One thousand and one nig.., p.414
One Thousand and One Nights, page 414
Fate swore ’twould plague me without cease nor leave to make me rue: Thine oath is broken, Fate; so look thou fitting penance do.
The censor’s dead and he I love conjoined is with me; Up then unto the summoner of joys, and quickly too!
Then she and Mesrour abode with each other in eating and drinking and sport and pleasure and good cheer, till there came to them the Destroyer of Delights and Sunderer of Companies and Slayer of sons and daughters.
John Payne’s translation: detailed table of contents
ALI NOUREDDIN AND THE FRANK KING’S DAUGHTER.
There was once, of old days and in bygone ages and times, in the parts of Cairo, a merchant named Tajeddin, who was of the most considerable of the merchants and of the chiefs of the freeborn [of the city]. He was given to travelling to all parts and loved to fare over desert and down and stony waste and to journey to the islands of the sesame in quest of dirhems and dinars: wherefore he had in his time encountered dangers and suffered hardships of gavel, such as would make little children gray. He was possessed of slaves and servants, white and black and male and female, and was the wealthiest of the merchants of his time and the goodliest of them in speech, owning horses and mules and Bactrian and other camels and sacks, great and small, and goods and merchandise and stuffs beyond compare, such as Hems muslins and Baalbek silks and brocades and Merv cottons and Indian stuffs and Baghdad gauzes and Moorish burnouses and Turkish white slaves and Abyssinian eunuchs and Greek slave-girls and Egyptian boys; and the coverings of his bales were of gold-embroidered silk, for he was abundantly wealthy. Moreover he was accomplished in goodliness, stately of Port and pleasant of composition, even as saith of him one of his describers:
A certain merchant once I did espy, Between whose lovers war raged fierce and high.
Quoth he, ‘What ails the folk to clamour thus?’ ‘’Tis for thy sake, O merchant,’ answered I.
And saith another in his praise lad sail well and accomplisheth the wish of him:
A merchant came to visit us, whoso eye Did with its glance my heart still stupefy.
Quoth he, ‘What ails thee to be thus amazed?’ ‘On thine account, O merchant,’ answered I.
He had a son called Ali Noureddin, as he were the full moon whenas it waxeth on its fourteenth night, a marvel of beauty and grace, elegant of shape and accomplished in symmetry who was sitting one day in his father’s shop, selling and buying and giving and taking, as was his wont, when the sons of the merchants encompassed him about and he was amongst them as the moon among stars, with flower-white forehead and rosy cheeks, covered with tender down, and body like alabaster, even as saith of him the poet:
A fair one said, ‘Describe me well;’ And I, ‘In grace thou dost excel.
Yea, speaking briefly, all in thee Is lovely and acceptable.’
And as saith of him one of his describers:
A mole on as cheek he hath, as ‘twere a grain Of ambergris on alabaster plate,
And swordlike glances that proclaim aloud Against Love’s rebels, ‘Allah is Most Great.’
The young merchants invited him [to go with them], saying, ‘O my lord Noureddin, we wish thee to go this day a-pleasuring with us in such a garden.’ And he answered, ‘[Wait] till I consult my father, for I cannot go without his consent.’ As they were talking, up came Tajeddin, and his son turned to him and said, ‘O my father, the sons of the merchants have invited me to go a-pleasuring with them in such a garden. Dost thou give me leave to go?’ ‘Yes, O my son,’ answered his father; ‘go with them;’ and gave him money.
So he mounted a mule and the other young men mounted mules and asses, and they all rode till they came to a garden, wherein was all the soul desireth and that charmeth the eye. It was high walled and had a vaulted gateway, with a portico like a saloon and a sky-blue door, as it were one of the gates of Paradise. Moreover, the name of the door-keeper was Rizwan, and over the gate were trained a hundred trellises of grapes of various colours, the red like coral, the black like negroes’ faces and the white like pigeons’ eggs, growing in clusters and singly: even as saith of them the poet:
Grapes, as the taste of wine their savour is, I trow: The black thereof in hue are as the corby-crow,
And shining midst the leaves, like women’s fingers dipped In henna or the like of dye, the white grapes show.
