One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  Six lines it hath; the first, ‘A fire is in my heart;’ The next

  line setteth forth my passion all in vain;

  The third, ‘My patience fails and eke my life doth waste;’ The

  fourth, ‘All love with me for ever shall remain.’

  The fifth, ‘When shall mine eyes behold thee? And the sixth,

  ‘When shall the day betide of meeting for us twain?

  And by way of subscription he wrote these words, ‘This letter is from the captive of desire, prisoned in the hold of longing, from which there is no deliverance but in union and intercourse with her whom he loveth, after absence and separation: for he suffereth grievous torment by reason of his severance from his beloved.’ Then his tears rushed out and he wrote the following verses:

  I write to thee, my love, and the tears run down as I write; For

  the tears of my eyes, alack I cease never day or night.

  Yet do I not despair; mayhap, of God His grace, The day shall

  dawn for us of union and delight.

  Then he folded the letter and sealed it and gave it to the old woman, saying, ‘Carry it to the lady Dunya.’ ‘I hear and obey,’ answered she; whereupon he gave her a thousand dinars and said to her, ‘O my mother, accept this, as a token of my affection.’ She took the letter and the money, calling down blessings on him, and returned to the princess. When the latter saw her, she said to her, ‘O my nurse, what is it he asks, that we may fulfil his wish to him?’ ‘O my lady,’ replied the old woman, ‘he sends thee this letter by me, and I know not what is in it.’ The princess took the letter and reading it, exclaimed, ‘Who and what is this merchant that he should dare to write to me thus?’ And she buffeted her face, saying, ‘What have we done that we should come in converse with shopkeepers? Alas! Alas! By Allah, but that I fear God the Most High, I would put him to death and crucify him before his shop!’ ‘What is in the letter,’ asked the old woman, ‘to trouble thy heart and move thine anger thus? Doth it contain a complaint of oppression or demand for the price of the stuff?’ ‘Out on thee!’ answered the princess. ‘There is none of this in it, nought but words of love and gallantry. This is all through thee: else how should this devil know me?’ ‘O my lady,’ rejoined the old woman, ‘thou sittest in thy high palace and none may win to thee, no, not even the birds of the air. God keep thee and keep thy youth from blame and reproach! Thou art a princess, the daughter of a king, and needest not reck of the barking of dogs. Blame me not that I brought thee this letter, knowing not what was in it; but it is my counsel that thou send him an answer, threatening him with death and forbidding him from this idle talk. Surely he will abstain and return not to the like of this.’ ‘I fear,’ said the princess, ‘that, if I write to him, he will conceive hopes of me.’ Quoth the old woman, ‘When he reads thy threats and menace of punishment, he will desist.’ So the princess called for inkhorn and paper and pen of brass and wrote the following verses:

  O thou who feignest thee the prey of love and wakefulness And

  plainst of that thou dost endure for passion and distress

  Thinkst thou, deluded one, to win thy wishes of the moon? Did

  ever any of a moon get union and liesse?

  I rede thee put away the thought of this thou seekst from thee,

  For that therein but peril is for thee and weariness.

  If thou to this thy speech return, a grievous punishment Shall

  surely fall on thee from me and ruin past redress.

  By Him, the Almighty God, I swear, who moulded man from clay, Him

  who gave fire unto the sun and lit the moon no less

  If thou offend anew, for sure, upon a cross of tree I’ll have

  thee crucified for all thy wealth and goodliness!

  Then she folded the letter and giving it to the old woman, said, ‘Carry this to him and bid him desist from this talk.’ ‘I hear and obey,’ replied she, and taking the letter, returned, rejoicing, to her own house, where she passed the night and in the morning betook herself to the shop of Taj el Mulouk, whom she found expecting her. At sight of her, he well-nigh lost his reason for delight, and when she came up to him, he rose to his feet and seated her by his side. Then she brought out the letter and gave it to him, saying, ‘Read this. When the princess read thy letter, she was angry; but I coaxed her and jested with her till I made her laugh, and she had pity on thee and has returned thee an answer.’ He thanked her and bade Aziz give her a thousand dinars: then he read her letter and fell to weeping sore, so that the old woman’s heart was moved to pity for him and his tears and complaints grieved her. So she said to him, ‘O my son, what is there in this scroll, that makes thee weep?’ ‘She threatens me with death and crucifixion,’ replied he, ‘and forbids me to write to her: but if I write not, my death were better than my life. So take thou my answer to her letter and let her do what she will.’ ‘By the life of thy youth,’ rejoined the old woman, ‘needs must I venture my life for thee, that I may bring thee to thy desire and help thee to win that thou hast at heart!’ And he said, ‘Whatever thou dost, I will requite thee therefor, and do thou determine of it; for thou art versed in affairs and skilled in all fashions of intrigue: difficult matters are easy to thee: and God can do all things.’ Then he took a scroll and wrote therein the following verses:

  My love with slaughter threatens me, woe’s me for my distress!

