One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  Their names when named heal all malady; * Cure and chase from

  heart every pain I dree:

  And my longings for love reach so high degree * That my Sprite is

  maddened each morn I see,

  And am grown of the crowd to be saw and say.

  No blame in them will I e’er espy: * No! nor aught of solace sans

  them descry:

  Your love hath shot me with pine, and I * Bear in heart a flame

  that shall never die,

  But fire my liver with fiery ray.

  All folk my sickness for marvel score * That in darkest night I

  wake evermore

  What ails them to torture this heart forlore * And deem right for

  loving my blood t’ outpour:

  And yet — how justly unjust are they!

  Would I wot who ’twas could obtain of you * To wrong a youth

  who’s so fain of you:

  By my life and by Him who made men of you * And the spy tell

  aught I complain of you

  He lies, by Allah, in foulest way!

  May the Lord my sickness never dispel, * Nor ever my heart of its

  pains be well,

  What day I regret that in love I fell * Or laud any land but

  wherein ye dwell:

  Wring my heart and ye will or make glad and gay!

  I have vitals shall ever be true to you * Though racked by the

  rigours not new to you

  Ere this wrong and this right I but sue to you: * Do what you

  will to thrall who to you

  Shall ne’er grudge his life at your feet to lay.”

  When Nur al-Din ceased to sing, the Princess Miriam marvelled at his song and thanked him therefor, saying, “Whoso’s case is thus it behoveth him to walk the ways of men and never do the deed of curs and cowards.” Now she was stout of heart and cunning in the sailing of ships over the salt sea, and she knew all the winds and their shiftings and every course of the main. So Nur al-Din said, “O my lady, hadst thou prolonged this case on me,538 I had surely died for stress of affright and chagrin, more by token of the fire of passion and love-longing and the cruel pangs of separation.” She laughed at his speech and rising without stay or delay brought out somewhat of food and liquor; and they ate and drank and enjoyed themselves and made merry. Then she drew forth rubies and other gems and precious stones and costly trinkets of gold and silver and all manner things of price, light of weight and weighty of worth, which she had taken from the palace of her sire and his treasuries, and displayed them to Nur al-Din, who rejoiced therein with joy exceeding. All this while the wind blew fair for them and merrily sailed the ship nor ceased sailing till they drew near the city of Alexandria and sighted its landmarks, old and new, and Pompey’s Pillar. When they made the port, Nur al-Din landed forthright and securing the ship to one of the Fulling-Stones,539 took somewhat of the treasures that Miriam had brought with her, and said to her, “O my lady, tarry in the ship, against I return and carry thee up into the city in such way as I should wish and will.” Quoth she, “It behoveth that this be done quickly, for tardiness in affairs engendereth repentance.” Quoth he, “There is no tardiness in me;” and, leaving her in the ship, went up into the city to the house of the druggist his father’s old fried, to borrow of his wife for Miriam veil and mantilla, and walking boots and petticoat-trousers after the usage of the women of Alexandria, unknowing that there was appointed to betide him of the shifts of Time, the Father of Wonders, that which was far beyond his reckoning. Thus it befel Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-girl; but as regards her sire the King of France, when he arose in the morning, he missed his daughter and questioned her women and her eunuchs of her. Answered they, “O our lord, she went out last night, to go to Church and after that we have no tidings of her.” But, as the King talked with them, behold, there arose so great a clamour of cries below the palace, that the place rang thereto, and he said, “What may be the news?” The folk replied, “O King, we have found ten men slain on the sea-shore, and the royal yacht is missing. Moreover we saw the postern of the Church, which giveth upon the tunnel leading to the sea, wide open; and the Moslem prisoner, who served in the Church, is missing.” Quoth the King, “An my ship be lost, without doubt or dispute.” — And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

