"Cross the stream to me." Quoth she, "It is not for me to come to thee;
if thou wilt, do thou cross over to me." "I cannot do that," replied he;
and she said, "O boy! I will come to thee." So she gathered her skirts,
and making a spring landed on the other side of the river by him;
whereupon he drew near to her, wondering at her beauty and grace, and
saw a form that the hand of Omnipotence had turned with the leaves of
Jinn, and which had been fostered by divine solicitude, a form on which
the zephyrs of fair fortune had blown, and over whose creation favorable
planets had presided. Then she called out to him saying, "O Muslim, come
and wrestle before the daybreak!" and tucked up her sleeves, showing a
fore-arm like fresh curd; the whole place was lighted up by its
whiteness and Sherkan was dazzled by it. Then he bent forward and
clapped his hands, and she did the like, and they took hold and gripped
each other. He laid his hands on her slender waist ... and fell a
trembling like the Persian reed in the hurricane. So she lifted him up,
and throwing him to the ground sat down on his breast. Then she said to
him, "O Muslim, it is lawful among you to kill Christians: what sayest
thou to my killing thee?" "O my lady," replied he, "as for killing me,
it is unlawful; for our Prophet (whom God bless and preserve!) hath
forbidden the slaying of women and children and old men and monks."
"Since this was revealed unto your prophet," rejoined she, "it behooves
us to be even with him therein; so rise: I give thee thy life, for
beneficence is not lost upon men." Then she got up, and he rose and
brushed the earth from his head, and she said to him, "Be not abashed;
but indeed one who enters the land of the Greeks in quest of booty and
to succor kings against kings, how comes it that there is no strength in
him to defend himself against a woman?" "It was not lack of strength in
me," replied he, "nor was it thy strength that overthrew me, but thy
beauty; so if thou wilt, grant me another bout, it will be of thy
favor." She laughed and said, "I grant thee this: but these damsels have
been long bound, and their arms and shoulders are weary, and it were
fitting I should loose them, since this next bout may peradventure be a
long one." Then she went up to the girls, and unbinding them said to
them in the Greek tongue, "Go and put yourselves in safety, till I have
brought to naught this Muslim." So they went away, whilst Sherkan looked
at them, and they gazed at him and the young lady. Then he and she drew
near again and set to.... But [again by admiration of her beauty] his
strength failed him, and she feeling this, lifted him in her hands
swifter than the blinding lightning and threw him to the ground. He fell
on his back, and she said to him, "Rise: I give thee thy life a second
time. I spared thee before for the sake of thy prophet, for that he
forbade the killing of women, and I do so this second time because of
thy weakness and tender age, and strangerhood: but I charge thee, if
there be in the army sent by King Omar ben Ennuman a stronger than thou,
send him hither and tell him of me." "By Allah, O my lady," replied
Sherkan (and indeed he was greatly incensed against her), "it was not by
thy strength that thou overthrewest me, but by [thy beauty], so that nor
wit nor foresight was left in me. But now, if thou have a mind to try
another fall with me, with my wits about me, I have a right to this one
bout more by the rules of the game, for my presence of mind has now
returned to me." "Hast thou not had enough of wrestling, O conquered
one?" rejoined she. "However, come, if thou wilt: but know that this
bout must be the last." Then they took hold of each other, and he set to
in earnest and warded himself against being thrown down: so they
wrestled awhile and the damsel found in him strength such as she had not
before observed, and said to him, "O Muslim, thou art on thy guard!"
"Yes," replied he, "thou knowest that there remaineth but this bout, and
after each of us will go his own way." She laughed and he laughed too:
then she seized the opportunity to bore in upon him unawares, and
gripping him by the thigh, threw him to the ground, so that he fell on
his back. She laughed at him and said, "Thou art surely an eater of
bran: for thou art like a Bedouin bonnet that falls off at a touch, or a
child's toy that a puff of air overturns. Out on thee, thou poor
creature! Go back to the army of the Muslims and send us other than
thyself, for thou lackest thews; and cry as among the Arabs and Persians
and Turks and Medes, 'Whoso has might in him let him come to us!'" Then
she made a spring and landed on the other side of the stream and said to
Sherkan laughing, "It goes to my heart to part with thee! get thee to
thy friends, O my lord, before the morning, lest the knights come upon
thee and take thee on the points of their lances. Thou hast not strength
enough to defend thee against women; so how couldst thou make head
against men and cavaliers!" And she turned to go back to the monastery.
Sherkan was confounded, and called out to her, saying "O my lady! Wilt
thou go away, and leave the wretched stranger, the broken-hearted slave
of love?" So she turned to him laughing, and said, "What wouldst thou? I
grant thy prayer." "Have I set foot in thy country and tasted the
sweetness of thy favors," replied Sherkan, "and shall I return without
eating of thy victual and tasting of thy hospitality? Indeed, I am
become one of thy servitors." Quoth she, "None but the base refuses
hospitality: on my head and eyes be it! Do me the favor to mount and
ride along the stream, abreast of me, for thou art my guest." At this
Sherkan rejoiced, and hastening back to his horse, mounted and rode
along the river-bank, keeping abreast of her, till he came to a
drawbridge that hung by pulleys and chains of steel, made fast with
hooks and padlocks. Here stood the ten damsels awaiting the lady, who
spoke to one of them in the Greek tongue and said to her, "Go to him;
take his horse's rein and bring him over into the monastery."... They
went on till they reached a vaulted gate, arched over with marble. This
she opened, and entered with Sherkan into a long vestibule, vaulted with
ten arches, from each of which hung a lamp of crystal, shining like the
rays of the sun. The damsels met her at the end of the vestibule,
bearing perfumed flambeaux and having on their heads kerchiefs
embroidered with all manner of jewels, and went on before her, till they
came to the inward of the monastery, where Sherkan saw couches set up
all around, facing one another and overhung with curtains spangled with
gold. The floor was paved with all kinds of variegated marbles, and in
the midst was a basin of water with four and twenty spouts of gold
around it from which issued water like liquid silver; whilst at the
upper end stood a throne covered with silks of royal purple. Then said
the damsel, "O my lord, mount this throne." So he seated himself on it,
and she withdrew: and when she had been absent awhile, he asked the
servants of her, and they said, "She hath gone to her sleeping-chamber;
but we will serve thee as thou shalt order." So they set before him rare
meats, and he ate till he was satisfied, when they brought him a basin
of gold and an ewer of silver and he washed his hands. Then his mind
reverted to his troops, and he was troubled, knowing not what had
befallen them in his absence and thinking how he had forgotten his
father's injunctions, so that he abode, oppressed with anxiety and
repenting of what he had done, till the dawn broke and the day appeared,
when he lamented and sighed and became drowned in the sea of melancholy,
repeating the following verses:--

     "I lack not of prudence, and yet in this case, I've been fooled;
          so what shift shall avail unto me?
     If any could ease me of love and its stress, Of my might and
          my virtue I'd set myself free.
     But alas! my heart's lost in maze of desire, And no helper save
          God in my strait can I see.

Hardly had he finished when up came more than twenty damsels like moons,
encompassing the young lady, who appeared among them as the full moon
among stars. She was clad in royal brocade, and girt with a woven girdle
set with various kinds of jewels that straitly clasped her waist.... On
her head she wore a network of pearls, gemmed with various kinds of
jewels, and she moved with a coquettish, swimming gait, swaying
wonder-gracefully, whilst the damsels held up her skirts.... She fixed
her eyes on him, and considered him awhile, till she was assured of him,
when she came up to him and said, "Indeed the place is honored and
illumined with thy presence, O Sherkan! How didst thou pass the night,
O hero, after we went away and left thee? Verily, lying is a defect and
a reproach in kings; especially in great kings: and thou art Sherkan,
son of King Omar ben Ennuman; so henceforth tell me naught but truth,
and strive not to keep the secret of thy condition, for falsehood
engenders hatred and enmity. The arrow of destiny hath fallen upon thee,
and it behooves thee to show resignation and submission." When Sherkan
heard what she said, he saw nothing for it but to tell her the truth: so
he said, "I am indeed Sherkan, son of Omar ben Ennuman; whom fortune
hath afflicted and cast into this place: so now do whatsoever
thou wilt."

FROM 'SINDBAD THE SEAMAN AND SINDBAD THE LANDSMAN'

Portions of Nights 536 to 542, presenting the Introduction and the first
of the seven 'Voyages': Translation of Captain Sir Richard Burton.

There lived in the city of Bagdad, during the reign of the Commander of
the Faithful, Harun al-Rashid, a man named Sindbad the Hammal [Porter],
one in poor case, who bore burdens on his head for hire. It happened to
him one day of great heat that whilst he was carrying a heavy load, he
became exceeding weary and sweated profusely; the heat and the weight
alike oppressing him. Presently, as he was passing the gate of a
merchant's house, before which the ground was swept and watered, and
where the air was temperate, he sighted a broad bench beside the door;
so he set his load thereon, to take rest and smell the air.--

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted
say.

NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVENTH NIGHT,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Hammal
set his load upon the bench to take rest and smell the air, there came
out upon him from the court-door a pleasant breeze and a delicious
fragrance. He sat down on the edge of the bench, and at once heard from
within the melodious sound of lutes and other stringed instruments, and
mirth-exciting voices singing and reciting, together with the song of
birds warbling and glorifying Almighty Allah in various tunes and
tongues; turtles, mockingbirds, merles, nightingales, cushats, and
stone-curlews: whereat he marveled in himself and was moved to mighty
joy and solace. Then he went up to the gate and saw within a great
flower-garden wherein were pages and black slaves, and such a train of
servants and attendants and so forth as is found only with Kings and
Sultans; and his nostrils were greeted with the savory odors of all
manner meats rich and delicate, and delicious and generous wines. So he
raised his eyes heavenwards and said, "Glory to Thee, O Lord, O Creator
and Provider, who providest whomso Thou wilt without count or stint! O
mine Holy One, I cry Thee pardon for all sins and turn to Thee repenting
of all offenses! O Lord, there is no gainsaying Thee in Thine ordinance
and Thy dominion, neither wilt Thou be questioned of that Thou dost, for
Thou indeed over all things art Almighty! Extolled be Thy perfection:
whom Thou wilt Thou makest poor and whom Thou wilt Thou makest rich!
Whom Thou wilt Thou exaltest and whom Thou wilt Thou abasest, and there
is no god but Thou! How mighty is Thy majesty and how enduring Thy
dominion and how excellent Thy government! Verily, Thou favorest whom
Thou wilt of Thy servants, whereby the owner of this place abideth in
all joyance of life and delighteth himself with pleasant scents and
delicious meats and exquisite wines of all kinds. For indeed Thou
appointest unto Thy creatures that which Thou wilt and that which Thou
hast foreordained unto them; wherefore are some weary and others are at
rest, and some enjoy fair fortune and affluence whilst others suffer the
extreme of travail and misery, even as I do." And he fell to reciting:

     How many by my labors, that evermore endure, All goods of
         life enjoy and in cooly shade recline?
     Each morn that dawns I wake in travail and in woe, And
         strange is my condition and my burden gars me pine:
     Many others are in luck and from miseries are free, And Fortune
         never loads them with loads the like o' mine:
     They live their happy days in all solace and delight; Eat, drink,
         and dwell in honor 'mid the noble and the digne:
     All living things were made of a little drop of sperm, Thine
         origin is mine and my provenance is thine;
     Yet the difference and distance 'twixt the twain of us are far As
         the difference of savor 'twixt vinegar and wine:
     But at Thee, O God All-wise! I venture not to rail Whose ordinance
         is just and whose justice cannot fail.

When Sindbad the Porter had made an end of reciting his verses, he bore
up his burden and was about to fare on, when there came forth to him
from the gate a little foot-page, fair of face and shapely of shape and
dainty of dress, who caught him by the hand, saying, "Come in and speak
with my lord, for he calleth for thee." The Porter would have excused
himself to the page, but the lad would take no refusal; so he left his
load with the doorkeeper in the vestibule and followed the boy into the
house, which he found to be a goodly mansion, radiant and full of
majesty, till he brought him to a grand sitting-room wherein he saw a
company of nobles and great lords, seated at tables garnished with all
manner of flowers and sweet-scented herbs, besides great plenty of
dainty viands and fruits dried and fresh and confections and wines of
the choicest vintages. There also were instruments of music and mirth,
and lovely slave-girls playing and singing. All the company was ranged
according to rank, and in the highest place sat a man of worshipful and
noble aspect, whose beard-sides hoariness had stricken; and he was
stately of stature and fair of favor, agreeable of aspect and full of
gravity and dignity and majesty. So Sindbad the Porter was confounded at
that which he beheld, and said in himself, "By Allah, this must be
either a piece of Paradise or some king's palace!" Then he saluted the
company with much respect, praying for their prosperity; and kissing
ground before them, stood with his head bowed down in humble attitude.--

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted
say.

NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHTH NIGHT,

FIRST VOYAGE OF SINDBAD HIGHT THE SEAMAN.

My father was a merchant, one of the notables of my native place, a
moneyed man and ample of means, who died whilst I was yet a child,
leaving me much wealth in money and lands, and farmhouses. When I grew
up I laid hands on the whole and ate of the best and drank freely and
wore rich clothes and lived lavishly, companioning and consorting with
youths of my own age, and considering that this course of life would
continue for ever and ken no change. Thus did I for a long time, but at
last I awoke from my heedlessness, and returning to my senses, I found
my wealth had become unwealth and my condition ill-conditioned, and all
I once hent had left my hand. And recovering my reason I was stricken
with dismay and confusion, and bethought me of a saying of our lord
Solomon, son of David, (upon whom be Peace!) which I had heard aforetime
from my father, "Three things are better than other three: the day of
death is better than the day of birth, a live dog is better than a dead
lion, and the grave is better than want." Then I got together my remains
of estates and property and sold all, even my clothes, for three
thousand dirhams, with which I resolved to travel to foreign parts,
remembering the saying of the poet:--

     By means of toil man shall scale the height; Who to fame
         aspires mustn't sleep o' night:
     Who seeketh pearl in the deep must dive, Winning weal and
         wealth by his main and might:
     And who seeketh Fame without toil and strife Th' impossible
         seeketh and wasteth life.

