabataba deduced his pedigree from Ali Ben Abou Taleb, and Fatima,\n     the daughter of Mohammed. He was born at Ispahan, but passed the\n     principal part of his life in Egypt, where he was appointed chief\n     of the sheriffs, i.e. the descendants of the Prophet, a dignity\n     held in the highest veneration by every Mussulman. He died in the\n     year of the Hegira 418, with the reputation of being one of the\n     most excellent poets of his time.\n\n\nTHE VALE OF BOZAA[30]\n\n  The intertwining boughs for thee\n    Have wove, sweet dell, a verdant vest,\n  And thou in turn shalt give to me\n    A verdant couch upon thy breast.\n\n  To shield me from day's fervid glare\n    Thine oaks their fostering arms extend,\n  As anxious o'er her infant care\n    I've seen a watchful mother bend.\n\n  A brighter cup, a sweeter draught,\n    I gather from that rill of thine,\n  Than maddening drunkards ever quaff'd,\n    Than all the treasures of the vine.\n\n  So smooth the pebbles on its shore,\n    That not a maid can thither stray,\n  But counts her strings of jewels o'er,\n    And thinks the pearls have slipp'd away.\n\n_Ahmed Ben Yousef Almenazy_.\n\n[30] Ben Yousef for many years acted as vizir to Abou Nasser, Sultan\n     of Diarbeker. His political talents are much praised, and he is\n     particularly celebrated for the address he displayed while upon\n     an embassy to the Greek Emperor at Constantinople. Yousef's\n     poetry must be looked upon merely as a jeu d'esprit suggested\n     by the beauties of the vale of Boz\u00e2a, as he passed through it.\n\n\nTO ADVERSITY[31]\n\n  Hail, chastening friend Adversity! 'Tis thine\n  The mental ore to temper and refine,\n  To cast in virtue's mould the yielding heart,\n  And honor's polish to the mind impart.\n  Without thy wakening touch, thy plastic aid,\n  I'd lain the shapeless mass that nature made;\n  But form'd, great artist, by thy magic hand,\n  I gleam a sword to conquer and command.\n\n_Abou Menbaa Carawash_.\n\n\n[31] The life of this prince was checkered with various adventures;\n     he was perpetually engaged in contests either with the neighboring\n     sovereigns, or the princes of his own family. After many struggles\n     he was obliged to submit to his brother, Abou Camel, who\n     immediately ordered him to be seized, and conveyed to a place\n     of security.\n\n\nON THE INCOMPATIBILITY OF PRIDE AND TRUE GLORY[32]\n\n  Think not, Abdallah, pride and fame\n    Can ever travel hand in hand;\n  With breast oppos'd, and adverse aim,\n    On the same narrow path they stand.\n\n  Thus youth and age together meet,\n    And life's divided moments share;\n  This can't advance till that retreat,\n    What's here increas'd, is lessen'd there.\n\n  And thus the falling shades of night\n    Still struggle with the lucid ray,\n  And e'er they stretch their gloomy flight\n    Must win the lengthen'd space from day.\n\n_Abou Alola_.\n\n[32] Abou Alola is esteemed as one of the most excellent of the\n     Arabian poets. He was born blind, but this did not deter him from\n     the pursuit of literature. Abou Alola died at Maara in the year\n     449, aged eighty-six.\n\n\nTHE DEATH OF NEDHAM ALMOLK\n\n  Thy virtues fam'd thro' every land,\n    Thy spotless life, in age and youth,\n  Prove thee a pearl, by nature's hand,\n    Form'd out of purity and truth.\n\n  Too long its beams of Orient light\n    Upon a thankless world were shed;\n  Allah has now reveng'd the slight,\n    And call'd it to its native bed.\n\n_Shebal Addaulet_.\n\n\nLINES TO A LOVER\n\n  When you told us our glances soft, timid and mild,\n    Could occasion such wounds in the heart,\n  Can ye wonder that yours, so ungovern'd and wild,\n    Some wounds to our cheeks should impart?\n\n  The wounds on our cheeks are but transient, I own,\n    With a blush they appear and decay;\n  But those on the heart, fickle youths, ye have shown\n    To be even more transient than they.\n\n_Waladata_.\n\n\nVERSES TO MY DAUGHTERS[33]\n\n  With jocund heart and cheerful brow\n    I used to hail the festal morn--\n  How must Mohammed greet it now?--\n    A prisoner helpless and forlorn.\n\n  While these dear maids in beauty's bloom,\n    With want opprest, with rags o'erspread,\n  By sordid labors at the loom\n    Must earn a poor, precarious bread.\n\n  Those feet that never touched the ground,\n    Till musk or camphor strew'd the way,\n  Now bare and swoll'n with many a wound.\n    Must struggle thro' the miry clay.\n\n  Those radiant cheeks are veil'd in woe,\n    A shower descends from every eye,\n  And not a starting tear can flow,\n    That wakes not an attending sigh.\n\n  Fortune, that whilom own'd my sway,\n    And bow'd obsequious to my nod,\n  Now sees me destin'd to obey,\n    And bend beneath oppression's rod.\n\n  Ye mortals with success elate,\n    Who bask in hope's delusive beam,\n  Attentive view Mohammed's fate,\n    And own that bliss is but a dream.\n\n_Mohammed Bed Abad_.\n\n[33] Seville was one of those small sovereignties into which Spain\n     had been divided after the extinction of the house of Ommiah. It\n     did not long retain its independence, and the only prince who ever\n     presided over it as a separate kingdom seems to have been Mohammed\n     Ben Abad, the author of these verses. For thirty-three years he\n     reigned over Seville and the neighboring districts with considerable\n     reputation, but being attacked by Joseph, son to the Emperor of\n     Morocco, at the head of a numerous army of Africans, was defeated,\n     taken prisoner, and thrown into a dungeon, where he died in the year\n     488.\n\n\nSERENADE TO MY SLEEPING MISTRESS[34]\n\n  Sure Harut's[B] potent spells were breath'd\n    Upon that magic sword, thine eye;\n  For if it wounds us thus while sheath'd,\n    When drawn, 'tis vain its edge to fly.\n\n  How canst thou doom me, cruel fair,\n    Plung'd in the hell[C] of scorn to groan?\n  No idol e'er this heart could share,\n    This heart has worshipp'd thee alone.\n\n_Aly Ben Abd_.\n\n[34] This author was by birth an African; but having passed over to\n     Spain, he was much patronized by Mohammed, Sultan of Seville. After\n     the fall of his master, Ben Abd returned to Africa, and died at\n     Tangier, A.H. 488.\n\n[B] A wicked angel who is permitted to tempt mankind by teaching them\n    magic; see the legend respecting him in the Koran.\n\n[C] The poet here alludes to the punishments denounced in the Koran\n    against those who worship a plurality of Gods: \"their couch shall\n    be in hell, and over them shall be coverings of fire.\"\n\n\nTHE INCONSISTENT[35]\n\n  When I sent you my melons, you cried out with scorn,\n    They ought to be heavy and wrinkled and yellow;\n  When I offer'd myself, whom those graces adorn,\n    You flouted, and call'd me an ugly old fellow.\n\n[35] Written to a lady upon her refusal of a present of melons, and her\n     rejection of the addresses of an admirer.\n\n\nTHE CAPTURE OF JERUSALEM[36]\n\n  From our distended eyeballs flow\n    A mingled stream of tears and blood;\n  No care we feel, nor wish to know,\n    But who shall pour the largest flood.\n\n  But what defense can tears afford?\n    What aid supply in this dread hour?\n  When kindled by the sparkling sword\n    War's raging flames the land devour.\n\n  No more let sleep's seductive charms\n    Upon your torpid souls be shed:\n  A crash like this, such dire alarms,\n    Might burst the slumbers of the dead.\n\n  Think where your dear companions lie--\n    Survey their fate, and hear their woes--\n  How some thro' trackless deserts fly,\n    Some in the vulture's maw repose;\n\n  While some more wretched still, must bear\n    The tauntings of a Christian's tongue--\n  Hear this--and blush ye not to wear\n    The silken robe of peace so long?\n\n  Remember what ensanguin'd showers\n    The Syrian plains with crimson dyed,\n  And think how many blooming flowers\n    In Syrian forts their beauties hide.\n\n  Arabian youths! In such a cause\n    Can ye the voice of glory slight?\n  Warriors of Persia! Can ye pause,\n    Or fear to mingle in the fight?\n\n  If neither piety nor shame\n    Your breasts can warm, your souls can move,\n  Let emulation's bursting flame\n    Wake you to vengeance and to love.\n\n_Almodhafer Alabiwerdy_.\n\n[36] The capture of Jerusalem took place in the 492d year of the Hegira,\n     A.D. 1099. Alabiwerdy, who wrote these verses, was a native of\n     Khorasan; he died A.H. 507.\n\n\nTO A LADY\n\n  No, Abla, no--when Selim tells\n  Of many an unknown grace that dwells\n      In Abla's face and mien,\n  When he describes the sense refin'd,\n  That lights thine eye and fills thy mind,\n      By thee alone unseen.\n\n  Tis not that drunk with love he sees\n  Ideal charms, which only please\n      Thro' passion's partial veil,\n  'Tis not that flattery's glozing tongue\n  Hath basely fram'd an idle song,\n      But truth that breath'd the tale.\n\n  Thine eyes unaided ne'er could trace\n  Each opening charm, each varied grace,\n      That round thy person plays;\n  Some must remain conceal'd from thee,\n  For Selim's watchful eye to see,\n      For Selim's tongue to praise.\n\n  One polish'd mirror can declare\n  That eye so bright, that face so fair,\n      That cheek which shames the rose;\n  But how thy mantle waves behind,\n  How float thy tresses on the wind,\n      Another only shows.\n\n\nAN EPIGRAM[37]\n\n  Whoever has recourse to thee\n    Can hope for health no more,\n  He's launched into perdition's sea,\n    A sea without a shore.\n\n  Where'er admission thou canst gain,\n    Where'er thy phiz can pierce,\n  At once the Doctor they retain,\n    The mourners and the hearse.\n\n_George_.\n\n[37] Written to Abou Alchair Selamu, an Egyptian physician. The author\n     was a physician of Antioch.\n\n\nON A LITTLE MAN WITH A VERY LARGE BEARD\n\n  How can thy chin that burden bear?\n    Is it all gravity to shock?\n  Is it to make the people stare?\n    And be thyself a laughing stock?\n\n  When I behold thy little feet\n     After thy beard obsequious run,\n  I always fancy that I meet\n    Some father followed by his son.\n\n  A man like thee scarce e'er appear'd--\n    A beard like thine--where shall we find it?\n  Surely thou cherishest thy beard\n    In hope to hide thyself behind it.\n\n_Isaai, Ben Khalif_.\n\n\nLAMIAT ALAJEM[38]\n\n  No kind supporting hand I meet,\n  But Fortitude shall stay my feet;\n  No borrow'd splendors round me shine,\n  But Virtue's lustre all is mine;\n  A Fame unsullied still I boast,\n  Obscur'd, conceal'd, but never lost--\n  The same bright orb that led the day\n  Pours from the West his mellow'd ray.\n\n  Zaura, farewell! No more I see\n  Within thy walls, a home for me;\n  Deserted, spurn'd, aside I'm toss'd,\n  As an old sword whose scabbard's lost:\n  Around thy walls I seek in vain\n  Some bosom that will soothe my pain--\n  No friend is near to breathe relief,\n  Or brother to partake my grief.\n  For many a melancholy day\n  Thro' desert vales I've wound my way;\n  The faithful beast, whose back I press,\n  In groans laments her lord's distress;\n\n  In every quiv'ring of my spear\n  A sympathetic sigh I hear;\n  The camel bending with his load,\n  And struggling thro' the thorny road,\n  'Midst the fatigues that bear him down,\n  In Hassan's woes forgets his own;\n  Yet cruel friends my wanderings chide,\n  My sufferings slight, my toils deride.\n\n  Once wealth, I own, engrossed each thought,\n  There was a moment when I sought\n  The glitt'ring stores Ambition claims\n  To feed the wants his fancy frames;\n  But now 'tis past--the changing day\n  Has snatch'd my high-built hopes away,\n  And bade this wish my labors close--\n  Give me not riches, but repose.\n  'Tis he--that mien my friend declares,\n  That stature, like the lance he bears;\n  I see that breast which ne'er contain'd\n  A thought by fear or folly stain'd,\n  Whose powers can every change obey,\n  In business grave, in trifles gay,\n  And, form'd each varying taste to please,\n  Can mingle dignity with ease.\n\n  What, tho' with magic influence, sleep,\n  O'er every closing eyelid creep:\n  Tho' drunk with its oblivious wine\n  Our comrades on their bales recline,\n  My Selim's trance I sure can break--\n  Selim, 'tis I, 'tis I who speak.\n  Dangers on every side impend,\n  And sleep'st thou, careless of thy friend?\n  Thou sleep'st while every star on high,\n  Beholds me with a wakeful eye--\n  Thou changest, ere the changeful night\n  Hath streak'd her fleeting robe with white.\n\n  'Tis love that hurries me along--\n  I'm deaf to fear's repressive song--\n  The rocks of Idham I'll ascend,\n  Tho' adverse darts each path defend,\n  And hostile sabres glitter there,\n  To guard the tresses of the fair.\n\n  Come, Selim, let us pierce the grove,\n  While night befriends, to seek my love.\n  The clouds of fragrance as they rise\n  Shall mark the place where Abla lies.\n  Around her tent my jealous foes,\n  Like lions, spread their watchful rows;\n  Amidst their bands, her bow'r appears\n  Embosom'd in a wood of spears--\n  A wood still nourish'd by the dews,\n  Which smiles, and softest looks diffuse.\n  Thrice happy youths! who midst yon shades\n  Sweet converse hold with Idham's maids,\n  What bliss, to view them gild the hours,\n  And brighten wit and fancy's powers,\n  While every foible they disclose\n  New transport gives, new graces shows.\n  'Tis theirs to raise with conscious art\n  The flames of love in every heart;\n  'Tis yours to raise with festive glee\n  The flames of hospitality:\n  Smit by their glances lovers lie,\n  And helpless sink and hopeless die;\n  While slain by you the stately steed\n  To crown the feast, is doom'd to bleed,\n  To crown the feast, where copious flows\n  The sparkling juice that soothes your woes,\n  That lulls each care and heals each wound,\n  As the enlivening bowl goes round.\n  Amidst those vales my eager feet\n  Shall trace my Abla's dear retreat,\n  A gale of health may hover there,\n  To breathe some solace to my care.\n  I fear not love--I bless the dart\n  Sent in a glance to pierce the heart:\n  With willing breast the sword I hail\n  That wounds me thro' an half-clos'd veil:\n  Tho' lions howling round the shade,\n  My footsteps haunt, my walks invade,\n  No fears shall drive me from the grove,\n  If Abla listen to my love.\n\n  Ah, Selim! shall the spells of ease\n  Thy friendship chain, thine ardor freeze!\n  Wilt thou enchanted thus, decline\n  Each gen'rous thought, each bold design?\n  Then far from men some cell prepare;\n  Or build a mansion in the air--\n  But yield to us, ambition's tide,\n  Who fearless on its waves can ride;\n  Enough for thee if thou receive\n  The scattered spray the billows leave.\n\n  Contempt and want the wretch await\n  Who slumbers in an abject state--\n  'Midst rushing crowds, by toil and pain\n  The meed of Honor we must gain;\n  At Honor's call, the camel hastes\n  Thro' trackless wilds and dreary wastes,\n  Till in the glorious race she find\n  The fleetest coursers left behind:\n  By toils like these alone, he cries,\n  Th' adventurous youths to greatness rise;\n  If bloated indolence were fame,\n  And pompous ease our noblest aim,\n  The orb that regulates the day\n  Would ne'er from Aries' mansion stray.\n\n  I've bent at Fortune's shrine too long--\n  Too oft she heard my suppliant tongue--\n  Too oft has mock'd my idle prayers,\n  While fools and knaves engross'd her cares,\n  Awake for them, asleep to me,\n  Heedless of worth she scorn'd each plea.\n  Ah! had her eyes, more just survey'd\n  The diff'rent claims which each display'd,\n  Those eyes from partial fondness free\n  Had slept to them, and wak'd for me.\n\n  But, 'midst my sorrows and my toils,\n  Hope ever sooth'd my breast with smiles;\n  Her hand remov'd each gathering ill,\n  And oped life's closing prospects still.\n  Yet spite of all her friendly art\n  The specious scene ne'er gain'd my heart;\n  I lov'd it not altho' the day\n  Met my approach, and cheer'd my way;\n  I loath it now the hours retreat,\n  And fly me with reverted feet.\n\n  My soul from every tarnish free\n  May boldly vaunt her purity,\n  But ah, how keen, however bright,\n  The sabre glitter to the sight,\n  Its splendor's lost, its polish vain,\n  Till some bold hand the steel sustain.\n\n  Why have my days been stretch'd by fate,\n  To see the vile and vicious great--\n  While I, who led the race so long,\n  Am last and meanest of the throng?\n  Ah, why has death so long delay'd\n  To wrap me in his friendly shade,\n  Left me to wander thus alone,\n  When all my heart held dear is gone!\n\n  But let me check these fretful sighs--\n  Well may the base above me rise,\n  When yonder planets as they run\n  Mount in the sky above the sun.\n  Resigned I bow to Fate's decree,\n  Nor hope his laws will change for me;\n  Each shifting scene, each varying hour,\n  But proves the ruthless tyrants' power.\n\n  But tho' with ills unnumber'd curst,\n  We owe to faithless man the worst;\n  For man can smile with specious art,\n  And plant a dagger in the heart.\n  He only's fitted for the strife\n  Which fills the boist'rous paths of life,\n  Who, as he treads the crowded scenes,\n  Upon no kindred bosom leans.\n  Too long my foolish heart had deem'd\n  Mankind as virtuous as they seem'd;\n  The spell is broke, their faults are bare,\n  And now I see them as they are;\n  Truth from each tainted breast has flown,\n  And falsehood marks them all her own.