The Caliph Harun al-Rashid was walking one day with Ja’afar the
Barmecide, when he espied a company of girls drawing water and went up
to them, having a mind to drink. As he drew near, one of them turned to
her fellows and improvised these lines,
“Thy phantom bid thou fleet, and fly * Far from the couch whereon
I lie;
So I may rest and quench the fire, * Bonfire in bones aye flaming
high;
My love-sick form Love’s restless palm * Rolls o’er the rug
whereon I sigh:
How ’tis with me thou wottest well * How long, then, union wilt
deny?”
The Caliph marvelled at her elegance and eloquence.——And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Six Hundred and Eighty-sixth Night,
She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the Caliph,
hearing the girl’s verses, marvelled at her elegance and eloquence, and
said to her, “O daughter of nobles, are these thine own or a
quotation?” Replied she, “They are my very own,” and he rejoined, “An
thou say sooth keep the sense and change the rhyme.” So she said,
“Bid thou thy phantom distance keep * And quit this couch the
while I sleep;
So I may rest and quench the flames * Through all my body rageful
creep,
In love-sick one, whom passion’s palms * Roll o’er the bed where
grief I weep;
How ’tis with me thou wottest well; * All but thy union hold I
cheap!”
Quoth the Caliph, “This also is stolen”; and quoth she, “Nay, ’tis my
very own.” He said, “If it be indeed thine own, change the rhyme again
and keep the sense.” So she recited the following,
“Unto thy phantom deal behest * To shun my couch the while I
rest,
So I repose and quench the fire * That burns what lieth in my
breast,
My weary form Love’s restless palm * Rolls o’er with boon of
sleep unblest.
How ’tis with me thou wottest well * When union’s bought ’tis
haply best!”
Quoth Al-Rashid, “This too is stolen”; and quoth she, “Not, so, ’tis
mine.” He said, “If thy words be true change the rhyme once more.” And
she recited,
“Drive off the ghost that ever shows * Beside my couch when I’d
repose,
So I may rest and quench the fire * Beneath my ribs e’er flames
and glows
In love-sick one, whom passion’s palms * Roll o’er the couch
where weeping flows.
How ’tis with me thou wottest well * Will union come as union
goes?”
Then said the Caliph, “Of what part of this camp art thou?”; and she
replied, “Of its middle in dwelling and of its highest in
tentpoles.”[FN#113] Wherefore he knew that she was the daughter of the
tribal chief. “And thou,” quoth she, “of what art thou among the
guardians of the horses?”; and quoth he, “Of the highest in tree and of
the ripest in fruit.” “Allah protect thee, O Commander of the
Faithful!” said she, and kissing ground called down blessings on him.
Then she went away with the maidens of the Arabs, and the Caliph said
to Ja’afar, “There is no help for it but I take her to wife.” So
Ja’afar repaired to her father and said to him, “The Commander of the
Faithful hath a mind to thy daughter.” He replied, “With love and
goodwill, she is a gift as a handmaid to His Highness our Lord the
Commander of the Faithful.” So he equipped her and carried her to the
Caliph, who took her to wife and went in to her, and she became of the
dearest of his women to him. Furthermore, he bestowed on her father
largesse such as succoured him among Arabs, till he was transported to
the mercy of Almighty Allah. The Caliph, hearing of his death, went in
to her greatly troubled; and, when she saw him looking afflicted, she
entered her chamber and doffing all that was upon her of rich raiment,
donned mourning apparel and raised lament for her father. It was said
to her, “What is the reason of this?”; and she replied, “My father is
dead.” So they repaired to the Caliph and told him and he rose and
going in to her, asked her who had informed her of her father’s death;
and she answered “It was thy face, O Commander of the Faithful!” Said
he, “How so?”; and she said, “Since I have been with thee, I never saw
thee on such wise till this time, and there was none for whom I feared
save my father, by reason of his great age; but may thy head live, O
Commander of the Faithful!” The Caliph’s eyes filled with tears and he
condoled with her; but she ceased not to mourn for her father, till she
followed him—Allah have mercy on the twain! And a tale is also told of