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

  She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the King of France missed his daughter they brought him tidings of her, saying, “Thy yacht is lost”; and he replied, “An the craft be lost, without dispute or doubt my daughter is in it.” So he summoned without stay or delay the Captain of the Port and cried out at him, saying, “By the virtue540 of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, except thou and thy fighting men overtake my ship forthright and bring it back to me, with those who are therein, I will do thee die the foulest of deaths and make a terrible example of thee!” Thereupon the captain went out from before him, trembling, and betook himself to the ancient dame of the Church, to whom said he, ‘Heardest thou aught from the captive, that was with thee, anent his native land and what countryman he was?” And she answered, “He used to say, I come from the town of Alexandria.” When the captain heard the old woman’s words he returned forthright to the port and cried out to the sailors, “Make ready and set sail.” So they did his bidding and straightway putting out to sea, fared night and day till they sighted the city of Alexandria at the very time when Nur al-Din landed, leaving the Princess in the ship. They soon espied the royal yacht and knew her; so they moored their own vessel at a distance therefrom and putting off in a little frigate they had with them, which drew but two cubits of water and in which were an hundred fighting-men, amongst them the one-eyed Wazir (for that he was a stubborn tyrant and a froward devil and a wily thief, none could avail against his craft, as he were Abu Mohammed al-Battál541 ), they ceased not rowing till they reached the bark and boarding her, all at once, found none therein save the Princess Miriam. So they took her and the ship, and returning to their own vessel, after they had landed and waited a long while,542 set sail forthright for the land of the Franks, having accomplished their errand, without a fight or even drawing sword. The wind blew fair for them and they sailed on, without ceasing and with all diligence, till they reached the city of France and landing with the Princess Miriam carried her to her father, who received her, seated on the throne of his Kingship. As soon as he saw her, he said to her, “Woe to thee, O traitress! What ailed thee to leave the faith of thy fathers and forefathers and the safeguard of the Messiah, on whom is our reliance, and follow after the faith of the Vagrants,543 to wit, the faith of Al-Islam, the which arose with the sword against the Cross and the Images?” Replied Miriam, “I am not at fault, I went out by night to the church, to visit the Lady Mary and seek a blessing of her, when there fell upon me unawares a band of Moslem robbers, who gagged me and bound me fast and carrying me on board the barque, set sail with me for their own country. However, I beguiled them and talked with them of their religion, till they loosed my bonds; and ere I knew it thy men overtook me and delivered me. And by the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar and the Cross and the Crucified thereon, I rejoiced with joy exceeding in my release from them and my bosom broadened and I was glad for my deliverance from the bondage of the Moslems!” Rejoined the King, “Thou liest, O whore! O adultress! By the virtue of that which is revealed of prohibition and permission in the manifest Evangel,544 I will assuredly do thee die by the foulest of deaths and make thee the vilest of examples! Did it not suffice thee to do as thou didst the first time and put off thy lies upon us, but thou must return upon us with thy deceitful inventions?” Thereupon the King bade kill her and crucify her over the palace gate; but, at that moment the one-eyed Wazir, who had long been enamoured of the Princess, came in to him and said, “Ho King! slay her not, but give her to me to wife, and I will watch over her with the utmost ward
ing, nor will I go in unto her, till I have built her a palace of solid stone, exceeding high of foundation, so no thieves may avail to climb up to its terrace-roof; and when I have made an end of building it, I will sacrifice thirty Moslems before the gate thereof, as an expiatory offering to the Messiah for myself and for her.” The King granted his request and bade the priests and monks and patriarchs marry the Princess to him; so they did his bidding, whereupon he bade set about building a strong and lofty palace, befitting her rank and the workmen fell to work upon it. On this wise it betided the Princess Miriam and her sire and the one-eyed Wazir; but as regards Nur al-Din, when he came back with the petticoat-trousers and mantilla and walking boots and all the attire of Alexandrian women which he had borrowed of the druggist’s wife, he “found the air void and the fane afar545 “; — And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

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

  She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Nur al-Din, “found the air void546 and the fane afar,” his heart sank within him and he wept floods of tears and recited these verses,547

  “The phantom of Soada came by night to wake me towards morning

  while my companions were sleeping in the desert:

  But when we awoke to behold the nightly phantom, I saw the air

  vacant, and the place of visitation distant.”