\n  Incredulous I listen now\n  To every tongue, and every vow,\n  For still there yawns a gulf between\n  Those honeyed words, and what they mean;\n  With honest pride elate, I see\n  The sons of falsehood shrink from me,\n  As from the right line's even way\n  The biass'd curves deflecting stray--\n  But what avails it to complain?\n  With souls like theirs reproof is vain;\n  If honor e'er such bosoms share\n  The sabre's point must fix it there.\n  But why exhaust life's rapid bowl,\n  And suck the dregs with sorrow foul,\n  When long ere this my youth has drain'd\n  Whatever zest the cup contain'd?\n  Why should we mount upon the wave,\n  And ocean's yawning horrors brave,\n  When we may swallow from the flask\n  Whatever the wants of mortals ask?\n\n  Contentment's realms no fears invade,\n  No cares annoy, no sorrows shade,\n  There plac'd secure, in peace we rest,\n  Nor aught demand to make us blest.\n  While pleasure's gay fantastic bower,\n  The splendid pageant of an hour,\n  Like yonder meteor in the skies,\n  Flits with a breath no more to rise.\n\n  As thro' life's various walks we're led,\n  May prudence hover o'er our head!\n  May she our words, our actions guide,\n  Our faults correct, our secrets hide!\n\n  May she, where'er our footsteps stray,\n  Direct our paths, and clear the way!\n\n  Till, every scene of tumult past,\n  She bring us to repose at last,\n  Teach us to love that peaceful shore,\n  And roam thro' folly's wilds no more!\n\n_Mauid Eddin Alhassan Abou Ismael Altograi_.\n\n[38] Abou Ismael was a native of Ispahan. He devoted himself to the\n     service of the Seljuk Sultans of Persia, and enjoyed the confidence\n     of Malec Shah, and his son and grandson, Mohammed and Massoud, by\n     the last of whom he was raised to the dignity of vizir. Massoud,\n     however, was not long in a condition to afford Abou Ismael any\n     protection, for, being attacked by his brother Mahmoud, he was\n     defeated, and driven from Mousel, and upon the fall of his master\n     the vizir was seized and thrown into prison, and at length in the\n     year 515 sentenced to be put to death.\n\n\nTO YOUTH\n\n  Yes, youth, thou'rt fled, and I am left,\n    Like yonder desolated bower,\n  By winter's ruthless hand bereft\n    Of every leaf and every flower.\n\n  With heaving heart and streaming eyes\n    I woo'd thee to prolong thy stay,\n  But vain were all my tears and sighs,\n    Thou only fled'st more fast away.\n\n  Yet tho' thou fled'st away so fast,\n    I can recall thee if I will;\n  For I can talk of what is past,\n    And while I talk, enjoy thee still.\n\n_Ebn Alrabia_.\n\n\nON LOVE[39]\n\n  I never knew a sprightly fair\n    That was not dear to me,\n  And freely I my heart could share,\n    With every one I see.\n\n  It is not this or that alone\n    On whom my choice would fall,\n  I do not more incline to one\n    Than I incline to all.\n\n  The circle's bounding line are they,\n    Its centre is my heart,\n  My ready love the equal ray\n    That flows to every part.\n\n_Abou Aly_.\n\n[39] Abou Aly flourished in Egypt about the year 530, and was equally\n     celebrated as a mathematician and as a poet.\n\n\nA REMONSTRANCE WITH A DRUNKARD[40]\n\n  As drench'd in wine, the other night,\n    Zeid from the banquet sallied,\n  Thus I reprov'd his drunken plight,\n    Thus he my prudence rallied;\n\n  \"In bev'rage so impure and vile,\n    How canst thou thus delight?\"--\n  \"My cups,\" he answer'd with a smile,\n    \"Are generous and bright.\"\n\n  \"Beware those dang'rous draughts,\" I cried,\n    \"With love the goblet flows\"--\n  \"And curst is he,\" the youth replied,\n    \"Who hatred only knows.\"\n\n  \"Those cups too soon with sickness fraught\n    Thy stomach shall deplore\"--\n  \"Then soon,\" he cried, \"the noxious draught\n    And all its ills are o'er.\"\n\n  \"Rash youth, thy guilty joys resign.\"\n    \"I will,\" at length he said,\n  \"I vow I'll bid adieu to wine\n    As soon as I am dead.\"\n\n_Yahia Ben Salamet_.\n\n[40] This author was a native of Syria, and died at Miafarakir in the\n     year of the Hegira 553.\n\n\nVERSES[41]\n\n  Tho' such unbounded love you swear,\n    'Tis only art I see;\n  Can I believe that one so fair\n    Should ever dote on me?\n\n  Say that you hate, and freely show\n    That age displeases youth;\n  And I may love you when I know\n     That you can tell the truth.\n\n_Caliph Almonklafi Laimrillah_.\n\n[41] Almonklafi was the thirty-first Caliph of the house of Abbas, and\n     the only one who possessed any real authority since the reign of\n     Radhi. These lines were addressed to a lady who pretended a\n     passion for him in his old age.\n\n\nON PROCRASTINATION[42]\n\n  Youth is a drunken noisy hour,\n    With every folly fraught;\n  But man, by age's chast'ning power,\n    Is sober'd into thought.\n\n  Then we resolve our faults to shun,\n    And shape our course anew;\n  But ere the wise reform's begun\n    Life closes on our view.\n\n  The travellers thus who wildly roam,\n    Or heedlessly delay,\n  Are left, when they should reach their home,\n    Benighted on the way.\n\n_Hebat Allah Ibn Altalmith_.\n\n[42] Ibn Altalmith died in the 560th year of the Hegira, at the advanced\n     age of one hundred.\n\n\nTHE EARLY DEATH OF ABOU ALHASSAN ALY[43]\n\n  Soon hast thou run the race of life,\n    Nor could our tears thy speed control--\n  Still in the courser's gen'rous strife\n    The best will soonest reach the goal.\n\n  As Death upon his hand turns o'er\n    The different gems the world displays,\n  He seizes first to swell his store\n    The brightest jewel he surveys.\n\n  Thy name, by every breath convey'd,\n    Stretch'd o'er the globe its boundless flight;\n  Alas! in eve the lengthening shade\n    But lengthens to be lost in night!\n\n  If gracious Allah bade thee close\n    Thy youthful eyes so soon on day,\n  'Tis that he readiest welcomes those\n    Who love him best and best obey.\n\n_Alnassar Ledin Allah_.\n\n[43] Alnassar Ledin Allah was the thirty-fourth Abasside Caliph, and\n     the last excepting three who enjoyed this splendid title, which\n     was finally abolished by the Tartars in the year 656.\n\n\nTHE INTERVIEW\n\n_A Song_\n\n  Darkness clos'd around, loud the tempest drove,\n  When thro' yonder glen I saw my lover rove,\n                                            Dearest youth!\n  Soon he reach'd our cot--weary, wet, and cold,\n  But warmth, wine, and I, to cheer his spirits strove,\n                                            Dearest youth!\n  How my love, cried I, durst thou hither stray\n  Thro' the gloom, nor fear the ghosts that haunt the grove?\n                                            Dearest youth!\n  In this heart, said he, fear no seat can find,\n  When each thought is fill'd alone with thee and love,\n                                            Dearest maid!\n\n\n\n\nARABIAN NIGHTS\n\n[_Selected tales edited by Andrew Lang_]\n\n\nTHE SEVEN VOYAGES OF SINDBAD\n\nIn the times of the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid there lived in Bagdad a poor\nporter named Hindbad, who, on a very hot day, was sent to carry a heavy\nload from one end of the city to the other. Before he had accomplished\nhalf the distance he was so tired that, finding himself in a quiet\nstreet where the pavement was sprinkled with rose-water, and a cool\nbreeze was blowing, he set his burden upon the ground, and sat down to\nrest in the shade of a grand house. Very soon he decided that he could\nnot have chosen a pleasanter place; a delicious perfume of aloes-wood\nand pastilles came from the open windows and mingled with the scent of\nthe rose-water which steamed up from the hot pavement. Within the palace\nhe heard some music, as of many instruments cunningly played, and the\nmelodious warble of nightingales and other birds, and by this, and the\nappetizing smell of many dainty dishes of which he presently became\naware, he judged that feasting and merry-making were going on. He\nwondered who lived in this magnificent house which he had never seen\nbefore, the street in which it stood being one which he seldom had\noccasion to pass. To satisfy his curiosity he went up to some splendidly\ndressed servants who stood at the door, and asked one of them the name\nof the master of the mansion.\n\n\"What,\" replied he, \"do you live in Bagdad, and not know that here lives\nthe noble Sindbad the Sailor, that famous traveller who sailed over\nevery sea upon which the sun shines?\"\n\nThe porter, who had often heard people speak of the immense wealth of\nSindbad, could not help feeling envious of one whose lot seemed to be as\nhappy as his own was miserable. Casting his eyes up to the sky he\nexclaimed aloud:--\n\n\"Consider, Mighty Creator of all things, the difference between\nSindbad's life and mine. Every day I suffer a thousand hardships and\nmisfortunes, and have hard work to get even enough bad barley bread to\nkeep myself and my family alive, while the lucky Sindbad spends money\nright and left and lives upon the fat of the land! What has he done that\nyou should give him this pleasant life--what have I done to deserve so\nhard a fate?\"\n\nSo saying he stamped upon the ground like one beside himself with misery\nand despair. Just at this moment a servant came out of the palace, and\ntaking him by the arm said, \"Come with me, the noble Sindbad, my master,\nwishes to speak to you.\"\n\nHindbad was not a little surprised at this summons, and feared that his\nunguarded words might have drawn upon him the displeasure of Sindbad, so\nhe tried to excuse himself upon the pretext that he could not leave the\nburden which had been intrusted to him in the street. However the lackey\npromised him that it should be taken care of, and urged him to obey the\ncall so pressingly that at last the porter was obliged to yield.\n\nHe followed the servant into a vast room, where a great company was\nseated round a table covered with all sorts of delicacies. In the place\nof honor sat a tall, grave man, whose long white beard gave him a\nvenerable air. Behind his chair stood a crowd of attendants eager to\nminister to his wants. This was the famous Sindbad himself. The porter,\nmore than ever alarmed at the sight of so much magnificence, tremblingly\nsaluted the noble company. Sindbad, making a sign to him to approach,\ncaused him to be seated at his right hand, and himself heaped choice\nmorsels upon his plate, and poured out for him a draught of excellent\nwine, and presently, when the banquet drew to a close, spoke to him\nfamiliarly, asking his name and occupation.\n\n\"My lord,\" replied the porter, \"I am called Hindbad.\"\n\n\"I am glad to see you here,\" continued Sindbad. \"And I will answer for\nthe rest of the company that they are equally pleased, but I wish you to\ntell me what it was that you said just now in the street.\" For Sindbad,\npassing by the open window before the feast began, had heard his\ncomplaint and therefore had sent for him.\n\nAt this question Hindbad was covered with confusion, and hanging down\nhis head, replied, \"My lord, I confess that, overcome by weariness and\nill-humor, I uttered indiscreet words, which I pray you to pardon me.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" replied Sindbad, \"do not imagine that I am so unjust as to blame\nyou. On the contrary, I understand your situation and can pity you. Only\nyou appear to be mistaken about me, and I wish to set you right. You\ndoubtless imagine that I have acquired all the wealth and luxury that\nyou see me enjoy without difficulty or danger, but this is far indeed\nfrom being the case. I have only reached this happy state after having\nfor years suffered every possible kind of toil and danger.\n\n\"Yes, my noble friends,\" he continued, addressing the company, \"I assure\nyou that my adventures have been strange enough to deter even the most\navaricious men from seeking wealth by traversing the seas. Since you\nhave, perhaps, heard but confused accounts of my Seven Voyages, and the\ndangers and wonders that I have met with by sea and land, I will now\ngive you a full and true account of them, which I think you will be well\npleased to hear.\"\n\nAs Sindbad was relating his adventures chiefly on account of the porter,\nhe ordered, before beginning his tale, that the burden which had been\nleft in the street should be carried by some of his own servants to the\nplace for which Hindbad had set out at first, while he remained to\nlisten to the story.\n\n\n\n\nFIRST VOYAGE\n\nI had inherited considerable wealth from my parents, and being young and\nfoolish I at first squandered it recklessly upon every kind of pleasure,\nbut presently, finding that riches speedily take to themselves wings if\nmanaged as badly as I was managing mine, and remembering also that to be\nold and poor is misery indeed, I began to bethink me of how I could make\nthe best of what still remained to me. I sold all my household goods by\npublic auction, and joined a company of merchants who traded by sea,\nembarking with them at Balsora in a ship which we had fitted out between\nus.\n\nWe set sail and took our course towards the East Indies by the Persian\nGulf, having the coast of Persia upon our left hand and upon our right\nthe shores of Arabia Felix. I was at first much troubled by the uneasy\nmotion of the vessel, but speedily recovered my health, and since that\nhour have been no more plagued by sea-sickness.\n\nFrom time to time we landed at various islands, where we sold or\nexchanged our merchandise, and one day, when the wind dropped suddenly,\nwe found ourselves becalmed close to a small island like a green meadow,\nwhich only rose slightly above the surface of the water. Our sails were\nfurled, and the captain gave permission to all who wished to land for a\nwhile and amuse themselves. I was among the number, but when after\nstrolling about for some time we lighted a fire and sat down to enjoy\nthe repast which we had brought with us, we were startled by a sudden\nand violent trembling of the island, while at the same moment those left\nupon the ship set up an outcry bidding us come on board for our lives,\nsince what we had taken for an island was nothing but the back of a\nsleeping whale. Those who were nearest to the boat threw themselves into\nit, others sprang into the sea, but before I could save myself the whale\nplunged suddenly into the depths of the ocean, leaving me clinging to a\npiece of the wood which we had brought to make our fire. Meanwhile a\nbreeze had sprung up, and in the confusion that ensued on board our\nvessel in hoisting the sails and taking up those who were in the boat\nand clinging to its sides, no one missed me and I was left at the mercy\nof the waves. All that day I floated up and down, now beaten this way,\nnow that, and when night fell I despaired for my life; but, weary and\nspent as I was, I clung to my frail support, and great was my joy when\nthe morning light showed me that I had drifted against an island.\n\nThe cliffs were high and steep, but luckily for me some tree-roots\nprotruded in places, and by their aid I climbed up at last, and\nstretched myself upon the turf at the top, where I lay, more dead than\nalive, till the sun was high in the heavens. By that time I was very\nhungry, but after some searching I came upon some eatable herbs, and a\nspring of clear water, and much refreshed I set out to explore the\nisland. Presently I reached a great plain where a grazing horse was\ntethered, and as I stood looking at it I heard voices talking apparently\nunderground, and in a moment a man appeared who asked me how I came upon\nthe island. I told him my adventures, and heard in return that he was\none of the grooms of Mihrage, the King of the island, and that each year\nthey came to feed their master's horses in this plain. He took me to a\ncave where his companions were assembled, and when I had eaten of the\nfood they set before me, they bade me think myself fortunate to have\ncome upon them when I did, since they were going back to their master on\nthe morrow, and without their aid I could certainly never have found my\nway to the inhabited part of the island.\n\nEarly the next morning we accordingly set out, and when we reached the\ncapital I was graciously received by the King, to whom I related my\nadventures, upon which he ordered that I should be well cared for and\nprovided with such things as I needed. Being a merchant I sought out men\nof my own profession, and particularly those who came from foreign\ncountries, as I hoped in this way to hear news from Bagdad, and find out\nsome means of returning thither, for the capital was situated upon the\nsea-shore, and visited by vessels from all parts of the world. In the\nmeantime I heard many curious things, and answered many questions\nconcerning my own country, for I talked willingly with all who came to\nme. Also to while away the time of waiting I explored a little island\nnamed Cassel, which belonged to King Mihrage, and which was supposed to\nbe inhabited by a spirit named Deggial. Indeed, the sailors assured me\nthat often at night the playing of timbals could be heard upon it.\nHowever, I saw nothing strange upon my voyage, saving some fish that\nwere full two hundred cubits long, but were fortunately more in dread of\nus than even we were of them, and fled from us if we did but strike upon\na board to frighten them. Other fishes there were only a cubit long\nwhich had heads like owls.