The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 8 by Richard F. Burton

R >> Richard F. Burton >> The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 8

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When it was the Eight Hundred and Eightieth Night,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when
the Wazir of the Frankish King put out to sea in the ship bearing
Miriam the Girdle-girl, she gazed Alexandria-wards till the city
was hidden from her sight when she wailed and wept copious tears
and recited these couplets,

"O dwelling of my friends say is there no return * Uswards? But
what ken I of matters Allah made?
Still fare the ships of Severance, sailing hastily * And in my
wounded eyelids tear have ta'en their stead,
For parting from a friend who was my wish and will * Healed every
ill and every pain and pang allay'd.
Be thou, O Allah, substitute of me for him * Such charge some day
the care of Thee shall not evade."

Then she could not refrain from weeping and wailing. So the
patrician[FN#505] knights came up to her and would have comforted
her, but she heeded not their consoling words, being distracted
by the claims of passion and love-longing. And she shed tears and
moaned and complained and recited these couplets,

"The tongue of Love within my vitals speaketh * Saying, 'This
lover boon of Love aye seeketh!'
And burn my liver hottest coals of passion * And parting on my
heart sore suffering wreaketh.
How shall I face this fiery love concealing * When fro' my
wounded lids the tear aye leaketh?

In this plight Miriam abode during all the voyage; no peace was
left her at all nor would patience come at her call. Such was her
case in company with the Wazir, the monocular, the lameter; but
as regards Nur al-Din the Cairene, when the ship had sailed with
Miriam, the world was straitened upon him and he had neither
peace nor patience. He returned to the lodging where they twain
had dwelt, and its aspect was black and gloomy in his sight. Then
he saw the metier wherewith she had been wont to make the zones
and her dress that had been upon her beauteous body; so he
pressed them to his breast, whilst the tears gushed from his eyes
and he recited these couplets,

"Say me, will Union after parting e'er return to be * After
long-lasting torments, after hopeless misery?
Alas! Alas! what wont to be shall never more return * But grant
me still return of dearest her these eyne may see.
I wonder me will Allah deign our parted lives unite * And will my
dear one's plighted troth preserve with constancy!
Naught am I save the prey of death since parting parted us; * And
will my friends consent that I am a wierd so deadly dree?
Alas my sorrow! Sorrowing the lover scant avails; * Indeed I melt
away in grief and passion's ecstasy:
Past is the time of my delight when were we two conjoined: *
Would Heaven I wot if Destiny mine esperance will degree!
Redouble then, O Heart, thy pains and, O mine eyes, o'erflow *
With tears till not a tear remain within these eyne of me?
Again alas for loved ones lost and loss of patience eke! * For
helpers fail me and my griefs are grown beyond decree.
The Lord of Threefold Worlds I pray He deign to me return * My
lover and we meet as wont in joy and jubilee."

Then Nur al-Din wept with weeping galore than which naught could
be more; and peering into ever corner of the room, recited these
two couplets,

"I view their traces and with pain I pine * And by their sometime
home I weep and yearn;
And Him I pray who parting deigned decree * Some day He deign
vouchsafe me their return!"

Then Nur al-Din sprang to his feet and locking the door of the
house, fared forth running at speed, to the sea shore whence he
fixed his eyes on the place of the ship which had carried off his
Miriam whilst sighs burst from his breast and tears from his lids
as he recited these couplets,

"Peace be with you, sans you naught compensateth me * The near,
the far, two cases only here I see:
I yearn for you at every hour and tide as yearns * For
water-place wayfarer plodding wearily.
With you abide my hearing, heart and eyen-sight * And (sweeter
than the honeycomb) your memory.
Then, O my Grief when fared afar your retinue * And bore that
ship away my sole expectancy."

