Book: Supplemental Nights, Volume 1

R >> Richard F. Burton >> Supplemental Nights, Volume 1







The Story of the Falcon and the Locust.[FN#485]



There was once, of old time, a Falcon who made himself a nest
hard by the home of a Locust, and his neighbour gloried in such
neighbourhood and betaking herself to him, saluted him with the
salam and said, "O my lord and lord of all the birds, indeed the
nearness to thee delighteth me and thou honourest me with thy
vicinity and my soul is fortified with thee." The Falcon thanked
her for this and friendship between them followed. One day, the
Locust said to the bird, "O prince of the flying race, how is it
that I see thee alone, solitary, having with thee no friend of
thy kind, the volatiles, on whom thou mayst repose in time of
gladness and of whom thou mayst seek aid in tide of sadness?
Indeed, 'tis said, 'Man goeth about seeking ease of body and ward
of strength,' and there is naught in this more necessary to him
than a true friend who shall be the crown of his comfort and the
column of his career and on whom shall be his dependence in his
distress and in his delight. Now I, although ardently desiring
thy weal in that which befitteth thy rank and degree, yet am weak
in that which the soul craveth; but, an thou deign give me leave,
I will seek out for thee one of the birds who shall fellow thee
in body and strength." And the Falcon said, "I commit this to
thee and rely upon thee herein." Thereupon, the Locust began
going round the company of the birds, but saw naught resembling
the Falcon in bulk and body save the Kite and thought well of
her. So she brought the twain together and counselled the Falcon
to foregather with the Kite. Presently it fortuned that the
Falcon fell sick and the Kite tarried with and tended him a long
while till he recovered and became sound and strong, wherefore he
thanked her and she fared from him. But after some days the
Falcon's sickness returned to him and he needed succour of the
Kite, so the Locust went out from him and was absent from him a
day; after which she returned to him with another locust,[FN#486]
saying, "I have brought thee this one." When the Falcon saw her,
he said, "God requite thee with good! Indeed, thou hast done well
in the quest and thou hast shown subtlety and discrimination in
the choice." All this befel because the Locust had no knowledge
of the essence which lurketh in the outer semblance of bodies.
"As for thee, O my brother (Allah requite thee with weal!), thou
wast subtle in device and usedst precaution; but forethought
availeth not against Fate, and Fortune foreordained baffleth
force of fence. How excellent is the saying of the poet when he
spake these couplets:--[FN#487]

'It chances whiles that the blind man escapes a pit, * Whilst he
who is clear of sight falls into it.
The ignorant man may speak with impunity * A word that is death
to the wise and the ripe of wit.
The true believer is pinched for his daily bread, * Whilst
infidel rogues enjoy all benefit.
Where is a man's resource and what can he do? * It is the
Almighty's will: we must submit.'"

"Nor" (continued the Wazir) "is this, O king of the age, rarer or
stranger than the story of the King and his Chamberlain's wife;
nay, this is more wondrous than that and more delectable." When
the king heard this story, he was strengthened in his resolve to
spare the Minister and to eschew haste in an affair whereof he
was not certified; so he comforted him and bade him hie to his
home.

The Twenty-fourth Night of the Month.

When it was night, the King summoned the Wazir and sought of him
the hearing of the story. Al-Rahwan replied, "Hearkening and
obedience! Listen, O august sovran, to




The Tale of the King and his Chamberlain's Wife.[FN#488]