\n\nOne day after my return, as I went down to the quay, I saw a ship which\nhad just cast anchor, and was discharging her cargo, while the merchants\nto whom it belonged were busily directing the removal of it to their\nwarehouses. Drawing nearer I presently noticed that my own name was\nmarked upon some of the packages, and after having carefully examined\nthem, I felt sure that they were indeed those which I had put on board\nour ship at Balsora. I then recognized the captain of the vessel, but as\nI was certain that he believed me to be dead, I went up to him and asked\nwho owned the packages that I was looking at.\n\n\"There was on board my ship,\" he replied, \"a merchant of Bagdad named\nSindbad. One day he and several of my other passengers landed upon what\nwe supposed to be an island, but which was really an enormous whale\nfloating asleep upon the waves. No sooner did it feel upon its back the\nheat of the fire which had been kindled, than it plunged into the depths\nof the sea. Several of the people who were upon it perished in the\nwaters, and among others this unlucky Sindbad. This merchandise is his,\nbut I have resolved to dispose of it for the benefit of his family if I\nshould ever chance to meet with them.\"\n\n\"Captain,\" said I, \"I am that Sindbad whom you believe to be dead, and\nthese are my possessions!\"\n\nWhen the captain heard these words he cried out in amazement, \"Lackaday!\nand what is the world coming to? In these days there is not an honest\nman to be met with. Did I not with my own eyes see Sindbad drown, and\nnow you have the audacity to tell me that you are he! I should have\ntaken you to be a just man, and yet for the sake of obtaining that which\ndoes not belong to you, you are ready to invent this horrible\nfalsehood.\"\n\n\"Have patience, and do me the favor to hear my story,\" said I.\n\n\"Speak then,\" replied the captain, \"I am all attention.\"\n\nSo I told him of my escape and of my fortunate meeting with the king's\ngrooms, and how kindly I had been received at the palace. Very soon I\nbegan to see that I had made some impression upon him, and after the\narrival of some of the other merchants, who showed great joy at once\nmore seeing me alive, he declared that he also recognized me.\n\nThrowing himself upon my neck he exclaimed, \"Heaven be praised that you\nhave escaped from so great a danger. As to your goods, I pray you take\nthem, and dispose of them as you please.\" I thanked him, and praised his\nhonesty, begging him to accept several bales of merchandise in token of\nmy gratitude, but he would take nothing. Of the choicest of my goods I\nprepared a present for King Mihrage, who was at first amazed, having\nknown that I had lost my all. However, when I had explained to him how\nmy bales had been miraculously restored to me, he graciously accepted my\ngifts, and in return gave me many valuable things. I then took leave of\nhim, and exchanging my merchandise for sandal and aloes-wood, camphor,\nnutmegs, cloves, pepper, and ginger, I embarked upon the same vessel and\ntraded so successfully upon our homeward voyage that I arrived in\nBalsora with about one hundred thousand sequins. My family received me\nwith as much joy as I felt upon seeing them once more. I bought land and\nslaves, and built a great house in which I resolved to live happily, and\nin the enjoyment of all the pleasures of life to forget my past\nsufferings.\n\nHere Sindbad paused, and commanded the musicians to play again, while\nthe feasting continued until evening. When the time came for the porter\nto depart, Sindbad gave him a purse containing one hundred sequins,\nsaying, \"Take this, Hindbad, and go home, but to-morrow come again and\nyou shall hear more of my adventures.\"\n\nThe porter retired quite overcome by so much generosity, and you may\nimagine that he was well received at home, where his wife and children\nthanked their lucky stars that he had found such a benefactor.\n\nThe next day Hindbad, dressed in his best, returned to the voyager's\nhouse, and was received with open arms. As soon as all the guests had\narrived the banquet began as before, and when they had feasted long and\nmerrily, Sindbad addressed them thus:--\n\n\"My friends, I beg that you will give me your attention while I relate\nthe adventures of my second voyage, which you will find even more\nastonishing than the first.\"\n\n\n\n\nSECOND VOYAGE\n\nI had resolved, as you know, on my return from my first voyage, to spend\nthe rest of my days quietly in Bagdad, but very soon I grew tired of\nsuch an idle life and longed once more to find myself upon the sea.\n\nI procured, therefore, such goods as were suitable for the places I\nintended to visit, and embarked for the second time in a good ship with\nother merchants whom I knew to be honorable men. We went from island to\nisland, often making excellent bargains, until one day we landed at a\nspot which, though covered with fruit-trees and abounding in springs of\nexcellent water, appeared to possess neither houses nor people. While my\ncompanions wandered here and there gathering flowers and fruit I sat\ndown in a shady place, and, having heartily enjoyed the provisions and\nthe wine I had brought with me, I fell asleep, lulled by the murmur of a\nclear brook which flowed close by.\n\nHow long I slept I know not, but when I opened my eyes and started to my\nfeet I perceived with horror that I was alone and that the ship was\ngone. I rushed to and fro like one distracted, uttering cries of\ndespair, and when from the shore I saw the vessel under full sail just\ndisappearing upon the horizon, I wished bitterly enough that I had been\ncontent to stay at home in safety. But since wishes could do me no good,\nI presently took courage and looked about me for a means of escape. When\nI had climbed a tall tree I first of all directed my anxious glances\ntowards the sea; but, finding nothing hopeful there, I turned landward,\nand my curiosity was excited by a huge dazzling white object, so far off\nthat I could not make out what it might be.\n\nDescending from the tree I hastily collected what remained of my\nprovisions and set off as fast as I could go towards it. As I drew near\nit seemed to me to be a white ball of immense size and height, and when\nI could touch it, I found it marvellously smooth and soft. As it was\nimpossible to climb it--for it presented no foothold--I walked round\nabout it seeking some opening, but there was none. I counted, however,\nthat it was at least fifty paces round. By this time the sun was near\nsetting, but quite suddenly it fell dark, something like a huge black\ncloud came swiftly over me, and I saw with amazement that it was a bird\nof extraordinary size which was hovering near. Then I remembered that I\nhad often heard the sailors speak of a wonderful bird called a roc, and\nit occurred to me that the white object which had so puzzled me must be\nits egg.\n\nSure enough the bird settled slowly down upon it, covering it with its\nwings to keep it warm, and I cowered close beside the egg in such a\nposition that one of the bird's feet, which was as large as the trunk of\na tree, was just in front of me. Taking off my turban I bound myself\nsecurely to it with the linen in the hope that the roc, when it took\nflight next morning, would bear me away with it from the desolate\nisland. And this was precisely what did happen. As soon as the dawn\nappeared the bird rose into the air carrying me up and up till I could\nno longer see the earth, and then suddenly it descended so swiftly that\nI almost lost consciousness. When I became aware that the roc had\nsettled and that I was once again upon solid ground, I hastily unbound\nmy turban from its foot and freed myself, and that not a moment too\nsoon; for the bird, pouncing upon a huge snake, killed it with a few\nblows from its powerful beak, and seizing it rose up into the air once\nmore and soon disappeared from my view. When I had looked about me I\nbegan to doubt if I had gained anything by quitting the desolate island.\n\nThe valley in which I found myself was deep and narrow, and surrounded\nby mountains which towered into the clouds, and were so steep and rocky\nthat there was no way of climbing up their sides. As I wandered about,\nseeking anxiously for some means of escaping from this trap, I observed\nthat the ground was strewed with diamonds, some of them of an\nastonishing size. This sight gave me great pleasure, but my delight was\nspeedily dampened when I saw also numbers of horrible snakes so long and\nso large that the smallest of them could have swallowed an elephant with\nease. Fortunately for me they seemed to hide in caverns of the rocks by\nday, and only came out by night, probably because of their enemy the\nroc.\n\nAll day long I wandered up and down the valley, and when it grew dusk I\ncrept into a little cave, and having blocked up the entrance to it with\na stone, I ate part of my little store of food and lay down to sleep,\nbut all through the night the serpents crawled to and fro, hissing\nhorribly, so that I could scarcely close my eyes for terror. I was\nthankful when the morning light appeared, and when I judged by the\nsilence that the serpents had retreated to their dens I came tremblingly\nout of my cave and wandered up and down the valley once more, kicking\nthe diamonds contemptuously out of my path, for I felt that they were\nindeed vain things to a man in my situation. At last, overcome with\nweariness, I sat down upon a rock, but I had hardly closed my eyes when\nI was startled by something which fell to the ground with a thud close\nbeside me.\n\nIt was a huge piece of fresh meat, and as I stared at it several more\npieces rolled over the cliffs in different places. I had always thought\nthat the stories the sailors told of the famous valley of diamonds, and\nof the cunning way which some merchants had devised for getting at the\nprecious stones, were mere travellers' tales invented to give pleasure\nto the hearers, but now I perceived that they were surely true. These\nmerchants came to the valley at the time when the eagles, which keep\ntheir eyries in the rocks, had hatched their young. The merchants then\nthrew great lumps of meat into the valley. These, falling with so much\nforce upon the diamonds, were sure to take up some of the precious\nstones with them, when the eagles pounced upon the meat and carried it\noff to their nests to feed their hungry broods. Then the merchants,\nscaring away the parent birds with shouts and outcries, would secure\ntheir treasures. Until this moment I had looked upon the valley as my\ngrave, for I had seen no possibility of getting out of it alive, but now\nI took courage and began to devise a means of escape. I began by picking\nup all the largest diamonds I could find and storing them carefully in\nthe leathern wallet which had held my provisions; this I tied securely\nto my belt. I then chose the piece of meat which seemed most suited to\nmy purpose, and with the aid of my turban bound it firmly to my back;\nthis done I laid down upon my face and awaited the coming of the eagles.\nI soon heard the flapping of their mighty wings above me, and had the\nsatisfaction of feeling one of them seize upon my piece of meat, and me\nwith it, and rise slowly towards his nest, into which he presently\ndropped me. Luckily for me the merchants were on the watch, and setting\nup their usual outcries, they rushed to the nest, scaring away the\neagle. Their amazement was great when they discovered me, and also their\ndisappointment, and with one accord they fell to abusing me for having\nrobbed them of their usual profit. Addressing myself to the one who\nseemed most aggrieved, I said:--\n\n\"I am sure, if you knew all that I have suffered, you would show more\nkindness towards me, and as for diamonds, I have enough here of the very\nbest for you and me and all your company.\" So saying I showed them to\nhim. The others all crowded around me, wondering at my adventures and\nadmiring the device by which I had escaped from the valley, and when\nthey had led me to their camp and examined my diamonds, they assured me\nthat in all the years that they had carried on their trade they had seen\nno stones to be compared with them for size and beauty.\n\nI found that each merchant chose a particular nest, and took his chance\nof what he might find in it. So I begged the one who owned the nest to\nwhich I had been carried to take as much as he would of my treasure, but\nhe contented himself with one stone, and that by no means the largest,\nassuring me that with such a gem his fortune was made, and he need toil\nno more. I stayed with the merchants several days, and then as they were\njourneying homewards I gladly accompanied them. Our way lay across high\nmountains infested with frightful serpents, but we had the good luck to\nescape them and came at last to the seashore. Thence we sailed to the\nisle of Roha, where the camphor-trees grow to such a size that a hundred\nmen could shelter under one of them with ease. The sap flows from an\nincision made high up in the tree into a vessel hung there to receive\nit, and soon hardens into the substance called camphor, but the tree\nitself withers up and dies when it has been so treated.\n\nIn this same island we saw the rhinoceros, an animal which is smaller\nthan the elephant and larger than the buffalo. It has one horn about a\ncubit long which is solid, but has a furrow from the base to the tip.\nUpon it is traced in white lines the figure of a man. The rhinoceros\nfights with the elephant, and transfixing him with his horn carries him\noff upon his head, but becoming blinded with the blood of his enemy, he\nfalls helpless to the ground, and then comes the roc, and clutches them\nboth up in his talons and takes them to feed his young. This doubtless\nastonishes you, but if you do not believe my tale go to Roha and see for\nyourself. For fear of wearying you I pass over in silence many other\nwonderful things which we saw in this island. Before we left I exchanged\none of my diamonds for much goodly merchandise by which I profited\ngreatly on our homeward way. At last we reached Balsora, whence I\nhastened to Bagdad, where my first action was to bestow large sums of\nmoney upon the poor, after which I settled down to enjoy tranquilly the\nriches I had gained with so much toil and pain.\n\nHaving thus related the adventures of his second voyage, Sindbad again\nbestowed a hundred sequins upon Hindbad, inviting him to come again on\nthe following day and hear how he fared upon his third voyage. The other\nguests also departed to their homes, but all returned at the same hour\nnext day, including the porter, whose former life of hard work and\npoverty had already begun to seem to him like a bad dream. Again after\nthe feast was over did Sindbad claim the attention of his guests and\nbegan the account of his third voyage.\n\n\n\n\nTHIRD VOYAGE\n\nAfter a very short time the pleasant easy life I led made me quite\nforget the perils of my two voyages. Moreover, as I was still in the\nprime of life, it pleased me better to be up and doing. So once more\nproviding myself with the rarest and choicest merchandise of Bagdad, I\nconveyed it to Balsora, and set sail with other merchants of my\nacquaintance for distant lands. We had touched at many ports and made\nmuch profit, when one day upon the open sea we were caught by a terrible\nwind which blew us completely out of our reckoning, and lasting for\nseveral days finally drove us into harbor on a strange island.\n\n\"I would rather have come to anchor anywhere than here,\" quoth our\ncaptain. \"This island and all adjoining it are inhabited by hairy\nsavages, who are certain to attack us, and whatever these dwarfs may do\nwe dare not resist, since they swarm like locusts, and if one of them is\nkilled the rest will fall upon us, and speedily make an end of us.\"\n\nThese words caused great consternation among all the ship's company, and\nonly too soon we were to find out that the captain spoke truly. There\nappeared a vast multitude of hideous savages, not more than two feet\nhigh and covered with reddish fur. Throwing themselves into the waves\nthey surrounded our vessel. Chattering meanwhile in a language we could\nnot understand, and clutching at ropes and gangways, they swarmed up the\nship's side with such speed and agility that they almost seemed to fly.\n\nYou may imagine the rage and terror that seized us as we watched them,\nneither daring to hinder them nor able to speak a word to deter them\nfrom their purpose, whatever it might be. Of this we were not left long\nin doubt. Hoisting the sails, and cutting the cable of the anchor, they\nsailed our vessel to an island which lay a little further off, where\nthey drove us ashore; then taking possession of her, they made off to\nthe place from which they had come, leaving us helpless upon a shore\navoided with horror by all mariners for a reason which you will soon\nlearn.\n\nTurning away from the sea we wandered miserably inland, finding as we\nwent various herbs and fruits which we ate, feeling that we might as\nwell live as long as possible though we had no hope of escape. Presently\nwe saw in the far distance what seemed to us to be a splendid palace,\ntowards which we turned our weary steps, but when we reached it we saw\nthat it was a castle, lofty, and strongly built. Pushing back the heavy\nebony doors we entered the courtyard, but upon the threshold of the\ngreat hall beyond it we paused, frozen with horror, at the sight which\ngreeted us. On one side lay a huge pile of bones--human bones; and on\nthe other numberless spits for roasting! Overcome with despair we sank\ntrembling to the ground, and lay there without speech or motion. The sun\nwas setting when a loud noise aroused us, the door of the hall was\nviolently burst open and a horrible giant entered. He was as tall as a\npalm tree, and perfectly black, and had one eye, which flamed like a\nburning coal in the middle of his forehead. His teeth were long and\nsharp and grinned horribly, while his lower lip hung down upon his\nchest, and he had ears like elephant's ears, which covered his\nshoulders, and nails like the claws of some fierce bird.