And Nur al-Din wept and wailed, bemoaned himself and complained,
crying out and saying, "O Miriam! O Miriam! Was it but a vision
of thee I saw in sleep or in the allusions of dreams?" And by
reason of that which grew on him of regrets, he recited these
couplets,[FN#506]

"Mazed with thy love no more I can feign patience,
This heart of mine has held none dear but thee!
And if mine eye hath gazed on other's beauty,
Ne'er be it joyed again with sight of thee!
I've sworn an oath I'll ne'er forget to love thee,
And sad's this breast that pines to meet with thee!
Thou'st made me drink a love-cup full of passion,
Blest time! When I may give the draught to thee!
Take with thee this my form where'er thou goest,
And when thou 'rt dead let me be laid near thee!
Call on me in my tomb, my bones shall answer
And sigh responses to a call from thee!
If it were asked, 'What wouldst thou Heaven should order?'
'His will,' I answer, 'First, and then what pleases thee.'"

As Nur al-Din was in this case, weeping and crying out, "O
Miriam! O Miriam!" behold, an old man landed from a vessel and
coming up to him, saw him shedding tears and heard him reciting
these verses,

"O Maryam of beauty[FN#507] return, for these eyne * Are as
densest clouds railing drops in line:
Ask amid mankind and my railers shall say * That mine eyelids are
drowning these eyeballs of mine."

Said the old man, "O my son, meseems thou weepest for the damsel
who sailed yesterday with the Frank?" When Nur al-Din heard these
words of the Shaykh he fell down in a swoon and lay for a long
while without life; then, coming to himself, he wept with sore
weeping and improvised these couplets,

"Shall we e'er be unite after severance-tide * And return in the
perfectest cheer to bide?
In my heart indeed is a lowe of love * And I'm pained by the
spies who my pain deride:
My days I pass in amaze distraught, * And her image a-nights I
would see by side:
By Allah, no hour brings me solace of love * And how can it when
makebates vex me and chide?
A soft-sided damsel of slenderest waist * Her arrows of eyne on
my heart hath plied?
Her form is like Ban[FN#508]-tree branch in garth * Shame her
charms the sun who his face most hide:
Did I not fear God (be He glorified!) * 'My Fair be glorified!'
Had I cried."

The old man looked at him and noting his beauty and grace and
symmetry and the fluency of his tongue and the seductiveness of
his charms, had ruth on him and his heart mourned for his case.
Now that Shaykh was the captain of a ship, bound to the damsel's
city, and in this ship were a hundred Moslem merchants, men of
the Saving Faith; so he said to Nur al-Din, "Have patience and
all will yet be well; I will bring thee to her an it be the will
of Allah, extolled and exalted be He!"--And Shahrazad perceived
the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-first Night,

She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the
old skipper said to Nur al-Din, "I will bring thee to her,
Inshallah!" the youth asked, "When shall we set out?" and the
other said, "Come but three days more and we will depart in peace
and prosperity." Nur al-Din rejoiced at the captain's words with
joy exceeding and thanked him for his bounty and benevolence.
Then he recalled the days of love-liesse dear and union with his
slave-girl without peer, and he shed bitter tears and recited
these couplets,

"Say, will to me and you the Ruthful union show * My lords! Shall
e'er I win the wish of me or no?
A visit-boon by you will shifty Time vouchsafe? * And seize your
image eye-lids which so hungry grow?
With you were Union to be sold, I fain would buy; * But ah, I see
such grace doth all my means outgo!"