There was once, in days of yore and in ages and times long gone
before, a King of the kings of the Persians, who was much
addicted to the love of fair women. His courtiers spoke him of
the wife of a certain of his Chamberlains, a model of beauty and
loveliness and perfect grace, and this egged him on to go in to
her. When she saw him, she knew him and said to him, "What urgeth
the King to this that he doeth?" and he replied, saying, "Verily,
I long for thee with excess of longing and there is no help but
that I enjoy thy favours." And he gave her of wealth that after
whose like women lust; but she said, "I cannot do the deed
whereof the king speaketh, for fear of my husband; "[FN#489] and
she refused herself to him with the most rigorous of refusals and
would not suffer him to win his wish. So the king went out in
wrath, and forgot his girdle in the place. Now it chanced that
her husband entered immediately after his lord had departed, and
saw the girdle and knew it. He was aware of the king's love for
women; so quoth he to his wife, "What be this I see with thee?"
Quoth she, "I'll tell thee the truth," and recounted to him the
occurrence; but he believed her not and suspicion entered his
heart. As for the King, he passed that night in care and concern,
and when the morning morrowed, he summoned that Chamberlain and
made him governor of one of his provinces; then he bade him
betake himself thither, purposing, after he should have departed
and fared afar, to foregather with his wife. The Chamberlain
perceived his project and kenned his intent; so he answered,
saying, "To hear is to obey!" presently adding, "I will go and
order my affairs and give such injunctions as may be needed for
the well-doing of my affairs; then will I go about the sovran's
commission." And the King said, "Do this and make haste." So the
Chamberlain went about that which he needed and assembling his
wife's kinsfolk, said to them, "I am determined to dismiss my
wife." They took this ill of him and complained of him and
summoning him before the sovereign, sat prosecuting him. Now the
King had no knowledge of that which had passed; so he said to the
Chamberlain, "Why wilt thou put her away and how can thy soul
consent to this and why takest thou unto thyself a fine and
fertile piece of land and presently forsakest it?" Answered the
husband, "Allah amend the king! By the Almighty, O my King, I saw
therein the trail of the lion and fear to enter that land, lest
the lion devour me; and the like of my affair with her is that
which befel between the Crone and the Draper's Wife. The king
asked, "What is their adventure?" and the Chamberlain answered,
"Hear, O king,




The Story of the Crone and the Draper's Wife.[FN#490]