So taking heart I bought me goods, merchandise, and all needed for a
voyage, and, impatient to be at sea, I embarked, with a company of
merchants, on board a ship bound for Bassorah. There we again embarked
and sailed many days and nights, and we passed from isle to isle and sea
to sea and shore to shore, buying and selling and bartering everywhere
the ship touched, and continued our course till we came to an island as
it were a garth of the garden of Paradise. Here the captain cast anchor,
and making fast to the shore, put out the landing planks. So all on
board landed and made furnaces, and lighting fires therein, busied
themselves in various ways, some cooking and some washing, whilst other
some walked about the island for solace, and the crew fell to eating and
drinking and playing and sporting. I was one of the walkers; but as we
were thus engaged, behold the master, who was standing on the gunwale,
cried out to us at the top of his voice, saying, "Ho there! passengers,
run for your lives and hasten back to the ship and leave your gear and
save yourselves from destruction, Allah preserve you! For this island
whereon ye stand is no true island, but a great fish stationary
a-middlemost of the sea, whereon the sand hath settled and trees have
sprung up of old time, so that it is become like unto an island; but
when ye lighted fires on it, it felt the heat and moved; and in a moment
it will sink with you into the sea and ye will all be drowned. So leave
your gear and seek your safety ere ye die."--

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted
say.

NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH NIGHT,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the
ship-master cried to the passengers, "Leave your gear and seek safety
ere ye die," all who heard him left gear and goods, clothes washed and
unwashed, fire-pots and brass cooking-pots, and fled back to the ship
for their lives, and some reached it while others (among whom was I) did
not, for suddenly the island shook and sank into the abysses of the
deep, with all that were thereon, and the dashing sea surged over it
with clashing waves. I sank with the others down, down into the deep,
but Almighty Allah preserved me from drowning and threw in my way a
great wooden tub of those that had served the ship's company for
tubbing. I gripped it for the sweetness of life, and bestriding it like
one riding, paddled with my feet like oars, whilst the waves tossed me
as in sport right and left. Meanwhile, the captain made sail and
departed with those who had reached the ship, regardless of the drowning
and the drowned; and I ceased not following the vessel with my eyes,
till she was hid from sight and I made sure of death. Darkness closed in
upon me while in this plight, and the winds and waves bore me on all
that night and the next day, till the tub brought to with me under the
lee of a lofty island, with trees overhanging the tide. I caught hold of
a branch and by its aid clambered up on to the land, after coming nigh
upon death; but when I reached the shore, I found my legs cramped and
numbed, and my feet bore traces of the nibbling of fish upon their
soles; withal I had felt nothing for excess of anguish and fatigue. I
threw myself down on the island-ground, like a dead man, and drowned in
desolation swooned away, nor did I return to my senses till next
morning, when the sun rose and revived me. But I found my feet swollen,
so made shift to move by shuffling on my breech and crawling on my
knees, for in that island were found store of fruit and springs of sweet
water. I ate of the fruits, which strengthened me; and thus I abode days
and nights, till my life seemed to return and my spirits began to revive
and I was better able to move about. So after due consideration I fell
to exploring the island and diverting myself with gazing upon all things
that Allah Almighty had created there; and rested under the trees, from
one of which I cut me a staff to lean upon. One day as I walked along
the marge, I caught sight of some object in the distance, and thought
it a wild beast or one of the monster creatures of the sea; but as I
drew near it, looking hard the while, I saw that it was a noble mare,
tethered on the beach. Presently I went up to her, but she cried out
against me with a great cry, so that I trembled for fear and turned to
go away, when there came forth a man from under the earth and followed
me, crying out and saying, "Who and whence art thou, and what caused
thee to come hither?" "O my lord," answered I, "I am in very sooth a
waif, a stranger, and was left to drown with sundry others by the ship
we voyaged in; but Allah graciously sent me a wooden tub, so I saved
myself thereon, and it floated with me till the waves cast me up on this
island." When he heard this he took my hand, and saying "Come with me,"
carried me into a great Sardáb, or underground chamber, which was
spacious as a saloon. He made me sit down at its upper end; then he
brought me somewhat of food, and, being anhungered, I ate till I was
satisfied and refreshed. And when he had put me at mine ease he
questioned me of myself, and I told him all that had befallen me from
first to last. And as he wondered at my adventure, I said, "By Allah, O
my lord, excuse me; I have told thee the truth of my case and the
accident which betided me. And now I desire that thou tell me who thou
art, and why thou abidest here under the earth, and why thou hast
tethered yonder mare on the brink of the sea." Answered he, "Know that I
am one of the several who are stationed in different parts of this
island, and we are of the grooms of King Mihrján, and under our hand are
all his horses.... And Inshallah! I will bear thee to King Mihrján--"

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted
say.

NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTIETH NIGHT,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the Syce said
to Sindbad the Seaman, "I will bear thee to King Mihrján and show thee
our country. And know that hadst thou not happened on us, thou hadst
perished miserably and none had known of thee; but I will be the means
of the saving of thy life and of thy return to thine own land." I called
down blessings on him and thanked him for his kindness and courtesy....
After this, we sat awhile, till the rest of the grooms came up, each
leading a mare, and seeing me with their fellow Syce questioned me of my
case, and I repeated my story to them. Thereupon they drew near me, and
spreading the table, ate and invited me to eat; so I ate with them,
after which they took horse, and mounting me on one of the mares, set
out with me and fared on without ceasing, till we came to the capital
city of King Mihrján, and going in to him acquainted him with my story.
Then he sent for me, and when they set me before him and salams had been
exchanged, he gave me a cordial welcome and wishing me long life bade me
tell him my tale. So I related to him all that I had seen and all that
had befallen me from first to last, whereat he marveled and said to me,
"By Allah, O my son, thou hast indeed been miraculously preserved! Were
not the term of thy life a long one, thou hadst not escaped from these
straits; but praised be Allah for safety!" Then he spoke cheerily to me
and entreated me with kindness and consideration; moreover, he made me
his agent for the port and registrar of all ships that entered the
harbor. I attended him regularly, to receive his commandments, and he
favored me and did me all manner of kindness and invested me with costly
and splendid robes. Indeed, I was high in credit with him, as an
intercessor for the folk and an intermediary between them and him, when
they wanted aught of him. I abode thus a great while, and as often as I
passed through the city to the port, I questioned the merchants and
travelers and sailors of the city of Baghdad; so haply I might hear of
an occasion to return to my native land, but could find none who knew it
or knew any who resorted thither. At this I was chagrined, for I was
weary of long strangerhood; and my disappointment endured for a time
till one day, going in to King Mihrján, I found with him a company of
Indians. I saluted them and they returned my salam; and politely
welcomed me and asked me of my country--

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted
say.

NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIRST NIGHT,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Sindbad the
Seaman said:--When they asked me of my country I questioned them of
theirs, and they told me that they were of various castes, some being
called Shakiriyah, who are the noblest of their castes and neither
oppress nor offer violence to any, and other Brahmans, a folk who
abstain from wine, but live in delight and solace and merriment, and own
camels and horses and cattle. Moreover, they told me that the people of
India are divided into two-and-seventy castes, and I marveled at this
with exceeding marvel. Amongst other things that I saw in King Mihrján's
dominions was an island called Kásil, wherein all night is heard the
beating of drums and tabrets; but we were told by the neighboring
islanders and by travelers that the inhabitants are people of diligence
and judgment. In this sea I saw also a fish two hundred cubits long, and
the fishermen fear it; so they strike together pieces of wood and put it
to flight. I also saw another fish, with a head like that of an owl,
besides many other wonders and rarities, which it would be tedious to
recount. I occupied myself thus in visiting the islands, till one day,
as I stood in the port, with a staff in my hand, according to my custom,
behold, a great ship, wherein were many merchants, came sailing for the
harbor. When it reached the small inner port where ships anchor under
the city, the master furled his sails and making fast to the shore, put
out the landing-planks, whereupon the crew fell to breaking bulk and
landing cargo whilst I stood by, taking written note of them. They were
long in bringing the goods ashore, so I asked the master, "Is there
aught left in thy ship?" and he answered, "O my lord, there are divers
bales of merchandise in the hold, whose owner was drowned from amongst
us at one of the islands on our course; so his goods remained in our
charge by way of trust, and we propose to sell them and note their
price, that we may convey it to his people in the city of Baghdad, the
Home of Peace." "What was the merchant's name?" quoth I, and quoth he,
"Sindbad the Seaman"; whereupon I straitly considered him and knowing
him, cried out to him with a great cry, saying, "O captain, I am that
Sindbad the Seaman who traveled with other merchants; and when the fish
heaved and thou calledst to us, some saved themselves and others sank, I
being one of them. But Allah Almighty threw in my way a great tub of
wood, of those the crew had used to wash withal, and the winds and waves
carried me to this island, where by Allah's grace I fell in with King
Mihrján's grooms and they brought me hither to the King their master.
When I told him my story he entreated me with favor and made me his
harbor-master, and I have prospered in his service and found acceptance
with him. These bales, therefore, are mine, the goods which God hath
given me--"

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted
say.

NOW WHEN IT WAS THE FIVE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SECOND NIGHT,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Sindbad
the Seaman said to the captain, "These bales are mine, the goods which
Allah hath given me," the other exclaimed, "There is no Majesty and
there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great! Verily, there
is neither conscience nor good faith left among men!" Said I, "O Rais,
what mean these words, seeing that I have told thee my case?" And he
answered, "Because thou heardest me say that I had with me goods whose
owner was drowned, thou thinkest to take them without right; but this is
forbidden by law to thee, for we saw him drown before our eyes, together
with many other passengers, nor was one of them saved. So how canst thou
pretend that thou art the owner of the goods?" "O captain," said I,
"listen to my story and give heed to my words, and my truth will be
manifest to thee; for lying and leasing are the letter-marks of the
hypocrites." Then I recounted to him all that had befallen me since I
sailed from Baghdad with him to the time when we came to the fish-island
where we were nearly drowned; and I reminded him of certain matters
which had passed between us; whereupon both he and the merchants were
certified of the truth of my story and recognized me and gave me joy of
my deliverance, saying, "By Allah, we thought not that thou hadst
escaped drowning! But the Lord hath granted thee new life." Then they
delivered my bales to me, and I found my name written thereon, nor was
aught thereof lacking. So I opened them, and making up a present for
King Mihrján of the finest and costliest of the contents, caused the
sailors to carry it up to the palace, where I went in to the King and
laid my present at his feet acquainting him with what had happened,
especially concerning the ship and my goods; whereat he wondered with
exceeding wonder and the truth of all that I had told him was made
manifest to him. His affection for me redoubled after that, and he
showed me exceeding honor and bestowed on me a great present in return
for mine. Then I sold my bales and what other matters I owned, making a
great profit on them, and bought me other goods and gear of the growth
and fashion of the island-city. When the merchants were about to start
on their homeward voyage, I embarked on board the ship all that I
possessed, and going in to the King, thanked him for all his favors and
friendship, and craved his leave to return to my own land and friends.
He farewelled me and bestowed upon me great store of the country-stuffs
and produce; and I took leave of him and embarked. Then we set sail and
fared on nights and days, by the permission of Allah Almighty; and
Fortune served us and Fate favored us, so that we arrived in safety at
Bassorah-city where I landed rejoiced at my safe return to my natal
soil. After a short stay, I set out for Baghdad, the House of Peace,
with store of goods and commodities of great price. Reaching the city in
due time, I went straight to my own quarter and entered my house, where
all my friends and kinsfolk came to greet me. Then I bought me eunuchs
and concubines, servants and negro slaves, till I had a large
establishment, and I bought me houses, and lands and gardens, till I was
richer and in better case than before, and returned to enjoy the society
of my friends and familiars more assiduously than ever, forgetting all I
had suffered of fatigue and hardship and strangerhood and every peril of
travel; and I applied myself to all manner joys and solaces and
delights, eating the daintiest viands and drinking the deliciousest
wines; and my wealth allowed this state of things to endure. This, then,
is the story of my first voyage, and to-morrow, Inshallah! I will tell
you the tale of the second of my seven voyages. Saith he who telleth the
tale: Then Sindbad the Seaman made Sindbad the Landsman sup with him and
bade give him an hundred gold pieces, saying, "Thou hast cheered us with
thy company this day." The Porter thanked him, and taking the gift, went
his way, pondering that which he had heard and marveling mightily at
what things betide mankind.

CONCLUSION OF THE 'THOUSAND NIGHTS AND A NIGHT'

Translation of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton

Now during this time Shahrazad had borne the King three boy children;
so, when she had made an end of the story of Ma'aruf, she rose to her
feet and kissing ground before him, said, "O King of the time and unique
one of the age and the tide, I am thine handmaid, and these thousand
nights and a night have I entertained thee with stories of folk gone
before and admonitory instances of the men of yore. May I then make bold
to crave a boon of thy highness?" He replied, "Ask, O Shahrazad, and it
shall be granted to thee." Whereupon she cried out to the nurses and the
eunuchs, saying, "Bring me my children." So they brought them to her in
haste, and they were three boy children, one walking, one crawling, and
one sucking. She took them, and setting them before the King, again
kissed ground and said, "O King of the Age, these are thy children and I
crave that thou release me from the doom of death, as a dole to these
infants; for, an thou kill me, they will become motherless and will find
none among women to rear them as they should be reared." When the King
heard this, he wept and straining the boys to his bosom, said, "By
Allah, O Shahrazad, I pardoned thee before the coming of these children,
for that I found thee chaste, pure, ingenuous, and pious! Allah bless
thee and thy father and thy mother and thy root and thy branch! I take
the Almighty to witness against me that I exempt thee from aught that
can harm thee."