  Then Nur al-Din walked on along the sea-shore and turned right and left, till he saw folk gathered together on the beach and heard them say, “O Moslems, there remaineth no honour to Alexandria-city, since the Franks enter it and snatch away those who are therein and return to their own land, at their leisure548 nor pursued of any of the Moslems or fighters for the Faith!” Quoth Nur al-Din to them, “What is to do?”; and quoth they, “O my son, one of the ships of the Franks, full of armed men, came down but now upon the port and carried off a ship which was moored here, with her that was therein, and made unmolested for their own land.” Nur al-Din fell down a-swoon, on hearing these words; and when he recovered they questioned him of his case and he told them all that had befallen him first and last; whereupon they all took to reviling him and railing at him, saying, “Why couldst thou not bring her up into the town without mantilla and muffler?” And all and each of the folk gave him some grievous word, berating him with sharp speech, and shooting at him some shaft of reproach, albeit one said, “Let him be; that which hath befallen him sufficeth him,” till he again fell down in a fainting-fit. And behold, at this moment, up came the old druggist, who, seeing the folk gathered together, drew near to learn what was the matter and found Nur al-Din lying a-swoon in their midst. So he sat down at his head and arousing him, said to him as soon as he recovered, “O my son, what is this case in which I see thee?” Nur al-Din said, “O uncle, I had brought back in a barque my lost slave-girl from her father’s city, suffering patiently all I suffered of perils and hardships; and when I came with her to this port, I made the vessel fast to the shore and leaving her therein, repaired to thy dwelling and took of thy consort what was needful for her, that I might bring her up into the town; but the Franks came and capturing barque and damsel made off unhindered, and returned to their own land.” Now when the Shaykh, the druggist, heard this, the light in his eyes became night and he grieved with sore grieving for Nur al-Din and said to him, “O my son, why didst thou not bring her out of the ship into the city without mantilla? But speech availeth not at this season; so rise, O my son, and come up with me to the city; haply Allah will vouchsafe thee a girl fairer than she, who shall console thee for her. Alhamdolillah-praised be Allah-who hath not made thee lose aught by her! Nay, thou hast gained by her. And bethink thee, O my son, that Union and Disunion are in the hands of the Most High King.” Replied Nur al-Din, “By Allah, O uncle, I can never be consoled for her loss nor will I ever leave seeking her, though on her account I drink the cup of death!” Rejoined the druggist, “O my son, and what art thou minded to do?” Quoth Nur al-Din, “I am minded to return to the land of the Franks549 and enter the city of France and emperil myself there; come what may, loss of life or gain of life.” Quoth the druggist, “O my son, there is an old saw, ‘Not always doth the crock escape the shock’; and if they did thee no hurt the first time, belike they will slay thee this time, more by token that they know thee now with full knowledge.” Quoth Nur al-Din, “O my uncle, let me set out and be slain for the love of her straightway and not die of despair for her loss by slow torments.” Now as Fate determined there was then a ship in port ready to sail, for its passengers had made an end of their affairs550 and the sailors had pulled up the mooring-stakes, when Nur al-Din embarked in her. So they shook out their canvas and relying on the Compassionate, put out to sea and sailed many days, with fair wind and weather, till behold, they fell in with certain of the Frank cruisers, which were scouring those waters and seizing upon all ships they saw, in their fear for the King’s daughter from the Moslem corsairs: and as often as they made prize of a Moslem ship, they carried all her people to the King of France, who put them to death in fulfilment of the vow he had vowed on account of his daughter Miriam. So, seeing the ship wherein was Nur al-Din they boarded her and taking him and the rest of the company prisoners, to the number of an hundred Moslems, carried them to the King and set them between his hands. He bade cut their throats. Accordingly they slaughtered them all forthwith, one after another, till there was none left but Nur al-Din, whom the headsman had left to the last, in pity of his tender age and slender shape. When the King saw him, he knew him right well and said to him, “Art thou not Nur al-Din, who was with us before?” Said he, “I was never with thee: and my name is not Nur al-Din, but Ibrahim.” Rejoined the King; “Thou liest, thou art Nur al-Din, he whom I gave to the ancient dame the Prioress, to help her in the service of the church.” But Nur al-Din replied, “O my lord, my name is Ibrahim.” Quoth the King, “Wait a while,” and bade his knights fetch the old woman forthright, saying, “When she cometh and seeth thee, she will know an thou be Nur al-Din or not.” At this juncture, behold, in came the one-eyed Wazir who had married the Princess and kissing the earth before the King said to him, “Know, O King, that the palace is finished; and thou knowest how I vowed to the Messiah that, when I had made an end of building it, I would cut thirty Moslems’ throats before its doors; wherefore I am come to take them of thee, that I may sacrifice them and so fulfil my vow to the Messiah. They shall be at my charge, by way of loan, and whenas there come prisoners to my hands, I will give thee other thirty in lieu of them.” Replied the King, ‘By the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, I have but this one captive left!” And he pointed to Nur al-Din, saying, “Take him and slaughter him at this very moment and the rest I will send thee when there come to my hands other prisoners of the Moslems.” Thereupon the one-eyed Wazir arose and took Nur al-Din and carried him to his palace, thinking to slaughter him on the threshold of the gate; but the painters said to him, “O my lord, we have two days’ painting yet to do: so bear with us and delay to cut the throat of this captive, till we have made an end of our work; haply by that time the rest of the thirty will come, so thou mayst despatch them all at one bout and accomplish thy vow in a single day.” Thereupon the Wazir bade imprison Nur al-Din. — And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

