One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  If I have borne myself blameworthily to you Or if I’ve made

  default in that which is your due,

  I do repent my fault; so let your clemency Th’ offender

  comprehend, who doth for pardon sue.

  When the King heard this, he embraced his son and kissing him between the eyes, made him sit by his side on the couch; then turned to the Vizier and looking on him with angry eyes, said to him, ‘O dog of a Vizier, why didst thou tell me that my son was mad and make my heart quake for him?’ Then he turned to the prince and said to him, ‘O my son, what is to-day called?’ ‘O my father,’ answered he, ‘to-day is Saturday and to-morrow Sunday: then come Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.’ ‘O my son, O Kemerezzeman,’ exclaimed the King, ‘praised be God for the preservation of thy reason! What is this present month called in Arabic?’

  ‘Dhoulcaadeh,’ answered Kemerezzeman, ‘and it is followed by Dhoulhejjeh; then comes Muherrem, then Sefer, then Rebia the First and Rebia the Second, the two Jumadas, Rejeb, Shaaban, Ramazan and Shewwal.’ At this the King rejoiced exceedingly and spat in the Vizier’s face, saying, ‘O wicked old man, how canst thou pretend that my son is mad? None is mad but thou.’ The Vizier shook his head and would have spoken, but bethought himself to wait awhile and see what befell. Then the King said to Kemerezzeman, ‘O my son, what is this thou sayest to the eunuch and the Vizier of a fair damsel that lay with thee last night? What damsel is this of whom thou speakest?’ Kemerezzeman laughed at his father’s words and replied, ‘O my father, I can bear no more jesting; so mock me not with another word, for my humour is soured by that you have done with me. Let it suffice thee to know that I consent to marry, but on condition that thou give me to wife her with whom I lay yesternight; for I am assured that it was thou sentest her to me and madest me in love with her, then tookest her away from beside me before the dawn.’ ‘O my son,’ rejoined the King, ‘the name of God encompass thee and preserve thy wit from madness! What young lady is this of whom thou talkest? By Allah, O my son, I know nothing of the affair, and I conjure thee, tell me if it be a delusion of sleep or a hallucination caused by food? Doubtless, thou layest down to sleep last night, with thy mind occupied with marriage and troubled with the thought of it (may God curse marriage and the hour in which it occurred to me and him who counselled it!) and dreamtest that a handsome young lady embraced thee and didst fancy thou sawst her on wake; but all this, O my son, is but an illusion of dreams.’ ‘Leave this talk,’ replied Kemerezzeman, ‘and swear to me by God, the All-wise Creator, the Humbler of the mighty and the Destroyer of the Chosroës, that thou knowest nothing of the young lady nor of her abiding-place.’ ‘By the virtue of the Most High God,’ said the King, ‘the God of Moses and Abraham, I know nothing of all this and it is assuredly but an illusion of dreams that thou hast seen in sleep.’ Quoth the prince, ‘I will give thee a proof that it was not a dream. Come, let me put a case to thee: did it ever happen to any to dream that he was fighting a sore battle and after to awake and find in his hand a sword besmeared with blood?’ ‘No, by Allah, O my son,’ answered the King, ‘this hath never been.’ ‘I will tell thee what happened to me,’ rejoined Kemerezzeman. ‘Meseemed I awoke from sleep in the middle of the past night and found a young lady lying by my side, whose shape and favour were as mine. I embraced her and turned her about with my hand and took her ring, which I put on my finger, and she pulled off my ring and put it on her finger. Then I went to sleep by her side, but refrained from her and was ashamed to kiss her on the mouth, deeming that thou hadst sent her to me, with intent to tempt me with her and incline me to marriage, and misdoubting thee to be hidden somewhere whence thou couldst see what I did with her. At point of day, I awoke and found no trace of her, nor could I come at any news of her, and there befell me what thou knowest of with the eunuch and the Vizier. How then can this have been a dream and a delusion, seeing that the ring is a reality? I should indeed have deemed it a dream but for her ring on my finger. Here it is: look at it, O King, and see what is its worth.’ So saying, he handed the ring to his father, who examined it and turned it over, then said to his son, ‘Verily, there hangs some mighty mystery by this ring and some strange secret. What befell thee last night is indeed a mysterious affair and I know not how this intruder came in upon us. None is the cause of all this trouble save the Vizier; but I conjure thee, O my son, to take patience, so haply God may do away this affliction from thee and bring thee complete relief: as quoth one of the poets:

  It may be Fate at last shall draw its bridle-rein And bring us

  happy chance; for Fortune changes still;

  And things shall happen yet, despite the things fordone, To

  further forth my hopes and bring me to my will.