So she kissed his hands and feet and rejoiced with exceeding joy,
saying, "The Lord make thy life long and increase thee in dignity and
majesty!" presently adding, "Thou marveledst at which befell thee on the
part of women; yet there betided the Kings of the Chosroës before thee
greater mishaps and more grievous than that which hath befallen thee,
and indeed I have set forth unto thee that which happened to Caliphs and
Kings and others with their women, but the relation is longsome, and
hearkening groweth tedious, and in this is all-sufficient warning for
the man of wits and admonishment for the wise." Then she ceased to
speak, and when King Shahryar heard her speech and profited by that
which she had said, he summoned up his reasoning powers and cleansed his
heart and caused his understanding to revert, and turned to Allah
Almighty and said to himself, "Since there befell the Kings of the
Chosroës more than that which hath befallen me, never whilst I live
shall I cease to blame myself for the past. As for this Shahrazad, her
like is not found in the lands; so praise be to Him Who appointed her a
means for delivering His creatures from oppression and slaughter!" Then
he arose from his séance and kissed her head, whereat she rejoiced, she
and her sister Dunyazad, with exceeding joy.

When the morning morrowed the King went forth, and sitting down on the
throne of the Kingship, summoned the Lords of his land; whereupon the
Chamberlains and Nabobs and Captains of the host went in to him and
kissed ground before him. He distinguished the Wazir, Shahrazad's sire,
with special favor and bestowed on him a costly and splendid robe of
honor, and entreated him with the utmost kindness, and said to him,
"Allah protect thee for that thou gavest me to wife thy noble daughter,
who hath been the means of my repentance from slaying the daughters of
folk. Indeed, I have found her pure and pious, chaste and ingenuous, and
Allah hath vouchsafed me by her three boy children; wherefore praised be
He for His passing favor." Then he bestowed robes of honor upon his
Wazirs and Emirs and Chief Officers and he set forth to them briefly
that which had betided him with Shahrazad, and how he had turned from
his former ways and repented him of what he had done, and proposed to
take the Wazir's daughter Shahrazad to wife, and let draw up the
marriage-contract with her. When those who were present heard this, they
kissed ground before him and blessed him and his betrothed Shahrazad,
and the Wazir thanked her.

Then Shahryar made an end of his sitting in all weal, whereupon the folk
dispersed to their dwelling-places, and the news was bruited abroad that
the King proposed to marry the Wazir's daughter, Shahrazad. Then he
proceeded to make ready the wedding gear, and presently he sent after
his brother, King Shah Zaman, who came, and King Shahryar went forth to
meet him with the troops. Furthermore, they decorated the city after the
goodliest fashion and diffused scents from censers and burnt aloes-wood
and other perfumes in all the markets and thoroughfares and rubbed
themselves with saffron, what while the drums beat and the flutes and
pipes sounded and mimes and mountebanks played and plied their arts, and
the King lavished on them gifts and largesse, and in very deed it was a
notable day. When they came to the palace, King Shahryar commanded to
spread the table with beasts roasted whole, and sweetmeats, and all
manner of viands, and bade the crier cry to the folk that they should
come up to the Diwan and eat and drink, and that this should be a means
of reconciliation between him and them. So high and low, great and
small, came up unto him, and they abode on that wise, eating and
drinking, seven days with their nights.

Then the King shut himself up with his brother, and related to him that
which had betided him with the Wazir's daughter Shahrazad during the
past three years, and told him what he had heard from her of proverbs
and parables, chronicles and pleasantries, quips and jests, stories and
anecdotes, dialogues and histories, and elegies and other verses;
whereat King Shah Zaman marveled with the utmost marvel and said, "Fain
would I take her younger sister to wife, so we may be two
brothers-german to two sisters-german, and they on like wise be sisters
to us; for that the calamity which befell me was the cause of our
discovering that which befell thee, and all this time of three years
past I have taken no delight in woman; but now I desire to marry thy
wife's sister Dunyazad."

When King Shahryar heard his brother's words, he rejoiced with joy
exceeding, and arising forthright, went in to his wife Shahrazad and
acquainted her with that which his brother purposed, namely, that he
sought her sister Dunyazad in wedlock; whereupon she answered, "O King
of the Age, we seek of him one condition, to wit, that he take up his
abode with us, for that I cannot brook to be parted from my sister an
hour, because we were brought up together, and may not endure separation
each from another. If he accept this pact, she is his handmaid." King
Shahryar returned to his brother and acquainted him with that which
Shahrazad had said; and he replied, "Indeed, this is what was in my
mind, for that I desire nevermore to be parted from thee one hour. As
for the kingdom, Allah the Most High shall send to it whomso He
chooseth, for that I have no longer a desire for the kingship."

When King Shahryar heard his brother's words, he rejoiced exceedingly
and said, "Verily, this is what I wished, O my brother. So
Alhamdolillah--Praised be Allah!--who hath brought about union between
us." Then he sent after the Kazis and Olema, Captains and Notables, and
they married the two brothers to the two sisters. The contracts were
written out, and the two Kings bestowed robes of honor of silk and satin
on those who were present, whilst the city was decorated and the
rejoicings were renewed. The King commanded each Emir and Wazir and
Chamberlain and Nabob to decorate his palace, and the folk of the city
were gladdened by the presage of happiness and contentment. King
Shahryar also bade slaughter sheep, and set up kitchens and made
bride-feasts and fed all comers, high and low; and he gave alms to the
poor and needy and extended his bounty to great and small.

Then the eunuchs went forth that they might perfume the Hammam for the
brides; so they scented it with rosewater and willow-flower water and
pods of musk, and fumigated it with Kákilí eaglewood and ambergris. Then
Shahrazad entered, she and her sister Dunyazad, and they cleansed their
heads and clipped their hair. When they came forth of the Hammam-bath,
they donned raiment and ornaments, such as men were wont prepare for the
Kings of the Chosroës; and among Shahrazad's apparel was a dress purfled
with red gold and wrought with counterfeit presentments of birds and
beasts. And the two sisters encircled their necks with necklaces of
jewels of price, in the like whereof Iskander rejoiced not, for therein
were great jewels such as amazed the wit and dazzled the eye; and the
imagination was bewildered at their charms, for indeed each of them was
brighter than the sun and the moon. Before them they lighted brilliant
flambeaux of wax in candelabra of gold, but their faces outshone the
flambeaux, for that they had eyes sharper than unsheathed swords and the
lashes of their eyelids bewitched all hearts. Their cheeks were rosy
red, and their necks and shapes gracefully swayed, and their eyes
wantoned like the gazelle's; and the slave-girls came to meet them with
instruments of music.

Then the two Kings entered the Hammam-bath, and when they came forth
they sat down on a couch set with pearls and gems, whereupon the two
sisters came up to them and stood between their hands, as they were
moons, bending and leaning from side to side in their beauty and
loveliness. Presently they brought forward Shahrazad and displayed her,
for the first dress, in a red suit; whereupon King Shahryar rose to look
upon her, and the wits of all present, men and women, were bewitched for
that she was even as saith of her one of her describers:--

     A sun on wand in knoll of sand she showed,
          Clad in her cramoisy-hued chemisette:
     Of her lips' honey-dew she gave me drink
          And with her rosy cheeks quencht fire she set.

Then they attired Dunyazad in a dress of blue brocade, and she became as
she were the full moon when it shineth forth. So they displayed her in
this, for the first dress, before King Shah Zaman, who rejoiced in her
and well-nigh swooned away for love-longing and amorous desire; yea, he
was distraught with passion for her, whenas he saw her, because she was
as saith of her one of her describers in these couplets:--

     She comes appareled in an azure vest
          Ultramarine as skies are deckt and dight:
     I view'd th' unparall'd sight, which showed my eyes
          A Summer-moon upon a Winter-night.

Then they returned to Shahrazad and displayed her in the second dress, a
suit of surpassing goodliness, and veiled her face with her hair like a
chin-veil. Moreover, they let down her side-locks, and she was even as
saith of her one of her describers in these couplets:--

     O hail to him whose locks his cheeks o'ershade,
          Who slew my life by cruel hard despight:
     Said I, "Hast veiled the Morn in Night?" He said,
          "Nay, I but veil the Moon in hue of Night."

Then they displayed Dunyazad in a second and a third and a fourth dress,
and she paced forward like the rising sun, and swayed to and fro in the
insolence of her beauty; and she was even as saith the poet of her in
these couplets:--

     The sun of beauty she to all appears
          And, lovely coy, she mocks all loveliness:
     And when he fronts her favor and her smile
          A-morn, the sun of day in clouds must dress.

Then they displayed Shahrazad in the third dress and the fourth and the
fifth, and she became as she were a Bán-branch snell of a thirsting
gazelle, lovely of face and perfect in attributes of grace, even as
saith of her one in these couplets:--

     She comes like fullest moon on happy night,
          Taper of waist with shape of magic might;
     She hath an eye whose glances quell mankind,
          And ruby on her cheeks reflects his light;
     Enveils her hips the blackness of her hair;
          Beware of curls that bite with viper-bite!
     Her sides are silken-soft, what while the heart
          Mere rock behind that surface 'scapes our sight;
     From the fringed curtains of her cyne she shoots
          Shafts that at furthest range on mark alight.

Then they returned to Dunyazad and displayed her in the fifth dress and
in the sixth, which was green, when she surpassed with her loveliness
the fair of the four quarters of the world, and outvied, with the
brightness of her countenance, the full moon at rising tide; for she was
even as saith of her the poet in these couplets:--

     A damsel 'twas the tirer's art had decked with snare and sleight,
          And robed with rays as though the sun from her had borrowed
               light;
     She came before us wondrous clad in chemisette of green,
          As veilèd by his leafy screen Pomegranate hides from sight;
     And when he said, "How callest thou the fashion of thy dress?"
          She answered us in pleasant way, with double meaning dight,
     "We call this garment _crève-coeur;_ and rightly is it hight,
          For many a heart wi' this we brake and harried many a sprite."

Then they displayed Shahrazad in the sixth and seventh dresses and clad
her in youth's clothing, whereupon she came forward swaying from side to
side, and coquettishly moving, and indeed she ravished wits and hearts
and ensorcelled all eyes with her glances. She shook her sides and
swayed her haunches, then put her hair on sword-hilt and went up to King
Shahryar, who embraced her as hospitable host embraceth guest, and
threatened her in her ear with the taking of the sword; and she was even
as saith of her the poet in these words:--

     Were not the Murk of gender male,
           Than feminines surpassing fair,
     Tire-women they had grudged the bride,
           Who made her beard and whiskers wear!

Thus also they did with her sister Dunyazad; and when they had made an
end of the display, the King bestowed robes of honor on all who were
present, and sent the brides to their own apartments. Then Shahrazad
went in to King Shahryar and Dunyazad to King Shah Zaman, and each of
them solaced himself with the company of his beloved consort, and the
hearts of the folk were comforted. When morning morrowed, the Wazir came
in to the two Kings and kissed ground before them; wherefore they
thanked him and were large of bounty to him. Presently they went forth
and sat down upon couches of kingship, whilst all the Wazirs and Emirs
and Grandees and Lords of the land presented themselves and kissed
ground. King Shahryar ordered them dresses of honor and largesse, and
they prayed for the permanence and prosperity of the King and his
brother. Then the two Sovrans appointed their sire-in-law the Wazir to
be Viceroy in Samarcand, and assigned him five of the Chief Emirs to
accompany him, charging them attend him and do him service. The Minister
kissed ground and prayed that they might be vouchsafed length of life:
then he went in to his daughters, whilst the Eunuchs and Ushers walked
before him, and saluted them and farewelled them. They kissed his hands
and gave him joy of the kingship and bestowed on him immense treasures;
after which he took leave of them, and setting out, fared days and
nights, till he came near Samarcand, where the townspeople met him at a
distance of three marches and rejoiced in him with exceeding joy. So he
entered the city, and they decorated the houses and it was a notable
day. He sat down on the throne of his kingship, and the Wazirs did him
homage and the Grandees and Emirs of Samarcand, and all prayed that he
might be vouchsafed justice and victory and length of continuance. So he
bestowed on them robes of honor and entreated them with distinction, and
they made him Sultan over them. As soon as his father-in-law had
departed for Samarcand, King Shahryar summoned the Grandees of his realm
and made them a stupendous banquet of all manner of delicious meats and
exquisite sweetmeats. He also bestowed on them robes of honor and
guerdoned them, and divided the kingdoms between himself and his brother
in their presence, whereat the folk rejoiced. Then the two Kings abode,
each ruling a day in turn, and they were ever in harmony each with
other, while on similar wise their wives continued in the love of Allah
Almighty and in thanksgiving to Him; and the peoples and the provinces
were at peace, and the preachers prayed for them from the pulpits, and
their report was bruited abroad and the travelers bore tidings of them
to all lands. In due time King Shahryar summoned chronicles and
copyists, and bade them write all that had betided him with his wife,
first and last; so they wrote this and named it 'The Stories of the
Thousand Nights and A Night.' The book came to thirty volumes, and these
the King laid up in his treasure. And the two brothers abode with their
wives in all pleasaunce and solace of life and its delights, for that
indeed Allah the Most High had changed their annoy into joy; and on this
wise they continued till there took them the Destroyer of delights and
the Severer of societies, the Desolator of dwelling-places, and Garnerer
of grave-yards, and they were translated to the ruth of Almighty Allah;
their houses fell waste and their palaces lay in ruins, and the Kings
inherited their riches. Then there reigned after them a wise ruler, who
was just, keen-witted, and accomplished, and loved tales and legends,
especially those which chronicle the doings of Sovrans and Sultans, and
he found in the treasury these marvelous stories and wondrous histories,
contained in the thirty volumes aforesaid. So he read in them a first
book and a second and a third and so on to the last of them, and each
book astounded and delighted him more than that which preceded it, till
he came to the end of them. Then he admired what so he had read therein
of description and discourse and rare traits and anecdotes and moral
instances and reminiscences, and bade the folk copy them and dispread
them over all lands and climes; wherefore their report was bruited
abroad and the people named them 'The marvels and wonders of the
Thousand Nights and A Night.' This is all that hath come down to us of
the origin of this book, and Allah is All-knowing. So Glory be to Him
Whom the shifts of Time waste not away, nor doth aught of chance or
change affect His sway! Whom one case diverteth not from other case, and
Who is sole in the attributes of perfect grace. And prayer and the Peace
be upon the Lord's Pontiff and Chosen One among His creatures, our Lord
MOHAMMED the Prince of mankind, through whom we supplicate Him for a
goodly and a godly end.