There was once a man of the Drapers, who had a beautiful wife,
and she was curtained[FN#491] and chaste. A certain young man saw
her coming forth of the Hammam and loved her and his heart was
engrossed with her. So he devised for access to her all manner of
devices, but availed not to foregather with her; and when he was
a-weary and his patience failed for travail and trouble and his
fortitude betrayed and forsook him and he was at an end of his
resources against her, he complained of this to an ill-omened
crone,[FN#492] who promised him to bring about union between him
and his beloved. He thanked her for this and promised her all
manner of douceurs; and she said to him, "Hie thee to her husband
and buy of him a turband-cloth of fine linen, and let it be of
the very best of stuff." So he repaired to the Draper and buying
of him a turband-cloth of lawn, returned and gave it to the old
woman, who took it and burned it in two places. Then she donned
the dress of a devotee and taking the turband-cloth with her,
went to the Draper's house and knocked at the door. When the
Draper's wife saw her thus habited as a holy woman, she opened to
her and admitted her with kindly reception, and made much of her
and welcomed her: so the crone went in to her and conversed with
her awhile. Then said she to her, "I want to make the
Wuzu-ablution preparatory to prayer."[FN#493] At these words the
wife brought the water and she made the ablution and standing up
to pray, prayed and satisfied herself; and when she had ended her
orisons, she left the turband-cloth in the place of prayer and
fared forth. Presently, in came the Draper, at the hour of
night-devotions, and sitting down in the prayer-place where the
old woman had prayed, looked about him and espied the turband. He
knew it and suspected foul play; so wrath showed in his face and
he was furious with his wife and reviled her and abode his day
and his night without speaking to her, during all which while she
knew not the cause of his rage. Then she looked and seeing the
turband-cloth before him and noting the traces of burning
thereon, understood that his anger was on account of this and
concluded that he was in ill-temper because it was burnt. When
the morning morrowed, the Draper went out, still wroth with his
wife, and the crone returned to her and found her changed of
colour, pale of complexion, dejected and heart-broken. So she
questioned her of the cause, and the wife told her how her
husband was angered against her on account of the burns in the
turband-cloth.[FN#494] Rejoined the old woman, "O my daughter, be
not chagrined; for I have a son, a fine-drawer, and he, by thy
life, shall fine-draw the holes and restore the turband-cloth as
it was." The wife rejoiced in her saying and asked her, "And when
shall this be?" The crone answered, "To-morrow, Inshallah--an it
please Allah the Most High--I will bring him to thee, at the time
of thy husband's going forth from thee, and he shall fine-draw it
and depart forthwith." Then she comforted her heart and going
away from her, returned to the young man and acquainted him with
what had passed. Now when the Draper saw the turband-cloth, he
determined to divorce his wife and waited only till he could
collect that which was obligatory on him of the contingent dowry
and what not else,[FN#495] for fear of her people. When the crone
arose in the morning, she took the young man and carried him into
the Draper's house. The wife opened the door to her and the
ill-omened old woman entered with him and said to the lady, "Go,
fetch that which thou wouldest have fine-drawn and give it to my
son." So saying, she bolted the door on her, whereupon the young
man raped[FN#496] her against her will and did his want of her
and went forth. Then cried the crone, "Know that this is my son
and that he loved thee with exceeding love and was like to lose
his life for longing after thee; so I devised for thee with this
device and came to thee with this turband-cloth, which is not thy
husband's, but my son's. Now have I won to my wish; so do thou
trust in me and I will put a sleight on thy husband for setting
thee right with him, and thou wilt be subject to me and to him
and to my son."[FN#497] And the wife replied, "'Tis well. Do so."
Presently the old woman returned to the lover and said, "Know
thou that I have engineered the affair for thee with her; and now
we must mend that we have marred. Hie thee and sit with the
Draper and mention to him the turband-cloth, saying, 'The turband
I bought of thee I chanced to burn in two places; so I gave it to
a certain old woman, to have fine-drawn, and she took it and went
away, and I know not her dwelling-place.'[FN#498] When thou seest
me pass by, rise and lay hold of me, and demand of me the cloth,
to the intent that I may arrange her affair with her spouse and
that matters go right with thee in her regard." Accordingly he
repaired to the Draper's shop and sat down by him and asked him,
"Thou knowest the turband-cloth I bought of thee?" "Yes."
"Knowest thou what is come of it?" "No." "After I bought it of
thee, I fumigated myself[FN#499] and it fortuned that the
turbandcloth was burnt in two places; so I gave it to a woman,
whose son, they said, was a fine-drawer, and she took it and
fared forth with it; and I know not her home." When the Draper
heard this, he was startled by the thought that he had suspected
his wife wrongfully, and marvelled at the story of the
turband-cloth, and his mind was made easy anent her. After a
short while up came the old woman, whereupon the young man sprang
to his feet and seizing her, demanded of her the turband-cloth.
Said she, "Know that I entered one of the houses and wuzu'd and
prayed in the prayerplace;[FN#500] and I forgot the turband-cloth
there and went out. Now I weet not the house in which I prayed,
nor have I been divinely directed[FN#501] thereto, and I go round
about every day till the night, so haply I may light on the
dwelling, for I know not its owner." When the Draper heard these
words, he said to the old woman, "Verily, Allah restoreth to thee
what thing thou hast lost. Be gladdened by good news, for the
turband-cloth is with me and in my house." And he arose
forthright and handed to her the turband-cloth, as it was, and
she handed it to the young man. Then the Draper made peace with
his wife and gave her raiment and jewellery, till she was content
and her heart was appeased.[FN#502] When the king heard his
Chamberlain's story, he was dazed and amazed and said to him,
"Abide on thy service and ear thy field for that the lion entered
it, but marred it not, and he will never more return thither."
[FN#503] Then he bestowed on him an honourable robe and made him
a costly present; and the man returned to his wife and people,
rejoicing, his heart having been set at rest concerning his wife.
"Nor" (continued the Wazir), "O King of the age, is this rarer or
stranger than the story of the beautiful wife, a woman gifted of
amorous grace, with the ugly Man, her husband." When King Shah
Bakht heard the Minister's speech, he deemed it delectable and it
pleased him; so he bade him hie to his house, and there he
tarried his day long.

The Twenty-fifth Night of the Month.

When the evening evened, the King summoned his Wazir and bade him
tell the tale. So he said, "'Tis well. Hear, O King,




The Tale of the Ugly Man and his Beautiful Wife.