Then Nur al-Din went forthright to the market and bought what he
needed of viaticum and other necessaries for the voyage and
returned to the Rais, who said to him, "O my son, what is that
thou hast with thee?" said he, "My provisions and all whereof I
have need for the voyage." Thereupon quoth the old man, laughing,
"O my son, art thou going a-pleasuring to Pompey's
Pillar?[FN#509] Verily, between thee and that thou seekest is two
months' journey and the wind be fair and the weather favourable."
Then he took of him somewhat of money and going to the bazar,
bought him a sufficiency of all that he needed for the voyage and
filled him a large earthen jar[FN#510] with fresh water. Nur
al-Din abode in the ship three days until the merchants had made
an end of their precautions and preparations and embarked, when
they set sail and putting out to sea, fared on one-and-fifty
days. After this, there came out upon them corsairs,[FN#511]
pirates who sacked the ship and taking Nur al-Din and all therein
prisoners, carried them to the city of France and paraded them
before the King, who bade cast them into jail, Nur al-Din amongst
the number. As they were being led to prison the galleon[FN#512]
arrived with the Princess Miriam and the one-eyed Wazir, and when
it made the harbour, the lameter landed and going up to the King
gave him the glad news of his daughter's safe return: whereupon
they beat the kettledrums for good tidings and decorated the city
after the goodliest fashion. Then the King took horse, with all
his guards and lords and notables and rode down to the sea to
meet her. The moment the ship cast anchor she came ashore, and
the King saluted her and embraced her and mounting her on a
bloodsteed, bore her to the palace, where her mother received her
with open arms, and asked her of her case and whether she was a
maid as before or whether she had become a woman carnally known
by man.[FN#513] She replied, "O my mother, how should a girl, who
hath been sold from merchant to merchant in the land of Moslems,
a slave commanded, abide a virgin? The merchant who bought me
threatened me with the bastinado and violenced me and took my
maidenhead, after which he sold me to another and he again to a
third." When the Queen heard these her words, the light in her
eyes became night and she repeated her confession to the King who
was chagrined thereat and his affair was grievous to him. So he
expounded her case to his Grandees and Patricians[FN#514] who
said to him, "O King, she hath been defiled by the Moslems and
naught will purify her save the striking off of an hundred
Mohammedan heads." Whereupon the King sent for the True Believers
he had imprisoned; and they decapitated them, one after another,
beginning with the captain, till none was left save Nur al-Din.
They tare off a strip of his skirt and binding his eyes
therewith, led him to the rug of blood and were about to smite
his neck, when behold, an ancient dame came up to the King at
that very moment and said, "O my lord, thou didst vow to bestow
upon each and every church five Moslem captives, to held us in
the service thereof, so Allah would restore thee thy daughter the
Princess Miriam; and now she is restored to thee, so do thou
fulfil thy vow." The King replied, "O my mother, by the virtue of
the Messiah and the Veritable Faith, there remaineth to me of the
prisoners but this one captive, whom they are about to put to
death: so take him with thee to help in the service of the
church, till there come to me more prisoners of the Moslems, when
I will send thee other four. Hadst thou come earlier, before they
hewed off the heads of these, I had given thee as many as thou
wouldest have." The old woman thanked the King for his boon and
wished him continuance of life, glory and prosperity. Then
without loss of time she went up to Nur al-Din, whom she raised
from the rug of blood; and, looking narrowly at him saw a comely
youth and a dainty, with a delicate skin and a face like the moon
at her full; whereupon she carried him to the church and said to
him, "O my son, doff these clothes which are upon thee, for they
are fit only for the service of the Sultan."[FN#515] So saying
the ancient dame brought him a gown and hood of black wool and a
broad girdle,[FN#516] in which she clad and cowled him; and,
after binding on his belt, bade him do the service of the church.
Accordingly, he served the church seven days, at the end of which
time behold, the old woman came up to him and said, "O Moslem,
don thy silken dress and take these ten dirhams and go out
forthright and divert thyself abroad this day, and tarry not here
a single moment, lest thou lose thy life." Quoth he, "What is to
do, O my mother?"; and quoth she, "Know, O my son, that the
King's daughter, the Princess Miriam the Girdle-girl, hath a mind
to visit the church this day, to seek a blessing by pilgrimage
and to make oblation thereto, a douceur[FN#517] of thank-offering
for her deliverance from the land of the Moslems and in
fulfilment of the vows she vowed to the Messiah, so he would save
her. With her are four hundred damsels, not one of whom but is
perfect in beauty and loveliness and all of them are daughters of
Wazirs and Emirs and Grandees: they will be here during this very
hour and if their eyes fall on thee in this church, they will hew
thee in pieces with swords." Thereupon Nur al-Din took the ten
dirhams from the ancient dame, and donning his own dress, went
out to the bazar and walked about the city and took his pleasure
therein, till he knew its highways and gates,--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-second Night,