\n\nAt this terrible sight our senses left us and we lay like dead men. When\nat last we came to ourselves the giant sat examining us attentively with\nhis fearful eye. Presently when he had looked at us enough he came\ntowards us, and stretching out his hand took me by the back of the neck,\nturning me this way and that, but feeling that I was mere skin and bone\nhe set me down again and went on to the next, whom he treated in the\nsame fashion; at last he came to the captain, and finding him the\nfattest of us all, he took him up in one hand and stuck him upon a spit\nand proceeded to kindle a huge fire at which he presently roasted him.\nAfter the giant had supped he lay down to sleep, snoring like the\nloudest thunder, while we lay shivering with horror the whole night\nthrough, and when day broke he awoke and went out, leaving us in the\ncastle.\n\nWhen we believed him to be really gone we started up bemoaning our\nhorrible fate, until the hall echoed with our despairing cries. Though\nwe were many and our enemy was alone it did not occur to us to kill him,\nand indeed we should have found that a hard task, even if we had thought\nof it, and no plan could we devise to deliver ourselves. So at last,\nsubmitting to our sad fate, we spent the day in wandering up and down\nthe island eating such fruits as we could find, and when night came we\nreturned to the castle, having sought in vain for any other place of\nshelter. At sunset the giant returned, supped upon one of our unhappy\ncomrades, slept and snored till dawn, and then left us as before. Our\ncondition seemed to us so frightful that several of my companions\nthought it would be better to leap from the cliffs and perish in the\nwaves at once, rather than await so miserable an end; but I had a plan\nof escape which I now unfolded to them, and which they at once agreed to\nattempt.\n\n\"Listen, my brothers,\" I added. \"You know that plenty of driftwood lies\nalong the shore. Let us make several rafts, and carry them to a suitable\nplace. If our plot succeeds, we can wait patiently for the chance of\nsome passing ship which would rescue us from this fatal island. If it\nfails, we must quickly take to our rafts; frail as they are, we have\nmore chance of saving our lives with them than we have if we remain\nhere.\"\n\nAll agreed with me, and we spent the day in building rafts, each capable\nof carrying three persons. At nightfall we returned to the castle, and\nvery soon in came the giant, and one more of our number was sacrificed.\nBut the time of our vengeance was at hand! As soon as he had finished\nhis horrible repast he lay down to sleep as before, and when we heard\nhim begin to snore I, and nine of the boldest of my comrades, rose\nsoftly, and took each a spit, which we made red-hot in the fire, and\nthen at a given signal we plunged it with one accord into the giant's\neye, completely blinding him. Uttering a terrible cry, he sprang to his\nfeet clutching in all directions to try to seize one of us, but we had\nall fled different ways as soon as the deed was done, and thrown\nourselves flat upon the ground in corners where he was not likely to\ntouch us with his feet.\n\nAfter a vain search he fumbled about till he found the door, and fled\nout of it howling frightfully. As for us, when he was gone we made haste\nto leave the fatal castle, and, stationing ourselves beside our rafts,\nwe waited to see what would happen. Our idea was that if, when the sun\nrose, we saw nothing of the giant, and no longer heard his howls, which\nstill came faintly through the darkness, growing more and more distant,\nwe should conclude that he was dead, and that we might safely stay upon\nthe island and need not risk our lives upon the frail rafts. But alas!\nmorning light showed us our enemy approaching us, supported on either\nhand by two giants nearly as large and fearful as himself, while a crowd\nof others followed close upon their heels. Hesitating no longer we\nclambered upon our rafts and rowed with all our might out to sea. The\ngiants, seeing their prey escaping them, seized up huge pieces of rock,\nand wading into the water hurled them after us with such good aim that\nall the rafts except the one I was upon were swamped, and their luckless\ncrews drowned, without our being able to do anything to help them.\nIndeed I and my two companions had all we could do to keep our own raft\nbeyond the reach of the giants, but by dint of hard rowing we at last\ngained the open sea. Here we were at the mercy of the winds and waves,\nwhich tossed us to and fro all that day and night, but the next morning\nwe found ourselves near an island, upon which we gladly landed.\n\nThere we found delicious fruits, and having satisfied our hunger we\npresently lay down to rest upon the shore. Suddenly we were aroused by a\nloud rustling noise, and starting up, saw that it was caused by an\nimmense snake which was gliding towards us over the sand. So swiftly it\ncame that it had seized one of my comrades before he had time to fly,\nand in spite of his cries and struggles speedily crushed the life out of\nhim in its mighty coils and proceeded to swallow him. By this time my\nother companion and I were running for our lives to some place where we\nmight hope to be safe from this new horror, and seeing a tall tree we\nclimbed up into it, having first provided ourselves with a store of\nfruit off the surrounding bushes. When night came I fell asleep, but\nonly to be awakened once more by the terrible snake, which after hissing\nhorribly round the tree at last reared itself up against it, and finding\nmy sleeping comrade who was perched just below me, it swallowed him\nalso, and crawled away leaving me half dead with terror.\n\nWhen the sun rose I crept down from the tree with hardly a hope of\nescaping the dreadful fate which had overtaken my comrades; but life is\nsweet, and I determined to do all I could to save myself. All day long I\ntoiled with frantic haste and collected quantities of dry brushwood,\nreeds and thorns, which I bound with fagots, and making a circle of them\nunder my tree I piled them firmly one upon another until I had a kind of\ntent in which I crouched like a mouse in a hole when she sees the cat\ncoming. You may imagine what a fearful night I passed, for the snake\nreturned eager to devour me, and glided round and round my frail shelter\nseeking an entrance. Every moment I feared that it would succeed in\npushing aside some of the fagots, but happily for me they held together,\nand when it grew light my enemy retired, baffled and hungry, to his den.\nAs for me I was more dead than alive! Shaking with fright and half\nsuffocated by the poisonous breath of the monster, I came out of my tent\nand crawled down to the sea, feeling that it would be better to plunge\nfrom the cliffs and end my life at once than pass such another night of\nhorror. But to my joy and relief I saw a ship sailing by, and by\nshouting wildly and waving my turban I managed to attract the attention\nof her crew.\n\nA boat was sent to rescue me, and very soon I found myself on board\nsurrounded by a wondering crowd of sailors and merchants eager to know\nby what chance I found myself in that desolate island. After I had told\nmy story they regaled me with the choicest food the ship afforded, and\nthe captain, seeing that I was in rags, generously bestowed upon me one\nof his own coats. After sailing about for some time and touching at many\nports we came at last to the island of Salahat, where sandal-wood grows\nin great abundance. Here we anchored, and as I stood watching the\nmerchants disembarking their goods and preparing to sell or exchange\nthem, the captain came up to me and said:--\n\n\"I have here, brother, some merchandise belonging to a passenger of mine\nwho is dead. Will you do me the favor to trade with it, and when I meet\nwith his heirs I shall be able to give them the money, though it will be\nonly just that you shall have a portion for your trouble.\"\n\nI consented gladly, for I did not like standing by idle. Whereupon he\npointed the bales out to me, and sent for the person whose duty it was\nto keep a list of the goods that were upon the ship. When this man came\nhe asked in what name the merchandise was to be registered.\n\n\"In the name of Sindbad the Sailor,\" replied the captain.\n\nAt this I was greatly surprised, but looking carefully at him I\nrecognized him to be the captain of the ship upon which I had made my\nsecond voyage, though he had altered much since that time. As for him,\nbelieving me to be dead it was no wonder that he had not recognized me.\n\n\"So, captain,\" said I, \"the merchant who owned those bales was called\nSindbad?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he replied. \"He was so named. He belonged to Bagdad, and joined\nmy ship at Balsora, but by mischance he was left behind upon a desert\nisland where we had landed to fill up our water-casks, and it was not\nuntil four hours later that he was missed. By that time the wind had\nfreshened, and it was impossible to put back for him.\"\n\n\"You suppose him to have perished then?\" said I.\n\n\"Alas! yes,\" he answered.\n\n\"Why, captain!\" I cried, \"look well at me. I am that Sindbad who fell\nasleep upon the island and awoke to find himself abandoned!\"\n\nThe captain stared at me in amazement, but was presently convinced that\nI was indeed speaking the truth, and rejoiced greatly at my escape.\n\n\"I am glad to have that piece of carelessness off my conscience at any\nrate,\" said he. \"Now take your goods, and the profit I have made for you\nupon them, and may you prosper in future.\"\n\nI took them gratefully, and as we went from one island to another I laid\nin stores of cloves, cinnamon, and other spices. In one place I saw a\ntortoise which was twenty cubits long and as many broad, also a fish\nthat was like a cow and had skin so thick that it was used to make\nshields. Another I saw that was like a camel in shape and color. So by\ndegrees we came back to Balsora, and I returned to Bagdad with so much\nmoney that I could not myself count it, besides treasures without end. I\ngave largely to the poor, and bought much land to add to what I already\npossessed, and thus ended my third voyage.\n\nWhen Sindbad had finished his story he gave another hundred sequins to\nHindbad, who then departed with the other guests, but next day when they\nhad all reassembled, and the banquet was ended, their host continued his\nadventures.\n\n\n\n\nFOURTH VOYAGE\n\nRich and happy as I was after my third voyage, I could not make up my\nmind to stay at home altogether. My love of trading, and the pleasure I\ntook in anything that was new and strange, made me set my affairs in\norder, and begin my journey through some of the Persian provinces,\nhaving first sent off stores of goods to await my coming in the\ndifferent places I intended to visit. I took ship at a distant seaport,\nand for some time all went well, but at last, being caught in a violent\nhurricane, our vessel became a total wreck in spite of all our worthy\ncaptain could do to save her, and many of our company perished in the\nwaves. I, with a few others, had the good fortune to be washed ashore\nclinging to pieces of the wreck, for the storm had driven us near an\nisland, and scrambling up beyond the reach of the waves we threw\nourselves down quite exhausted, to wait for morning.\n\nAt daylight we wandered inland, and soon saw some huts, to which we\ndirected our steps. As we drew near their black inhabitants swarmed out\nin great numbers and surrounded us, and we were led to their houses, and\nas it were divided among our captors. I with five others was taken into\na hut, where we were made to sit upon the ground, and certain herbs were\ngiven to us, which the blacks made signs to us to eat. Observing that\nthey themselves did not touch them, I was careful only to pretend to\ntaste my portion; but my companions, being very hungry, rashly ate up\nall that was set before them, and very soon I had the horror of seeing\nthem become perfectly mad. Though they chattered incessantly I could not\nunderstand a word they said, nor did they heed when I spoke to them. The\nsavages now produced large bowls full of rice prepared with cocoanut\noil, of which my crazy comrades ate eagerly, but I only tasted a few\ngrains, understanding clearly that the object of our captors was to\nfatten us speedily for their own eating, and this was exactly what\nhappened. My unlucky companions having lost their reason, felt neither\nanxiety nor fear, and ate greedily all that was offered them. So they\nwere soon fat and there was an end of them, but I grew leaner day by\nday, for I ate but little, and even that little did me no good by reason\nof my fear of what lay before me. However, as I was so far from being a\ntempting morsel, I was allowed to wander about freely, and one day, when\nall the blacks had gone off upon some expedition leaving only an old man\nto guard me, I managed to escape from him and plunged into the forest,\nrunning faster the more he cried to me to come back, until I had\ncompletely distanced him.\n\nFor seven days I hurried on, resting only when the darkness stopped me,\nand living chiefly upon cocoanuts, which afforded me both meat and\ndrink, and on the eighth day I reached the sea-shore and saw a party of\nwhite men gathering pepper, which grew abundantly all about. Reassured\nby the nature of their occupation, I advanced towards them and they\ngreeted me in Arabic, asking who I was and whence I came. My delight was\ngreat on hearing this familiar speech, and I willingly satisfied their\ncuriosity, telling them how I had been shipwrecked, and captured by the\nblacks. \"But these savages devour men!\" said they. \"How did you escape?\"\nI repeated to them what I have just told you, at which they were\nmightily astonished. I stayed with them until they had collected as much\npepper as they wished, and then they took me back to their own country\nand presented me to their King, by whom I was hospitably received. To\nhim also I had to relate my adventures, which surprised him much, and\nwhen I had finished he ordered that I should be supplied with food and\nraiment and treated with consideration.\n\nThe island on which I found myself was full of people, and abounded in\nall sorts of desirable things, and a great deal of traffic went on in\nthe capital, where I soon began to feel at home and contented. Moreover,\nthe King treated me with special favor, and in consequence of this\neveryone, whether at the court or in the town, sought to make life\npleasant to me. One thing I remarked which I thought very strange; this\nwas that, from the greatest to the least, all men rode their horses\nwithout bridle or stirrups. I one day presumed to ask his Majesty why he\ndid not use them, to which he replied, \"You speak to me of things of\nwhich I have never before heard!\" This gave me an idea. I found a clever\nworkman and made him cut out under my direction the foundation of a\nsaddle, which I wadded and covered with choice leather, adorning it with\nrich gold embroidery. I then got a locksmith to make me a bit and a pair\nof spurs after a pattern that I drew for him, and when all these things\nwere completed I presented them to the King and showed him how to use\nthem. When I had saddled one of his horses he mounted it and rode about\nquite delighted with the novelty, and to show his gratitude he rewarded\nme with large gifts. After this I had to make saddles for all the\nprincipal officers of the King's household, and as they all gave me rich\npresents I soon became very wealthy and quite an important person in the\ncity.\n\nOne day the King sent for me and said, \"Sindbad, I am going to ask a\nfavor of you. Both I and my subjects esteem you, and wish you to end\nyour days amongst us. Therefore I desire that you will marry a rich and\nbeautiful lady whom I will find for you, and think no more of your own\ncountry.\"\n\nAs the King's will was law I accepted the charming bride he presented to\nme, and lived happily with her. Nevertheless I had every intention of\nescaping at the first opportunity, and going back to Bagdad. Things were\nthus going prosperously with me when it happened that the wife of one of\nmy neighbors, with whom I had struck up quite a friendship, fell ill,\nand presently died. I went to his house to offer my consolations, and\nfound him in the depths of woe.\n\n\"Heaven preserve you,\" said I, \"and send you a long life!\"\n\n\"Alas!\" he replied, \"what is the good of saying that when I have but an\nhour left to live!\"\n\n\"Come, come!\" said I, \"surely it is not so bad as all that. I trust that\nyou may be spared to me for many years.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" answered he, \"that your life may be long, but as for me, all\nis finished. I have set my house in order, and to-day I shall be buried\nwith my wife. This has been the law upon our island from the earliest\nages--the living husband goes to the grave with his dead wife, the\nliving wife with her dead husband. So did our fathers, and so must we\ndo. The law changes not, and all must submit to it!