There was once a man of the Arabs who had a number of children,
and amongst them a boy, never was seen a fairer than he of favour
nor a more complete in comeliness; no, nor a more perfect of
prudence. When he came to man's estate, his father married him to
his first cousin, the daughter of one of his paternal uncles, and
she excelled not in beauty, neither was she laudable for
qualities; wherefore she pleased not the youth, but he bore with
her for the sake of kinship. One day, he fared forth in quest of
certain camels[FN#504] of his which had strayed and hied him on
all his day and night till eventide, when he was fain to seek
hospitality in an Arab camp. So he alighted at one of the tents
of the tribesmen and there came forth to him a man short of
stature and foul of favour, who saluted him with the salam; and,
lodging him in a corner of the tent, sat entertaining him with
chat, the cheeriest that might be. When his food was dressed, the
Arab's wife brought it to the guest, and he looked at the
mistress of the tent and saw a semblance than which no seemlier
might be. Indeed, her beauty and loveliness, her symmetry and
perfect grace amazed him and he was struck with astonishment,
gazing now at her and then at her mate. When his looking grew
long, the man said to him, "Ho, thou son of the worthy! Busy
thyself with thine own business, for by me and this woman hangeth
a wondrous tale, which is even better than that thou seest of her
beauty; and I will tell it to thee when we have made a finish of
our food." So, when they had ended eating and drinking, the young
man asked his host for the story, and he said, "Know that in my
youth I was the same as thou seest me in the matter of
loathliness and foul favour; and I had brethren of the fairest of
the folk; wherefore my father preferred them over me and used to
show them kindness, to my exclusion, and made me serve in their
stead, like as a master employeth slaves. One day, a dromedary of
his strayed from the herd of camels, and he said to me, 'Go thou
forth in quest of her and return not but with her.' I replied,
'Send other than I of thy sons.' But he would not consent to this
and scolded me and insisted upon me, till the matter came to such
a pass with him that he took a thongwhip and fell to beating me.
So I arose and saddling a riding-camel, mounted her and sallied
forth at random, purposing to go out into the wolds and the wilds
and return to him never more. I fared on all my night and the
next day and coming at eventide[FN#505] to the encampment of this
my wife's people, alighted down with and became the guest of her
father, who was a Shaykh well stricken in years. Now when it was
the noon of night, I arose and went forth the tent at a call of
nature, and none knew of my case save this woman. The dogs
followed me as a suspected stranger and ceased not worrying
me[FN#506] till I fell on my back into a pit, wherein was water,
a deep hollow and a steep; and a dog of those dogs fell in with
me. The woman, who was then a girl in the bloom of youth, full of
strength and spirit, was moved to ruth on me, for the calamity
whereinto I was fallen, and coming to me with a rope, said to me,
'Catch hold of the rope,' So I hent it and clung to it and she
haled me up; but, when I was half-way up, I pulled her down and
she fell with me into the pit; and there we abode three days, she
and I and the hound. When her people arose in the morning and did
not see her, they sought her in the camp, but, finding her not
and missing me also, never doubted but she had fled with
me.[FN#507] Now she had four brothers, as they were Saker-hawks,
and they took horse and dispersed in search of us. When the day
yellowed on the fourth dawn, the dog began to bark and the other
hounds answered him and coming to the mouth of the pit, stood
howling to him. The Shaykh, my wife's father, hearing the howling
of the hounds, came up and standing at the brink of the hollow,
looked in and beheld a marvel. Now he was a brave man and a
sensible, an elder experienced in affairs, so he fetched a cord
and bringing forth the three, questioned us twain of our case. I
told him all that had betided and he fell a-pondering the affair.
Presently, her brothers returned, whereupon the old man
acquainted them with the whole case and said to them, 'O my sons,
know that your sister intended not aught but good, and if ye kill
this man, ye will earn abiding shame and ye will wrong him, and
wrong your own souls and eke your sister: for indeed there
appeareth no cause such as calleth for killing, and it may not be
denied that this accident is a thing whose like may well occur
and that he may easily have been the victim of suchlike chance.'
Then he addressed me and questioned me of my lineage; so I set
forth to him my genealogy and he, exclaiming, 'A man of her
match, honourable, understanding,' offered me his daughter in
wedlock. I consented to this and marrying her, took up my abode
with him and Allah hath opened on me the gates of weal and
wealth, so that I am become the richest in monies of the
tribesmen; and the Almighty hath stablished me in that which He
hath given me of His bounties." The young man marvelled at his
tale and lay the night with him; and when he arose in the
morning, he found his estrays. So he took them and returning to
his folk, acquainted them with what he had seen and all that had
befallen him. "Nor" (continued the Wazir) "is this stranger or
rarer than the story of the King who lost kingdom and wealth and
wife and children and Allah restored them to him and requited him
with a realm more magnificent than that which he had forfeited
and better and finer and greater of wealth and degree." The
Minister's story pleased the King and he bade him depart to his
abode.

The Twenty-sixth Night of the Month.