She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur
al-Din, after donning his own dress and taking the ten dirhams
from the ancient dame, fared forth to the market streets and
wandered about a while till he knew every quarter of the city,
after which he returned to the church[FN#518] and saw the
Princess Miriam the Girdle-girl, daughter of the King of France
come up to the fane, attended by four hundred damsels,
high-bosomed maids like moons, amongst whom was the daughter of
the one-eyed Wazir and those of the Emirs and Lords of the realm;
and she walked in their midst as she were moon among stars. When
his eyes fell upon her Nur al-Din could not contain himself, but
cried out from the core of his heart, "O Miriam! O Miriam!" When
the damsels heard his outcry they ran at him with swords shining
bright like flashes of leven-light and would have slain him
forthright. But the Princess turned and looking on him, knew him
with fullest knowledge, and said to her maidens, "Leave this
youth; doubtless he is mad, for the signs of madness be manifest
on his face." When Nur al-Din heard this, he uncovered his head
and rolled his eyes and made signs with his hands and twisted his
legs, foaming the while at the mouth. Quoth the Princess, "Said I
not that the poor youth was mad? Bring him to me and stand off
from him, that I may hear what he saith; for I know the speech of
the Arabs and will look into his case and see if his madness
admit of cure or not." So they laid hold of him and brought him
to her; after which they withdrew to a distance and she said to
him, "Hast thou come hither on my account and ventured thy life
for my sake and feignest thyself mad?" He replied, "O my lady,
hast thou not heard the saying of the poet?,[FN#519]

'Quoth they, 'Thou'rt surely raving mad for her thou lov'st;' and
I, 'There is no pleasantness in life but for the mad,'
reply.
Compare my madness with herself for whom I rave; if she Accord
therewith, then blame me not for that which I aby.'"

Miriam replied, "By Allah, O Nur al-Din, indeed thou hast sinned
against thyself, for I warned thee of this before it befell thee:
yet wouldst thou not hearken to me, but followest thine own lust:
albeit that whereof I gave thee to know I learnt not by means of
inspiration nor physiognomy[FN#520] nor dreams, but by
eye-witness and very sight; for I saw the one-eyed Wazir and knew
that he was not come to Alexandria but in quest of me." Said he,
"O my lady Miriam, we seek refuge with Allah from the error of
the intelligent!"[FN#521] Then his affliction redoubled on him
and he recited this saying,[FN#522]

"Pass o'er my fault, for 'tis the wise man's wont
Of other's sins to take no harsh account;
And as all crimes have made my breast their site,
So thine all shapes of mercy should unite.
Who from above would mercy seek to know,
Should first be merciful to those below."

Then Nur al-Din and Princess Miriam ceased not from lovers'
chiding which to trace would be tedious, relating each to other
that which had befallen them and reciting verses and making moan,
one to other, of the violence of passion and the pangs of pine
and desire, whilst the tears ran down their cheeks like rivers,
till there was left them no strength to say a word and so they
continued till day deprated and night darkened. Now the Princess
was clad in a green dress, purfled with red gold and broidered
with pearls and gems which enhanced her beauty and loveliness and
inner grace; and right well quoth the poet of her,[FN#523]

"Like the full moon she shineth in garments all of green, With
loosened vest and collars and flowing hair beseen.
'What is thy name?' I asked her, and she replied, 'I'm she Who
roasts the hearts of lovers on coals of love and teen.
I am the pure white silver, ay, and the gold wherewith The
bondsmen from strait prison and dour released been.'
Quoth I, 'I'm all with rigours consumed;' but 'On a rock,' Said
she, 'such as my heart is, thy plaints are wasted clean.'
'Even if thy heart,' I answered, 'be rock in very deed, Yet hath
God caused fair water well from the rock, I ween.'"

