This Assembly has little that is remarkable. Ḥârith is on the pilgrimage to Mecca, and, after having fulfilled the usual rites, he and his friends are diverting themselves with conversation, in a tent, during the heat of the day. An old man and a boy make their appearance, and when they are asked what they want, the old man utters a complimentary speech, soliciting relief for himself and his son. They promise it, and he then recites some verses, lamenting that his camel had broken down,and that he should have to return from the pilgrimage on foot. They promise him a camel, and desire to know what is his son’s request. The boy recites some verses, asking for various kinds of food in use among the ancient Arabs. Both receive what they desire from the company, and Ḥârith then asks whence they come. The old man, who is Abû Zayd, begins to tell them in verse of Serûj, and its destruction; but his tears hinder him from proceeding, and he departs abruptly. In this Assembly Abû Zayd and his son are not represented as practising any kind of knavery; and it may be assumed that they were really in want of a beast and food. This trait is in keeping with the thirty-first Assembly, which introduces Abû Zayd on the pilgrimage preaching to the assembled people. On that occasion he would not ask or even take alms, having made a vow of self-denial. In the present Assembly, though less strict, he will not commit an un­worthy action in a sacred place. The lingering religious sentiment and sense of honour in Abû Zayd’s character are always well observed by the author.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I rose up from the City of Peace for the pilgrimage of Islam:—And when, by the help of God, I had fulfilled my squalor and permitted myself perfumes and indulgence, there came upon the encampment of the Khayf the blaze of summer;—And I made a shelter perforce of what might ward off the mid-day heat.—Now when I was under a leather tent with a company of the polite; and the furnace of the gravel was now hot, and the noon blinded the eye of the chameleon;—Lo! there broke in upon us a tottering old man, whom followed a youth in agile prime.—And the old man greeted with the greeting of the well-bred, the intelligent, and answered with the answering of a kinsman, not a stranger.—Then he pleased us by what he scattered from his chaplet, and we wondered at his unreserve before we had emboldened him.—And we said to him, “What art thou? and how hast thou made way in, and not asked leave?”—He said, “As for me, I am a suppliant, a seeker of help; the secret of my misery is not hidden, and a look at me is my sufficient intercessor:—And as for my intrusion, to which suspicion clings, why, it is not wonderful, seeing there can be no veil over the generous.”—Then we asked him how he found his way to us, and by what he got direction towards us.—He said, “Truly generosity has a fragrance whose breathings steal forth, whose odours guide to its meadow;—And I was led by the exhaling of your perfume to the brightening of your bounty;— And the fragrant waving of your myrtle told me glad-deningly that the return from your presence would be happy.”—Then we asked him concerning his want, that we might undertake to aid him.—He said, “I have a need and my boy a request.”—We said, “Either wish shall be fulfilled, and each of you shall surely be con­tented:—But the elder, the elder:” He said, “Certainly; by Him who has spread out the seven earths.”—Then he leaped up to speak like the camel loosed from the foot­rope, and recited;

I am a man whose beast has fallen with soreness of foot and weariness;

My distance is a far one, my pace is unequal to it:

With me is not as much as a mustard seed of the stamped gold:

My contriving is closed up, my bewilderment plays with me.

If I set out on foot, I fear destructive haps;

And if I lag behind the company my way is straitened.

My sighing is on the heights, my tear is on the slopes.

But ye are the foraging ground of him that hopes, the target of seeking;

Your grist pours down as pour not down the clouds:

Your neighbour dws in sanctuary, but your wealth is open to spoiling:

The terror-stricken does not take shelter with you, and then fear the tooth of calamities;

Nor does he that hopes seek the milk-flow of your gifts, and then fail to be gifted.

So now be ye moved by my story, and prosper my retiring from you;

For if ye had made trial of my life, in its meat and its drink,

Surely such distress as mine would pain you, distress that gives me up to sorrows.

And if ye were to learn my distinction, and my pedigree, and my path,

And what my knowledge embraces of choice studies,

No doubt would occur to you but that my breeding is my malady.

Now, would that I had not sucked at the breast of scholarship!

For its ill-luck has fallen on me; and in this thing was my father unduteous to me.

Then we said to him: “As for thee, thy verses have now disclosed thy poverty, and the perishing of thy she-camel;—So we will mount thee on that which will bring thee to thy city; and, now, what is the need of thy son?” —He said to him, “Rise, my boy, as thy father rose, and speak what is in thy mind; may thy mouth not be harmed!”—Then he rose up as rises the hero to the sally­ing forth, and unsheathed a tongue like a cutting blade, and recited:

O ye Lords, whose dwellings are built up on high places!

Who, when danger befalls, take stand to ward off stratagem;

To whom is easy the bestowing of stored up treasures;

I desire of you a piece of roast, and a loaf, and a pudding:

But if that be too dear, then let it be cracknels, in which shall be hidden some roast lamb;

Or if there be neither this nor that, then my fill of tharîd:

But if these deny themselves altogether, then mere dates with their sauce.

Bring forth what is easy for you, even though it be but shreddings of dried meat;

And make it ready quickly, for my soul is longing for what is ready.

For there is no doing without provision for my far journey;

And ye are the best of kindred to be called on in necessity;

Your hands every day are full of new bounties;

Your palms bestow all useful gifts.

Now my wish will limit itself within the folds of that which ye shall give.

Through me may reward be gotten; and estimable is the conse­quence of relieving my sorrow;

And mine are young offsprings of the wit which put to shame every poem.

Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Now when we saw that the cub was like the lion, we mounted the father and provisioned the son;—And they requited the kind­ness with thanks, which they spread out as robes, and they paid for it its due.—And when they were intent on departure, and had fastened for the journey the waist-folds of the skirt,—I said to the old man, “Has our pro­mise been like the promise of ‘Orḳûb, or does there re­main a need in the mind of Jacob?”—He said, “God forbid! surely not: nay, your kindness has been mighty and manifest.”—I said to him, “Reward us as we have rewarded thee, profit us as we have profited thee!— Where is thy cot? for perplexity has possessed us con­cerning thee.”—Then he sighed with the sighing of one who calls to mind his home, and recited, while sobbing hindered his tongue:

Serûj is my dwelling; but how to make way to it!

For enemies have encamped in it, and marred it.

Now by the House to which I have journeyed to lay down my sins in it,

Nought has pleased my eye since I have left the bounds of Serûj.

Then his eyes were drowned with tears, and his tear-founts permitted their flowing:—And he was unwilling to let them drop, but he could not restrain them.—So he cu short his sweet reciting, and was brief in his farewell and withdrew.