\"\n\nAs he spoke the friends and relations of the unhappy pair began to\nassemble. The body, decked in rich robes and sparkling with jewels, was\nlaid upon an open bier, and the procession started, taking its way to a\nhigh mountain at some distance from the city, the wretched husband,\nclothed from head to foot in a black mantle, following mournfully.\n\nWhen the place of interment was reached the corpse was lowered, just as\nit was, into a deep pit. Then the husband, bidding farewell to all his\nfriends, stretched himself upon another bier, upon which were laid seven\nlittle loaves of bread and a pitcher of water, and he also was let\ndown-down-down to the depths of the horrible cavern, and then a stone\nwas laid over the opening, and the melancholy company wended its way\nback to the city.\n\nYou may imagine that I was no unmoved spectator of these proceedings; to\nall the others it was a thing to which they had been accustomed from\ntheir youth up; but I was so horrified that I could not help telling the\nKing how it struck me.\n\n\"Sire,\" I said, \"I am more astonished than I can express to you at the\nstrange custom which exists in your dominions of burying the living with\nthe dead. In all my travels I have never before met with so cruel and\nhorrible a law.\"\n\n\"What would you have, Sindbad?\" he replied. \"It is the law for\neverybody. I myself should be buried with the Queen if she were the\nfirst to die.\"\n\n\"But, your Majesty,\" said I, \"dare I ask if this law applies to\nforeigners also?\"\n\n\"Why, yes,\" replied the king smiling, in what I could but consider a\nvery heartless manner: \"they are no exception to the rule if they have\nmarried in the country.\"\n\nWhen I heard this I went home much cast down, and from that time forward\nmy mind was never easy. If only my wife's little finger ached I fancied\nshe was going to die, and sure enough before very long she fell really\nill and in a few days breathed her last. My dismay was great, for it\nseemed to me that to be buried alive was even a worse fate than to be\ndevoured by cannibals, nevertheless there was no escape. The body of my\nwife, arrayed in her richest robes and decked with all her jewels, was\nlaid upon the bier. I followed it, and after me came a great procession,\nheaded by the king and all his nobles, and in this order we reached the\nfatal mountain, which was one of a lofty chain bordering the sea.\n\nHere I made one more frantic effort to excite the pity of the King and\nthose who stood by, hoping to save myself even at this last moment, but\nit was of no avail. No one spoke to me, they even appeared to hasten\nover their dreadful task, and I speedily found myself descending into\nthe gloomy pit, with my seven loaves and pitcher of water beside me.\nAlmost before I reached the bottom the stone was rolled into its place\nabove my head, and I was left to my fate. A feeble ray of light shone\ninto the cavern through some chink, and when I had the courage to look\nabout me I could see that I was in a vast vault, bestrewn with bones and\nbodies of the dead. I even fancied that I heard the expiring sighs of\nthose who, like myself, had come into this dismal place alive. All in\nvain did I shriek aloud with rage and despair, reproaching myself for\nthe love of gain and adventure which had brought me to such a pass, but\nat length, growing calmer, I took up my bread and water, and wrapping my\nface in my mantle I groped my way towards the end of the cavern, where\nthe air was fresher.\n\nHere I lived in darkness and misery until my provisions were exhausted,\nbut just as I was nearly dead from starvation the rock was rolled away\noverhead and I saw that a bier was being lowered into the cavern, and\nthat the corpse upon it was a man. In a moment my mind was made up, the\nwoman who followed had nothing to expect but a lingering death; I should\nbe doing her a service if I shortened her misery. Therefore when she\ndescended, already insensible from terror, I was ready armed with a huge\nbone, one blow from which left her dead, and I secured the bread and\nwater which gave me a hope of life. Several times did I have recourse to\nthis desperate expedient, and I know not how long I had been a prisoner\nwhen one day I fancied that I heard something near me, which breathed\nloudly. Turning to the place from which the sound came I dimly saw a\nshadowy form which fled at my movement, squeezing itself through a\ncranny in the wall. I pursued it as fast as I could, and found myself in\na narrow crack among the rocks, along which I was just able to force my\nway. I followed it for what seemed to me many miles, and at last saw\nbefore me a glimmer of light which grew clearer every moment until I\nemerged upon the sea-shore with a joy which I cannot describe. When I\nwas sure that I was not dreaming, I realized that it was doubtless some\nlittle animal which had found its way into the cavern from the sea, and\nwhen disturbed had fled, showing me a means of escape which I could\nnever have discovered for myself. I hastily surveyed my surroundings,\nand saw that I was safe from all pursuit from the town.\n\nThe mountains sloped sheer down to the sea, and there was no road across\nthem. Being assured of this I returned to the cavern, and amassed a rich\ntreasure of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and jewels of all kinds, which\nstrewed the ground. These I made up into bales, and stored them into a\nsafe place upon the beach, and then waited hopefully for the passing of\na ship. I had looked out for two days, however, before a single sail\nappeared, so it was with much delight that I at last saw a vessel not\nvery far from the shore, and by waving my arms and uttering loud cries\nsucceeded in attracting the attention of her crew. A boat was sent off\nto me, and in answer to the questions of the sailors as to how I came to\nbe in such a plight, I replied that I had been shipwrecked two days\nbefore, but had managed to scramble ashore with the bales which I\npointed out to them. Luckily for me they believed my story, and without\neven looking at the place where they found me, took up my bundles, and\nrowed me back to the ship. Once on board, I soon saw that the captain\nwas too much occupied with the difficulties of navigation to pay much\nheed to me, though he generously made me welcome, and would not even\naccept the jewels with which I offered to pay my passage. Our voyage was\nprosperous, and after visiting many lands, and collecting in each place\ngreat store of goodly merchandise, I found myself at last in Bagdad once\nmore with unheard-of riches of every description. Again I gave large\nsums of money to the poor, and enriched all the mosques in the city,\nafter which I gave myself up to my friends and relations, with whom I\npassed my time in feasting and merriment.\n\nHere Sindbad paused, and all his hearers declared that the adventures of\nhis fourth voyage had pleased them better than anything they had heard\nbefore. They then took their leave, followed by Hindbad, who had once\nmore received a hundred sequins, and with the rest had been bidden to\nreturn next day for the story of the fifth voyage.\n\nWhen the time came all were in their places, and when they had eaten and\ndrunk of all that was set before them Sindbad began his tale.\n\n\n\n\nFIFTH VOYAGE\n\nNot even all that I had gone through could make me contented with a\nquiet life. I soon wearied of its pleasures, and longed for change and\nadventure. Therefore I set out once more, but this time in a ship of my\nown, which I built and fitted out at the nearest seaport. I wished to be\nable to call at whatever port I chose, taking my own time; but as I did\nnot intend carrying enough goods for a full cargo, I invited several\nmerchants of different nations to join me. We set sail with the first\nfavorable wind, and after a long voyage upon the open seas we landed\nupon an unknown island which proved to be uninhabited. We determined,\nhowever, to explore it, but had not gone far when we found a roc's egg,\nas large as the one I had seen before and evidently very nearly hatched,\nfor the beak of the young bird had already pierced the shell. In spite\nof all I could say to deter them, the merchants who were with me fell\nupon it with their hatchets, breaking the shell, and killing the young\nroc. Then lighting a fire upon the ground they hacked morsels from the\nbird, and proceeded to roast them while I stood by aghast.\n\nScarcely had they finished their ill-omened repast, when the air above\nus was darkened by two mighty shadows. The captain of my ship, knowing\nby experience what this meant, cried out to us that the parent birds\nwere coming, and urged us to get on board with all speed. This we did,\nand the sails were hoisted, but before we had made any way the rocs\nreached their despoiled nest and hovered about it, uttering frightful\ncries when they discovered the mangled remains of their young one. For a\nmoment we lost sight of them, and were flattering ourselves that we had\nescaped, when they reappeared and soared into the air directly over our\nvessel, and we saw that each held in its claws an immense rock ready to\ncrush us. There was a moment of breathless suspense, then one bird\nloosed its hold and the huge block of stone hurtled through the air, but\nthanks to the presence of mind of the helmsman, who turned our ship\nviolently in another direction, it fell into the sea close beside us,\ncleaving it asunder till we could nearly see the bottom. We had hardly\ntime to draw a breath of relief before the other rock fell with a mighty\ncrash right in the midst of our luckless vessel, smashing it into a\nthousand fragments, and crushing, or hurling into the sea, passengers\nand crew. I myself went down with the rest, but had the good fortune to\nrise unhurt, and by holding on to a piece of driftwood with one hand and\nswimming with the other I kept myself afloat and was presently washed up\nby the tide on to an island. Its shores were steep and rocky, but I\nscrambled up safely and threw myself down to rest upon the green turf.\n\nWhen I had somewhat recovered I began to examine the spot in which I\nfound myself, and truly it seemed to me that I had reached a garden of\ndelights. There were trees everywhere, and they were laden with flowers\nand fruit, while a crystal stream wandered in and out under their\nshadow. When night came I slept sweetly in a cosey nook, though the\nremembrance that I was alone in a strange land made me sometimes start\nup and look around me in alarm, and then I wished heartily that I had\nstayed at home at ease. However, the morning sunlight restored my\ncourage, and I once more wandered among the trees, but always with some\nanxiety as to what I might see next. I had penetrated some distance into\nthe island when I saw an old man bent and feeble sitting upon the river\nbank, and at first I took him to be some shipwrecked mariner like\nmyself. Going up to him I greeted him in a friendly way, but he only\nnodded his head at me in reply. I then asked what he did there, and he\nmade signs to me that he wished to get across the river to gather some\nfruit, and seemed to beg me to carry him on my back. Pitying his age and\nfeebleness, I took him up, and wading across the stream I bent down that\nhe might more easily reach the bank, and bade him get down. But instead\nof allowing himself to be set upon his feet (even now it makes me laugh\nto think of it!), this creature who had seemed to me so decrepit leaped\nnimbly upon my shoulders, and hooking his legs round my neck gripped me\nso tightly that I was well-nigh choked, and so overcome with terror that\nI fell insensible to the ground. When I recovered my enemy was still in\nhis place, though he had released his hold enough to allow me breathing\nspace, and seeing me revive he prodded me adroitly first with one foot\nand then with the other, until I was forced to get up and stagger about\nwith him under the trees while he gathered and ate the choicest fruits.\nThis went on all day, and even at night, when I threw myself down half\ndead with weariness, the terrible old man held on tight to my neck, nor\ndid he fail to greet the first glimmer of morning light by drumming upon\nme with his heels, until I perforce awoke and resumed my dreary march\nwith rage and bitterness in my heart.\n\nIt happened one day that I passed a tree under which lay several dry\ngourds, and catching one up I amused myself with scooping out its\ncontents and pressing into it the juice of several bunches of grapes\nwhich hung from every bush. When it was full I left it propped in the\nfork of a tree, and a few days later, carrying the hateful old man that\nway, I snatched at my gourd as I passed it and had the satisfaction of a\ndraught of excellent wine so good and refreshing that I even forgot my\ndetestable burden, and began to sing and caper.\n\nThe old monster was not slow to perceive the effect which my draught had\nproduced and that I carried him more lightly than usual, so he stretched\nout his skinny hand and seizing the gourd first tasted its contents\ncautiously, then drained them to the very last drop. The wine was strong\nand the gourd capacious, so he also began to sing after a fashion, and\nsoon I had the delight of feeling the iron grip of his goblin legs\nunclasp, and with one vigorous effort I threw him to the ground, from\nwhich he never moved again. I was so rejoiced to have at last got rid of\nthis uncanny old man that I ran leaping and bounding down to the\nsea-shore, where, by the greatest good luck, I met with some mariners\nwho had anchored off the island to enjoy the delicious fruits, and to\nrenew their supply of water.\n\nThey heard the story of my escape with amazement, saying, \"You fell into\nthe hands of the Old Man of the Sea, and it is a mercy that he did not\nstrangle you as he has everyone else upon whose shoulders he has managed\nto perch himself. This island is well-known as the scene of his evil\ndeeds, and no merchant or sailor who lands upon it cares to stray far\naway from his comrades.\" After we had talked for awhile they took me\nback with them on board their ship, where the captain received me\nkindly, and we soon set sail, and after several days reached a large and\nprosperous-looking town where all the houses were built of stone. Here\nwe anchored, and one of the merchants, who had been very friendly to me\non the way, took me ashore with him and showed me a lodging set apart\nfor strange merchants. He then provided me with a large sack, and\npointed out to me a party of others equipped in like manner.\n\n\"Go with them,\" said he, \"and do as they do, but beware of losing sight\nof them, for if you strayed your life would be in danger.\"\n\nWith that he supplied me with provisions, and bade me farewell, and I\nset out with my new companions. I soon learnt that the object of our\nexpedition was to fill our sacks with cocoa-nuts, but when at length I\nsaw the trees and noted their immense height and the slippery smoothness\nof their slender trunks, I did not at all understand how we were to do\nit. The crowns of the cocoa-palms were all alive with monkeys, big and\nlittle, which skipped from one to the other with surprising agility,\nseeming to be curious about us and disturbed at our appearance, and I\nwas at first surprised when my companions after collecting stones began\nto throw them at the lively creatures, which seemed to me quite\nharmless. But very soon I saw the reason of it and joined them heartily,\nfor the monkeys, annoyed and wishing to pay us back in our own coin,\nbegan to tear the nuts from the trees and cast them at us with angry and\nspiteful gestures, so that after very little labor our sacks were filled\nwith the fruit which we could not otherwise have obtained.\n\nAs soon as we had as many as we could carry we went back to the town,\nwhere my friend bought my share and advised me to continue the same\noccupation until I had earned money enough to carry me to my own\ncountry. This I did, and before long had amassed a considerable sum.\nJust then I heard that there was a trading ship ready to sail, and\ntaking leave of my friend I went on board, carrying with me a goodly\nstore of cocoanuts; and we sailed first to the islands where pepper\ngrows, then to Comari where the best aloes-wood is found, and where men\ndrink no wine by an unalterable law. Here I exchanged my nuts for pepper\nand good aloes-wood, and went a-fishing for pearls with some of the\nother merchants, and my divers were so lucky that very soon I had an\nimmense number, and those very large and perfect. With all these\ntreasures I came joyfully back to Bagdad, where I disposed of them for\nlarge sums of money, of which I did not fail as before to give the tenth\npart to the poor, and after that I rested from my labors and comforted\nmyself with all the pleasures that my riches could give me.\n\nHaving thus ended his story, Sindbad ordered that one hundred sequins\nshould be given to Hindbad, and the guests then withdrew; but after the\nnext day's feast he began the account of his sixth voyage as follows.