And when night darkened on them the Lady Miriam went up to her
women and asked them, "Have ye locked the door?"; and they
answered, "Indeed we have locked it." So she took them and went
with them to a place called the hapel of the Lady Mary the
Virgin, Mother of Light, because the Nazarenes hold that there
are her heart and soul. The girls betook themselves to prayer for
blessings from above and circuited all the church; and when they
had made an end of their visitation, the Princess turned to them
and said, "I desire to pass the night alone in the Virgin's
chapel and seek a blessing thereof, for that yearning after it
hath betided me, by reason of my long absence in the land of the
Moslems; and as for you, when ye have made an end of your
visitation, do ye sleep whereso ye will." Replied they, "With
love and goodly gree: be it as thou wilt!"; and leaving her alone
in the chapel, dispersed about the church and slept. The Lady
Miriam waited till they were out of sight and hearing, then went
in search of Nur al-Din, whom she found sitting in a corner on
live coals, awaiting her. He rose and kissed her hands and feet
and she sat down and seated him by her side. Then she pulled off
all that was upon her of raiment and ornaments and fine linen and
taking Nur al-Din in her arms strained him to her bosom. And they
ceased not, she and he, from kissing and clipping and strumming
to the tune of "hocus-pocus,"[FN#524] saying the while, "How
short are the nights of Union and the nights of Disunion how long
are they!" and reciting these verses,

"O Night of Union, Time's virginal prized, * White star of the
Nights with auroral dyes,
Thou garrest Dawn after Noon to rise * Say art thou Kohl in
Morning's Eyes,
Or wast thou Slumber to bleared eye lief?
O Night of Parting, how long thy stay * Whose latest hours aye
the first portray,
This endless circle that noways may * Show breach till the coming
of Judgment-day,
Day when dies the lover of parting-grief."[FN#525]

As they were in this mighty delight and joy engrossing they heard
one of the servants of the Saint[FN#526] smite the gong[FN#527]
upon the roof, to call the folk to the rites of their worship,
and he was even as saith the poet,

"I saw him strike the gong and asked of him straightway, * Who
made the Fawn[FN#528] at striking going so knowing, eh?'
And to my soul, 'What smiting irketh thee the more-- * Striking
the gong or striking note of going,[FN#529] say?'"

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

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-third Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur al-Din
and Miriam the Girdle-girl rose forthwith and donned her clothes
and ornaments; but this was grievous to Nur al-Din, and his
gladness was troubled; the tears streamed from his eyes and he
recited these couplets,

"I ceased not to kiss that cheek with budding roses dight * And
eyes down cast and bit the same with most emphatic bite;
Until we were in gloria[FN#530] and lay him down the spy * And
sank his eyes within his brain declining further sight:
And struck the gongs as they that had the charge of them were
like * Muezzin crying duty-prayers in Allah's book indite.
Then rose she up right hastily and donned the dress she'd doffed
* Sore fearing lest a shooting-star[FN#531] upon our heads
alight.
And cried, 'O wish and will of me, O end of all my hopes! *
Behold the morning comes to us in brightest whitest light.'
I swear if but one day of rule were given to my life * And I were
made an Emperor of majesty and might,
Adown I'd break the buttresses of churches one and all * And by
their slaughter rid the earth of every shaveling wight."