When came the night, the king summoned his Wazir and bade him
tell the story of the King who lost kingdom and wife and wealth.
He replied, "Hearing and obeying! Give ear, O sovran, to




The Tale of the King who lost Kingdom and Wife and Wealth
and Allah restored them to Him.[FN#508]



There was once a king of the kings of Hind, who was a model of
morals, praiseworthy in policy, lief of justice to his lieges,
lavish to men of learning and piety and abstinence and devoutness
and worship and shunning mischief-makers and froward folk, fools
and traitors. After such goodly fashion he abode in his kingship
what Allah the Most High willed of watches and days and
twelvemonths,[FN#509] and he married the daughter of his father's
brother, a beautiful woman and a winsome, endowed with brightness
and perfection, who had been reared in the king's house in
delicacy and delight. She bare him two sons, the most beauteous
that might be of boys, when came Destiny from whose decree is no
deliverance and Allah the Most High raised up against the King
another king, who came forth upon his realm, and was joined by
all the folk of the city that had a mind to lewdness and
frowardness. So he strengthened himself by means of them against
the King and compassed his kingdom, routing his troops and
killing his guards. The King took his wife, the mother of his
sons, and what he might of monies and saved his life and fled in
the darkness of the night, unknowing whither he should wend.
Whenas wayfare grew sore upon them, there met them highwaymen on
the way, who took all that was with them, so that naught remained
to each of them save a shirt and trousers; the robbers left them
without even provaunt or camels or other riding-cattle, and they
ceased not to fare on afoot, till they came to a copse, which was
an orchard of trees on the ocean shore.[FN#510] Now the road
which they would have followed was crossed by a sea-arm, but it
was shallow and scant of water; wherefore, when they reached that
place, the king took up one of his children and fording the water
with him, set him down on the further bank and returned for his
other son, whom also he seated by his brother. Lastly, returning
for their mother, he took her up and passing the water with her,
came to the place where he had left his children, but found them
not. Thereupon he looked at the midst of the island and saw an
old man and an old woman, engaged in making themselves a
reed-hut: so he set down his wife over against them and started
off in quest of his children, but none gave him news of them and
he went round about right and left, yet found not the whereabouts
they were. On this wise fared it with him; but as to the
children, they had entered the copse to make water, and they
found there a forest of trees, wherein, if a sturdy
horseman[FN#511] strayed, he might wander by the week, and never
know its first from its last. So the boys pushed into it and
wotted not how they should return and went astray in that wood,
for a purpose willed of Allah Almighty, whilst their father
sought them, but found them not. So he returned to their mother
and they abode weeping for their children; as for whom, when they
entered the forest, it swallowed them up and they fared at
hap-hazard, wandering in it many days, knowing not whence they
came or whither they went, till they issued forth, at another
side, upon the open country. Meanwhile, their parents, the king
and queen, tarried in the island, over against the old man and
his old woman, and ate of the fruits and drank of the rills that
were in it till, one day of the days, as they sat, behold, up
came a ship and made fast to the island-side, for provisioning
with water, whereupon they[FN#512] looked one at other and spoke.
The master of the craft was a Magian man and all that was
therein, both crew and goods, belonged to him, for he was a
trader and went round about the world. Now greed of gain deluded
the old man, the owner of the island, and he fared to the ship
and gave the Guebre news of the King's wife, setting out to him
her charms, till he made him long for her and his soul
moved[FN#513] him to practise treachery and cozenage upon her and
take her from her husband. Accordingly, he sent to her, saying,
"Aboard with us is a woman with child, and we dread lest she be
delivered this night: hast thou aught of skill in midwifery?" She
replied, "Yes." Now it was the last of the day; so he sent to her
to come up into the ship and deliver the woman, for that the
labour-pangs were come upon her; and he promised her clothes and
spendingmoney. Hereat, she embarked confidently, with heart at
ease for herself, and transported her gear to the ship; but no
sooner had she come thither than the sails were hoisted and the
canvas was loosed[FN#514] and the ship set sail. When the King
saw this, he cried out and his wife wept in the ship and would
have cast herself into the waves; but the Magian bade his men lay
hands on her. So they seized her and it was but a little while
ere the night darkened and the ship vanished from the King's
eyes; whereupon he fainted away for excess of weeping and
lamentation and passed his night bewailing his wife and his
children. And when the morning morrowed he began improvising
these couplets:--[FN#515]

"O World, how long, this spite, this enmity?
Say me, dost ever spare what spared can be?
And look! my friends have fared fain and free!
They went and went wi' them my dear delight
E'en from the day when friends to part were dight
And turbid made their lost life's clarity.
By Allah, ne'er I wist their worth aright
Nor ever wot I worth of friends unite
Till fared they, leaving flame in heart of me!

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.