Supplemental Nights to The Book of the Thousand and One Nights by Sir Richard Francis Burton (life changing books TXT) 📕

Thou art bold in the copy thou sentest! May be * ‘Twill increase the dule foreign wight must dree!

Thou hast spied me with glance that bequeaths thee woe * Ah! far is thy hope, a mere foreigner’s plea!

Who art thou, poor freke, that wouldst win my love * Wi’ thy verse? What seeks thine insanity?

An thou hope for my favours and greed therefor; * Where find thee a leach for such foolish gree?

Then rhyme-linking leave and fool-like be not * Hanged to Cross at the doorway of ignomy!

Deem not that to thee I incline, O youth! * ‘Mid the Sons of the Path[FN#384] is no place for me.

Thou art homeless waif in the wide wide world; * So return thee home where they keen for thee:[FN#385]

Leave verse-spouting, O thou who a-wold dost wone, * Or minstrel shall name thee in lay and glee: How many a friend who would meet his love * Is baulked when the goal is right clear to see!

So begone and ne’er grieve for what canst not win * Albe time be near, yet thy grasp ‘twill flee.

Now such is my say and the tale I’d tell; * So master my meaning and—fare thee well!

When Mariyah had made an end of her verses, she folded the letter and delivered it to the nurse, who hent it and went with it to Al-Abbas. When she gave it to him, he took it and breaking it open, read it and comprehended its contents; and when he reached the end of it, he swooned away. After awhile, he came to himself and cried, “Praise be to Allah who hath caused her return a reply to my writ! Canst thou carry her another missive, and with Allah Almighty be thy requital?” Said she, “And what shall letters profit thee, seeing that such is her reply;” but he said, “Peradventure, she may yet be softened.” Then he took ink-case and paper and wrote these couplets:—

Reached me the writ and what therein didst write, * Whence grew my pain and bane and blight:

I read the marvellines made wax my love * And wore my body out till slightest slight.[FN#386]

Would Heaven ye wot the whole I bear for love * Of you, with vitals clean for you undight!

And all I do t’ outdrive you from my thought ‘Vails naught and ‘gainst th’ obsession loses might: Couldst for thy lover feel ‘twould ease his soul; E’en thy dear Phantom would his sprite delight!

Then on my weakness lay not coyness-load * Nor in such breach of troth be traitor-wight:

And, weet ye well, for this your land I fared * Hoping to ‘joy the union-boon forthright:

How many a stony wold for this I spanned; * How oft I waked when men kept watch o’night!

To fare fro’ another land for sight of you * Love bade, while length of way forbade my sprite: So by His name[FN#387] who molt my frame, have ruth, And quench the flames thy love in me did light: Thou fillest, arrayed with glory’s robes and rays, Heaven’s stars with joy and Luna with despight.

Then who dare chide or blame me for my love * Of one that can all Beauty’s boons unite?

When Al-Abbas had made an end of his verses, he folded the letter and delivering it to the nurse, charged her keep the secret. So she took it and carrying it to Mariyah, gave it to her. The Princess broke it open and read it and apprehended its purport; then cried she, “By Allah, O nurse, my heart is chagrined with exceeding chagrin, never knew I a sorer, because of this correspondence and of these verses.” And the nurse made answer to her “O my lady, thou art in thy dwelling and thy palace and thy heart is void of care; so return to him a reply and reck not.”

Accordingly, the Princess called for ink-case and paper and wrote these couplets:—

Ho thou who wouldst vaunt thee of cark and care; * How many love-molten, tryst-craving be there?

An hast wandered the wold in the murks of night * Bound afar and anear on the tracks to fare,

And to eyne hast forbidden the sweets of sleep, * Borne by Devils and Marids to dangerous lair;

And beggest my boons, O in tribe-land[FN#388] homed And to urge thy wish and desire wouldst dare; Now, woo Patience fair, an thou bear in mind What The Ruthful promised to patient prayer![FN#389]

How many a king for my sake hath vied, * Craving love and in marriage with me to pair.

Al-Nabhan sent, when a-wooing me, * Camels baled with musk and Nadd scenting air.

They brought camphor in boxes and like thereof * Of pearls and rubies that countless were;

Brought pregnant lasses and negro-lads, * Blood steeds and arms and gear rich and rare;

Brought us raiment of silk and of sendal sheen, And came courting us but no bride he bare: Nor could win his wish, for I ‘bode content To part with far parting and love forswear;

So for me greed not, O thou stranger wight * Lest thou come to ruin and dire despair!

