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Bid thine image hold off from my place of repose, What time in slumber men’s eyes do close,
So I may rest me and eke the fire Be quenched in mine entrails that ever glows.
For me, a sick one, whom passion’s hands Turn on the carpet of wake and woes,
Thou knowest well how it is with me: Are thy favours bought with a price, who knows?
Quoth Er Reshid, ‘This too is stolen.’ ‘Not so,’ said she; ‘it is mine.’ ‘If it be so,’ rejoined he, ‘change the rhyme once more.’ And she recited as follows:
Bid thou thine image no more molest My couch at the season of sleep and rest,
So I may ease me and eke the fire Be quenched that flames in my tortured breast.
For me, a sick one, whom passion’s hands On the couch of weeping turn East and West,
My plight thou know’st; will thy favour ne’er Come back, relenting, to make me blest?
Then said the Khalif, ‘Of what [part] of this encampment [art thou]?’ And she answered, ‘Of its midmost in dwelling and of its highest in tent-pole.’ Wherefore he knew that she was the chief’s daughter of the tribe.[1] ‘And thou,’ asked she, ‘of what [art thou among] the guardians of the horses?’ Quoth he, ‘Of the highest in tree and of the ripest in fruit.’ ‘God protect thee, O Commander of the Faithful!’ said she and called down blessings on him. Then she went away with the maidens of the Arabs, and the Khalif said to Jaafer, ‘Needs must I take her to wife.’ So Jaafer repaired to her father and said to him, ‘The Commander of the Faithful hath a mind to thy daughter.’ ‘With all my heart,’ replied he; ‘she is a gift as a handmaid to His Highness our lord the Commander of the Faithful.’ So
- ↑ The tent of the chief of the tribe stands in the midst of the encampment and is higher than the rest.
