Tales from the Arabic, vol 3 | Page 7

love of the female for the male; and indeed the love of him is mingled with my flesh and my blood and hath entered into the channels of my bones. O Commander of the Faithful, whenas I call him to mind, mine entrails are consumed, for that I have not accomplished my desire of him, and but that I fear to die, without seeing him, I would assuredly kill myself." And he said, "Art thou in my presence and bespeakest me with the like of these words? I will assuredly make thee forget thy lord."
Then he bade take her away; so she was carried to her chamber and he sent her a black slave-girl, with a casket, wherein were three thousand dinars and a carcanet of gold, set with pearls, great and small, and jewels, worth other three thousand, saying to her, "The slave-girl and that which is with her are a gift from me to thee." When she heard this, she said, "God forbid that I should be consoled for the love of my lord and my master, though with the earth full of gold!" And she improvised and recited the following verses:
I swear by his life, yea, I swear by the life of my love without peer, To please him or save him from hurt, I'd enter the fire without fear! "Console thou thyself for his love," quoth they, "with another than he;" But, "Nay, by his life," answered I, "I'll never forget him my dear!" A moon is my love, in a robe of loveliness proudly arrayed, And the splendours of new-broken day from his cheeks and his forehead shine clear.
Then the Khalif summoned her to his presence a fourth time and said to her, "O Sitt el Milah, sing." So she improvised and sang the following verses:
To his beloved one the lover's heart's inclined; His soul's a captive slave, in sickness' hands confined. "What is the taste of love?" quoth one, and I replied, "Sweet water 'tis at first; but torment lurks behind." Love's slave, I keep my troth with them; but, when they vowed, Fate made itself Urcoub,[FN#16] whom never oath could bind. What is there in the tents? Their burdens are become A lover's, whose belov'd is in the litters' shrined. In every halting-place like Joseph[FN#17] she appears And he in every stead with Jacob's grief[FN#18] is pined.
When she had made an end of her song, she threw the lute from her hand and wept till she swooned away. So they sprinkled on her rose-water, mingled with musk, and willow-flower water; and when she came to herself, Er Reshid said to her, "O Sitt el Milah, this is not fair dealing in thee. We love thee and thou lovest another." "O Commander of the Faithful," answered she, "there is no help for it." Therewithal he was wroth with her and said, "By the virtue of Hemzeh[FN#19] and Akil[FN#20] and Mohammed, Prince of the Apostles, if thou name one other than I in my presence, I will bid strike off thy head!" Then he bade return her to her chamber, whilst she wept and recited the following verses:
If I must die, then welcome death to heal My woes; 'twere lighter than the pangs I feel. What if the sabre cut me limb from limb! No torment 'twere for lovers true and leal.
Then the Khalif went in to the Lady Zubeideh, pale with anger, and she noted this in him and said to him, "How cometh it that I see the Commander of the Faithful changed of colour?" "O daughter of my uncle," answered he, "I have a beautiful slave-girl, who reciteth verses and telleth stories, and she hath taken my whole heart; but she loveth other than I and avoucheth that she loveth her [former] master; wherefore I have sworn a great oath that, if she come again to my sitting-chamber and sing for other than I, I will assuredly take a span from her highest part."[FN#21]Quoth Zubeideh, "Let the Commander of the Faithful favour me with her presence, so I may look on her and hear her singing." So he bade fetch her and she came, whereupon the Lady Zubeideh withdrew behind the curtain, whereas she saw her not, and Er Reshid said to her, "Sing to us." So she took the lute and tuning it, sang the following verses:
Lo, since the day I left you, O my masters, Life is not sweet, no aye my heart is light. Yea, in the night the thought of you still slays me; Hidden are my traces from the wise men's sight, All for a wild deer's love, whose looks have snared me And on whose brows the morning glitters bright I am become, for severance from my loved one, Like a left hand, forsaken of the