\n\n\n\n\nSIXTH VOYAGE\n\nIt must be a marvel to you how, after having five times met with\nshipwreck and unheard-of perils, I could again tempt fortune and risk\nfresh trouble. I am even surprised myself when I look back, but\nevidently it was my fate to rove, and after a year of repose I prepared\nto make a sixth voyage, regardless of the entreaties of my friends and\nrelations, who did all they could to keep me at home. Instead of going\nby the Persian Gulf, I travelled a considerable way overland, and\nfinally embarked from a distant Indian port with a captain who meant to\nmake a long voyage. And truly he did so, for we fell in with stormy\nweather which drove us completely out of our course, so that for many\ndays neither captain nor pilot knew where we were, nor where we were\ngoing. When they did at last discover our position we had small ground\nfor rejoicing, for the captain, casting his turban upon the deck and\ntearing his beard, declared that we were in the most dangerous spot upon\nthe whole wide sea, and had been caught by a current which was at that\nmoment sweeping us to destruction. It was too true! In spite of all the\nsailors could do we were driven with frightful rapidity towards the foot\nof a mountain, which rose sheer out of the sea, and our vessel was\ndashed to pieces upon the rocks at its base, not, however, until we had\nmanaged to scramble on shore, carrying with us the most precious of our\npossessions. When we had done this the captain said to us:--\n\n\"Now we are here we may as well begin to dig our graves at once, since\nfrom this fatal spot no shipwrecked mariner has ever returned.\"\n\nThis speech discouraged us much, and we began to lament over our sad\nfate.\n\nThe mountain formed the seaward boundary of a large island, and the\nnarrow strip of rocky shore upon which we stood was strewn with the\nwreckage of a thousand gallant ships, while the bones of the luckless\nmariners shone white in the sunshine, and we shuddered to think how soon\nour own would be added to the heap. All around, too, lay vast quantities\nof the costliest merchandise, and treasures were heaped in every cranny\nof the rocks, but all these things only added to the desolation of the\nscene. It struck me as a very strange thing that a river of clear fresh\nwater, which gushed out from the mountain not far from where we stood,\ninstead of flowing into the sea as rivers generally do, turned off\nsharply, and flowed out of sight under a natural archway of rock, and\nwhen I went to examine it more closely I found that inside the cave the\nwalls were thick with diamonds, rubies, and masses of crystal, and the\nfloor was strewn with ambergris. Here, then, upon this desolate shore we\nabandoned ourselves to our fate, for there was no possibility of scaling\nthe mountain, and if a ship had appeared it could only have shared our\ndoom. The first thing our captain did was to divide equally amongst us\nall the food we possessed, and then the length of each man's life\ndepended on the time he could make his portion last. I myself could live\nupon very little.\n\nNevertheless, by the time I had buried the last of my companions my\nstock of provisions was so small that I hardly thought I should live\nlong enough to dig my own grave, which I set about doing, while I\nregretted bitterly the roving disposition which was always bringing me\ninto such straits, and thought longingly of all the comfort and luxury\nthat I had left. But luckily for me the fancy took me to stand once more\nbeside the river where it plunged out of sight in the depths of the\ncavern, and as I did so an idea struck me. This river which hid itself\nunderground doubtless emerged again at some distant spot. Why should I\nnot build a raft and trust myself to its swiftly flowing waters? If I\nperished before I could reach the light of day once more I should be no\nworse off than I was now, for death stared me in the face, while there\nwas always the possibility that, as I was born under a lucky star, I\nmight find myself safe and sound in some desirable land. I decided at\nany rate to risk it, and speedily built myself a stout raft of\ndrift-wood with strong cords, of which enough and to spare lay strewn\nupon the beach. I then made up many packages of rubies, emeralds, rock\ncrystal, ambergris, and precious stuffs, and bound them upon my raft,\nbeing careful to preserve the balance, and then I seated myself upon it,\nhaving two small oars that I had fashioned laid ready to my hand, and\nloosed the cord which held it to the bank. Once out in the current my\nraft flew swiftly under the gloomy archway, and I found myself in total\ndarkness, carried smoothly forward by the rapid river. On I went as it\nseemed to me for many nights and days. Once the channel became so small\nthat I had a narrow escape of being crushed against the rocky roof, and\nafter that I took the precaution of lying flat upon my precious bales.\nThough I only ate what was absolutely necessary to keep myself alive,\nthe inevitable moment came when, after swallowing my last morsel of\nfood, I began to wonder if I must after all die of hunger. Then, worn\nout with anxiety and fatigue, I fell into a deep sleep, and when I again\nopened my eyes I was once more in the light of day; a beautiful country\nlay before me, and my raft, which was tied to the river bank, was\nsurrounded by friendly looking black men. I rose and saluted them, and\nthey spoke to me in return, but I could not understand a word of their\nlanguage. Feeling perfectly bewildered by my sudden return to life and\nlight, I murmured to myself in Arabic, \"Close thine eyes, and while thou\nsleepest Heaven will change thy fortune from evil to good.\"\n\nOne of the natives, who understood this tongue, then came forward\nsaying:--\n\n\"My brother, be not surprised to see us; this is our land, and as we\ncame to get water from the river we noticed your raft floating down it,\nand one of us swam out and brought you to the shore. We have waited for\nyour awakening; tell us now whence you come and where you were going by\nthat dangerous way?\"\n\nI replied that nothing would please me better than to tell them, but\nthat I was starving, and would fain eat something first. I was soon\nsupplied with all I needed, and having satisfied my hunger I told them\nfaithfully all that had befallen me. They were lost in wonder at my tale\nwhen it was interpreted to them, and said that adventures so surprising\nmust be related to their King only by the man to whom they had happened.\nSo, procuring a horse, they mounted me upon it, and we set out, followed\nby several strong men carrying my raft just as it was upon their\nshoulders. In this order we marched into the city of Serendib, where the\nnatives presented me to their King, whom I saluted in the Indian\nfashion, prostrating myself at his feet and kissing the ground; but the\nmonarch bade me rise and sit beside him, asking first what was my name.\n\n\"I am Sindbad,\" I replied, \"whom men call 'the Sailor,' for I have\nvoyaged much upon many seas.\"\n\n\"And how came you here?\" asked the King.\n\nI told my story, concealing nothing, and his surprise and delight were\nso great that he ordered my adventures to be written in letters of gold\nand laid up in the archives of his kingdom.\n\nPresently my raft was brought in and the bales opened in his presence,\nand the king declared that in all his treasury there were no such rubies\nand emeralds as those which lay in great heaps before him. Seeing that\nhe looked at them with interest, I ventured to say that I myself and all\nthat I had were at his disposal, but he answered me smiling:--\n\n\"Nay, Sindbad. Heaven forbid that I should covet your riches; I will\nrather add to them, for I desire that you shall not leave my kingdom\nwithout some tokens of my good-will.\" He then commanded his officers to\nprovide me with a suitable lodging at his expense, and sent slaves to\nwait upon me and carry my raft and my bales to my new dwelling-place.\nYou may imagine that I praised his generosity and gave him grateful\nthanks, nor did I fail to present myself daily in his audience-chamber,\nand for the rest of my time I amused myself in seeing all that was most\nworthy of attention in the city. The island of Serendib being situated\non the equinoctial line, the days and nights there are of equal length.\nThe chief city is placed at the end of a beautiful valley, formed by the\nhighest mountain in the world, which is in the middle of the island. I\nhad the curiosity to ascend to its very summit, for this was the place\nto which Adam was banished out of Paradise. Here are found rubies and\nmany precious things, and rare plants grow abundantly, with cedar-trees\nand cocoa-palms. On the sea-shore and at the mouths of the rivers the\ndivers seek for pearls, and in some valleys diamonds are plentiful.\nAfter many days I petitioned the King that I might return to my own\ncountry, to which he graciously consented. Moreover, he loaded me with\nrich gifts, and when I went to take leave of him he intrusted me with a\nroyal present and a letter to the Commander of the Faithful, our\nsovereign lord, saying, \"I pray you give these to the Caliph\nHarun-al-Rashid, and assure him of my friendship.\"\n\nI accepted the charge respectfully, and soon embarked upon the vessel\nwhich the King himself had chosen for me. The King's letter was written\nin blue characters upon a rare and precious skin of yellowish color, and\nthese were the words of it: \"The King of the Indies, before whom walk a\nthousand elephants, who lives in a palace, of which the roof blazes with\na hundred thousand rubies, and whose treasure-house contains twenty\nthousand diamond crowns, to the Caliph Harun-al-Rashid sends greeting.\nThough the offering we present to you is unworthy of your notice, we\npray you to accept it as a mark of the esteem and friendship which we\ncherish for you, and of which we gladly send you this token, and we ask\nof you a like regard if you deem us worthy of it. Adieu, brother.\"\n\nThe present consisted of a vase carved from a single ruby, six inches\nhigh and as thick as my finger; this was filled with the choicest\npearls, large, and of perfect shape and lustre; secondly, a huge\nsnake-skin, with scales as large as a sequin, which would preserve from\nsickness those who slept upon it. Then quantities of aloes-wood,\ncamphor, and pistachio-nuts; and lastly, a beautiful slave-girl, whose\nrobes glittered with precious stones.\n\nAfter a long and prosperous voyage we landed at Balsora, and I made\nhaste to reach Bagdad, and taking the King's letter I presented myself\nat the palace gate, followed by the beautiful slave, and various members\nof my own family, bearing the treasure.\n\nAs soon as I had declared my errand I was conducted into the presence of\nthe Caliph, to whom, after I had made my obeisance, I gave the letter\nand the King's gift, and when he had examined them he demanded of me\nwhether the Prince of Serendib was really as rich and powerful as he\nclaimed to be.\n\n\"Commander of the Faithful,\" I replied, again bowing humbly before him,\n\"I can assure your Majesty that he has in no way exaggerated his wealth\nand grandeur. Nothing can equal the magnificence of his palace. When he\ngoes abroad his throne is prepared upon the back of an elephant, and on\neither side of him ride his ministers, his favorites, and courtiers. On\nhis elephant's neck sits an officer, his golden lance in his hand, and\nbehind him stands another bearing a pillar of gold, at the top of which\nis an emerald as long as my hand. A thousand men in cloth of gold,\nmounted upon richly caparisoned elephants, go before him, and as the\nprocession moves onward the officer who guides his elephant cries aloud,\n'Behold the mighty monarch, the powerful and valiant Sultan of the\nIndies, whose palace is covered with a hundred thousand rubies, who\npossesses twenty thousand diamond crowns. Behold a monarch greater than\nSolomon and Mihrage in all their glory!'\n\n\"Then the one who stands behind the throne answers: 'This king, so great\nand powerful, must die, must die, must die!'\n\n\"And the first takes up the chant again, 'All praise to Him who lives\nfor evermore.'\n\n\"Further, my lord, in Serendib no judge is needed, for to the King\nhimself his people come for justice.\"\n\nThe Caliph was well satisfied with my report.\n\n\"From the King's letter,\" said he, \"I judged that he was a wise man. It\nseems that he is worthy of his people, and his people of him.\"\n\nSo saying he dismissed me with rich presents, and I returned in peace to\nmy own house.\n\nWhen Sindbad had done speaking his guests withdrew, Hindbad having first\nreceived a hundred sequins, but all returned next day to hear the story\nof the seventh voyage.\n\n\n\n\nSEVENTH AND LAST VOYAGE\n\nAfter my sixth voyage I was quite determined that I would go to sea no\nmore. I was now of an age to appreciate a quiet life, and I had run\nrisks enough. I only wished to end my days in peace. One day, however,\nwhen I was entertaining a number of my friends, I was told that an\nofficer of the Caliph wished to speak to me, and when he was admitted he\nbade me to follow him into the presence of Harun-al-Rashid, which I\naccordingly did. After I had saluted him, the Caliph said:--\n\n\"I have sent for you, Sindbad, because I need your services. I have\nchosen you to bear a letter and a gift to the King of Serendib in return\nfor his message of friendship.\"\n\nThe Caliph's commandment fell upon me like a thunderbolt.\n\n\"Commander of the Faithful,\" I answered, \"I am ready to do all that your\nMajesty commands, but I humbly pray you to remember that I am utterly\ndisheartened by the unheard-of sufferings I have undergone. Indeed, I\nhave made a vow never again to leave Bagdad.\"\n\nWith this I gave him a long account of some of my strangest adventures,\nto which he listened patiently.\n\n\"I admit,\" said he, \"that you have indeed had some extraordinary\nexperiences, but I do not see why they should hinder you from doing as I\nwish. You have only to go straight to Serendib and give my message, then\nyou are free to come back and do as you will. But go you must; my honor\nand dignity demand it.\"\n\nSeeing that there was no help for it, I declared myself willing to obey;\nand the Caliph, delighted at having got his own way, gave me a thousand\nsequins for the expenses of the voyage. I was soon ready to start, and\ntaking the letter and the present I embarked at Balsora, and sailed\nquickly and safely to Serendib. Here, when I had disclosed my errand, I\nwas well received, and brought into the presence of the king, who\ngreeted me with joy.\n\n\"Welcome, Sindbad,\" he cried. \"I have thought of you often, and rejoice\nto see you once more.\"\n\nAfter thanking him for the honor that he did me, I displayed the\nCaliph's gifts. First a bed with complete hangings all cloth of gold,\nwhich cost a thousand sequins, and another like to it of crimson stuff.\nFifty robes of rich embroidery, a hundred of the finest white linen from\nCairo, Suez, Cufa, and Alexandria. Then more beds of different fashion,\nand an agate vase carved with the figure of a man aiming an arrow at a\nlion, and finally a costly table, which had once belonged to King\nSolomon. The King of Serendib received with satisfaction the assurance\nof the Caliph's friendliness towards him, and now my task being\naccomplished I was anxious to depart, but it was some time before the\nking would think of letting me go. At last, however, he dismissed me\nwith many presents, and I lost no time in going on board a ship, which\nsailed at once, and for four days all went well. On the fifth day we had\nthe misfortune to fall in with pirates, who seized our vessel, killing\nall who resisted, and making prisoners of those who were prudent enough\nto submit at once, of whom I was one. When they had despoiled us of all\nwe possessed, they forced us to put on vile raiment, and sailing to a\ndistant island there sold us for slaves. I fell into the hands of a rich\nmerchant, who took me home with him, and clothed and fed me well, and\nafter some days sent for me and questioned me as to what I could do.\n\nI answered that I was a rich merchant who had been captured by pirates,\nand therefore I knew no trade.\n\n\"Tell me,\" said he, \"can you shoot with a bow?\"\n\nI replied that this had been one of the pastimes of my youth, and that\ndoubtless with practice my skill would come back to me.\n\nUpon this he provided me with a bow and arrows, and mounting me with him\nupon his own elephant took the way to a vast forest which lay far from\nthe town. When we had reached the wildest part of it we stopped, and my\nmaster said to me: \"This forest swarms with elephants. Hide yourself in\nthis great tree, and shoot at all that pass you. When you have succeeded\nin killing one come and tell me.\"\n\nSo saying he gave me a supply of food, and returned to the town, and I\nperched myself high up in the tree and kept watch. That night I saw\nnothing, but just after sunrise the next morning a large herd of\nelephants came crashing and trampling by. I lost no time in letting fly\nseveral arrows, and at last one of the great animals fell to the ground\ndead, and the others retreated, leaving me free to come down from my\nhiding-place and run back to tell my master of my success, for which I\nwas praised and regaled with good things. Then we went back to the\nforest together and dug a mighty trench in which we buried the elephant\nI had killed, in order that when it became a skeleton my master might\nreturn and secure its tusks.