  But death is foreordained; to me, indeed, ‘twere happiness;

  Better death end a lover’s woes than that a weary life He live,

  rejected and forlorn, forbidden from liesse.

  Visit a lover, for God’s sake, whose every helper fails, And with

  thy sight thy captive slave and bondman deign to bless!

  Have ruth upon me, lady mine, for loving thee; for all, Who love

  the noble, stand excused for very passion’s stress.

  Then he sighed heavily and wept, till the old woman wept also and taking the letter, said to him, ‘Take heart and be of good cheer, for it shall go hard but I bring thee to thy desire.’ Then she rose and leaving him on coals of fire, returned to the princess, whom she found still pale with rage at Taj el Mulouk’s first letter. The nurse gave her his second letter, whereupon her anger redoubled and she said, ‘Did I not say he would conceive hopes of us?’ ‘What is this dog,’ replied the old woman, ‘that he should conceive hopes of thee?’ Quoth the princess, ‘Go back to him and tell him that, if he write to me again, I will have his head cut off.’ ‘Write this in a letter,’ answered the nurse, ‘and I will take it to him, that his fear may be the greater.’ So she took a scroll and wrote thereon the following verses:

  Harkye thou that letst the lessons of the past unheeded lie, Thou

  that lookst aloft, yet lackest power to win thy goal on

  high,

  Thinkest thou to reach Es Suha, O deluded one, although

  Even the moon’s too far to come at, shining in the middle

  sky?

  How then dar’st thou hope my favours and aspire to twinned

  delight And my spear-straight shape and slender in thine

  arms to girdle sigh?

  Leave this purpose, lest mine anger fall on thee some day of

  wrath, Such as e’en the parting-places shall with white for

  terror dye.

  Then she folded the letter and gave it to the old woman, who took it and returned to Taj el Mulouk. When he saw her, he rose to his feet and exclaimed, ‘May God not bereave me of the blessing of thy coming!’ Quoth she, ‘Take the answer to thy letter.’ He took it and reading it, wept sore and said, ‘Would some one would slay me now, for indeed death were easier to me than this my state!’ Then he took pen and inkhorn and paper and wrote the following verses:

  O my hope, have done with rigour; lay disdain and anger by, Visit

  one who, drowned in passion, doth for love and longing sigh.

  Think not, under thine estrangement, that my life I will endure.

  Lo, my soul, for
very severance from thy sight, is like to

  die.

  Then he folded the letter and gave it to the old woman, saying, ‘Grudge it not to me, though I have wearied thee to no purpose.’ And he bade Aziz give her other thousand dinars, saying, ‘O my mother, needs must this letter result in perfect union or complete separation.’ ‘O my son,’ replied she, ‘by Allah, I desire nought but thy weal; and it is my wish that she be thine, for indeed thou art the resplendent moon and she the rising sun. If I do not bring you together, there is no profit in my life: these ninety years have I lived in the practice of wile and intrigue; so how should I fail to unite two lovers, though in defiance of law?’ Then she took leave of him, after comforting his heart, and returned to the palace. Now she had hidden the letter in her hair: so she sat down by the princess and rubbing her head, said, ‘O my lady, maybe thou wilt comb out my hair: for it is long since I went to the bath.’ The princess bared her arms to the elbow and letting down the old woman’s hair, began to comb it, when out dropped the letter and Dunya seeing it, asked what it was. Quoth the nurse, ‘This paper must have stuck to me, as I sat in the merchant’s shop: give it me, that I may return it to him; belike it contains some reckoning of which he hath need.’ But the princess opened it, and reading it, cried out, ‘This is one of thy tricks, and hadst thou not reared me, I would lay violent hands on thee forthright! Verily God hath afflicted me with this merchant: but all that hath befallen me with him is of thy contrivance. I know not whence this fellow can have come: none but he would venture to affront me thus, and I fear lest this my case get wind, the more that it concerns one who is neither of my rank nor of my peers.’ ‘None would dare speak of this,’ rejoined the old woman, ‘for fear of thine anger and awe of thy father; so there can be no harm in sending him an answer.’ ‘O my nurse,’ said the princess, ‘verily this fellow is a devil. How can he dare to use such language to me and not dread the Sultan’s wrath? Indeed, I am perplexed about his case: if I order him to be put to death, it were unjust; and if I leave him, his presumption will increase.’ ‘Write him a letter,’ rejoined the old woman; ‘it may be he will desist.’ So she called for pen and ink and paper and wrote the following verses:

