The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, vol 8 by Sir Richard Francis Burton (great books for teens TXT) 📕

These are their three tombs.”[FN#99] When Hasan heard these words of his mother, he shrieked a loud shriek and fell down in a fainting-fit in which he lay from the first of the day till noontide; whereupon anguish was added to his mother’s anguish and she despaired of his life. However, after a-while, he came to himself and wept and buffeted his face and rent his raiment and went about the house clean distraught, reciting these two couplets,[FN#100]

“Folk have made moan of passion before me, of past years, And live and dead for absence have suffered pains and fears; But that within my bosom I harbour, with mine eyes I’ve never seen the like of nor heard with mine ears.”

Then finishing his verses he bared his brand and coming up to his mother, said to her, “Except thou tell me the truth of the case, I will strike off thy head and kill myself.” She replied, “O my son, do not such deed: put up thy sword and sit down, till I tell thee what hath passed.” So he sheathed his scymitar and sat by her side, whilst she recounted to him all that had happened in his absence from first to last, adding, “O my son, but that I saw her weep in her longing for the bath and feared that she would go and complain to thee on thy return, and thou wouldst be wroth with me. I had never carried her thither; and were it not that the Lady Zubaydah was wroth with me and took the key from me by force, I had never brought out the feather-dress, though I died for it. But thou knowest, O my son, that no hand may measure length with that of the Caliphate. When they brought her the dress, she took it and turned it over, fancying that somewhat might be lost thereof, but she found it uninjured; wherefore she rejoiced and making her children fast to her waist, donned the feather-vest, after the Lady Zubaydah had pulled off to her all that was upon herself and clad her therein, in honour of her and because of her beauty. No sooner had she donned the dress than she shook and becoming a bird, promenaded about the palace, whilst all who were present gazed at her and marvelled at her beauty and loveliness. Then she flew up to the palace roof and perching thereon, looked at me and said: ‘Whenas thy son cometh to thee and the nights of separation upon him longsome shall be and he craveth reunion and meeting to see and whenas the breezes of love and longing shake him dolefully let him leave his native land and journey to the Islands of Wak and seek me.’ This, then, is her story and what befel in thine absence.”—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Seven Hundred and Ninety-eighth Night, She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that as soon as Hasan’s mother had made an end of her story, he gave a great cry and fell down in a fainting fit which continued till the end of day, when he revived and fell to buffeting his face and writhing on the floor like a scotched snake. His mother sat weeping by his head until midnight, when he came to himself and wept sore and recited these couplets’,[FN#101]

“Pause ye and see his sorry state since when ye fain withdrew; *

Haply, when wrought your cruelty, you’ll have the grace to rue:

For an ye look on him, you’ll doubt of him by sickness-stress *

As though, by Allah, he were one before ye never knew.

He dies for nothing save for love of you, and he would be *

Numbered amid the dead did not he moan and groan for you.

And deem not pangs of severance sit all lightly on his soul; *

‘Tis heavy load on lover-wight; ‘twere lighter an ye slew.”

Then having ended his verse he rose and went round about the house, weeping and wailing, groaning and bemoaning himself, five days, during which he tasted nor meat nor drink. His mother came to him and conjured him, till he broke his fast, and besought him to leave weeping; but he hearkened not to her and continued to shed tears and lament, whilst she strove to comfort him and he heeded her not. Then he recited these couplets,[FN#102]

“Beareth for love a burden sore this soul of me, Could break a mortal’s back however strong that be; I am distraught to see my case and languor grows Making my day and night indifferent in degree:

I own to having dreaded Death before this day: * This day I hold my death mine only remedy.”

And Hasan ceased not to do thus till daybreak, when his eyes closed and he saw in a dream his wife grief-full and repentant for that which she had done. So he started up from sleep crying out and reciting these two couplets,

“Their image bides with me, ne’er quits me, ne’er shall fly; *

But holds within my heart most honourable stead; But for reunion-hope, I’d see me die forthright, * And but for phantom-form of thee my sleep had fled.”

And as morning morrowed he redoubled his lamentations. He abode weeping-eyed and heavy-hearted, wakeful by night and eating little, for a whole month, at the end of which he bethought him to repair to his sisters and take counsel with them in the matter of his wife, so haply they might help him to regain her.