\n\nFor two months I hunted thus, and no day passed without my securing an\nelephant. Of course I did not always station myself in the same tree,\nbut sometimes in one place, sometimes in another. One morning as I\nwatched the coming of the elephants I was surprised to see that, instead\nof passing the tree I was in, as they usually did, they paused, and\ncompletely surrounded it, trumpeting horribly, and shaking the very\nground with their heavy tread, and when I saw that their eyes were fixed\nupon me I was terrified, and my arrows dropped from my trembling hand. I\nhad indeed good reason for my terror when, an instant later, the largest\nof the animals wound his trunk round the stem of my tree, and with one\nmighty effort tore it up by the roots, bringing me to the ground\nentangled in its branches. I thought now that my last hour was surely\ncome, but the huge creature, picking me up gently enough, set me upon\nits back, where I clung more dead than alive, and followed by the whole\nherd turned and crashed off into the dense forest. It seemed to me a\nlong time before I was once more set upon my feet by the elephant, and I\nstood as if in a dream watching the herd, which turned and trampled off\nin another direction, and were soon hidden in the dense underwood. Then,\nrecovering myself, I looked about me, and found that I was standing upon\nthe side of a great hill, strewn as far as I could see on either hand\nwith bones and tusks of elephants. \"This then must be the elephants'\nburying-place,\" I said to myself, \"and they must have brought me here\nthat I might cease to persecute them, seeing that I want nothing but\ntheir tusks, and here lie more than I could carry away in a lifetime.\"\n\nWhereupon I turned and made for the city as fast as I could go, not\nseeing a single elephant by the way, which convinced me that they had\nretired deeper into the forest to leave the way open to the Ivory Hill,\nand I did not know how sufficiently to admire their sagacity. After a\nday and a night I reached my master's house, and was received by him\nwith joyful surprise.\n\n\"Ah! poor Sindbad,\" he cried, \"I was wondering what could have become of\nyou. When I went to the forest I found the tree newly uprooted, and the\narrows lying beside it, and I feared I should never see you again. Pray\ntell me how you escaped death.\"\n\nI soon satisfied his curiosity, and the next day we went together to the\nIvory Hill, and he was overjoyed to find that I had told him nothing but\nthe truth. When we had loaded our elephant with as many tusks as it\ncould carry and were on our way back to the city, he said:--\n\n\"My brother--since I can no longer treat as a slave one who has enriched\nme thus--take your liberty, and may Heaven prosper you. I will no longer\nconceal from you that these wild elephants have killed numbers of our\nslaves every year. No matter what good advice we gave them, they were\ncaught sooner or later. You alone have escaped the wiles of these\nanimals, therefore you must be under the special protection of Heaven.\nNow through you the whole town will be enriched without further loss of\nlife, therefore you shall not only receive your liberty, but I will also\nbestow a fortune upon you.\"\n\nTo which I replied, \"Master, I thank you, and wish you all prosperity.\nFor myself I only ask liberty to return to my own country.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" he answered, \"the monsoon will soon bring the ivory ships\nhither, then I will send you on your way with somewhat to pay your\npassage.\"\n\nSo I stayed with him till the time of the monsoon, and every day we\nadded to our store of ivory till all his warehouses were overflowing\nwith it. By this time the other merchants knew the secret, but there was\nenough and to spare for all. When the ships at last arrived my master\nhimself chose the one in which I was to sail, and put on board for me a\ngreat store of choice provisions, also ivory in abundance, and all the\ncostliest curiosities of the country, for which I could not thank him\nenough, and so we parted. I left the ship at the first port we came to,\nnot feeling at ease upon the sea after all that had happened to me by\nreason of it, and having disposed of my ivory for much gold, and bought\nmany rare and costly presents, I loaded my pack animals, and joined a\ncaravan of merchants. Our journey was long and tedious, but I bore it\npatiently, reflecting that at least I had not to fear tempests, nor\npirates, nor serpents, nor any of the other perils from which I had\nsuffered before, and at length we reached Bagdad. My first care was to\npresent myself before the Caliph, and give him an account of my embassy.\nHe assured me that my long absence had disquieted him much, but he had\nnevertheless hoped for the best. As to my adventure among the elephants\nhe heard it with amazement, declaring that he could not have believed it\nhad not my truthfulness been well-known to him.\n\nBy his orders this story and the others I had told him were written by\nhis scribes in letters of gold, and laid up among his treasures. I took\nmy leave of him, well satisfied with the honors and rewards he bestowed\nupon me; and since that time I have rested from my labors, and given\nmyself up wholly to my family and my friends.\n\nThus Sindbad ended the story of his seventh and last voyage, and turning\nto Hindbad he added:--\n\n\"Well, my friend, and what do you think now? Have you ever heard of\nanyone who has suffered more, or had more narrow escapes than I have? Is\nit not just that I should now enjoy a life of ease and tranquillity?\"\n\nHindbad drew near, and kissing his hand respectfully, replied, \"Sir, you\nhave indeed known fearful perils; my troubles have been nothing compared\nto yours. Moreover, the generous use you make of your wealth proves that\nyou deserve it. May you live long and happily in the enjoyment of it.\"\n\nSindbad then gave him a hundred sequins, and henceforward counted him\namong his friends; also he caused him to give up his profession as a\nporter, and to eat daily at his table that he might all his life\nremember Sindbad the Sailor.\n\n\n\n\nALADDIN'S WONDERFUL LAMP\n\nThere once lived a poor tailor, who had a son called Aladdin, a\ncareless, idle boy, who would do nothing but play all day long in the\nstreets with little idle boys like himself. This so grieved the father\nthat he died; yet, in spite of his mother's tears and prayers, Aladdin\ndid not mend his ways. One day, when he was playing in the streets as\nusual, a stranger asked him his age, and if he were not the son of\nMustapha the tailor.\n\n\"I am, sir,\" replied Aladdin; \"but he died a long while ago.\"\n\nOn this the stranger, who was a famous African magician, fell on his\nneck and kissed him, saying: \"I am your uncle, and knew you from your\nlikeness to my brother. Go to your mother and tell her I am coming.\"\n\nAladdin ran home, and told his mother of his newly-found uncle.\n\n\"Indeed, child,\" she said, \"your father had a brother, but I always\nthought he was dead.\"\n\nHowever, she prepared supper, and bade Aladdin seek his uncle, who came\nladen with wine and fruit. He presently fell down and kissed the place\nwhere Mustapha used to sit, bidding Aladdin's mother not to be surprised\nat not having seen him before, as he had been forty years out of the\ncountry. He then turned to Aladdin and asked him his trade, at which the\nboy hung his head, while his mother burst into tears. On learning that\nAladdin was idle and would learn no trade, he offered to take a shop for\nhim and stock it with merchandise. Next day he bought Aladdin a fine\nsuit of clothes, and took him all over the city, showing him the sights,\nand brought him home at nightfall to his mother, who was overjoyed to\nsee her son so fine.\n\nNext day the magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens a long way\noutside the city gates. They sat down by a fountain, and the magician\npulled a cake from his girdle, which he divided between them. They then\njourneyed onwards till they almost reached the mountains. Aladdin was so\ntired that he begged to go back, but the magician beguiled him with\npleasant stories, and led him on in spite of himself.\n\nAt last they came to two mountains divided by a narrow valley.\n\n\"We will go no farther,\" said the false uncle. \"I will show you\nsomething wonderful; only do you gather up sticks while I kindle a\nfire.\"\n\nWhen it was lit the magician threw on it a powder he had about him, at\nthe same time saying some magical words. The earth trembled a little and\nopened in front of them, disclosing a square flat stone with a brass\nring in the middle to raise it by. Aladdin tried to run away, but the\nmagician caught him and gave him a blow that knocked him down.\n\n\"What have I done, uncle?\" he said piteously; whereupon the magician\nsaid more kindly: \"Fear nothing, but obey me. Beneath this stone lies a\ntreasure which is to be yours, and no one else may touch it, so you must\ndo exactly as I tell you.\"\n\nAt the word treasure, Aladdin forgot his fears, and grasped the ring as\nhe was told, saying the names of his father and grandfather. The stone\ncame up quite easily and some steps appeared.\n\n\"Go down,\" said the magician; \"at the foot of those steps you will find\nan open door leading into three large halls. Tuck up your gown and go\nthrough them without touching anything, or you will die instantly. These\nhalls lead into a garden of fine fruit-trees. Walk on till you come to a\nniche in a terrace where stands a lighted lamp. Pour out the oil it\ncontains and bring it to me.\"\n\nHe drew a ring from his finger and gave it to Aladdin, bidding him\nprosper.\n\nAladdin found everything as the magician had said, gathered some fruit\noff the trees, and, having got the lamp, arrived at the mouth of the\ncave. The magician cried out in a great hurry:--\n\n\"Make haste and give me the lamp.\" This Aladdin refused to do until he\nwas out of the cave. The magician flew into a terrible passion, and\nthrowing some more powder on the fire, he said something, and the stone\nrolled back into its place.\n\nThe magician left Persia forever, which plainly showed that he was no\nuncle of Aladdin's, but a cunning magician who had read in his magic\nbooks of a wonderful lamp, which would make him the most powerful man in\nthe world. Though he alone knew where to find it, he could only receive\nit from the hand of another. He had picked out the foolish Aladdin for\nthis purpose, intending to get the lamp and kill him afterwards.\n\nFor two days Aladdin remained in the dark, crying and lamenting. At last\nhe clasped his hands in prayer, and in so doing rubbed the ring, which\nthe magician had forgotten to take from him. Immediately an enormous and\nfrightful genie rose out of the earth, saying:--\n\n\"What wouldst thou with me? I am the Slave of the Ring, and will obey\nthee in all things.\"\n\nAladdin fearlessly replied: \"Deliver me from this place!\" whereupon the\nearth opened, and he found himself outside. As soon as his eyes could\nbear the light he went home, but fainted on the threshold. When he came\nto himself he told his mother what had passed, and showed her the lamp\nand the fruits he had gathered in the garden, which were in reality\nprecious stones. He then asked for some food.\n\n\"Alas! child,\" she said, \"I have nothing in the house, but I have spun a\nlittle cotton and will go and sell it.\"\n\nAladdin bade her keep her cotton, for he would sell the lamp instead. As\nit was very dirty she began to rub it, that it might fetch a higher\nprice. Instantly a hideous genie appeared, and asked what she would\nhave. She fainted away, but Aladdin, snatching the lamp, said boldly:--\n\n\"Fetch me something to eat!\"\n\nThe genie returned with a silver bowl, twelve silver plates containing\nrich meats, two silver cups, and two bottles of wine. Aladdin's mother,\nwhen she came to herself, said:--\n\n\"Whence comes this splendid feast?\"\n\n\"Ask not, but eat,\" replied Aladdin.\n\nSo they sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time, and Aladdin told his\nmother about the lamp. She begged him to sell it, and have nothing to do\nwith devils.\n\n\"No,\" said Aladdin, \"since chance has made us aware of its virtues, we\nwill use it and the ring likewise, which I shall always wear on my\nfinger.\" When they had eaten all the genie had brought, Aladdin sold one\nof the silver plates, and so on till none was left. He then had recourse\nto the genie, who gave him another set of plates, and thus they lived\nfor many years.\n\nOne day Aladdin heard an order from the Sultan proclaimed that everyone\nwas to stay at home and close his shutters while the princess, his\ndaughter, went to and from the bath. Aladdin was seized by a desire to\nsee her face, which was very difficult, as she always went veiled. He\nhid himself behind the door of the bath, and peeped through a chink. The\nprincess lifted her veil as she went in, and looked so beautiful that\nAladdin fell in love with her at first sight. He went home so changed\nthat his mother was frightened. He told her he loved the princess so\ndeeply that he could not live without her, and meant to ask her in\nmarriage of her father. His mother, on hearing this, burst out laughing,\nbut Aladdin at last prevailed upon her to go before the Sultan and carry\nhis request. She fetched a napkin and laid in it the magic fruits from\nthe enchanted garden, which sparkled and shone like the most beautiful\njewels. She took these with her to please the Sultan, and set out,\ntrusting in the lamp. The grand-vizir and the lords of council had just\ngone in as she entered the hall and placed herself in front of the\nSultan. He, however, took no notice of her. She went every day for a\nweek, and stood in the same place.\n\nWhen the council broke up on the sixth day the Sultan said to his vizir:\n\"I see a certain woman in the audience-chamber every day carrying\nsomething in a napkin. Call her next time, that I may find out what she\nwants.\"\n\nNext day, at a sign from the vizir, she went up to the foot of the\nthrone, and remained kneeling till the Sultan said to her: \"Rise, good\nwoman, and tell me what you want.\"\n\nShe hesitated, so the Sultan sent away all but the vizir, and bade her\nspeak freely, promising to forgive her beforehand for anything she might\nsay. She then told him of her son's violent love for the princess.\n\n\"I prayed him to forget her,\" she said, \"but in vain; he threatened to\ndo some desperate deed if I refused to go and ask your Majesty for the\nhand of the princess. Now I pray you to forgive not me alone, but my son\nAladdin.\"\n\nThe Sultan asked her kindly what she had in the napkin, whereupon she\nunfolded the jewels and presented them.\n\nHe was thunderstruck, and turning to the vizir said: \"What sayest thou?\nOught I not to bestow the princess on one who values her at such a\nprice?\"\n\nThe vizir, who wanted her for his own son, begged the Sultan to withhold\nher for three months, in the course of which he hoped his son would\ncontrive to make him a richer present. The Sultan granted this, and told\nAladdin's mother that, though he consented to the marriage, she must not\nappear before him again for three months.\n\nAladdin waited patiently for nearly three months, but after two had\nelapsed his mother, going into the city to buy oil, found everyone\nrejoicing, and asked what was going on.\n\n\"Do you not know,\" was the answer, \"that the son of the grand-vizir is\nto marry the Sultan's daughter to-night?\"\n\nBreathless, she ran and told Aladdin, who was overwhelmed at first, but\npresently bethought him of the lamp. He rubbed it, and the genie\nappeared, saying: \"What is thy will?\"\n\nAladdin replied: \"The Sultan, as thou knowest, has broken his promise to\nme, and the vizir's son is to have the princess. My command is that\nto-night you bring hither the bride and bridegroom.\"\n\n\"Master, I obey,\" said the genie.\n\nAladdin then went to his chamber, where, sure enough at midnight the\ngenie transported the bed containing the vizir's son and the princess.\n\n\"Take this new-married man,\" he said, \"and put him outside in the cold,\nand return at daybreak.\"\n\nWhereupon the genie took the vizir's son out of bed, leaving Aladdin\nwith the princess.\n\n\"Fear nothing,\" Aladdin said to her; \"you are my wife, promised to me by\nyour unjust father, and no harm shall come to you.\"\n\nThe princess was too frightened to speak, and passed the most miserable\nnight of her life, while Aladdin lay down beside her and slept soundly.\nAt the appointed hour the genie fetched in the shivering bridegroom,\nlaid him in his place, and transported the bed back to the palace.\n\nPresently the Sultan came to wish his daughter good-morning. The unhappy\nvizir's son jumped up and hid himself, while the princess would not say\na word, and was very sorrowful.\n\nThe Sultan sent her mother to her, who said: \"How comes it, child, that\nyou will not speak to your father? What has happened?\"\n\nThe princess sighed deeply, and at last told her mother how, during the\nnight, the bed had been carried into some strange house, and what had\npassed there. Her mother did not believe her in the least, but bade her\nrise and consider it an idle dream.\n\nThe following night exactly the same thing happened, and next morning,\non the princess's refusing to speak, the Sultan threatened to cut off\nher head. She then confessed all, bidding him ask the vizir's son if it\nwere not so. The Sultan told the vizir to ask his son, who owned the\ntruth, adding that, dearly as he loved the princess, he had rather die\nthan go through another such fearful night, and wished to be separated\nfrom her. His wish was granted, and there was an end of feasting and\nrejoicing.