  And now, O my son,’ added he, ‘I am certified that thou art not mad; but thy case is a strange one, none can unravel it for thee but God the Most High.’ ‘By Allah, O my father,’ cried the prince, ‘deal kindly with me and seek out this damsel and hasten her coming to me; else I shall die of grief.’ And he repeated the following verses, in a voice that betrayed the ardour of his passion:

  An if thy very promise of union prove untrue, Let but in sleep

  thy favours the longing lover cheer.

  “How can the phantom visit a lover’s eyes,” quoth they, “From

  which the grace of slumber is banned and banished sheer?”

  And he sighed and wept and groaned aloud from a wounded heart, whilst the tears streamed from his eyes. Then turning to his father, with submission and despondency, he said to him, ‘By Allah, O my father, I cannot endure to be parted from her even for an hour.’ The King smote hand upon hand and exclaimed, ‘There is no power and no virtue but in God, the Most High, the Sublime! There is no device can profit us in this affair!’ Then he took his son by the hand and carried him to the palace, where Kemerezzeman lay down on the bed of languor and the King sat at his head, weeping and mourning over him and leaving him not night or day, till at last the Vizier came in to him and said, ‘O King of the age and the time, how long wilt thou remain shut up with thy son and deny thyself to thy troops? Verily, the order of thy realm is like to be deranged, by reason of thine absence from thy grandees and officers of state. It behoves the man of understanding, if he have various wounds in his body, to apply him (first) to heal the most dangerous; so it is my counsel to thee that thou transport the prince to the pavilion overlooking the sea and shut thyself up with him there, setting apart Monday and Thursday in every week for state receptions and the transaction of public business. On these days let thine Amirs and Viziers and Chamberlains and deputies and captains and grandees and the rest of the troops and subjects have access to thee and submit their affairs to thee, and do thou their needs and judge between them and give and take with them and command and forbid. The rest of the week thou shalt pass with thy son Kemerezzeman, and thus do till God vouchsafe you both relief. Think not, O King, that thou art exempt from the shifts of fortune and the strokes of calamity; for the wise man is still on his guard, as well saith the poet:

  Thou madest fair thy thought of Fate, whenas the days were fair,

  And fearedst not the unknown ills that they to thee might

  bring.

  The nights were fair and calm to thee; thou wast deceived by

  them, For in the peace of night is born full many a

  troublous thing.

  O all ye children of mankind, to whom the Fates are kind, Let

  caution ever have a part in all your reckoning.’

  The King was struck with the Vizier’s words and deemed his counsel wise and timely, fearing lest the order of the state be deranged; so he rose at once and bade carry his son to the pavilion in question, which was built (upon a rock) midmost the water and was approached by a causeway, twenty cubits wide. It had windows on all sides, overlooking the sea; its floor was of variegated marble and its roof was painted in the richest colours and decorated with gold and lapis-lazuli. They furnished i
t for Kemerezzeman with embroidered rugs and carpets of the richest silk and hung the walls with choice brocades and curtains bespangled with jewels. In the midst they set him a couch of juniper-wood, inlaid with pearls and jewels, and he sat down thereon, like a man that had been sick twenty years; for the excess of his concern and passion for the young lady had wasted his charms and emaciated his body, and he could neither eat nor drink nor sleep. His father seated himself at his head, mourning sore for him, and every Monday and Thursday he gave his Viziers and Amirs and grandees and officers and the rest of his subjects leave to come in to him in the pavilion. So they entered and did their several service and abode with him till the end of the day, when they went their ways and he returned to his son, whom he left not night nor day; and on this wise did he many days and nights.