And as saith another:
Grape-clusters, that show, on their stalks as they sway, Like my body for languishment wasted away.
Like honey and water in vases are they And their juice becomes wine, after sourness, one day.
Then they entered the arbour [that led into the garden] and saw there the gate-keeper sitting, as he were Rizwan, guardian of Paradise, and on the door were written these verses:
A garden watered was of God, until its clusters leant And dangled all and for excess of drink, its branches bent.
When in the Eastern zephyr’s hand its sapling dance and sway, The clouds with fresh pearls handsel them for very ravishment.
And within the arbour were written the following verses:
Enter with us, O friend, this garden fair, That cleanses from the heart its rust of care.
Its zephyrs stumble in their skirts [for haste] And in their sleeve its flowers laugh everywhere.
So they entered and found within fruits of all kinds and birds of all sorts and colours, such as the ringdove and the nightingale and the curlew and the turtle and the cushat, carolling on the branches. Therein were streams that ran with limpid water and delightsome flowers, and it was even as saith of it the poet:
The zephyr o’er its branches breathes and sways them to and fro, As they were girls that in their skirts still stumble as they go;
And like to swords, whenas the hands of horsemen draw them forth From out their scabbards’ enveloped its silver channels show.
And again:
The river passes by and laves the branches with its flood And still it mirrors in its heart the younglings of the wood;
Which when the zephyr notes, it hastes to them for jealousy And forces them to bend away from out its neighbourhood.
On the trees of the garden were all manner fruits, each in two kinds, and amongst them the pomegranate, as it were a ball of silver dross, whereof saith the poet and saith well:
Pomegranates, fine-skinned, like the breasts of a maid, Whenas, rounded and firm, to the sight they’re displayed.
When I peel them, appear to us rubies galore, Such as well may the wit with amazement invade.
And as quoth another:
To him, who seeks to come at its inside, there are displayed Rubies together pressed and clad in raiment of brocade.
I liken the pomegranate, when I look on it, to domes Of alabaster or to breasts of unpolluted maid.
Therein is healing for the sick and thereanent to us A saying of the Prophet pure tradition hath conveyed.
Yea, and a word most eloquent, written in the Book, thereof God (may His majesty fore’er be magnified!) hath said.
There were apples, sugar and musk and Damani, amazing the beholder, whereof saith the poet:
The apple in itself two hues, that image to the sight The cheeks of lover and belov’d foregathering, doth unite;
Upon the boughs like two extremes of wonder they appear, This dark and swarthy to behold, and ruddy that and bright.
Whenas they clipped, a spy appeared and frighted them; so this Flushed for confusion and that paled for passion and despite.
There also were apricots of various kinds, almond and camphor and Jilani and Antabi, whereof says the poet:
The almond-apricot most like a lover is, To whom his loved one came and dazed his wit and will.
The traits of passion’s slave that mark it are enough; Its outward’s yellow, and its heart is broken still.
And saith another and saith well:
In the apricot’s coverage whole gardens there be: Consider them straitly their brightness thou’ll see.
When the boughs bloom in spring-time, it blossoms with them, Like the soft-shining stars, midst the leaves on the tree.
There likewise were plums and thence: and grapes that heal the sick of [all] diseases and do away giddiness and bile from the head; and figs on the branches, parcel red and green, amazing sight and sense even as saith the poet:
’Tis as the fig, whose whiteness, with mingling green bedight, Amongst the tree-leaves fruited, appeareth to the sight,
Where Greeks on palace-turrets that keep the ward: the shades Close o’er them and in darkness they watch the livelong night.
And saith another and saith well:
Hail to the fig! It comes to us On dishes in fair order laid,
As ‘twere a table-cloth, drawn up Into a bag, without string’s aid.
And saith a third alike well:
Give me the fig, with beauty that’s clad and good to eat: Its outward with its inward accordeth, as is meet.