ARABIC LITERATURE

BY RICHARD GOTTHEIL

Of no civilization is the complexion of its literary remains so
characteristic of its varying fortunes as is that of the Arabic. The
precarious conditions of desert life and of the tent, the more certain
existence in settled habitations, the grandeur of empire acquired in a
short period of enthusiastic rapture, the softening influence of luxury
and unwonted riches, are so faithfully portrayed in the literature of
the Arabs as to give us a picture of the spiritual life of the people
which no mere massing of facts can ever give. Well aware of this
themselves, the Arabs at an early date commenced the collection and
preservation of their old literary monuments with a care and a studious
concern which must excite within us a feeling of wonder. For the
material side of life must have made a strong appeal to these people
when they came forth from their desert homes. Pride in their own doings,
pride in their own past, must have spurred them on; yet an ardent
feeling for the beautiful in speech is evident from the beginning of
their history. The first knowledge that we have of the tribes scattered
up and down the deserts and oases of the Arabian peninsula comes to us
in the verses of their poets. The early Teuton bards, the rhapsodists of
Greece, were not listened to with more rapt attention than was the
simple Bedouin, who, seated on his mat or at the door of his tent, gave
vent to his feelings of joy or sorrow in such manner as nature had
gifted him. As are the ballads for Scottish history, so are the verses
of these untutored bards the record of the life in which they played no
mean part. Nor could the splendors of court life at Damascus, Bagdad, or
Cordova make their rulers insensible to the charms of poetry,--that
"beautiful poetry with which Allah has adorned the Muslim." A verse
happily said could always charm, a satire well pointed could always
incite; and the true Arab of to-day will listen to those so adorned with
the same rapt attention as did his fathers of long ago.

This gift of the desert--otherwise so sparing of its favors--has not
failed to leave its impression upon the whole Arabic literature. Though
it has produced some prose writers of value, writing, as an art to charm
and to please, has always sought the measured cadence of poetry or the
unmeasured symmetry of rhymed prose. Its first lispings are in the
"trembling" (rájaz) metre,--iambics, rhyming in the same syllable
throughout; impromptu verses, in which the poet expressed the feelings
of the moment: a measure which, the Arabs say, matches the trembling
trot of the she-camel. It is simple in its character; coming so near to
rhymed prose that Khalíl (born 718), the great grammarian, would not
willingly admit that such lines could really be called poetry. Some of
these verses go back to the fourth and fifth centuries of our era. But a
growing sense of the poet's art was incompatible with so simple a
measure; and a hundred years before the appearance of the Prophet, many
of the canonical sixteen metres were already in vogue. Even the later
complete poems bear the stamp of their origin, in the loose connection
with which the different parts stand to each other. The "Kasídah" (poem)
is built upon the principle that each verse must be complete in
itself,--there being no stanzas,--and separable from the context; which
has made interpolations and omissions in the older poems a matter
of ease.

The classical period of Arabic poetry, which reaches from the beginning
of the sixth century to the beginning of the eighth, is dominated by
this form of the Kasídah. Tradition refers its origin to one al-Muhalhel
ibn Rabí'a of the tribe of Taghlib, about one hundred and fifty years
before Muhammad; though, as is usual, this honor is not uncontested. The
Kasídah is composed of distichs, the first two of which only are to
rhyme; though every line must end in the same syllable. It must have at
least seven or ten verses, and may reach up to one hundred or over. In
nearly every case it deals with a tribe or a single person,--the poet
himself or a friend,--and may be either a panegyric, a satire, an elegy,
or a eulogy. That which it is the aim of the poet to bring out comes
last; the greater part of the poem being of the nature of a _captatio
benevolentia_. Here he can show his full power of expression. He usually
commences with the description of a deserted camping-ground, where he
sees the traces of his beloved. He then adds the erotic part, and
describes at length his deeds of valor in the chase or in war; in order,
then, to lead over to the real object he has in view. Because of this
disposition of the material, which is used by the greater poets of this
time, the general form of the Kasídah became in a measure stereotyped.
No poem was considered perfect unless molded in this form.

Arabic poetry is thus entirely lyrical. There was too little, among
these tribes, of the common national life which forms the basis for the
Epos. The Semitic genius is too subjective, and has never gotten beyond
the first rude attempts at dramatic composition. Even in its lyrics,
Arabic poetry is still more subjective than the Hebrew of the Bible. It
falls generally into the form of an allocution, even where it is
descriptive. It is the poet who speaks, and his personality pervades the
whole poem. He describes nature as he finds it, with little of the
imaginative, "in dim grand outlines of a picture which must be filled
up by the reader, guided only by a few glorious touches powerfully
standing out." A native quickness of apprehension and intense feeling
nurtured this poetic sentiment among the Arabs. The continuous enmity
among the various tribes produced a sort of knight-errantry which gave
material to the poet; and the richness of his language put a tongue in
his mouth which could voice forth the finest shades of description or
sentiment. Al-Damári has wisely said: "Wisdom has alighted upon three
things,--the brain of the Franks, the hands of the Chinese, and the
tongues of the Arabs."

The horizon which bounded the Arab poet's view was not far drawn out. He
describes the scenes of his desert life: the sand dunes; the camel,
antelope, wild ass, and gazelle; his bow and arrow and his sword; his
loved one torn from him by the sudden striking of the tents and
departure of her tribe. The virtues which he sings are those in which he
glories, "love of freedom, independence in thought and action,
truthfulness, largeness of heart, generosity, and hospitality." His
descriptions breathe the freshness of his outdoor life and bring us
close to nature: his whole tone rings out a solemn note, which is even
in his lighter moments grave and serious,--as existence itself was for
those sons of the desert, who had no settled habitation, and who, more
than any one, depended upon the bounty of Allah. Although these Kasídahs
passed rapidly from mouth to mouth, little would have been preserved for
us had there not been a class of men who, led on some by desire, some by
necessity, made it their business to write down the compositions, and to
keep fresh in their memory the very pronunciation of each word. Every
poet had such a Ráwiah. Of one Hammád it is said that he could recite
one hundred Kasídahs rhyming on each letter of the alphabet, each
Kasídah having at least one hundred verses. Abu Tammám (805), the author
of the 'Hamásah,' is reported to have known by heart fourteen thousand
pieces of the metre rájaz. It was not, however, until the end of the
first century of the Híjrah that systematic collections of this older
literature were commenced.

It was this very Hammád (died 777) who put together seven of the
choicest poems of the early Arabs. He called them 'Mu 'allakât,'--"the
hung up" (in a place of honor, in the estimation of the people). The
authors of these seven poems were: Imr-al-Kais, Tárafa, Zuhéir, Labîd
(570), 'Antara, 'Amr, and al-Hárith. The common verdict of their
countrymen has praised the choice made by Hammád. The seven remained the
great models, to which later poets aspired: in description of love,
those of Imr-al-Kais and 'Antara; in that of the camel and the horse,
Labîd; of battle, 'Amr; in the praise of arms, Hárith; in wise maxims,
Zuhéir. To these must be added al-Nabighah, 'Alkamah, Urwa ibn al-Ward,
Hássan ibn Thábit, al-A'sha, Aus ibn Hájar, and as-Shánfarah, whose
poem has been called "the most magnificent of old Arabic poems." In
addition to the single poems found in the 'Mu 'allakât' and elsewhere,
nearly all of these composed whole series of poems, which were at a
later time put in the form of collections and called 'Diwans.' Some of
these poets have left us as many as four hundred verses. Such
collections were made by grammarians and antiquarians of a later age. In
addition to the collections made around the name of a single poet,
others were made, fashioned upon a different principle: The
'Mufáddaliyát' (the most excellent poems), put together by al-Mufáddal
(761); the 'Diwan' of the poets of the tribe of Hudhéil; the 'Hamásah'
(Bravery; so called from the subject of the first of the ten books into
which the collection is divided) of Abu Tammám. The best anthology of
these poems is 'The Great Book of Songs,' put together by Abu al-Fáraj
al-Ispa-háni (died 967).

With these poets Arabic literature reached its highest development. They
are the true expression of the free Arabic spirit. Most of them lived
before or during the time of the appearance of Muhammad. His coming
produced a great change in the life of the simple Bedouins. Though they
could not be called heathen, their religion expressed itself in the
simple feeling of dependence upon higher powers, without attempting to
bring this faith into a close connection with their daily life. Muhammad
introduced a system into which he tried to mold all things. He wished to
unite the scattered tribes to one only purpose. He was thus cutting away
that untrammeled spirit and that free life which had been the making of
Arabic poetry. He knew this well. He knew also the power the poets had
over the people. His own 'Qur'an' (Koran) was but a poor substitute for
the elegant verses of his opponents. "Imr-al-Kais," he said, "is the
finest of all poets, and their leader into everlasting fire." On another
occasion he is reported to have called out, "Verily, a belly full of
matter is better than a belly full of poetry." Even when citing verses,
he quoted them in such a manner as to destroy the metre. Abu Bekr very
properly remarked, "Truly God said in the 'Qur'an,' 'We have not taught
him poetry, and it suits him not.'" In thus decrying the poets of
"barbarism," and in setting up the 'Qur'an' as the greatest production
of Arabic genius, Muhammad was turning the national poetry to its
decline. Happily his immediate successors were unable or unwilling to
follow him strictly. Ali himself, his son-in-law, is said to have been a
poet; nor did the Umáyyid Caliphs of Damascus, "very heathens in their
carnal part," bring the new spirit to its full bloom, as did the
Abbassides of Bagdad.

And yet the old spirit was gradually losing ground. The consolidation of
the empire brought greater security; the riches of Persia and Syria
produced new types of men. The centre of Arab life was now in the city,
with all its trammels, its forced politeness, its herding together. The
simplicity which characterized the early caliphs was going; in its place
was come a court,--court life, court manners, court poets. The love of
poetry was still there; but the poet of the tent had become the poet of
the house and the palace. Like those troubadours who had become
jongleurs, they lived upon the crumbs which fell from the table of
princes. Such crumbs were often not to be despised. Many a time and oft
the bard tuned his lyre merely for the price of his services. We know
that he was richly rewarded. Harún gave a dress worth four hundred
thousand pieces of gold to Já'far ibn Yahya; at his death, Ibn 'Ubeid
al-Buchtarí (865) left one hundred complete suits of dress, two hundred
shirts, and five hundred turbans--all of which had been given him for
his poems. The freshness of olden times was fading little by little; the
earnestness of the Bedouin poet was making way for a lightness of heart.
In this intermediate period, few were born so happily, and yet so imbued
with the new spirit, as was 'Umar ibn 'Rabí'a (644), "the man of
pleasure as well as the man of literature." Of rich parentage, gifted
with a love of song which moved him to speak in verses, he was able to
keep himself far from both prince and palace. He was of the family of
Kureísh, in whose Muhammad all the glories of Arabia had centred, with
one exception,--the gift of poetry. And now "this Don Juan of Mecca,
this Ovid of Arabia," was to wipe away that stain. He was the Arabian
Minnesinger, whom Friedrich Rückert called "the greatest love-poet the
Arabs have produced." A man of the city, the desert had no attractions
for him. But he sang of love as he made love,--with utter disregard of
holy place or high station, in an erotic strain strange to the stern
Umáyyids. No wonder they warned their children against reading his
compositions. "The greatest sin committed against Allah are the poems of
'Umar ibn Rabí'a," they said.

With the rise of the Abbassides (750), that "God-favored dynasty,"
Arabic literature entered upon its second great development; a
development which may be distinguished from that of the Umáyyids (which
was Arabian) as, in very truth, Muhammadan. With Bagdad as the capital,
it was rather the non-Arabic Persians who held aloft the torch than the
Arabs descended from Kuréish. It was a bold move, this attempt to weld
the old Persian civilization with the new Muhammadan. Yet so great was
the power of the new faith that it succeeded. The Barmecide major-domo
ably seconded his Abbasside master; the glory of both rests upon the
interest they took in art, literature, and science. The Arab came in
contact with a new world. Under Mansúr (754), Harun al-Rashid (786), and
Ma'mún (813), the wisdom of the Greeks in philosophy and science, the
charms of Persia and India in wit and satire, were opened up to
enlightened eyes. Upon all of these, whatever their nationality, Islam
had imposed the Arab tongue, pride in the faith and in its early
history. 'Qur'an' exegesis, philosophy, law, history, and science were
cultivated under the very eyes and at the bidding of the Palace. And, at
least for several centuries, Europe was indebted to the culture of
Bagdad for what it knew of mathematics, astronomy, and philosophy.