  To return to the Princess Budour. When the two Afrits carried her back to her palace and laid her on her bed, she slept on till daybreak, when she awoke and sitting up, looked right and left, but saw not the youth who had lain in her bosom. At this, her heart was troubled, her reason fled and she gave a great cry, whereupon all her damsels and nurses and serving-women awoke and came in to her; and the chief of them said to her, ‘What ails thee, O my lady?’ ‘O wretched old woman,’ answered the princess, ‘where is my beloved, the handsome youth that lay last night in my bosom? Tell me where he is gone.’ When the old woman heard this, the light in her eyes became darkness and she was sore in fear of her mischief and said to her, ‘O my lady Budour, what unseemly words are these?’ ‘Out on thee, pestilent crone that thou art!’ cried the princess. ‘Where is my beloved, the goodly youth with the shining face and the slender shape, the black eyes and the joined eyebrows, who lay with me last night from dusk until near daybreak?’ ‘By Allah, O my lady,’ replied the old woman, ‘I have seen no young man nor any other; but I conjure thee, leave this unseemly jesting, lest we be all undone. Belike, it may come to thy father’s ears and who shall deliver us from his hand?’ ‘I tell thee,’ rejoined Budour, ‘there lay a youth with me last night, one of the fairest-faced of men.’ ‘God preserve thy reason!’ exclaimed the nurse. ‘Indeed, no one lay with thee last night.’ The princess looked at her hand and seeing her own ring gone and Kemerezzeman’s ring on her finger in its stead, said to the nurse, ‘Out on thee, thou accursed traitress, wilt thou lie to me and tell me that none lay with me last night and forswear thyself to me?’ ‘By Allah,’ replied the nurse, ‘I do not lie to thee nor have I sworn falsely!’ Her words incensed the princess and drawing a sword she had by her, she smote the old woman with it and slew her; whereupon the eunuch and the waiting-women cried out at her and running to her father, acquainted him with her case. So he went to her forthright and said to her, ‘O my daughter, what ails thee?’ ‘O my father,’ answered she, ‘where is the young man that lay with me last night?’ Then her reason left her and she cast her eyes right and left and rent her dress even to the skirt. When the King saw this, he bade the women lay hands on her; so they seized and bound her, then putting a chain of iron about her neck, made her fast to the window and there left her. As for her father, the world was straitened upon him, when he saw what had befallen her, for that he loved her and her case was not a little thing to him. So he summoned the doctors and astrologers and magicians and said to them, ‘Whoso cureth my daughter of her disorder, I will marry him to her and give him half my kingdom; but whoso cometh to her and cureth her not, I will strike off his head and hang it over her palace-gate.’ Accordingly, all who went in to her, but failed to cure her, he beheaded and hung their heads over her palace-gate, till he had beheaded forty physicians and crucified as many astrologers on her account; wherefore all the folk held aloof from her, for all the physicians failed to cure her malady and her case was a puzzle to the men of science and the magicians. And as her longing and passion redoubled and love and distraction were sore upon her, she poured forth tears and repeated the following verses:

  My longing after thee, my moon, my foeman is; The thought of thee

  by night doth comrade with me dwell.

  I pass the darksome hours, and in my bosom flames A fire, for

  heat that’s like the very fire of hell.

  I’m smitten with excess of ardour and desire; By which my pain is

  grown an anguish fierce and fell.

  Then she sighed and repeated these also:

  My peace on the belovéd ones, where’er they light them down! I

  weary for the neighbourhood of those I love, full sore.

  My salutation unto you, — not that of taking leave, But greetings

  of abundant peace, increasing evermore!

  For, of a truth, I love you dear and love your land no less; But

  woe is me! I’m far away from that I weary for.