It fruiteth and thou pluckst it, and when thou eatst thereof, As camomiles its smell is, its taste as sugar sweet;
And when into its platters ’tis poured, it seemeth balls Made of green silk and fashioned in goodliness complete.
And how excellent is the saying of one of them:
Quoth they (and I on the fig, forsooth, was wont my fill to feed And Made no count of the other fruits to which they gave the meed,)
‘Why dost thou love the fig?’ And I, ‘The fig hath its folk,’ replied; ‘And the sycamore fruit hath folk and folk thereto, in very deed.’
And still goodlier that of another:
The fig to me is pleasing above all fruits that be, Whenas it’s ripe and dangles upon its shining tree.
What while the clouds are raining, for fear of God Most High, Full many a tear it sheddeth, as ‘twere a devotee.
There were also pears of various kinds, Sinai, Aleppo and Greek, growing singly and in clusters, parcel green and parcel yellow, amazing the beholder, as saith of them the poet:
Fair fall thee of a pear, whose hue is grown Even as a lover pale for love and moan;
Like to a virgin in her harem shut, Her face by curtains half concealed, Half shown.
And Sultani peaches of various shades of red and yellow whereof saith the poet:
’Tis as the peach, i’ the gardens, when with red, like unto dragon’s blood, ’tis all o’erspread,
Were very balls of yellow gold, whose cheeks Are dyed with gouts of blood upon them shed.
And green almonds of exceeding sweetness, resembling the heart of the palm-tree, with their kernels hidden within three tunics of the handiwork of the Munificent King, even as is said of them:
A tender body, various of attributes and pent In tunics three, the handiwork of God Omnipotent.
Duresse envelopes it both night and day and therewithal It doth, though guiltless of offence, endure imprisonment.
And as well saith another:
Dost thou not see the almonds, when from the parent stem The gentle hand of a plucker pulls and detaches them?
The peeling of them shows us the kernels therewithin, As when from one an oyster one pulls the hidden gem.
And as saith a third better than he:
How goodly is the almond green! The smallest fills the hand, I ween.
Its nap is as the down upon A minion’s cheeks of satin sheen.
Double and single, as may chance, Its kernels in the husk are seen,
As pearls they were of lucent white, That cased and lapped in beryls been.
And as saith yet another and saith well:
Mine eyes have not looked on the like of the almond For beauty, with blossoms in spring-time bedight.
Whilst the down on its cheek in the leaf-time yet sprouteth, Its head is already for hoariness white.
And jujube-plums of various colours, growing singly and in clusters, whereof saith one, describing them:
Look at the jujube-plums, upon the branches all arrayed, Like wonder-goodly apricots (to dry) on osiers laid.
Such is their brightness that they seem, to the beholder’s eye, As cascabels of gold they were, of purest bullion made.
And as saith another and saith well:
The lote-tree doth itself array In some fresh beauty every day.
’Tis as the fruit upon it were (And th’ eye so deems it, sooth to say,)
Hawks’ bells of vegetable gold That swing from every branch and spray.
And [blood] oranges, as they were galingale, whereof quoth the poet El Welhan:
Red oranges, that fill the hand, upon the boughs arow, Shining with loveliness; without they’re fire, within they’re snow.
Snow, for a marvel, melting not, though joined with firs it be, And fire that burns not, strange to say, for all its ruddy glow.
And quoth another and quoth well:
Trees of blood oranges, whose fruit, in beauty manifold, Unto his eye who draweth near, its brightness to behold,
Like unto women’s cheeks appears, who have adorned themselves And decked them out for festival in robe of cloth of gold.
And yet another:
The hills of oranges, what time the zephyrs o’er them glide And to their touch the branches bend and sway from side to side,
Are like to cheeks, wherein there glows the light of loveliness And to meet which come other cheeks at salutation-tide.
And a fourth:
One day of a young gazelle that he should praise Our garden and oranges we did require.
Quoth he, ‘Your garden to me is as my face, And whoso gathers its oranges gathers fire.’
And citrons in colour as virgin gold, dropping from on high and dangling among the branches, as they were ingots of vegetable gold, as saith thereof the poet El Welhan:
Hast thou not seen a fruited wood of citrons, laden all So heavily that, when they bend, one feareth lest they fall?
When the breeze passed o’er them, as ‘twere with ingots of pure gold It Seemed the bough were laden. cast in many a gleaming ball.
And shaddocks, that hung among their boughs, an they were the breasts of gazelle-like virgins contenting the utmost of desire, as saith of them the poet and saith well:
A shaddock, midst the garden ways, I saw, its leaves between, On a fresh branch, as a maid’s shape with symmetry beseen.
When the wind bent it here and there, its fruits all rolled about, As balls of gold they were, at end of malls of beryl green.
And the lemon, sweet of savour, which resembles a hen’s egg, but yellowness is the ornament of its ripe fruit, and its fragrance heartens him who plucks it, as saith the poet of it:
Beholdst not the lemon, that, whenas on high It shineth, for brilliancy dazzles the eye?
Meseemeth as if ‘twere a hen’s egg, indeed, That the hand of the huckster with saffron doth dye.
Moreover in this garden were all manner sweet-scented herbs and plants and fragrant powers, such as jessamine and henna and water-lilies and spikenard and roses of all kinds and plaintain and myrtle and so forth: and indeed it was without parallel, seeming as it were a piece of Paradise to him who beheld it. If a sick man entered it, he came forth from it like a raging lion, and the tongue availeth not to its description, by reason of that which was therein of wonders and rarities that are not found but in Paradise: and how should it not be thus, when its door- keeper’s name was Rizwan? Though widely different were their stations.
When the sons of the merchants had walked about the garden and taken their pleasure therein [awhile], they sat down in one of its pavilions and seated Noureddin in their midst on a rug of leather of Et Taif, embroidered with gold, leaning on a round cushion of minever, stuffed with ostrich down. And they gave him a fan of ostrich feathers whereon were written the following verses:
A fan, whose breath is fragrant; it calleth aye to mind The days of joy and solace, when fortune still was kind,
And to the face of noble and freeborn youths restore Their sweetness at all seasons, with its perfumed wind.
Then they laid by their turbans and [upper] clothes and sat talking and contending with one another in discourse, while they all kept their eyes fixed on Noureddin and gazed on his beauty. Presently, up came a slave with a tray on his head, wherein were dishes of china and crystal containing meats of all sorts, whatever walks [the earth] or wings the air or swims the waters, such as grouse and quails and pigeons and mutton and chickens and the most delicate of fish, for one of the young men had given the people of his house a charge of this, before coming forth to the garden. So, the tray being set before them, they fell to and ate their fill; and when they had made an end of eating, they rose from meat and washed their hands with pure water and soap scented with musk, and dried them with napkins embroidered with silk and bugles; but to Noureddin they brought a napkin laced with red gold, on which he wiped his hands.
Then coffee was served up and each drank what he would, after which they sat talking, till presently the keeper of the garden went away and returning with a basket full of roses, said to them, ‘What say ye to flowers, O my masters?’ Quoth one of them, ‘They are welcome, especially roses, which are not to be refused.’ ‘It is well,’ answered the gardener: ‘but it is of our wont not to give roses but in exchange for some contribution to the general amusement; so whoso would have aught thereof let him recite some apposite verses.’ Now they were ten in number; so one of them said, ‘Agreed: give me [of them], and I will recite thee somewhat of verse apt to the case.’ So the gardener gave him a bunch of roses and he recited these verses:
The rose I honour over all, Because its beauties never pall.
All fragrant flowers are troops and it Their Amir most majestical.
When it’s away, they’re proud; but if It come, straightway they own them thrall.
Then he gave another a bunch and he recited the following verses:
Glory to thee my lord the rose! The scent Of musk recalls the fragrance thou dost shed.
Thou’rt like a maid, on whom her lover looks And with her sleeves she covers up her head.
Then he gave a third a bunch and he recited these verses:
A precious rose, the heart of man it gladdeneth with its sight; Its scent the best of ambergris recalleth to the spright.