\n\nWhen the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to remind the\nSultan of his promise. She stood in the same place as before, and the\nSultan, who had forgotten Aladdin, at once remembered him, and sent for\nher. On seeing her poverty the Sultan felt less inclined than ever to\nkeep his word, and asked the vizir's advice, who counselled him to set\nso high a value on the princess that no man living could come up to it.\n\nThe Sultan then turned to Aladdin's mother, saying: \"Good woman, a\nSultan must remember his promises, and I will remember mine, but your\nson must first send me forty basins of gold brimful of jewels, carried\nby forty black slaves, led by as many white ones, splendidly dressed.\nTell him that I await his answer.\" The mother of Aladdin bowed low and\nwent home, thinking all was lost.\n\nShe gave Aladdin the message, adding: \"He may wait long enough for your\nanswer!\"\n\n\"Not so long, mother, as you think,\" her son replied. \"I would do a\ngreat deal more than that for the princess.\" He summoned the genie, and\nin a few moments the eighty slaves arrived, and filled up the small\nhouse and garden.\n\nAladdin made them set out to the palace, two and two, followed by his\nmother. They were so richly dressed, with such splendid jewels in their\ngirdles, that everyone crowded to see them and the basins of gold they\ncarried on their heads.\n\nThey entered the palace, and, after kneeling before the Sultan, stood in\na half-circle round the throne with their arms crossed, while Aladdin's\nmother presented them to the Sultan.\n\nHe hesitated no longer, but said: \"Good woman, return and tell your son\nthat I wait for him with open arms.\"\n\nShe lost no time in telling Aladdin, bidding him make haste. But Aladdin\nfirst called the genie.\n\n\"I want a scented bath,\" he said, \"a richly embroidered habit, a horse\nsurpassing the Sultan's, and twenty slaves to attend me. Besides this,\nsix slaves, beautifully dressed, to wait on my mother; and lastly, ten\nthousand pieces of gold in ten purses.\"\n\nNo sooner said than done. Aladdin mounted his horse and passed through\nthe streets, the slaves strewing gold as they went. Those who had played\nwith him in his childhood knew him not, he had grown so handsome.\n\nWhen the Sultan saw him he came down from his throne, embraced him, and\nled him into a hall where a feast was spread, intending to marry him to\nthe princess that very day.\n\nBut Aladdin refused, saying, \"I must build a palace fit for her,\" and\ntook his leave.\n\nOnce home he said to the genie: \"Build me a palace of the finest marble,\nset with jasper, agate, and other precious stones. In the middle you\nshall build me a large hall with a dome, its four walls of massy gold\nand silver, each side having six windows, whose lattices, all except\none, which is to be left unfinished, must be set with diamonds and\nrubies. There must be stables and horses and grooms and slaves; go and\nsee about it!\"\n\nThe palace was finished by next day, and the genie carried him there and\nshowed him all his orders faithfully carried out, even to the laying of\na velvet carpet from Aladdin's palace to the Sultan's. Aladdin's mother\nthen dressed herself carefully, and walked to the palace with her\nslaves, while he followed her on horseback. The Sultan sent musicians\nwith trumpets and cymbals to meet them, so that the air resounded with\nmusic and cheers. She was taken to the princess, who saluted her and\ntreated her with great honor. At night the princess said good-by to her\nfather, and set out on the carpet for Aladdin's palace, with his mother\nat her side, and followed by the hundred slaves. She was charmed at the\nsight of Aladdin, who ran to receive her.\n\n\"Princess,\" he said, \"blame your beauty for my boldness if I have\ndispleased you.\"\n\nShe told him that, having seen him, she willingly obeyed her father in\nthis matter. After the wedding had taken place Aladdin led her into the\nhall, where a feast was spread, and she supped with him, after which\nthey danced till midnight.\n\nNext day Aladdin invited the Sultan to see the palace. On entering the\nhall with the four-and-twenty windows, with their rubies, diamonds, and\nemeralds, he cried:--\n\n\"It is a world's wonder! There is only one thing that surprises me. Was\nit by accident that one window was left unfinished?\"\n\n\"No, sir, by design,\" returned Aladdin. \"I wished your Majesty to have\nthe glory of finishing this palace.\"\n\nThe Sultan was pleased, and sent for the best jewellers in the city. He\nshowed them the unfinished window, and bade them fit it up like the\nothers.\n\n\"Sir,\" replied their spokesman, \"we cannot find jewels enough.\"\n\nThe Sultan had his own fetched, which they soon used, but to no purpose,\nfor in a month's time the work was not half done. Aladdin, knowing that\ntheir task was vain, bade them undo their work and carry the jewels\nback, and the genie finished the window at his command. The Sultan was\nsurprised to receive his jewels again and visited Aladdin, who showed\nhim the window finished. The Sultan embraced him, the envious vizir\nmeanwhile hinting that it was the work of enchantment.\n\nAladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing. He was\nmade captain of the Sultan's armies, and won several battles for him,\nbut remained modest and courteous as before, and lived thus in peace and\ncontent for several years.\n\nBut far away in Africa the magician remembered Aladdin, and by his magic\narts discovered that Aladdin, instead of perishing miserably in the\ncave, had escaped, and had married a princess, with whom he was living\nin great honor and wealth. He knew that the poor tailor's son could only\nhave accomplished this by means of the lamp, and travelled night and day\ntill he reached the capital of China, bent on Aladdin's ruin. As he\npassed through the town he heard people talking everywhere about a\nmarvellous palace.\n\n\"Forgive my ignorance,\" he asked, \"what is this palace you speak of?\"\n\n\"Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's palace,\" was the reply, \"the\ngreatest wonder of the world? I will direct you if you have a mind to\nsee it.\"\n\nThe magician thanked him who spoke, and having seen the palace knew that\nit had been raised by the genie of the lamp, and became half mad with\nrage. He determined to get hold of the lamp, and again plunge Aladdin\ninto the deepest poverty.\n\nUnluckily, Aladdin had gone a-hunting for eight days, which gave the\nmagician plenty of time. He bought a dozen copper lamps, put them into a\nbasket, and went to the palace, crying: \"New lamps for old!\" followed by\na jeering crowd.\n\nThe princess, sitting in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, sent a\nslave to find out what the noise was about, who came back laughing, so\nthat the princess scolded her.\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the slave, \"who can help laughing to see an old fool\noffering to exchange fine new lamps for old ones?\"\n\nAnother slave, hearing this, said: \"There is an old one on the cornice\nthere which he can have.\"\n\nNow this was the magic lamp, which Aladdin had left there, as he could\nnot take it out hunting with him. The princess, not knowing its value,\nlaughingly bade the slave take it and make the exchange.\n\nShe went and said to the magician: \"Give me a new lamp for this.\"\n\nHe snatched it and bade the slave take her choice, amid the jeers of the\ncrowd. Little he cared, but left off crying his lamps, and went out of\nthe city gates to a lonely place, where he remained till nightfall, when\nhe pulled out the lamp and rubbed it. The genie appeared, and at the\nmagician's command carried him, together with the palace and the\nprincess in it, to a lonely place in Africa.\n\nNext morning the Sultan looked out of the window towards Aladdin's\npalace and rubbed his eyes, for it was gone. He sent for the vizir, and\nasked what had become of the palace. The vizir looked out too, and was\nlost in astonishment. He again put it down to enchantment, and this time\nthe Sultan believed him, and sent thirty men on horseback to fetch\nAladdin in chains. They met him riding home, bound him, and forced him\nto go with them on foot. The people, however, who loved him, followed,\narmed, to see that he came to no harm. He was carried before the Sultan,\nwho ordered the executioner to cut off his head. The executioner made\nAladdin kneel down, bandaged his eyes, and raised his scimitar to\nstrike. At that instant the vizir, who saw that the crowd had forced\ntheir way into the courtyard and were scaling the walls to rescue\nAladdin, called to the executioner to stay his hand. The people, indeed,\nlooked so threatening that the Sultan gave way and ordered Aladdin to be\nunbound, and pardoned him in the sight of the crowd.\n\nAladdin now begged to know what he had done.\n\n\"False wretch!\" said the Sultan, \"come hither,\" and showed him from the\nwindow the place where his palace had stood.\n\nAladdin was so amazed that he could not say a word.\n\n\"Where is my palace and my daughter?\" demanded the Sultan. \"For the\nfirst I am not so deeply concerned, but my daughter I must have, and you\nmust find her or lose your head.\"\n\nAladdin begged for forty days in which to find her, promising if he\nfailed, to return and suffer death at the Sultan's pleasure. His prayer\nwas granted, and he went forth sadly from the Sultan's presence. For\nthree days he wandered about like a madman, asking everyone what had\nbecome of his palace, but they only laughed and pitied him. He came to\nthe banks of a river, and knelt down to say his prayers before throwing\nhimself in. In so doing he rubbed the magic ring he still wore.\n\nThe genie he had seen in the cave appeared, and asked his will.\n\n\"Save my life, genie,\" said Aladdin, \"and bring my palace back.\"\n\n\"That is not in my power,\" said the genie; \"I am only the Slave of the\nRing; you must ask the Slave of the Lamp.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" said Aladdin, \"but thou canst take me to the palace, and set\nme down under my dear wife's window.\" He at once found himself in\nAfrica, under the window of the princess, and fell asleep out of sheer\nweariness.\n\nHe was awakened by the singing of the birds, and his heart was lighter.\nHe saw plainly that all his misfortunes were owing to the loss of the\nlamp, and vainly wondered who had robbed him of it.\n\nThat morning the princess rose earlier than she had done since she had\nbeen carried into Africa by the magician, whose company she was forced\nto endure once a day. She, however, treated him so harshly that he dared\nnot live there altogether. As she was dressing, one of her women looked\nout and saw Aladdin. The princess ran and opened the window, and at the\nnoise she made Aladdin looked up. She called to him to come to her, and\ngreat was the joy of these lovers at seeing each other again.\n\nAfter he had kissed her Aladdin said: \"I beg of you, Princess, in God's\nname, before we speak of anything else, for your own sake and mine, tell\nme what has become of an old lamp I left on the cornice in the hall of\nfour-and-twenty windows, when I went a-hunting.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" she said, \"I am the innocent cause of our sorrows,\" and told him\nof the exchange of the lamp.\n\n\"Now I know,\" cried Aladdin, \"that we have to thank the African magician\nfor this! Where is the lamp?\"\n\n\"He carries it about with him,\" said the princess, \"I know, for he\npulled it out of his breast to show me. He wishes me to break my faith\nwith you and marry him, saying that you were beheaded by my father's\ncommand. He is forever speaking ill of you, but I only reply by my\ntears. If I persist, I doubt not that he will use violence.\"\n\nAladdin comforted her, and left her for awhile. He changed clothes with\nthe first person he met in the town, and having bought a certain powder\nreturned to the princess, who let him in by a little side door.\n\n\"Put on your most beautiful dress,\" he said to her, \"and receive the\nmagician with smiles, leading him to believe that you have forgotten me.\nInvite him to sup with you, and say you wish to taste the wine of his\ncountry. He will go for some, and while he is gone I will tell you what\nto do.\"\n\nShe listened carefully to Aladdin, and when he left her arrayed herself\ngayly for the first time since she left China. She put on a girdle and\nhead-dress of diamonds, and seeing in a glass that she looked more\nbeautiful than ever, received the magician, saying to his great\namazement: \"I have made up my mind that Aladdin is dead, and that all my\ntears will not bring him back to me, so I am resolved to mourn no more,\nand have therefore invited you to sup with me; but I am tired of the\nwines of China, and would fain taste those of Africa.\"\n\nThe magician flew to his cellar, and the princess put the powder Aladdin\nhad given her in her cup. When he returned she asked him to drink her\nhealth in the wine of Africa, handing him her cup in exchange for his as\na sign she was reconciled to him.\n\nBefore drinking the magician made her a speech in praise of her beauty,\nbut the princess cut him short, saying:--\n\n\"Let me drink first, and you shall say what you will afterwards.\" She\nset her cup to her lips and kept it there, while the magician drained\nhis to the dregs and fell back lifeless.\n\nThe princess then opened the door to Aladdin, and flung her arms round\nhis neck, but Aladdin put her away, bidding her to leave him, as he had\nmore to do. He then went to the dead magician, took the lamp out of his\nvest, and bade the genie carry the palace and all in it back to China.\nThis was done, and the princess in her chamber only felt two little\nshocks, and little thought she was at home again.\n\nThe Sultan, who was sitting in his closet, mourning for his lost\ndaughter, happened to look up, and rubbed his eyes, for there stood the\npalace as before! He hastened thither, and Aladdin received him in the\nhall of the four-and-twenty windows, with the princess at his side.\nAladdin told him what had happened, and showed him the dead body of the\nmagician, that he might believe. A ten days' feast was proclaimed, and\nit seemed as if Aladdin might now live the rest of his life in peace;\nbut it was not to be.\n\nThe African magician had a younger brother, who was, if possible, more\nwicked and more cunning than himself. He travelled to China to avenge\nhis brother's death, and went to visit a pious woman called Fatima,\nthinking she might be of use to him. He entered her cell and clapped a\ndagger to her breast, telling her to rise and do his bidding on pain of\ndeath. He changed clothes with her, colored his face like hers, put on\nher veil and murdered her, so that she might tell no tales. Then he went\ntowards the palace of Aladdin, and all the people thinking he was the\nholy woman, gathered round him, kissing his hands and begging his\nblessing. When he got to the palace there was such a noise going on\nround him that the princess bade her slave look out of the window and\nask what was the matter. The slave said it was the holy woman, curing\npeople by her touch of their ailments, whereupon the princess, who had\nlong desired to see Fatima, sent for her. On coming to the princess the\nmagician offered up a prayer for her health and prosperity. When he had\ndone the princess made him sit by her, and begged him to stay with her\nalways. The false Fatima, who wished for nothing better, consented, but\nkept his veil down for fear of discovery. The princess showed him the\nhall, and asked him what he thought of it.\n\n\"It is truly beautiful,\" said the false Fatima. \"In my mind it wants but\none thing.\"\n\n\"And what is that?\" said the princess.\n\n\"If only a roc's egg,\" replied he, \"were hung up from the middle of this\ndome, it would be the wonder of the world.\"\n\nAfter this the princess could think of nothing but a roc's egg, and when\nAladdin returned from hunting he found her in a very ill humor. He\nbegged to know what was amiss, and she told him that all her pleasure in\nthe hall was spoilt for the want of a roc's egg hanging from the dome.\n\n\"If that is all,\" replied Aladdin, \"you shall soon be happy.\"\n\nHe left her and rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared commanded\nhim to bring a roc's egg. The genie gave such a loud and terrible shriek\nthat the hall shook.\n\n\"Wretch!\" he said, \"is it not enough that I have done everything for\nyou, but you must command me to bring my master and hang him up in the\nmidst of this dome? You and your wife and your palace deserve to be\nburnt to ashes; but this request does not come from you, but from the\nbrother of the African magician whom you destroyed. He is now in your\npalace disguised as the holy woman--whom he murdered. He it was who put\nthat wish into your wife's head. Take care of yourself, for he means to\nkill you.\" So saying the genie disappeared.\n\nAladdin went back to the princess, saying his head ached, and requesting\nthat the holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it. But when\nthe magician came near, Aladdin, seizing his dagger, pierced him to the\nheart.\n\n\"What have you done?\" cried the princess. \"You have killed the holy\nwoman!\"\n\n\"Not so,\" replied Aladdin, \"but a wicked magician,\" and told her of how\nshe had been deceived.\n\nAfter this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the Sultan\nwhen he died, and reigned for many years, leaving behind him a long line\nof kings.","title":"The Literature of Arabia: With Critical and Biographical Sketches by Epiphanius Wilson","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":49321}