The Arab muse profited with the rest of this revival. History and
philosophy, as a study, demanded a close acquaintance with the products
of early Arab genius. The great philologian al-Asmái (740-831) collected
the songs and tales of the heroic age; and a little later, with other
than philological ends in view, Abu Tammám and al-Búchturí (816-913)
made the first anthologies of the old Arabic literatures ('Hamásah').
Poetry was already cultivated: and amid the hundreds of wits, poets, and
singers who thronged the entrance to the court, there are many who claim
real poetic genius. Among them are al-Ahtal (died 713), a Christian;
'Umar ibn Rabí'a (died 728), Jarír al-Farázdak (died 728), and Muslim
ibn al-Walíd (died 828). But it is rather the Persian spirit which
rules,--the spirit of the Shahnámeh and Firdaúsi,--"charming elegance,
servile court flattery, and graceful wit." In none are the
characteristics so manifest as in Abu Núwas (762-819), the Poet Laureate
of Harun, the Imr-al-Kais of his time. His themes are wine and love.
Everything else he casts to the wind; and like his modern counterpart,
Heine, he drives the wit of his satire deep into the holiest feelings of
his people. "I would that all which Religion and Law forbids were
permitted me; and if I had only two years to live, that God would change
me into a dog at the Temple in Mecca, so that I might bite every pilgrim
in the leg," he is reported to have said. When he himself did once make
the required pilgrimage, he did so in order to carry his loves up to the
very walls of the sacred house. "Jovial, adventure-loving,
devil-may-care," irreligious in all he did, yet neither the Khalif nor
the whole Muhammadan world were incensed. In spite of all, they petted
him and pronounced his wine-songs the finest ever written; full of
thought and replete with pictures, rich in language and true to every
touch of nature. "There are no poems on wine equal to my own, and to my
amatory compositions all others must yield," he himself has said. He was
poor and had to live by his talents. But wherever he went he was richly
rewarded. He was content only to be able to live in shameless revelry
and to sing. As he lived, so he died,--in a half-drunken group, cut to
pieces by those who thought themselves offended by his lampoons.

At the other end of the Muslim world, the star of the Umáyyids, which
had set at Damascus, rose again at Cordova. The union of two
civilizations--Indo-Germanic and Semitic--was as advantageous in the
West as in the East. The influence of the spirit of learning which
reigned at Bagdad reached over to Spain, and the two dynasties vied with
each other in the patronage of all that was beautiful in literature and
learned in science. Poetry was cultivated and poets cherished with a
like regard: the Spanish innate love of the Muse joined hands with that
of the Arabic. It was the same kind of poetry in Umáyyid Spain as in
Abbasside Bagdad: poetry of the city and of the palace. But another
element was added here,--the Western love for the softer beauties of
nature, and for their expression in finely worked out mosaics and in
graceful descriptions. It is this that brings the Spanish-Arabic poetry
nearer to us than the more splendid and glittering verses of the
Abbassides, or the cruder and less polished lines of the first
Muhammadans. The amount of poetry thus composed in Arab Spain may be
gauged by the fact that an anthology made during the first half of the
tenth century, by Ibn Fáraj, contained twenty thousand verses. Cordova
under 'Abd-al-Rahmán III. and Hákim II. was the counterpart of Bagdad
under Harun. "The most learned prince that ever lived," Hákim was so
renowned a patron of literature that learned men wandered to him from
all over the Arab Empire. He collected a library of four hundred
thousand volumes, which had been gathered together by his agents in
Egypt, Syria, and Persia: the catalogue of which filled forty-four
volumes. In Cordova he founded a university and twenty-seven free
schools. What wonder that all the sciences--Tradition, Theology,
Jurisprudence, and especially History and Geography--flourished during
his reign. Of the poets of this period there may be mentioned: Sa'íd ibn
Júdi--the pattern of the Knight of those days, the poet loved of women;
Yáhyah ibn Hakam, "the gazelle"; Ahmad ibn 'Abd Rabbíh, the author of a
commonplace book; Ibn Abdún of Badjiz, Ibn Hafájah of Xucar, Ibn Sa'íd
of Granada. Kings added a new jewel to their crown, and took an honored
place among the bards; as 'Abd al-Rahmán I., and Mu'tamid (died 1095),
the last King of Seville, whose unfortunate life he himself has pictured
in most beautiful elegies. Although the short revival under the
Almohades (1184-1198) produced such men as Ibn Roshd, the commentator on
Aristotle, and Ibn Toféil, who wrote the first 'Robinson Crusoe' story,
the sun was already setting. When Ferdinand burned the books which had
been so laboriously collected, the dying flame of Arab culture in
Spain went out.

During the third period--from Ma'mún (813), under whom the Turkish
body-guards began to wield their baneful influence, until the break-up
of the Abbasside Empire in 1258--there are many names, but few real
poets, to be mentioned. The Arab spirit had spent itself, and the Mogul
cloud was on the horizon. There were 'Abd-allah ibn al-Mu'tazz, died
908; Abu Firás, died 967; al-Tughrai, died 1120; al-Busíri, died
1279,--author of the 'Búrda,' poem in praise of Muhammad: but
al-Mutanábbi, died 965, alone deserves special mention. The
"Prophet-pretender"--for such his name signifies--has been called by Von
Hammer "the greatest Arabian poet"; and there is no doubt that his
'Diwán,' with its two hundred and eighty-nine poems, was and is widely
read in the East. But it is only a depraved taste that can prefer such
an epigene to the fresh desert-music of Imr-al-Kais. Panegyrics, songs
of war and of bloodshed, are mostly the themes that he dilates upon. He
was in the service of Saif al-Dáulah of Syria, and sang his victories
over the Byzantine Kaiser. He is the true type of the prince's poet.
Withal, the taste for poetic composition grew, though it produced a
smaller number of great poets. But it also usurped for itself fields
which belong to entirely different literary forms. Grammar,
lexicography, philosophy, and theology were expounded in verse; but the
verse was formal, stiff, and unnatural. Poetic composition became a
_tour de force_.

This is nowhere better seen than in that species of composition which
appeared for the first time in the eleventh century, and which so
pleased and charmed a degenerate age as to make of the 'Makamat' the
most favorite reading. Ahmad Abu Fadl al-Hamadhání, "the wonder of all
time" (died 1007), composed the first of such "sessions." Of his four
hundred only a few have come down to our time. Abu Muhammad al-Hariri
(1030-1121), of Bâsra, is certainly the one who made this species of
literature popular; he has been closely imitated in Hebrew by Charízi
(1218), and in Syriac by Ebed Yéshu (1290). "Makámah" means the place
where one stands, where assemblies are held; then, the discourses
delivered, or conversations held in such an assembly. The word is used
here especially to denote a series of "discourses and conversations
composed in a highly finished and ornamental style, and solely for the
purpose of exhibiting various kinds of eloquence, and exemplifying the
rules of grammar, rhetoric, and poetry." Hariri himself speaks of--

     "These 'Makamat,' which contain serious language and lightsome,
           And combine refinement with dignity of style,
           And brilliancies with jewels of eloquence,
           And beauties of literature with its rarities,
     Besides quotations from the 'Qur'an,' wherewith I adorned them,
     And choice metaphors, and Arab proverbs that I interspersed,
         And literary elegancies, and grammatical riddles,
         And decisions upon ambiguous legal questions,
       And original improvisations, and highly wrought orations,
       And plaintive discourses, as well as jocose witticisms."

The design is thus purely literary. The fifty "sessions" of Hariri,
which are written in rhymed prose interspersed with poetry, contain
oratorical, poetical, moral, encomiastic, and satirical discourses,
which only the merest thread holds together. Each Makámah is a unit, and
has no necessary connection with that which follows. The thread which so
loosely binds them together is the delineation of the character of Abu
Zeid, the hero, in his own words. He is one of those wandering minstrels
and happy improvisers whom the favor of princes had turned into
poetizing beggars. In each Makámah is related some ruse, by means of
which Abu Zeid, because of his wonderful gift of speech, either
persuades or forces those whom he meets to pay for his sustenance, and
furnish the means for his debauches. Not the least of those thus
ensnared is his great admirer, Háreth ibn Hammám, the narrator of the
whole, who is none other than Hariri. Wearied at last with his life of
travel, debauch, and deception, Abu Zeid retires to his native city and
becomes an ascetic, thus to atone in a measure for his past sins. The
whole might be called, not improperly, a tale, a novel. But the
intention of the poet is to show forth the richness and variety of the
Arabic language; and his own power over this great mass brings the
descriptive--one might almost say the lexicographic--side too much to
the front. A poem that can be read either backward or forward, or which
contains all the words in the language beginning with a certain letter,
may be a wonderful mosaic, but is nothing more. The merit of Hariri lies
just in this: that working in such cramped quarters, with such intent
and design continually guiding his pen, he has often really done more.
He has produced rhymed prose and verses which are certainly elegant in
diction and elevated in tone.

Such tales as these, told as an exercise of linguistic gymnastics, must
not blind us to the presence of real tales, told for their own sake.
Arabic literature has been very prolific in these. They lightened the
graver subjects discussed in the tent,--philosophy, religion, and
grammar,--and they furnished entertainment for the more boisterous
assemblies in the coffee-houses and around the bowl. For the Arab is an
inveterate story-teller; and in nearly all the prose that he writes,
this character of the "teller" shimmers clearly through the work of the
"writer." He is an elegant narrator. Not only does he intersperse verses
and lines more frequently than our own taste would license: by nature,
he easily falls into the half-hearted poetry of rhymed prose, for which
the rich assonances of his language predispose. His own learning was
further cultivated by his early contact with Persian literature; through
which the fable and the wisdom of India spoken from the mouths of dumb
animals reached him. In this more frivolous form of inculcating wisdom,
the Prophet scented danger to his strait-laced demands: "men who bring
sportive legends, to lead astray from God's path without knowledge and
to make a jest of it; for such is shameful woe," is written in the
thirty-first Surah. In vain; for in hours of relaxation, such works as
the 'Fables of Bidpai' (translated from the Persian in 750 by 'Abd Allah
ibn Mukáffah), the 'Ten Viziers,' the 'Seven Wise Masters,' etc., proved
to be food too palatable. Nor were the Arabs wanting in their own
peculiar 'Romances,' influenced only in some portions of the setting by
Persian ideas. Such were the 'Story of Saif ibn dhi Yázan,' the 'Tale of
al-Zir,' the 'Romance of Dálhmah,' and especially the 'Romance of Antar'
and the 'Thousand Nights and A Night.' The last two romances are
excellent commentaries on Arab life, at its dawn and at its fullness,
among the roving chiefs of the desert and the homes of revelry in
Bagdad. As the rough-hewn poetry of Imr-al-Kais and Zuhéir is a clearer
exponent of the real Arab mind, roving at its own suggestion, than the
more perfect and softer lines of a Mutanábbi, so is the 'Romance of
Antar' the full expression of real Arab hero-worship. And even in the
cities of the Orient to-day, the loungers in their cups can never weary
of following the exploits of this black son of the desert, who in his
person unites the great virtues of his people, magnanimity and bravery,
with the gift of poetic speech. Its tone is elevated; its coarseness has
as its origin the outspokenness of unvarnished man; it does not peep
through the thin veneer of licentious suggestiveness. It is never
trivial, even in its long and wearisome descriptions, in its
ever-recurring outbursts of love. Its language suits its thought: choice
and educated, and not descending--as in the 'Nights'--to the common
expressions of ordinary speech. In this it resembles the 'Makamat' of
Hariri, though much less artificial and more enjoyable. It is the Arabic
romance of chivalry, and may not have been without influence on the
spread of the romance of mediæval Europe. For though its central figure
is a hero of pre-Islamic times, it was put together by the learned
philologian, al-'Asmái, in the days of Harun the Just, at the time when
Charlemagne was ruling in Europe.

There exist in Arabic literature very few romances of the length of
'Antar.' Though the Arab delights to hear and to recount tales, his
tales are generally short and pithy. It is in this shorter form that he
delights to inculcate principles of morality and norms of character. He
is most adroit at repartee and at pungent replies. He has a way of
stating principles which delights while it instructs. The anecdote is at
home in the East: many a favor is gained, many a punishment averted, by
a quick answer and a felicitously turned expression. Such anecdotes
exist as popular traditions in very large numbers; and he receives much
consideration whose mind is well stocked with them. Collections of
anecdotes have been put to writing from time to time. Those dealing with
the early history of the caliphate are among the best prose that the
Arabs have produced. For pure prose was never greatly cultivated. The
literature dealing with their own history, or with the geography and
culture of the nations with which they came in contact, is very large,
and as a record of facts is most important. Ibn Hishám (died 767),
Wákidi (died 822), Tabari (838-923), Masudi (died 957), Ibn Athír (died
1233), Ibn Khaldún (died 1406), Makrisi (died 1442), Suyúti (died 1505),
and Makkári (died 1631), are only a few of those who have given us large
and comprehensive histories. Al-Birúni (died 1038), writer,
mathematician, and traveler, has left us an account of the India of his
day which has earned for him the title "Herodotus of India," though for
careful observation and faithful presentation he stands far above the
writer with whose name he is adorned. But nearly all of these historical
writers are mere chronologists, dry and wearisome to the general reader.
It is only in the Preface, or 'Exordium,' often the most elaborate part
of the whole book viewed from a rhetorical standpoint, that they attempt
to rise above mere incidents and strive after literary form. Besides the
regard in which anecdotes are held, it is considered a mark of education
to insert in one's speech as often as possible a familiar saying, a
proverb, a _bon mot_. These are largely used in the moral addresses
(Khútbah) made in the mosque or elsewhere, addresses which take on also
the form of rhymed prose. A famous collection of such sayings is
attributed to 'Ali, the fourth successor of Muhammad. In these the whole
power of the Arab for subtle distinctions in matters of wordly wisdom,
and the truly religious feeling of the East, are clearly manifested.