When she had made an end of her verses, she folded the letter and delivered it to the nurse, who took it and carried it to Al-Abbas. He broke it open and read it and comprehended its contents; then took ink-case and paper and wrote these improvised couplets:—

Thou hast told me the tale of the Kings, and of them * Each was rending lion, a furious foe:

And thou stolest the wits of me, all of them * And shotst me with shaft of thy magic bow:

Thou hast boasted of slaves and of steeds and wealth; * And of beauteous lasses ne’er man did know; How presents in mighty store didst spurn, * And disdainedst lovers both high and low:

Then I followed their tracks in desire for thee, * With naught save my scymitar keen of blow; Nor slaves nor camels that run have I; * Nor slavegirls the litters enveil, ah, no!

But grant me union and soon shalt sight * My trenchant blade with the foeman’s woe;

Shalt see the horsemen engird Baghdad * Like clouds that wall the whole world below,

Obeying behests which to them I deal * And hearing the words to the foes I throw.

An of negro chattels ten thousand head * Wouldst have, or Kings who be proud and prow

Or chargers led for thee day by day * And virgin girls high of bosom, lo!

Al-Yaman land my command doth bear * And my biting blade to my foes I show.

I have left this all for the sake of thee, * Left Aziz and my kinsmen for ever-mo’e;

And made Al-Ir�k making way to thee * Under nightly murks over rocks arow;

When the couriers brought me account of thee * Thy beauty, perfection, and sunny glow,

Then I sent thee verses whose very sound * Burns the heart of shame with a fiery throe;

Yet the world with falsehood hath falsed me, * Though Fortune was never so false as thou,

Who dubbest me stranger and homeless one * A witless fool and a slavegirl’s son!

Then he folded the letter and committed it to the nurse and gave her five hundred dinars, saying, “Accept this from me, for by Allah thou hast indeed wearied thyself between us.” She replied, “By Allah, O my lord, my aim is to bring about forgathering between you, though I lose that which my right hand possesseth.”

And he said, “May the Lord of All-might requite thee with good!”

Then she carried the letter to Mariyah and said to her, “Take this letter; haply it may be the end of the correspondence.” So she took it and breaking it open, read it, and when she had made an end of it, she turned to the nurse and said to her, “This one foisteth lies upon me and asserteth unto me that he hath cities and horsemen and footmen at his command and submitting to his allegiance; and he wisheth of me that which he shall not win; for thou knowest, O nurse, that kings’ sons have sought me in marriage, with presents and rarities; but I have paid no heed unto aught of this; how, then, shall I accept of this fellow, who is the ignoramus of his time and possesseth naught save two caskets of rubies, which he gave to my sire, and indeed he hath taken up his abode in the house of Al-Ghitrif and abideth without silver or gold? Wherefore, Allah upon thee, O nurse, return to him and cut off his hope of me.” Accordingly the nurse rejoined Al-Abbas, without letter or answer; and when she came in to him, he looked at her and saw that she was troubled, and he noted the marks of anger on her face; so he said to her, “What is this plight?” Quoth she, “I cannot set forth to thee that which Mariyah said; for indeed she charged me return to thee without writ or reply.” Quoth he, “O nurse of kings, I would have thee carry her this letter and return not to her without it.” Then he took ink-case and paper and wrote these couplets:—

My secret now to men is known though hidden well and true * By me: enough is that I have of love and love of you: I left familiars, friends, and kin to weep the loss of me * With floods of tears which like the tide aye flowed and flowed anew:

Then, left my home myself I bore to Baghdad-town one day, * When parting drave me there his pride and cruelty to rue: I have indeed drained all the bowl whose draught repression[FN#390] was * Handed by friend who bitter gourd[FN#391] therein for drinking threw.

And, oft as strove I to enjoin the ways of troth and faith, * So often on refusal’s path he left my soul to sue.

Indeed my body molten is with care I’m doom�d dree; * And yet I hoped relenting and to win some grace, my due.

But wrong and rigour waxed on me and changed to worse my case; *

And love hath left me weeping-eyed for woes that aye pursue.

How long must I keep watch for you throughout the nightly gloom?

* How many a path of pining pace and garb of grief endue?

And you, what while you joy your sleep, your restful pleasant sleep, * Reck naught of sorrow and of shame that to your friend accrue:

For wakefulness I watched the stars before the peep o’ day, *

Praying that union with my dear in bliss my soul imbrue; Indeed the throes of long desire laid waste my frame and I * Rise every morn in weaker plight with hopes e’er fewer few: “Be not” (I say) “so hard of heart!” for did you only deign * In phantom guise to visit me ‘twere joy enough to view.

But when ye saw my writ ye grudged to me the smallest boon * And cast adown the flag of faith though well my troth ye knew; Nor aught of answer you vouchsafe, albe you wot full well * The words therein address the heart and pierce the spirit through.

You deemed yourself all too secure for changes of the days * And of the far and near alike you ever careless grew.

Hadst thou (dear maid) been doomed like me to woes, forsure hadst felt * The lowe of love and Laza-hell which paring doth enmew;

Yet soon shalt suffer torments such as those from thee