In this composition Ḥarîri displays his knowledge of the Ṭofayli jargon. Among the fancies of his age it was the custom to give to various kinds of food names compounded with and , such as are attached to a great number of animals and inanimate objects. As the Arabs of the desert called a bird , and a she-hyæna ; and as the milky way was called , so the Euphuists of the polished cities of Irak called a dish of rice by one kinyeh, or bye-name, and a dish of meat by another. To know these seems to have been considered a mark of good breeding; and the learned author did not think them unworthy of a place in his work, as one of the characteristics of the Arabic language. In the same spirit he introduces into the 30th Assembly a number of the cant terms used by the beggars of the time, or as they were called “the people of Sâsân.” The story of the Assembly is of the usual simplicity. Abû Zayd is pursuing his ordinary course of life at Naṣîbîn, in the Diyâr Rabî‘ah, when he is taken with a serious illness. His friends, hear­ing of it, hasten to his house in alarm, but are informed that he is better and will receive them. They find him prostrate, but as talkative as ever; and after he has entertained them with his con­versation for some time he tells his son, in the enigmatical language of Ṭofayl, to bring a repast for them. They partake of it, and leave him rejoicing in his recovery, and grateful for his hospitality.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: Irak was barren in a certain year through the failure of the stars that bring the rain-cloud;—And the travellers told of the tract of Naṣîbîn, and the comfort of its wealthy people. —Then I mounted a camel of Mahrah, and fixed a lance of Samhar,—And journeyed, land sending me on to land, and hill drawing me up from dale, until I reached it, worn man on worn beast.—Now when I had halted in its fertile dwelling-place, and won a portion in its pasture, I purposed that I would lay down my neck in it, and take its people for my neighbours,—Until the dried year should revive, and the spring-rain visit the land of my family.—Now, by Allah, my eye-ball had not tasted of its sleep, my night had not travailed of its day, ere I found Abû Zayd, the Serûji, roaming the quarters of Naṣîbîn, now stumbling with the crazed, now winning with the fortunate.—And from his mouth was he scattering pearls, and he milked the milk-flow with both his hands.—Then I found that my campaign had now gathered a booty, and my single lot had become two-fold;—And I ceased not to follow his shadow where-ever he sped, and to glean his utterance as often as he spoke,—Until there came on him a sickness whose term was prolonged, whose sharp knives bared his bone; so that it went near to rob him of the robe of life, to give up to Abû Yaḥya.—Then did I feel through the loss of his presence and the interruption of his teaching, as he feels that is put far from his desire, or the suckling at the weaning.—After this it was rumoured that his pledge was already forfeit, that the talon of death was fixed in him.—And his comrades were disturbed at the rumouring of the rumourers, and they swarmed to his courtyard, hurrying in:

Bewildered, their grief making them to reel, as if they had been sucking the old wine;

They poured forth their tears, and they rent their bosoms, and they beat their cheeks, and they wounded their heads;

And they had been willing that fate had made a peace with him, and had seized their possessions and themselves.

Said the narrator: Now I was of those who joined to his comrades and hastened to his gate.—And when we had arrived at his court-yard and assayed to scent the news of him, his boy came forth to us, his lips parted with a smile.—And we inquired concerning the Shaykh as regarded his complaints, and the truth of the strength of his disorders.—He said, “He was lately in the grasp of the sickness and the wearing of the fever; until the lingering disease wasted him, and the killing disease exhausted him.—But afterward God was gracious in strengthening his last gasp, and he recovered from his trance.—So return on your paths and put off your dis­quietude;—For he is now one to go out and in, and to pledge you in wine.”—Then we made much of his glad news, and urged that we might see him; and he entered announcing us, then came out permitting us:—And we found Abû Zayd a prostrate, but his tongue going freely. —Then we took seat about his bed, gazing on his linea­ments.—And he turned his eye round the assemblage; then said, Look on this, the offspring of the moment:

God has saved me, thanks be to Him, from a sickness that went near to blot me out;

And has granted me recovery; though it must needs be that death will one day waste me.

Death forgets me not; yet he gives me a delay before the end of my feeding.

If it be decreed, then will no friend avail, nay, not even the guarded domain of Kolayb, to guard me from him.

Nor care I if his day be near, or if death be put off for a season.

For what boast is there in life, in which I behold afflictions, nay, they wear me out?

Said Al Ḥârith: Then we saluted him with wishes for the lengthening of his term and the withdrawal of his fear;—And invited each other to rise through fear of annoying him.—But he said, “Nay, but stay with me during the light of to-day that by your pleasantry ye may heal my sadness;—For your conversation is the food of my soul, the magnet of my friendliness.”—Then we aimed at contenting him and guarded from disobeying him; and turned to discourse, gathering its cream, throwing away its froth;—Until the time of the day-sleep came on and the tongues were weary with talking. —And it was a day hot with a fervent heat, ripening the orchard.—So he said, “Surely drowsiness is now bending down your necks and seeking your eye-corners; and he is a strenuous adversary, a suitor not to be repulsed. —So make alliance with him by a day-sleep, and pattern in this by the Traditions handed down.”—Said the nar­rator: Then we followed what he said, and we slept and he slept; and God smote upon the ears, and poured out slumber on the eyelids,—Until we passed from the domain of Being, and by sleep were hindered from prayer.—And we waked not until the heat was now abated and the day was old.—Whereupon we washed hand and foot for the two mute prayers, and performed what loosed us of our debt.—Then we stirred for de­parture to the place of our camel-saddles.—But Abû Zayd turned to his cub, who was after his likeness and make, and said: I fancy that the Father of Indwelling has now lighted a coal in their stomachs;—So call for the Father of Assembling, for he is glad news for every hungry one:—And follow with the Father of Pleasant­ness, him who is patient at every wrong;—Then re­inforce by the Father of Lovingness, the loved of every one that is wise; him that is turned about between burning and torment;—And on! with the Father of Acuteness, for excellent is he as a companion;—And ho! with the Father of Help, for there is no attendant like him;—And if thou bring on the Father of Comeli­ness, how comely will he make his comeliness;—And haste with the Mother of Hospitality, her who may remind thee of Chosroes;—And forget not the Mother of Strengthening, for how many are those who tell of her; —And call to the Mother of Joyfulness; then assault her, it is no crime;—And end with the Father of Dignity, the consoler of every sorrowful one;—And if thou join with him the Father of Loftiness thou will blot out thy name from among the niggardly.—And beware of summoning the Two Rumourers before the rising of the camels of departure.—And when the company have ceased from their hand-washing, and have handled the Father of Softness,—Then carry round to them the Father of Generosity, for he is the sign of the generous.

Said Al Ḥârith: Then his son understood the deli­cacies of his hinting by the subtlety of his discernment. —And he went round among us with viands and per­fume, until the sun gave notice of the setting.—Now when we had resolved on departure, we said to him, “Seest thou not this marvellous day, how its morn showed gloomy, but its even is brilliant?”—And he prostrated himself long in prayer; then raised his head and said:

Despair not in calamities of a gladdening that shall wipe away thy sorrows;

For how many a simoom blows, then turns to a gentle breeze and is changed!

How many a hateful cloud arises, then passes away and pours not forth!

And the smoke of the wood, fear is conceived of it, yet no blaze appears from it;

And oft sorrow rises, and straightway sets again.

So be patient when fear assails, for time is the father of wonders;

And hope from the peace of God blessings not to be reckoned.

Said Al Ḥârith: Then we noted down his excellent verses and kept giving thanks to God Most High: and we took leave of him, glad at his recovery, overwhelmed by his bounty.