  Then she wept till her eyes grew weak and her cheeks pale and withered: and thus she abode three years. Now she had a foster-brother, by name Merzewan, who was absent from her all this time, travelling in far countries. He loved her with an exceeding love, passing that of brothers; so when he came back, he went in to his mother and asked for his foster-sister the princess Budour. ‘Alas, my son,’ answered she, ‘thy sister has been smitten with madness and has passed these three years, with an iron chain about her neck; and all the physicians and men of science have failed of curing her.’ When he heard this, he said, ‘I must needs go in to her; peradventure I may discover what ails her, and be able to cure her.’ ‘So be it,’ replied his mother; ‘but wait till to-morrow, that I may make shift for thee.’ Then she went to the princess’s palace and accosting the eunuch in charge of the door, made him a present and said to him, ‘I have a married daughter, who was brought up with thy mistress and is sore concerned for what has befallen her, and I desire of thy favour that my daughter may go in to her and look on her awhile, then return whence she came, and none shall know it.’ ‘This may not be, except by night,’ replied the eunuch, ‘after the King has visited the princess and gone away; then come thou and thy daughter.’ She kissed the eunuch’s hand and returning home, waited till the morrow at nightfall, when she dressed her son in woman’s apparel and taking him by the hand, carried him to the palace. When the eunuch saw her, he said, ‘Enter, but do not tarry long.’ So they went in and when Merzewan saw the princess in the aforesaid plight, he saluted her, after his mother had taken off his woman’s attire: then pulling out the books he had brought with him and lighting a candle, he began to recite certain conjurations. The princess looked at him and knowing him, said to him, ‘O my brother, thou hast been absent on thy travels and we have been cut off from news of thee.’ ‘True,’ answered he; ‘but God has brought me back in safety and I am now minded to set out again; nor has aught delayed me but the sad news I hear of thee; wherefore my heart ached for thee and I came to thee, so haply I may rid thee of thy malady.’ ‘O my brother,’ rejoined she, ‘thinkest thou it is madness ails me?’ ‘Yes,’ answered he, and she said, ‘Not so, by Allah! It is even as says the poet:

  Quoth they, “Thou’rt surely mad for him thou lov’st;” and I

  replied, “Indeed the sweets of life belong unto the raving

  race.

  Lo, those who love have not, for that, the upper hand of fate;

  Only the madman ’tis, I trow, o’ercometh time and space.

  Yes, I am mad; so bring me him for whom ye say I’m mad; And if he

  heal my madness, spare to blame me for my case.”’

  Then she told him that she was in love, and he said, ‘Tell me thy story and what befell thee: peradventure God may discover to me a means of deliverance for thee.’ ‘Know then,’ said she, ‘that one night I awoke from sleep, in the last watch of the night, and sitting up, saw by my side the handsomest of youths, as he were a willow-wand or an Indian cane, the tongue fails to describe him. Me-thought this was my father’s doing to try me, for that he had consulted me, when the kings sought me of him in marriage, and I had refused. It was this idea that withheld me from arousing him, for I thought
that if I did aught or embraced him, he would most like tell my father. When I awoke in the morning, I found his ring on my finger in place of my own, which he had taken; and, O my brother, my heart was taken with him at first sight; and for the violence of my passion and longing, I have never since known the taste of sleep and have no occupation save weeping and repeating verses night and day. This, then, O my brother, is the story of the cause of my (pretended) madness.’ Then she poured forth tears and repeated the following verses:

  Love has banished afar my delight; they are fled With a fawn that

  hath hearts for a pasturing-stead.

  To him lovers’ blood is a trifle, for whom My soul is a-wasting

  for passion and dread.

  I’m jealous for him of my sight and my thought; My heart is a spy

  on my eyes and my head.

  His eyelashes dart at us death-dealing shafts; The hearts that

  they light on are ruined and dead.

  Whilst yet there is left me a share in the world, Shall I see

  him, I wonder, or ever I’m sped?

  I fain would conceal what I suffer for him; ’Tis shown to the spy

  by the tears that I shed.

  When near, his enjoyment is distant from me: But his image is

  near, when afar he doth tread.

  ‘See then, O my brother,’ added she, ‘how thou mayest aid me in this my affliction.’ Merzewan bowed his head awhile, marvelling and knowing not what to do, then raised it and said to her, ‘I believe all thou hast said to be true, though the case of the young man passes my imagination: but I will go round about all countries and seek for what may heal thee; peradventure God shall appoint thy deliverance to be at my hand. Meanwhile, take patience and be not disquieted.’ So saying, he took leave of her, after he had prayed that she might be vouchsafed constancy, and left her repeating the following verses: