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uncle Shemseddin, “Verily, this thy nephew is perfect in all kinds of culture. I do not believe that his like is to be found in Egypt.” At this, Bedreddin arose and kissed the earth and sat down again in the posture of a servant before his master. When the Sultan had thus assured himself of his proficiency in the liberal arts, he rejoiced greatly and bestowing on him a splendid dress of honour, invested him with an office, whereby he might better his condition. Then Bedreddin arose and kissing the earth before the King, wished him enduring glory and craved leave to retire. The Sultan gave him leave; so he returned home with his uncle and they set food before them and they ate, after which Bedreddin repaired to his wife’s apartment and told her what had passed between the Sultan and himself. Quoth she, “He cannot fail to make thee his boon-companion and load thee with favours and presents; and by the grace of God, the splendours of thy perfections shall shine like the greater light,[1] wherever thou goest, by land or sea.” Then said he, “I purpose to make an ode in the King’s praise, that he may redouble in affection for me.” “That is well thought,” replied she. “Consider it well and word thy thought elegantly, and I doubt not but it will procure thee his favour.” So Bedreddin shut himself up and composed the following verses, which he copied in an ornamental hand:
My King hath reached the height of lordlihead; The shining path of virtue he doth tread.
His justice blocks the ways against his foes And peace and plenty showers on every stead.
Bold as a lion, pious, quick of wit, Angel or King,[2] he’s whichsoe’er is said.
He sends the suppliant content away. Words fail, indeed, to paint his goodlihead.