  Again and again I chide thee, yet folly ever again Lures thee:

  how long, with my writing, in verse shall I bid thee

  refrain,

  Whilst thou but growest in boldness for all forbidding? But I No

  grace save to keep thy secret, unto thy prayers may deign.

  Conceal thy passion nor ever reveal it; for, an thou speak, I

  will surely show thee no mercy nor yet my wrath contain.

  If to thy foolish daring thou turn thee anew, for sure, The raven

  of evil omen shall croak for thee death and bane;

  And slaughter shall come upon thee ere long, and under the earth

  To seek for a place of abiding, God wot, thou shalt be fain.

  Thy people, O self-deluder, thou’lt leave in mourning for thee;

  Ay, all their lives they shall sorrow for thee, fordone and

  slain.

  Then she folded the letter and committed it to the old woman, who took it and returning to Taj el Mulouk, gave it to him. When he read it, he knew that the princess was hard-hearted and that he should not win to her; so he complained to the Vizier and besought his advice. Quoth he, ‘Nothing will profit thee save that thou write to her and invoke the wrath of God upon her.’ And he said to Aziz, ‘O my brother, do thou write to her in my name, according to thy knowledge.’ So Aziz took a scroll and wrote the following verses:

  O Lord, by the Five Elders, deliver me, I pray, And her, for whom

  I suffer, in like affliction lay!

  Thou knowest that I weary in raging flames of love; Whilst she I

  love is cruel and saith me ever nay.

  How long shall I be tender to her, despite my pain? How long

  shall she ride roughshod o’er my weakness night and day?

  In agonies I wander of never-ceasing death And find nor friend

  nor helper, O Lord, to be my stay.

  Full fain would I forget her; but how can I forget, When for

  desire my patience is wasted all away?

  Thou that forbidst my passion the sweets of happy love, Art thou

  then safe from fortune, that shifts and changes aye?

  Art thou not glad and easeful and blest with happy life, Whilst

  I, for thee, an exile from folk and country stray?