Then the Lady Miriam pressed him to her bosom and kissed his
cheek and asked him, "O Nur al-Din, how long hast thou been in
this town?" "Seven days." "Hast thou walked about in it, and dost
thou know its ways and issues and its sea-gates and land gates?"
"Yes!" "Knowest thou the way to the offertory-chest[FN#532] of
the church?" "Yes!" "Since thou knowest all this, as soon as the
first third[FN#533] of the coming night is over, go to the
offertory-chest and take thence what thou wishest and willest.
Then open the door that giveth upon the tunnel[FN#534] leading to
the sea, and go down to the harbour, where thou wilt find a
little ship and ten men therein, and when the Rais shall see
thee, he will put out his hand to thee. Give him thy hand and he
will take thee up into the ship, and do thou wait there till I
come to thee. But 'ware and have a care lest sleep overtake thee
this night, or thou wilt repent whenas repentance shall avail
thee naught." Then the Princess farewelled him and going forth
from Nur al-Din, aroused from sleep her women and the rest of the
damsels, with whom she betook herself to the church door and
knocked; whereupon the ancient dame opened to her and she went
forth and found the knights and varlets standing without. They
brought her a dapple she-mule and she mounted: whereupon they
raised over her head a canopy[FN#535] with curtains of silk, and
the knights took hold of the mule's halter. Then the
guards[FN#536] encompassed her about, drawn brand in hand, and
fared on with her, followed by her, till they brought her to the
palace of the King her father. Meanwhile, Nur al-Din abode
concealed behind the curtain, under cover of which Miriam and he
had passed the night, till it was broad day, when the main door
was opened and the church became full of people. Then he mingled
with the folk and accosted the old Prioress, the guardian[FN#537]
of the shrine, who said to him, "Where didst thou lie last
night?" Said he, "In the town as thou badest me." Quoth she, "O
my son, thou hast done the right thing; for, hadst thou nighted
in the Church, she had slain thee on the foulest wise." And quoth
he, "Praised be Allah who hath delivered me from the evil of this
night!" Then he busied himself with the service of the church and
ceased not busying till day departed and night with darkness
starkened when he arose and opened the offertory-chest and took
thence of jewels whatso was light of weight and weighty of worth.
Then he tarried till the first watch of the night was past, when
he made his way to the postern of the tunnel and opening it, went
forth, calling on Allah for protection, and ceased not faring on
until, after finding and opening the door, he came to the sea.
Here he discovered the vessel moored to the shore near the gate;
and her skipper, a tall old man of comely aspect with a long
beard, standing in the waist, his ten men being ranged before
him. Nur al-Din gave him his hand, as Miriam had bidden him, and
the captain took it and pulling him on board of the ship cried
out to his crew, saying, "Cast off the moorings and put out to
sea with us, ere day break." Said one of the ten, "O my lord the
Captain, how shall we put out now, when the King hath notified us
that to-morrow he will embark in this ship and go round about the
sea, being fearful for his daughter Miriam from the Moslem
thieves?" But the Rais cried out at them saying, "Woe to you, O
accursed; Dare ye gainsay me and bandy words with me?" So saying
the old captain bared his blade and with it dealt the sailor who
had spoken a thrust in the throat, that the steel came out
gleaming from his nape; and quoth another of the sailors, "What
hath our comrade done of crime, that thou shouldst cut his
throat?" Thereupon the captain clapped hand to sword and smote
the speaker's head, nor did he leave smiting the rest of the
sailors till he had slain them all, one after other, and cast the
ten bodies ashore. Then he turned to Nur al-Din and cried out at
him with a terrible great cry, that made him tremble, saying, "Go
down and pull up the mooring-satke." Nur al-Din feared lest he
should strike him also with the sword; so he sprang up and leapt
ashore and pulling up the stake jumped aboard again, swiftlier
than the dazzling leven. The captain ceased not to bid him do
this and do that and tack and wear hither and thither and look at
the stars, and Nur al-Din did all that he bade him, with heart
a-quaking for affright; whilst he himself spread the sails, and
the ship fared with the twain into the dashing sea, swollen with
clashing billows.--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and
ceased to say her permitted say.

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