In this Assembly the author displays more than his usual rhetor­ical subtlety, and while there is none more admired by those whose taste has been formed on Eastern models, there is none which appears more extravagant to the European student. Alliterations, verbal caprices, far-fetched expressions, and the puerile conceits which were usual among poets of the age, so abound, that we may almost imagine the author to be desirous of satirizing what he pro­fesses to imitate. The subject is as follows:—Ḥârith in his passion for the society of literary persons makes his way to Ḥolwân, a town in Irak, on the mountains east of Bagdad, and a resort of the higher classes from the heat of the capital. Here he meets with Abû Zayd, who is pursuing his calling of improvisatore and mendicant under various disguises, and enjoys for a long time his company and liter­ary guidance. Abû Zayd, however, disappears, and Ḥârith returns to his native place, Basra, where after a time he again meets Abû Zayd in the public library, among a crowd of dilettanti who are discussing the beauties of the popular poets. The admiration of one is especially excited by a line in which the teeth of a lady are compared to pearls and hailstones, and the white petals of a flower; and Abû Zayd instantly produces a number of comparisons in the same style, which give him a high place in the esteem of those present, when they are assured that he is really the author of them. They reward him, and the Assembly concludes by his reciting to Ḥârith, who had recognised him, some lines on the fickleness of fortune.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: Ever since my amulets were doffed and my turbans were donned, I was eager to visit learning’s seat and to jade to it the camels of seeking.—That through it I might cleave to what would be my ornament among men, my rain-cloud in thirst.—And through the excess of my longing to kindle at it, and my desire to robe myself in its raiment,—I discussed with every one, great and small, and sought my draught both of the rain-flood and the dew, and solaced myself with hope and desire.—Now when I de­scended at Ḥolwân, and had already tried the brethren, and tested their values, and proved what was worthless or fine;—I found there Abû Zayd of Serûj, shifting among the varieties of pedigree, beating about in various courses of gain-getting;—For at one time he claimed to be of the race of Sâsân, and at another he made himself kin to the princes of Ghassân; and now he sallied forth in the vesture of poets; and anon he put on the pride of nobles.—And yet with all this diversifying of his con­dition, and this display of contradiction,—He is adorned with grace and information, and courtesy and knowledge, and astonishing eloquence, and obedient improvisation, and excelling accomplishments, and a foot that mounts the hills of the sciences.—Now, through his goodly at­tainments he is associated with in spite of his faults; and through the largeness of his information there is a fond­ness for the sight of him; and through the blandishment of his fair-speaking men are loath to oppose him; and through the sweetness of his address he is helped to his desire.—Then I clung to his skirts for the sake of his peculiar accomplishments, and valued highly his affec­tion by reason of his precious qualities.

With him I wiped away my cares, and beheld my fortune dis­played to me, open of face, gleaming with light.

I looked upon his nearness to me as kinship, his abiding as wealth, his aspect as a full draught, his life as rain.

Thus we remained a long season; he produced for me daily some pleasantness, and drove some doubt from my heart,—Until the hand of want mixed for him the cup of parting, and the lack of a meal urged him to abandon Irak;—And the failures of supply cast him into desert regions, and the waving of the banner of distress ranged him in the line of travellers;—And he sharpened for departure the edge of determination, and journeyed away, drawing my heart with his leading cord.

After he was gone none pleased me who kept by me, none filled me with affection by urging me to intimacy.

Since he strayed away none has appeared to me his like in excel­lence; no friend has gotten the equal of his qualities.

So he was hidden from me a season: I knew not his lair; I found none to tell of him;—But when I had returned from my wandering to the place where my branch had sprouted,—I was once present in the town library, which is the council-hall of scholars, the meet­ing place of residents and strangers:—Then there entered one with a thick beard and a squalid aspect,—And he saluted those who sat, and took seat in the last rows of the people.—Then began he to produce what was in his wallet, and to astonish those present by the sagacity of his judgment.—And he said to the man who was next him, “What is the book into which thou lookest?”—He said, “The poems of Abû ‘Obâdeh; him of whose ex­cellence men bear witness.”—He said, “In what thou hast seen hast thou hit on any fine thing which thou admirest?”—He said, “Yes; the line

As though she smiled from strung pearls or hailstones, or camo­mile flowers.

For it is original in the use of similitude which it con­tains.”—He said to him, “Here is a wonder! here is a lack of taste,—Sir, thou hast taken for fat what is only swollen, thou hast blown on that which is no fuel:— Where art thou in comparison with the rare verse which unites the similitudes of the teeth?

My life a ransom for those teeth whose beauty charms, and which a purity adorns sufficing thee for all other.

She parts her lips from fresh pearls, and from hail-stones, and from camomile flowers, and from the palm shoot, and from bubbles.

Then each one approved the couplet and admired it, and bade him repeat it and dictate it.—And he was asked, “Whose is this verse, and is its author living or dead?”—He said, “By Allah, Right is most worthy to be followed, and truth is most fitting to be listened to:—Know, friends, that it is his who talks with you to­day.”—Said Al Ḥarith: Now it was as though the company doubted of his fathering, and were unwilling to give credit to his claim.—And he perceived what had fallen into their thoughts, and was aware of their inward unbelief;—And was afraid that blame might chance to him, or ill-fame reach him;—So he quoted from the Koran, “Some suspicions are a sin.”—Then he said, “O ye reciters of verse, physicians of sickly phrase!—Truly the purity of the gem is shown by the testing, and the hand of truth rends the cloak of doubt.—Now it was said aforetime that by trial is a man honoured or con­temned.—So come! I now expose my hidden store to the proving, I offer my saddle-bag for comparison.”— Then hastened one who was there and said: “I know a verse such that there is no weaving on its beam, such that no genius can supply one after its image.—Now, if thou wish to draw our hearts to thee, compose after this style:—

She rained pearls from the daffodil, and watered the rose, and bit upon the ‘unnâb with hailstone.

And it was but the glance of an eye, or less, before he recited rarely:—

I asked her when she met me to put off her crimson veil, and to endow my hearing with the sweetest of tidings:

And she removed the ruddy light which covered the brightness of her moon, and she dropped pearls from a perfumed ring.

Then all present were astonished at his readiness, and acknowledged his honesty.—And when he perceived that they approved his diction, and were hastening into the path of honouring him,—He looked down the twinkling of an eye; then he said, “Here are two other verses for you;” and recited:—

She came on the day when departure afflicted, in black robes, biting her fingers like one regretful, confounded:

And night lowered on her morn, and a branch supported them both, and she bit into crystal with pearls.

Then did the company set high his value, and deem that his steady rain was a plenteous one;—And they made pleasant their converse with him, and gave him goodly clothing.—Said the teller of this story: Now when I saw the blazing of his firebrand, and the gleam of his unveiled brightness, I fixed a long look to guess at him, and made my eye to stray over his countenance. —And lo! he was our Shaykh of Serûj; but now his dark night was moon-lit.—Then I congratulated myself on his coming thither, and hastened to kiss his hand:— And said to him, “What has changed thy appearance, so that I could not recognise thee? what has made thy beard gray, so that I knew not thy countenance?”— And he indited and said:—

The stroke of calamities makes us hoary, and fortune to men is a changer.

If it yields to-day to any, to-morrow it overcomes him.

Trust not the gleam of its lightning, for it is a deceitful gleam.

But be patient if it hounds calamities against thee, and drives them on.

For there is no disgrace on the pure gold when it is turned about in the fire.

Then he rose and departed from his place, and carried away our hearts with him.