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

  She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Wazir bade imprison Nur al-Din, they carried him to the stables and left him there in chains, hungering and thirsting and making moan for himself; for indeed he saw death face to face. Now it fortuned, by the ordinance of Destiny and fore-ordained Fate, that the King had two stallions, own brothers,551 such as the Chosroe Kings might sigh in vain to possess themselves of one of them; they were called Sábik and Láhik552 and one of them was pure silvern white while the other was black as the darksome night. And all the Kings of the isles had said, “Whoso ste
aleth us one of these stallions, we will give him all he seeketh of red gold and pearls and gems;” but none could avail to steal them. Now one of them fell sick of a jaundice and there came a whiteness over his eyes;553 whereupon the King gathered together all the farriers in the city to treat him; but they all failed of his cure. Presently the Wazir came into the King; and finding him troubled because of the horse, thought to do away his concern and said to him, “O King, give me the stallion and I will cure him,” The King consented and caused carry the horse to the stable wherein Nur al-Din lay chained; but, when he missed his brother, he cried out with an exceeding great cry and neighed, so that he affrighted all the folk. The Wazir, seeing that he did thus but because he was parted from his brother, went to tell the King, who said, “If this, which is but a beast, cannot brook to be parted from his brother, how should it be with those that have reason?” And he bade his grooms take the other horse and put him with his brother in the Wazir’s stables, saying, “Tell the Minister that the two stallions be a gift from me to him, for the sake of my daughter Miriam.” Nur al-Din was lying in the stable, chained and shackled, when they brought in the two stallions and he saw that one of them had a film over his eyes. Now he had some knowledge of horses and of the doctoring of their diseases; so he said to himself, “This by Allah is my opportunity! I will go to the Wazir and lie to him, saying, ‘I will heal thee this horse’: then will I do with him somewhat that shall destroy his eyes, and he will slay me and I shall be at rest from this woe-full life.” So he waited till the Wazir entered the stable, to look upon the steed, and said to him, “O my lord, what will be my due, an I heal this horse, and make his eyes whole again?” Replied the Wazir, “As my head liveth, an thou cure him, I will spare thy life and give thee leave to crave a boon of me!” And Nur al-Din said, “O my lord, bid my hands be unbound!” So the Wazir bade unbind him and he rose and taking virgin glass,554 brayed it and mixed it with unslaked lime and a menstruum of onion-juice. Then he applied the whole to the horse’s eyes and bound them up, saying in himself, “Now will his eyes be put out and they will slay me and I shall be at rest from this woe-full life.” Then he passed the night with a heart free from the uncertainty555 of cark and care, humbling himself to Allah the Most High and saying, “O Lord, in Thy knowledge is that which dispenseth with asking and craving!” Now when the morning morrowed and the sun shone, the Wazir came to the stable and, loosing the bandage from the horse’s eyes considered them and found them finer than before, by the ordinance of the King who openeth evermore. So he said to Nur al-Din, “O Moslem, never in the world saw I the like of thee for the excellence of thy knowledge. By the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, thou makest me with wonder to admire, for all the farriers of our land have failed to heal this horse!” Then he went up to Nur al-Din and, doing off his shackles with his own hand, clad him in a costly dress and made him his master of the Horse; and he appointed him stipends and allowances and lodged him in a story over the stables. So Nur al-Din abode awhile, eating and drinking and making merry and bidding and forbidding those who tended the horses; and whoso neglected or failed to fodder those tied up in the stable wherein was his service, he would throw down and beat with grievous beating and lay him by the legs in bilboes of iron. Furthermore, he used every day to descend and visit the stallions and rub them down with his own hand, by reason of that which he knew of their value in the Wazir’s eyes and his love for them; wherefore the Minister rejoiced in him with joy exceeding and his breast broadened and he was right glad, unknowing what was to be the issue of his case. Now in the new palace, which the one-eyed Wazir had bought for Princess Miriam, was a lattice-window overlooking his old house and the flat wherein Nur al-Din lodged. The Wazir had a daughter, a virgin of extreme loveliness, as she were a fleeing gazelle or a bending branchlet, and it chanced that she sat one day at the lattice aforesaid and behold, she heard Nur al-Din, singing and solacing himself under his sorrows by improvising these verses,