The propensity of the Arab mind for the tale and the anecdote has had a
wider influence in shaping the religious and legal development, of
Muhammadanism than would appear at first sight. The 'Qur'an' might well
suffice as a directive code for a small body of men whose daily life was
simple, and whose organization was of the crudest kind. But even
Muhammad in his own later days was called on to supplement the written
word by the spoken, to interpret such parts of his "book" as were
unintelligible, to reconcile conflicting statements, and to fit the
older legislation to changed circumstances. As the religious head of the
community, his dictum became law; and these _logia_ of the Prophet were
handed around and handed down as the unwritten law by which his
lieutenants were to be guided, in matters not only religious, but also
legal. For "law" to them was part and parcel of "religion." This
"hadith" grew apace, until, in the third century of the Híjrah, it was
put to writing. Nothing bears weight which has not the stamp of
Muhammad's authority, as reported by his near surroundings and his
friends. In such a mass of tradition, great care is taken to separate
the chaff from the wheat. The chain of tradition (Isnád) must be given
for each tradition, for each anecdote. But the "friends" of the Prophet
are said to have numbered seven thousand five hundred, and it has not
been easy to keep out fraud and deception. The subjects treated are most
varied, sometimes even trivial, but dealing usually with recondite
questions of law and morals. Three great collections of the 'Hadíth'
have been made: by al-Buchári (869), Múslim (874), and al-Tirmídhi
(892). The first two only are considered canonical. From these are
derived the three great systems of jurisprudence which to this day hold
good in the Muhammadan world.

The best presentation of the characteristics of Arabic poetry is by W.
Ahlwardt, 'Ueber Poesie und Poetik der Araber' (Gotha, 1856); of Arabic
metres, by G.W. Freytag, 'Darstellung der Arabischen Verkunst' (Bonn,
1830). Translations of Arabic poetry have been published by J.D.
Carlyle, 'Specimens of Arabic Poetry' (Cambridge, 1796); W.A. Clouston,
'Arabic Poetry' (Glasgow, 1881); C.J. Lyall, 'Translations of Ancient
Arabic Poetry' (London, 1885). The history of Arabic literature is given
in Th. Nöldeke's 'Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Poesie der Alten Araber'
(Hanover, 1864), and F.F. Arbuthnot's 'Arabic Authors' (London, 1890).

[Author's signature] Richard Gottheil

DESCRIPTION OF A MOUNTAIN STORM

From the most celebrated of the 'Mu 'allakât,' that of Imr-al-Kais, 'The
Wandering King': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

     O friend, see the lightning there! it flickered and now is gone,
       as though flashed a pair of hands in the pillar of crowned cloud.
     Now, was it its blaze, or the lamps of a hermit that dwells alone,
       and pours o'er the twisted wicks the oil from his slender cruse?
     We sat there, my fellows and I, 'twixt Dárij and al-Udhaib,
       and gazed as the distance gloomed, and waited its oncoming.
     The right of its mighty rain advanced over Katan's ridge;
       the left of its trailing skirt swept Yadhbul and as-Sitar:
     Then over Kutaifah's steep the flood of its onset drave,
       and headlong before its storm the tall trees were borne to ground;
     And the drift of its waters passed o'er the crags of al-Kanân,
       and drave forth the white-legged deer from the refuge they
          sought therein.
     And Taimá--it left not there the stem of a palm aloft,
       nor ever a tower, save ours, firm built on the living rock.
     And when first its misty shroud bore down upon Mount Thabîr,
       he stood like an ancient man in a gray-streaked mantle wrapt.
     The clouds cast their burdens down on the broad plain of al-Ghabit,
       as a trader from al-Yaman unfolds from the bales his store;
     And the topmost crest, on the morrow, of al-Mujaimir's cairn,
       was heaped with the flood-borne wrack, like wool on a distaff wound.

          FROM THE 'MU 'ALLAKÂT' OF ZUHÉIR

A lament for the desertion, through a war, of his former home and the
haunts of his tribe; Translation of C. J. Lyall.

     Are they of Umm Aufà's tents--these black lines that speak no word
       in the stony plain of al-Mutathellam and al-Darraj?
     Yea, and the place where his camp stood in ar-Rakmatan is now
       like the tracery drawn afresh by the veins of the inner wrist.
     The wild kine roam there large-eyed, and the deer pass to and fro,
       and their younglings rise up to suck from the spots where they
           all lie round.
     I stood there and gazed; since I saw it last twenty years had flown,
       and much I pondered thereon: hard was it to know again--
     The black stones in order laid in the place where the pot was set,
       and the trench like a cistern's root with its sides unbroken still.
     And when I knew it, at last, for his resting-place, I cried,
       "Good greeting to thee, O house! Fair peace in the morn to thee!"
     Look forth, O friend! canst thou see aught of ladies, camel-borne,
       that journey along the upland there, above Jurthum well?
     Their litters are hung with precious stuffs, and their veils thereon
       cast loosely, their borders rose, as though they were dyed in blood.
     Sideways they sat as their beasts clomb the ridge of as-Sûbân;
       in them were the sweetness and grace of one nourished in wealth
           and ease.
     They went on their way at dawn--they started before sunrise;
       straight did they make for the vale of ar-Rass, as hand for mouth.
     Dainty and playful their mood to one who should try its worth,
       and faces fair to an eye skilled to trace out loveliness.
     And the tassels of scarlet wool, in the spots where they gat them
     down
       glowed red, like to '_ishrik_ seeds, fresh-fallen, unbroken, bright.
     And then they reached the wells where the deep-blue water lies,
       they cast down their staves, and set them to pitch the tents for
           rest.
     On their right hand rose al-Kanân, and the rugged skirts thereof--
       (and in al-Kanân how many are foes and friends of mine!)
     At eve they left as-Sûbân; then they crossed the ridge again,
       borne on the fair-fashioned litters, all new and builded broad.

     [Certain cantos, to the sixth one, reproach the author of the
     treachery and quarrel that led to the war and migration. Then
     follows a series of maxims as to human life and conduct.]

               VI

     Aweary am I of life's toil and travail: he who like me
       has seen pass of years fourscore, well may he be sick of life!
     I know what To-day unfolds, what before it was Yesterday;
       but blind do I stand before the knowledge To-morrow brings.
     I have seen the Dooms trample men as a blind beast at random treads:
       whom they smote, he died; whom they missed, he lived on to
           strengthless eld.
     Who gathers not friends by help, in many cases of need
       is torn by the blind beast's teeth, or trodden beneath its foot.
     And he who his honor shields by the doing of a kindly deed
       grows richer; who shuts not the mouth of reviling, it lights on him.
     And he who is lord of wealth and niggardly with his hoard,
       alone is he left by his kin; naught have they for him but blame.
     Who keeps faith, no blame he earns, and that man whose heart is led
       to goodness unmixed with guile gains freedom and peace of soul.
     Who trembles before the Dooms, yea, him shall they surely seize,
       albeit he set a ladder to climb the sky.
     Who spends on unworthy men his kindness with lavish hand;
       no praise doth he earn, but blame, and repentance the seed thereof.
     Who will not yield to the spears, when their feet turn to him in
           peace,
       shall yield to the points thereof, and the long flashing blades of
           steel.
     Who holds not his foe away from his cistern with sword and spear,
       it is broken and spoiled; who uses not roughness, him shall men
           wrong.
     Who seeks far away from kin for housing, takes foe for friend;
       who honors himself not well, no honor gains he from men.
     Who makes of his soul a beast of burden to bear men's loads,
       nor shields it one day from shame, yea, sorrow shall be his lot.
     Whatso be the shaping of mind that a man is born withal,
       though he think it lies hid from men, it shall surely one day be
           known.
     How many a man seemed goodly to thee while he held his peace,
       whereof thou didst learn the more or less when he turned to speech.
     The tongue is a man's one-half, the other, the heart within;
       besides these two naught is left but a semblance of flesh and blood.
     If a man be old and a fool, his folly is past all cure;
       but a young man may yet grow wise and cast off his foolishness.

               VII

     We asked, and ye gave; we asked again, and ye gave again:
       but the end of much asking must be that no giving shall follow it.

          TARAFAH IBN AL 'ABD

A rebuke to a mischief-maker: Translation of C. J. Lyall

     The craft of thy busy tongue has sundered from home and kin
       the cousins of both thy houses, 'Amr, 'Auf, and Mâlik's son.
     For thou to thy dearest art a wind of the bitter north,
       that sweeps from the Syrian hills, and wrinkles our cheeks and
            brows.
     But balmy art thou and mild to strangers, a gracious breeze
       that brings from the gulf shore showers and fills with its rain our
            streams.
     And this, of a truth, I know--no fancy it is of mine:
       who holds mean his kith and kin, the meanest of men is he!
     And surely a foolish tongue, when rules not its idle prate
       discretion, but shows men where thou dwellest with none to guard.

          LABÎD

A lament for the afflictions of his tribe, the 'Âmir. From the 'Diwan':
Translation of C.J. Lyall.

     Yea, the righteous shall keep the way of the righteous,
       and to God turn the steps of all that abideth;
     And to God ye return, too; with Him, only,
       rest the issues of things--and all that they gather.
     All that is in the Book of Knowledge is reckoned,
       and before Him revealed lies all that is hidden:
     Both the day when His gifts of goodness on those whom
       He exalts are as palms full freighted with sweetness,
     (Young, burdened with fruit, their heads bowed with clusters,
       swelled to bursting, the tallest e'en as the lesser,)
     And the day when avails the sin-spotted only
       prayer for pardon and grace to lead him to mercy,
     And the good deed he wrought to witness before him,
       and the pity of Him who is Compassion:
     Yea, a place in his shade, the best to abide in,
       and a heart still and steadfast, right weening, honest.
     Is there aught good in life? Yea, I have seen it,
       even I, if the seeing bring aught of profit.
     Long has Life been to me; and this is its burthen:
       lone against time abide Ti'âr and Yaramram,
     And Kulâf and Badî' the mighty, and Dalfa',
       yea, and Timâr, that towers aloft over Kubbah[1];
     And the Stars, marching all night in procession,
       drooping westwards, as each hies forth to his setting:
     Sure and steadfast their course: the underworld draws them
       gently downwards, as maidens encircling the Pillar;
     And we know not, whenas their lustre is vanished,
       whether long be the ropes that bind them, or little.
     Lone is 'Âmir, and naught is left of her goodness,
       in the meadows of al-A'râf, but her dwellings--
     Ruined shadows of tents and penfolds and shelters,
       bough from bough rent, and spoiled by wind and by weather.
     Gone is 'Âmir, her ancients gone, all the wisest:
       none remain but a folk whose war-mares are fillies,
     Yet they slay them in every breach in our rampart--
       yea, and they that bestride them, true-hearted helpers,
     They contemn not their kin when change comes upon them,
       Nor do we scorn the ties of blood and of succor.
     --Now on 'Âmir be peace, and praises, and blessing,
       wherever be on earth her way--or her halting!

[Footnote 1: The five names foregoing are those of mountains.]

          A FAIR LADY

From the 'Mu 'allakât of Antara': Translation of E.H. Palmer

     'Twas then her beauties first enslaved my heart--
     Those glittering pearls and ruby lips, whose kiss
     Was sweeter far than honey to the taste.
     As when the merchant opes a precious box
     Of perfume, such an odor from her breath
     Comes toward me, harbinger of her approach;
     Or like an untouched meadow, where the rain
     Hath fallen freshly on the fragrant herbs
     That carpet all its pure untrodden soil:
     A meadow where the fragrant rain-drops fall
     Like coins of silver in the quiet pools,
     And irrigate it with perpetual streams;
     A meadow where the sportive insects hum,
     Like listless topers singing o'er their cups,
     And ply their forelegs, like a man who tries
     With maimèd hand to use the flint and steel.

          THE DEATH OF 'ABDALLÂH

          AND WHAT MANNER OF MAN HE WAS

From the original poem of Duraid, son of as-Simmah, of Jusharn:
Translation of C.J. Lyall.

     I warned them both, 'Ârid, and the men who went 'Ârid's way--
       the house of the Black Mother: yea, ye are all my witnesses,
     I said to them: "Think--even now, two thousand are on your track,
       all laden with sword and spear, their captains in Persian mail!"
     But when they would hearken not, I followed their road, though I
       knew well they were fools, and that I walked not in Wisdom's way.
     For am not I but one of the Ghazîyah? and if they err
       I err with my house; and if the Ghazîyah go right, so I.
     I read them my rede, one day, at Mun'araj al-Liwa:
       the morrow, at noon, they saw my counsel as I had seen.
     A shout rose, and voices cried, "The horsemen have slain a knight!"
       I said, "Is it 'Abdallâh, the man whom you say is slain?"
     I sprang to his side: the spears had riddled his body through
       as a weaver on outstretched web deftly plies the sharp-toothed comb.
     I stood as a camel stands with fear in her heart, and seeks
       the stuffed skin with eager mouth, and thinks--is her youngling
            slain?
     I plied spear above him till the riders had left their prey,
       and over myself black blood flowed in a dusky tide.
     I fought as a man who gives his life for his brother's life,
       who knows that his time is short, that Death's doom above him hangs.
     But know ye, if 'Abdallâh be dead, and his place a void,
       no weakling unsure of hand, and no holder-back was he!
     Alert, keen, his loins well girt, his leg to the middle bare,
       unblemished and clean of limb, a climber to all things high;
     No wailer before ill-luck; one mindful in all he did
       to think how his work to-day would live in to-morrow's tale,
     Content to bear hunger's pain though meat lay beneath his hand--
       to labor in ragged shirt that those whom he served might rest.
     If Dearth laid her hand on him, and Famine devoured his store,
       he gave but the gladlier what little to him they spared.
     He dealt as a youth with Youth, until, when his head grew hoar,
       and age gathered o'er his brow, to lightness he said, "Begone!"
     Yea, somewhat it soothes my soul that never I said to him
       "thou liest," nor grudged him aught of mine that he sought of me!

          ASH-SHANFARÀ OF AZD

A picture of womanhood, from the 'Mufaddaliyât': Translation of C.J.
Lyall.

     Alas, Umm 'Amr set her face to depart and went:
       gone is she, and when she sped, she left with us no farewell.
     Her purpose was quickly shaped--no warning gave she to friends,
       though there she had dwelt, hard-by, her camels all day with ours.
     Yea, thus in our eyes she dwelt, from morning to noon and eve--
       she brought to an end her tale, and fleeted and left us lone.
     So gone is Umaimah, gone! and leaves here a heart in pain:
       my life was to yearn for her; and now its delight is fled.
     She won me, whenas, shamefaced--no maid to let fall her veil,
       no wanton to glance behind--she walked forth with steady tread;
     Her eyes seek the ground, as though they looked for a thing lost
           there;
       she turns not to left or right--her answer is brief and low.
     She rises before day dawns to carry her supper forth
       to wives who have need--dear alms, when such gifts are few enow!
     Afar from the voice of blame, her tent stands for all to see,
       when many a woman's tent is pitched in the place of scorn.
     No gossip to bring him shame from her does her husband dread--
       when mention is made of women, pure and unstained is she.
     The day done, at eve glad comes he home to his eyes' delight:
       he needs not to ask of her, "Say, where didst thou pass the day?"--
     And slender is she where meet, and full where it so beseems,
       and tall and straight, a fairy shape, if such on earth there be.
     And nightlong as we sat there, methought that the tent was roofed
       above with basil-sprays, all fragrant in dewy eve--
     Sweet basil, from Halyah dale, its branches abloom and fresh,
       that fills all the place with balm--no starveling of desert sands.

          ZEYNAB AT THE KA'BAH

From 'Umar ibn Rabí'a's 'Love Poems': Translation of W. Gifford Palgrave

     Ah, for the throes of a heart sorely wounded!
     Ah, for the eyes that have smit me with madness!
     Gently she moved in the calmness of beauty,
     Moved as the bough to the light breeze of morning.
     Dazzled my eyes as they gazed, till before me
     All was a mist and confusion of figures.
     Ne'er had I sought her, ne'er had she sought me;
     Fated the love, and the hour, and the meeting.
     There I beheld her as she and her damsels
     Paced 'twixt the temple and outer inclosure;
     Damsels the fairest, the loveliest, gentlest,
     Passing like slow-wandering heifers at evening;
     Ever surrounding with comely observance
     Her whom they honor, the peerless of women.
     "Omar is near: let us mar his devotions,
     Cross on his path that he needs must observe us;
     Give him a signal, my sister, demurely."
     "Signals I gave, but he marked not or heeded,"
     Answered the damsel, and hasted to meet me.
     Ah, for that night by the vale of the sandhills!
     Ah, for the dawn when in silence we parted!
     He whom the morn may awake to her kisses
     Drinks from the cup of the blessed in heaven.

          THE UNVEILED MAID

From 'Umar ibn Rabí'a's 'Love Poems': Translation of W. Gifford Palgrave

     In the valley of Mohassib I beheld her where she stood:
     Caution bade me turn aside, but love forbade and fixed me there.
     Was it sunlight? or the windows of a gleaming mosque at eve,
     Lighted up for festal worship? or was all my fancy's dream?
     Ah, those earrings! ah, that necklace! Naufel's daughter sure the
           maid,
     Or of Hashim's princely lineage, and the Servant of the Sun!
     But a moment flashed the splendor, as the o'er-hasty handmaids drew
     Round her with a jealous hand the jealous curtains of the tent.
     Speech nor greeting passed between us; but she saw me, and I saw
     Face the loveliest of all faces, hands the fairest of all hands.
     Daughter of a better earth, and nurtured by a brighter sky;
     Would I ne'er had seen thy beauty! Hope is fled, but love remains.

          FROM THE DÎWÂN OF AL-NÂBIGHAH

A eulogy of the valor and culture of the men of Ghassân, written in time
of the poet's political exile from them: Translation of C. J. Lyall.

     Leave me alone, O Umaimah--alone with my sleepless pain--
       alone with the livelong night and the wearily lingering stars;
     It draws on its length of gloom; methinks it will never end,
       nor ever the Star-herd lead his flock to their folds of rest;--
     Alone with a breast whose griefs, that roamed far afield by day,
       the darkness has brought all home: in legions they throng around.
     A favor I have with 'Amr, a favor his father bore
       toward me of old; a grace that carried no scorpion sting.
     I swear (and my word is true--an oath that hath no reserve,
       and naught in my heart is hid save fair thought of him, my friend)--
     If these twain his fathers were, who lie in their graves; the one
       al-Jillik, the others al-Saidâ, by Hârib's side,
     And Hârith, of Jafnah's line, the lord of his folk of old--
       yea, surely his might shall reach the home of his enemy!
     In him hope is sure of help when men say--"The host is sped,
       the horsemen of Ghassân's line unblemished, no hireling herd,
     His cousins, all near of kin, their chief 'Amr, 'Âmir's son--
       a people are they whose might in battle shall never fail!"
     When goes forth the host to war, above them in circles wheel
       battalions of eagles, pointing the path to battalions more;
     Their friendship is old and tried, fast comrades, in foray bred
       to look unafraid on blood, as hounds to the chase well trained.
     Behold them, how they sit there, behind where their armies meet,
       watching with eyes askance, like elders in gray furs wrapt,
     Intent; for they know full well that those whom they follow, when
       the clash of the hosts shall come, will bear off the victory.
     Ay, well is that custom known, a usage that time has proved
       when lances are laid in rest on withers of steeds arow--
     Of steeds in the spear-play skilled, with lips for the fight drawn
            back,
       their bodies with wounds all scarred, some bleeding and some
            half-healed.
     And down leap the riders where the battle is strait and stern,
       and spring in the face of Death like stallions amid the herd;
     Between them they give and take deep draughts of the wine of doom
       as their hands ply the white swords, thin and keen in the
           smiting-edge.
     In shards fall the morions burst by the fury of blow on blow,
       and down to the eyebrows, cleft, fly shattered the skulls beneath.
     In them no defect is found, save only that in their swords
       are notches, a many, gained from smiting of host on host:
     An heirloom of old, those blades, from the fight of Halîmah's day,
       and many the mellay fierce that since has their temper proved;
     Therewith do they cleave in twain the hauberk of double woof,
       and kindle the rock beneath to fire, ere the stroke is done.
     A nature is theirs--God gives the like to no other men--
       a wisdom that never sleeps, a bounty that never fails.
     Their home is God's own land, His chosen of old; their faith
       is steadfast. Their hope is set on naught but the world to come.
     Their sandals are soft and fine, and girded with chastity,
       they welcome with garlands sweet the dawn of the Feast of Palms.
     There greets them when they come home full many a handmaid fine,
       and ready, on trestles, hang the mantles of scarlet silk.
     Yea, softly they wrap their limbs, well-knowing of wealth and ease,
       in rich raiment, white-sleeved, green at the shoulder--in royal
           guise.
     They look not on Weal as men who know not that Woe comes, too:
       they look not on evil days as though they would never mend.

     _Lo, this was my gift to Ghassân, what time I sought
     My people; and all my paths were darkened, and strait my ways_.

          NUSAIB

The poem characterizes the separation of a wife and mother--a slave--from
her family: Translation of C.J. Lyall.

     They said last night--To-morrow at first of dawning,
       or maybe at eventide, must Laila go!--
     My heart at the word lay helpless, as lies a Kat[=a]
       in net night-long, and struggles with fast-bound wing.
     Two nestlings she left alone, in a nest far distant,
       a nest which the winds smite, tossing it to and fro.
     They hear but the whistling breeze, and stretch necks to greet her;
       but she they await--the end of her days is come!
     So lies she, and neither gains in the night her longing,
       nor brings her the morning any release from pain.

          VENGEANCE

By al-Find, of the Zimman Tribe: Translation of C.J. Lyall

     Forgiveness had we for Hind's sons:
       We said, "The men our brothers are;
     The days may bring that yet again
       They be the folk that once they were."

     But when the Ill stood clear and plain,
       And naked Wrong was bold to brave,
     And naught was left but bitter Hate--
       We paid them in the coin they gave.

     We strode as stalks a lion forth
       At dawn, a lion wrathful-eyed;
     Blows rained we, dealing shame on shame,
       And humbling pomp and quelling pride.

     Too kind a man may be with fools,
       And nerve them but to flout him more;
     And Mischief oft may bring thee peace,
       When Mildness works not Folly's cure.

          PATIENCE

From Ibrahîm, Son of Kunaif of Nabhan: Translation of C.J. Lyall

     Be patient: for free-born men to bear is the fairest thing,
     And refuge against Time's wrong or help from his hurt is none;
     And if it availed man aught to bow him to fluttering Fear,
     Or if he could ward off hurt by humbling himself to Ill,
     To bear with a valiant front the full brunt of every stroke
     And onset of Fate were still the fairest and best of things.
     But how much the more, when none outruns by a span his Doom,
     And refuge from God's decree nor was nor will ever be,
     And sooth, if the changing Days have wrought us--their wonted way--
     A lot mixed of weal and woe, yet one thing they could not do:
     They have not made soft or weak the stock of our sturdy spear;
     They have not abased our hearts to doing of deeds of shame.
     We offer to bear their weight, a handful of noble souls:
     Though laden beyond all weight of man, they uplift the load.
     So shield we with Patience fair our souls from the stroke of Shame;
     Our honors are whole and sound, though others be lean enow.

          ABU SAKHR

On a lost love. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of C.J. Lyall

     By him who brings weeping and laughter
          who deals Death and Life as He wills--
     she left me to envy the wild deer
          that graze twain and twain without fear!
     Oh, love of her, heighten my heart's pain,
          and strengthen the pang every night;
     oh, comfort that days bring, forgetting
         --the last of all days be thy tryst!
     I marveled how swiftly the time sped
         between us, the moment we met;
     but when that brief moment was ended
         how wearily dragged he his feet!

          AN ADDRESS TO THE BELOVED

By Abu l-'Ata of Sind. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of C.J. Lyall

     Of thee did I dream, while spears between us were quivering--
     and sooth, of our blood full deep had drunken the tawny shafts!
     I know not--by Heaven I swear, and here is the word I say!--
     this pang, is it love-sickness, or wrought by a spell from thee?
     If it be a spell, then grant me grace of thy love-longing--
     if other the sickness be, then none is the guilt of thine!

          A FORAY

By Ja'far ibn 'Ulbah. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of C.J. Lyall

     That even when, under Sábhal's twin peaks, upon us drave
     the horsemen, troop upon troop, and the foeman pressed us sore--
     They said to us, "Two things lie before you; now must ye choose
     the points of the spears couched at ye; or if ye will not, chains!"
     We answered them, "Yea this thing may fall to _you_ after the fight,
     when men shall be left on ground, and none shall arise again;
     But we know not, if we quail before the assault of Death,
     how much may be left of life--the goal is too dim to see."
     We rode to the strait of battle; there cleared us a space, around
     the white swords in our right hands which the smiths had furbished
          fair.
     On them fell the edge of my blade, on that day of Sabhal date;
     And mine was the share thereof, wherever my fingers closed.

          FATALITY

By Katari, ibn al-Fujâ'ah, ibn Ma'zin. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of
C.J. Lyall.

     I said to her, when she fled in amaze and breathless
       before the array of battle, "Why dost thou tremble?
     Yea, if but a day of Life thou shouldst beg with weeping,
       beyond what thy Doom appoints, thou wouldst not gain it!
     Be still, then; and face the onset of Death, high-hearted,
       for none upon earth shall win to abide forever.
     No raiment of praise the cloak of old age and weakness;
       none such for the coward who bows like a reed in the tempest.
     The pathway of death is set for all men to travel.
       the crier of Death proclaims through the earth his empire.
     Who dies not when young and sound, dies old and weary--
       cut off in his length of days from all love and kindness;
     And what for a man is left of delight of living,--
       past use--flung away--a worthless and worn-out chattel?"

          IMPLACABILITY

By al-Fadl, ibn al-Abbas, ibn Utbah. From the 'Hamásah': Translation of
C.J. Lyall.

     Sons of our uncle, peace! Cousins of ours, be still!
       drag not to light from its grave the strife that we buried there.
     Hope not for honor from us, while ye heap upon us shame,
       or think that we shall forbear from vexing when ye vex us.
     Sons of our uncle, peace! lay not our rancor raw;
       walk now gently awhile, as once ye were wont to go.
     Ay, God knows that we, we love you not, in sooth!
       and that we blame ye not that ye have no love for us.
     Each of us has his ground for the loathing his fellow moves:
       a grace it is from the Lord that we hate ye--ye us!

          PARENTAL AFFECTION

A poem by Hittân ibn al-Mu'allà of Tayyi. From the 'Hamásah': Translation
of C.J. Lyall.

     Fortune has brought me down--her wonted way--
       from stature high and great, to low estate;
     Fortune has rent away my plenteous store;
       of all my wealth, honor alone is left.
     Fortune has turned my joy to tears--how oft
       did Fortune make me laugh with what she gave!
     But for these girls, the _katá's_ downy brood,
       unkindly thrust from door to door as hard--
     Far would I roam, and wide, to seek my bread,
       in earth, that has no lack of breadth and length.
     Nay, but our children in our midst, what else
       but our hearts are they, walking on the ground?
     If but the breeze blow harsh on one of them,
       mine eye says "no" to slumber, all night long!

          A TRIBESMAN'S VALOR

Poem by Sa'd, son of Malik, of the Kais Tribe: Translation of C. J. Lyall

     How evil a thing is war, that bows men to shameful rest!
     War burns away in her blaze all glory and boasting of men:
     Naught stands but the valiant heart to face pain--the hard-hoofed
               steed
     The ring-mail set close and firm, the nail-crowned helms and the
               spears;
     And onset, again after rout, when men shrink from the serried array--
     Then, then, fall away all the vile, the hirelings! and shame is
               strong!
     War girds up her skirts before them, and evil unmixed is bare.
     For their hearts were for maidens veiled, not for driving the gathered
               spoil:
     Yea, evil the heirs we leave, sons of Yakshar and al-Laksh!

     But let flee her fires who will, no flinching for me, son of Kais!
     O children of Kais! stand firm before her! gain peace or give!
     Who seeks flight before her fear, his Doom stands and bars the road.
     Away! Death allows no quitting of place, and brands are bare!
     What is life for us, when the uplands and valleys are ours no more?
     Ah, where are the mighty now? the spears and generous hands?

     FROM THE QU'RAN

     Translation of George Sale

CHAPTER XXXV.: INTITLED "THE CREATOR." REVEALED AT MECCA

In the name of the most merciful GOD. Praise be unto GOD, the creator of
heaven and earth; who maketh the angels _his_ messengers, furnished with
two, and three, and four _pair_ of wings: GOD maketh what addition he
pleaseth unto _his_ creatures; for GOD _is_ almighty. The mercy which
GOD shall freely bestow on mankind, _there is_ none who can withhold;
and what he shall withhold, _there is_ none who can bestow, besides him:
and he _is_ the mighty, the wise. O men, remember the favor of GOD
towards you: is there any creator, besides GOD, who provideth food for
you from heaven and earth? _There is_ no GOD but he: how therefore are
ye turned aside _from acknowledging his unity?_ If they accuse thee of
imposture, apostles before thee have also been accused of imposture; and
unto GOD shall _all_ things return. O men, verily the promise of GOD is
true: let not therefore the present life deceive you, neither let the
deceiver deceive you concerning GOD: for Satan _is_ an enemy unto you;
wherefore hold him for an enemy: he only inviteth his confederates to
be the inhabitants of hell. For those who believe not _there is
prepared_ a severe torment: but for those who shall believe and do that
which is right, _is prepared_ mercy and a great reward. Shall he
therefore for whom his evil work hath been prepared, and who imagineth
it to be good, _be as he who is rightly disposed, and discerneth the
truth_? Verily GOD will cause to err whom he pleaseth, and will direct
whom he pleaseth. Let not thy soul therefore be spent in sighs for their
sakes, _on account of their obstinacy_; for GOD well knoweth that which
they do. _It is God_ who sendeth the winds, and raiseth a cloud: and we
drive the same unto a dead country, and thereby quicken the earth after
it hath been dead; so _shall_ the resurrection _be_. Whoever desireth
excellence; unto GOD _doth_ all excellence _belong_: unto him ascendeth
the good speech; and the righteous work will he exalt. But as for them
who devise wicked _plots_, they shall suffer a severe punishment; and
the device of those _men_ shall be rendered vain. GOD created you
_first_ of the dust, and afterwards of seed: and he hath made you man
and wife. No female conceiveth, or bringeth forth, but with his
knowledge. Nor is any thing added unto the age of him whose life is
prolonged, neither is any thing diminished from his age, but _the same
is written_ in the book _of God's decrees_. Verily this is easy with
GOD. The two seas are not to be held in comparison: this _is_ fresh
_and_ sweet, pleasant to drink; but that _is_ salt _and_ bitter: yet out
of each of them ye eat fish, and take ornaments for you to wear. Thou
seest the ships also ploughing _the waves_ thereof, that ye may seek _to
enrich yourselves by commerce_, of the abundance _of God_: peradventure
ye will be thankful. He causeth the night to succeed the day, and he
causeth the day to succeed the night; and he obligeth the sun and the
moon to perform their services: each _of them_ runneth an appointed
course. This is GOD, your LORD: his _is_ the kingdom. But the _idols_
which ye invoke besides him have not the power even over the skin of a
date-stone: if ye invoke them, they will not hear your calling; and
although they should hear, yet they would not answer you. On the day of
resurrection they shall disclaim your having associated _them with God_:
and none shall declare unto thee _the truth_, like one who is well
acquainted _therewith_. O men, ye have need of GOD; but GOD is
self-sufficient, and to be praised. If he pleaseth, he can take you
away, and produce a new creature _in your stead_: neither _will_ this
_be_ difficult with GOD. A burdened _soul_ shall not bear the burden of
another: and if a heavy-burdened _soul_ call _on another_ to bear part
of its _burden_, no part thereof shall be borne _by the person who shall
be called on_, although he be _ever so nearly_ related. Thou shalt
admonish those who fear their LORD in secret, and are constant at
prayer: and whoever cleanseth himself _from the guilt of disobedience_,
cleanseth himself to _the advantage_ of his own soul; for all shall be
assembled before GOD _at the last day_. The blind and the seeing shall
not be held equal; neither darkness and light; nor the cool shade and
the scorching wind: neither shall the living and the dead be held equal.
GOD shall cause him to hear whom he pleaseth: but thou shalt not make
those to hear who are in _their_ graves. Thou _art_ no other than a
preacher; verily we have sent thee with truth, a bearer of good tidings,
and a denouncer of threats.

_There hath been_ no nation, but a preacher hath in past times been
_conversant_ among them: if they charge thee with imposture, they who
were before them likewise charged _their apostles_ with imposture. Their
apostles came unto them with evident _miracles_, and with _divine_
writings, and with the Enlightening Book: afterwards I chastised those
who were unbelievers; and how _severe_ was my vengeance! Dost thou not
see that GOD sendeth down rain from heaven, and that we thereby produce
fruits of various colors? In the mountains also _there are_ some tracts
white and red, of various colors; and _others are_ of a deep black: and
of men, and beasts, and cattle _there are_ whose colors _are_ in like
manner various. Such only of his servants fear GOD as are endued with
understanding: verily GOD _is_ mighty _and_ ready to forgive. Verily
they who read the book of GOD, and are constant at prayer, and give alms
out of what we have bestowed on them, _both_ in secret and openly, hope
for a merchandise which shall not perish: that _God_ may fully pay them
their wages, and make them a _superabundant_ addition of his liberality;
for he _is_ ready to forgive _the faults of his servants, and_ to
requite _their endeavors_. That which we have revealed unto thee of the
book _of the Korân_ is the truth, confirming the _scriptures_ which
_were revealed_ before it: for GOD knoweth _and_ regardeth his servants.
And we have given the book _of the Korân_ in heritage unto such of our
servants as we have chosen: of them _there is one_ who injureth his own
soul; and _there is another_ of them who keepeth the middle way; and
_there is another_ of them who outstrippeth _others_ in good _works_, by
the permission of GOD. This is the great excellence. They shall be
introduced into gardens of perpetual abode; they shall be adorned
therein with bracelets of gold, and pearls, and their clothing therein
_shall be_ of silk: and they shall say, Praise be unto GOD, who hath
taken away sorrow from us! verily our LORD _is_ ready to forgive _the
sinners_, and to reward _the obedient_: who hath caused us to take up
our rest in a dwelling of _eternal_ stability, through his bounty,
wherein no labor shall touch us, neither shall any weariness affect us.
But for the unbelievers _is prepared_ the fire of hell: it shall not be
decreed them to die _a second time_; neither shall _any part_ of the
punishment thereof be made lighter unto them. Thus shall every infidel
be rewarded. And they shall cry out aloud in _hell, saying,_ LORD, take
us hence, and we will work righteousness, and not what we have
_formerly_ wrought. _But it shall be answered them_, Did we not grant
you lives of length sufficient, that whoever would be warned might be
warned therein; and did not the preacher come unto you? Taste therefore
_the pains of hell_. And the unjust shall have no protector. Verily GOD
knoweth the secrets _both_ of heaven and earth, for he knoweth the
innermost parts of the breasts _of men_. It is he who hath made you to
succeed in the earth. Whoever shall disbelieve, on him _be_ his
unbelief; and their unbelief shall only gain the unbelievers greater
indignation in the sight of their LORD; and their unbelief shall only
increase the perdition of the unbelievers. Say, what think ye of your
deities which ye invoke besides GOD? Show me what _part_ of the earth
they have created. Or had they any share in _the creation of_ the
heavens? Have we given unto _the idolaters_ any book _of revelations_,
so that they _may rely_ on any proof therefrom _to authorize their
practice?_ Nay; but the ungodly make unto one another only deceitful
promises. Verily GOD sustaineth the heavens and the earth, lest they
fail: and if they should fail, none could support the same besides him;
he is gracious _and_ merciful. _The Koreish_ swore by GOD, with a most
solemn oath, that if a preacher had come unto them, they would surely
have been more _willingly_ directed than any nation: but now a preacher
is come unto them, it hath only increased in them _their_ aversion _from
the truth, their_ arrogance in the earth, and _their_ contriving of
evil; but the contrivance of evil shall only encompass the authors
thereof. Do they expect any other than the punishment awarded against
the _unbelievers_ of former times? For thou shalt not find any change in
the ordinance of GOD; neither shalt thou find any variation in the
ordinance of GOD. Have they not gone through the earth, and seen what
hath been the end of those who were before them; although they were more
mighty in strength than they? GOD is not to be frustrated by anything
either in heaven or on earth; for he is wise _and_ powerful. If GOD
should punish men according to what they deserve, he would not leave on
the back of _the earth_ so much as a beast; but he respiteth them to a
determined time; and when their time shall come, verily GOD will regard
his servants.

CHAPTER LV.: INTITLED "THE MERCIFUL." REVEALED AT MECCA

In the name of the most merciful GOD. The Merciful hath taught _his
servant_ the Korân. He created man: he hath taught him distinct speech.
The sun and the moon _run their courses_ according to a certain rule:
and the vegetables which creep on the ground, and the trees submit _to
his disposition_. He also raised the heaven; and he appointed the
balance, that ye should not transgress in respect to the balance:
wherefore observe a just weight; and diminish not the balance. And the
earth hath he prepared for living creatures: therein _are various_
fruits, and palm-trees bearing sheaths of flowers; and grain having
chaff, and leaves. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye
ungratefully deny? He created man of dried clay like an earthen vessel:
but he created the genii of fire clear from smoke. Which, therefore, of
your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? _He is_ the LORD of the
east, and the LORD of the west. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S
benefits will ye ungratefully deny? He hath let loose the two seas, that
they meet each another: between them _is placed_ a bar which they cannot
pass. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully
deny? From them are taken forth unions and lesser pearls. Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? His also
_are_ the ships, carrying their sails aloft in the sea like mountains.
Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?
Every _creature_ which _liveth_ on _the earth is_ subject to decay: but
the glorious and honorable countenance of thy LORD shall remain _for
ever_. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully
deny? Unto him do all _creatures_ which _are_ in heaven and earth make
petition; every day _is_ he _employed_ in _some new_ work. Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? We will
surely attend to _judge_ you, O men and genii, _at the last day_. Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? O ye
collective body of genii and men, if ye be able to pass out of the
confines of heaven and earth, pass forth: ye shall not pass forth but by
absolute power. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye
ungratefully deny? A flame of fire without smoke, and a smoke without
flame shall be sent down upon you; and ye shall not be able to defend
yourselves _therefrom_. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will
ye ungratefully deny? And when the heaven shall be rent in sunder, and
shall become _red as_ a rose, _and shall melt_ like ointment: (Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) On that
day neither man nor genius shall be asked concerning his sin. Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? The wicked
shall be known by their marks; and they shall be taken by the forelocks,
and the feet, _and shall be cast into hell_. Which, therefore, of your
LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? This _is_ hell which the
wicked deny as a falsehood: they shall pass to and fro between the same
and hot boiling water. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye
ungratefully deny? But for him who dreadeth the tribunal of his LORD
_are prepared_ two gardens: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits
will ye ungratefully deny?) In each of them _shall be_ two fountains
flowing. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully
deny? In each of them _shall there be_ of every fruit two kinds. Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? They shall
repose on couches, the linings whereof _shall be_ of thick silk
interwoven with gold; and the fruit of the two gardens _shall be_ near
at hand _to gather_. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye
ungratefully deny? Therein _shall receive them beauteous damsels_,
refraining their eyes _from beholding any besides their spouses_: whom
no man shall have deflowered before them, neither any Jinn: (Which,
therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) _Having
complexions_ like rubies and pearls. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S
benefits will ye ungratefully deny? _Shall_ the reward of good works
_be_ any other good? Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye
ungratefully deny? And besides these there _shall be_ two _other_
gardens: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye
ungratefully deny?) Of a dark green. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S