Accordingly he summoned the dromedaries and loading fifty of them with rarities of Al-Irak, committed the house to his mother’s care and deposited all his goods in safe keeping, except some few he left at home. Then he mounted one of the beasts and set out on his journey single handed, intent upon obtaining aidance from the Princesses, and he stayed not till he reached the Palace of the Mountain of Clouds, when he went in to the damsels and gave them the presents in which they rejoiced. Then they wished him joy of his safety and said to him, “O our brother, what can ail thee to come again so soon, seeing thou wast with us but two months since?” Whereupon he wept and improvised these couplets, “My soul for loss of lover sped I sight; * Nor life enjoying neither life’s delight:

My case is one whose cure is all unknown; * Can any cure the sick but doctor wight?

O who hast reft my sleep-joys, leaving me * To ask the breeze that blew from that fair site,—

Blew from my lover’s land (the land that owns * Those charms so sore a grief in soul excite),

‘O breeze, that visitest her land, perhaps * Breathing her scent, thou mayst revive my sprite!’”

And when he ended his verse he gave a great cry and fell down in a fainting-fit. The Princesses sat round him, weeping over him, till he recovered and repeated these two couplets, “Haply and happily may Fortune bend her rein * Bringing my love, for Time’s a freke of jealous strain;[FN#103]

Fortune may prosper me, supply mine every want, * And bring a blessing where before were ban and bane.”

Then he wept till he fainted again, and presently coming to himself recited the two following couplets, “My wish, mine illness, mine unease! by Allah, own * Art thou content? then I in love contented wone!

Dost thou forsake me thus sans crime or sin * Meet me in ruth, I pray, and be our parting gone.”

Then he wept till he swooned away once more and when he revived he repeated these couplets,

“Sleep fled me, by my side wake ever shows And hoard of tear-drops from these eyne aye flows; For love they weep with beads cornelian-like And growth of distance greater dolence grows:

Lit up my longing, O my love, in me * Flames burning ‘neath my ribs with fiery throes!

Remembering thee a tear I never shed * But in it thunder roars and leven glows.”

Then he wept till he fainted away a fourth time, and presently recovering, recited these couplets,

“Ah! for lowe of love and longing suffer ye as suffer we? * Say, as pine we and as yearn we for you are pining ye?

Allah do the death of Love, what a bitter draught is his! * Would I wot of Love what plans and what projects nurseth he!

Your faces radiant-fair though afar from me they shine, Are mirrored in our eyes whatsoever the distance be; My heart must ever dwell on the memories of your tribe; And the turtle-dove reneweth all as oft as moaneth she: Ho thou dove, who passest night-tide in calling on thy fere, *

Thou doublest my repine, bringing grief for company; And leavest thou mine eyelids with weeping unfulfilled * For the dearlings who departed, whom we never more may see: I melt for the thought of you at every time and hour, * And I long for you when Night showeth cheek of blackest blee.”

Now when his sister heard these words and saw his condition and how he lay fainting on the floor, she screamed and beat her face and the other Princesses hearing her scream came out and learning his misfortune and the transport of love and longing and the passion and distraction that possessed him they questioned him of his case. He wept and told them what had befallen in his absence and how his wife had taken flight with her children, wherefore they grieved for him and asked him what she said at leavetaking.

Answered he, “O my sisters, she said to my mother, ‘Tell thy son, whenas he cometh to thee and the nights of severance upon him longsome shall be and he craveth reunion and meeting to see, and whenas the winds of love and longing shake him dolefully, let him fare in the Islands of Wak to me.” When they heard his words they signed one to other with their eyes and shook their heads, and each looked at her sister, whilst Hasan looked at them all. Then they bowed their heads groundwards and bethought themselves awhile; after which they raised their heads and said, “There is no Majesty and there is no Might save in Allah, the Glorious, the Great!”; presently adding, “Put forth thy hand to heaven and when thou reach thither, then shalt thou win to thy wife.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Seven Hundred and Ninety-ninth Night, She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Princesses said to Hasan, “Put forth thy hand to Heaven and when thou reach thither, then shalt thou win to wife and children,”

thereat the tears ran down his cheeks like rain and wet his clothes, and he recited these couplets, “Pink cheeks and eyes enpupil’d black have dealt me sore despight; * And whenas wake overpowered sleep my patience fled in fright:

The fair and sleek-limbed maidens hard of heart withal laid waste My very bones till not a breath is left for man to sight: Houris, who fare with gait of grace as roes o’er sandy-mound:

Did Allah’s saints behold their charms they’d doat thereon forthright;

Faring as fares the garden breeze that bloweth in the dawn. For love of them a sore unrest and troubles rack my sprite: I hung my hopes upon a maid, a loveling fair