  Then he folded the letter and gave it to Taj el Mulouk, who read the verses and was pleased with them. So he handed the letter to the old woman, who took it and carried it to the princess. When she read it, she was greatly enraged and said, ‘All that has befallen me comes from this pernicious old woman!’ Then she cried out to the damsels and eunuchs, saying, ‘Seize this accursed old trickstress and beat her with your slippers!’ So they beat her till she swooned away; and when she revived, the princess said to her, ‘By Allah, O wicked old woman, did I not fear God the Most High, I would kill thee!’ Then she bade them beat her again, and they did so, till she fainted a second time, whereupon the princess ordered them to drag her forth and throw her without the palace. So they dragged her along on her face and threw her down before the gate. When she came to herself, she rose and made the best of her way home, walking and resting by turns. She passed the night in her own house and in the morning, she went to Taj el Mulouk and told him what had passed, at which he was distressed and said, ‘O my mother, this that has befallen thee is grievous to us; but all things are according to fate and destiny.’ ‘Take comfort and be of good cheer,’ replied she; ‘for I will not give over striving, till I have brought thee and her together and made thee to enjoy the vile baggage who hath tortured me with beating.’ Quoth the prince, ‘Tell me the reason of her aversion to men.’ ‘It arose from what she saw in a dream,’ answered the old woman. ‘And what was this dream?’ asked the prince. ‘One night,’ replied she, ‘as she lay asleep, she saw a fowler spread his net upon the ground and scatter grain round it. Then he sat down hard by, and all the birds in the neighbourhood flocked to the net. Amongst the rest she saw a pair of pigeons, male and female; and whilst she was watching the net, the male bird’s foot caught in it and he began to struggle, whereupon all the other birds took fright and flew away. But presently his mate came back and hovered over him, then alighted on the net, unobserved by the fowler, and fell to picking and pulling at the mesh in which the male bird’s foot was entangled with her beak, till she released him and they flew away together. Then the fowler came up and mended his net and seated himself afar off. After awhile, the birds came back and the female pigeon was caught in the net, whereupon all the other birds took fright and flew away; and the male pigeon flew away with the rest and did not return to his mate. Then came the fowler and took the female pigeon and killed her. So the princess awoke, troubled by her dream, and said, “All males are worthless, like this pigeon: and men in general are wanting in goodness to women.”’ When the old woman had made an end of her story, the prince said to her, ‘O my mother, I desire to have one look at her, though it be my death; so do thou contrive me some means of seeing her.’ ‘Know then,’ answered she, ‘that she hath under her palace windows a pleasure-garden, to which she resorts once in every month by the private door. In ten days, the time of her thus going forth will arrive; so when she is about to visit the garden, I will come and tell thee, that thou mayst go thither and meet her. And look thou quit not the garden, for haply, if she sees thy beauty and grace, her heart will be taken with love of thee, and love is the most potent means of union.’ ‘I hear and obey,’ replied Taj el Mulouk. Then he and Aziz left the shop, and taking the old woman with them, showed her where they lodged. Then said the prince to Aziz, ‘I have no further need of the shop, having fulfilled my purpose of it; so I give it to thee with all that is in it; for that thou hast come abroad with me and hast left thy country for my sake.’ Aziz accepted his gift and they
sat conversing awhile, the prince questioning the young merchant of the strange passages of his life and the latter acquainting him with the particulars thereof. Presently, they went to the Vizier and acquainting him with Taj el Mulouk’s purpose, asked him what they should do. ‘Let us go to the garden,’ answered he. So they donned their richest clothes and went forth, followed by three white slaves, to the garden, which they found thick with trees and abounding in rills. At the gate, they saw the keeper sitting; so they saluted him and he returned their salute. Then the Vizier gave him a hundred dinars, saying, ‘Prithee, take this spending-money and fetch us something to eat; for we are strangers and I have with me these two lads, whom I wish to divert.’ The gardener took the money and said to them, ‘Enter and take your pleasure in the garden, for it is all yours; and sit down till I bring you what you require.’ So he went to the market, and the Vizier and his companions entered the garden. In a little while, the gardener returned with a roasted lamb and bread as white as cotton, which he placed before them, and they ate and drank; after which he set on sweetmeats, and they ate of them, then washed their hands and sat talking. Presently the Vizier said to the gardener, ‘Tell me about this garden: is it thine or dost thou rent it?’ ‘It does not belong to me,’ replied he, ‘but to the Princess Dunya, the King’s daughter.’ ‘What is thy wage?’ asked the Vizier, and the gardener answered, ‘One dinar every month and no more.’ Then the Vizier looked round about the garden and seeing in its midst a pavilion, lofty but old and dilapidated, said to the keeper, ‘O elder, I am minded to do here a good work, by which thou shalt remember me.’ ‘O my lord,’ rejoined the other, ‘what is that?’ ‘Take these three hundred dinars,’ answered the Vizier. When the keeper heard speak of the dinars, he said, ‘O my lord, do what thou wilt.’ So the Vizier gave him the money, saying, ‘God willing, we will work a good work in this place.’ Then they left the garden and returned to their lodging, where they passed the night. Next day, the Vizier sent for a plasterer and a painter and a skilful goldsmith, and furnishing them with all the tools and materials that they required, carried them to the garden, where he bade them plaster the walls of the pavilion and decorate it with various kinds of paintings. Then he sent for gold and ultramarine and said to the painter, ‘Paint me on the wall, at the upper end of the saloon, a fowler, with his nets spread and birds lighted round them and a female pigeon fallen into the net and entangled therein by the bill. Let this fill one compartment of the wall, and on the other paint the fowler seizing the pigeon and setting the knife to her throat, whilst the third compartment of the picture must show a great hawk seizing the male pigeon, her mate, and digging his talons into him.’ The painter did as the Vizier bade him, and when he and the other workmen had finished, they took their hire and went away. Then the Vizier and his companions took leave of the gardener and returned to their lodging, where they sat down to converse. And Taj el Mulouk said to Aziz, ‘O my brother, recite me some verses: haply it may dilate my breast and dispel my sad thoughts and assuage the fire of my heart.’ So Aziz chanted the following verses: