This and the following Assembly are justly reckoned among the master-pieces of the author. To pass suddenly from the most solemn subjects to pleasantry, to place in the mouth of a clever impostor the most serious warnings that can be addressed to mankind may be morally objectionable; but in the Moslem world, where religion is mixed up with all the concerns of life, and pious discourse and phrases abound, it excites little repugnance. The design of the author in the present composition was to produce an elaborate sermon in rhymed prose and in verse, and his genius takes a higher flight than usual. The incident on which the Assembly is founded is simple. Ḥârith, in a fit of religious zeal, betakes himself to the public burial ground of the city of Sâweh, for the purpose of contem­plation. He finds a funeral in progress, and when it is over, an old man, with his face muffled in a cloak, takes his stand on a hillock, and pours forth a discourse on the certainty of death and judgment, rebuking his hearers for their worldly selfishness, and warning them that wealth and power are of little avail against the general leveller. He then rises into poetry and declaims a piece which is one of the noblest productions of Arabic literature. In lofty morality, in reli­gious fervour, in beauty of language, in power and grace of metre, this magnificent hymn is unsurpassed. From this, and other similar compositions of Ḥarîri, a better idea of what is noblest and purest in Islam will be gained, than from all the works of the most orthodox doctors. Ḥârith, like the others who are present, is much affected; but he is indignant when he finds that the preacher is re­ceiving abundant alms, and that beyond a doubt he is Abû Zayd. He taxes him with his hypocrisy, and receives an impudent reply. They then separate angrily. In this Assembly a view of moral duties and future judgment is exhibited which differs little from that of Christians. The enlightened and polished man of letters of the fifth century was not likely to teach the coarse doctrines of a sensual paradise, to be secured by hard fighting, which roused the ignorant warriors of Arabia in the first days of Islam. In all the work of Ḥarîri, there is not a trace of this theology, which the West erroneously attributes to every Moslem. Self-denial and bene­volence are with him the duties of every man; and by them each may hope to obtain everlasting happiness, but on the nature of both future rewards and punishments he is discreetly silent.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I was aware of hardness of heart while I sojourned at Sâweh.—So I betook myself to the Tradition handed down, that its cure is by visiting the tombs.—And when I had reached the mansion of the dead, the storehouse of mouldering remains, I saw an assemblage over a grave that had been dug, and a corpse that was being buried.—So I drew aside to them, meditating on the end of man, and calling to mind those of my people who were gone.— And when they had sepulchred the dead, and the crying of Alas! was over, an old man stood forth on high, from a hillock, leaning on a staff.—And he had veiled his face with his cloak, and disguised his form for crafti­ness.—And he said: Let those who work, work for an end like this.—Now take thought, O ye negligent, and gird yourselves, ye slothful, and look well, ye observers.—How is it with you that the burying of your fellows grieves you not, and that the pouring in of the mould frightens you not; that ye heed not the visita­tions of misfortune; that ye prepare not for the going down to your graves; that ye are not moved to tears at the eye that weeps; that ye take not warning at the death-message when it is heard; that ye are not affrighted when an intimate is lost; that ye are not saddened when the mourning assembly is gathered?— One of you follows home the dead man’s bier, but his heart is set towards his house;—And he is present at the burying of his kinsman, but his thought is of securing his portion.—He leaves his loved friend with the worms, then retires alone with his pipes and lutes.— Ye have sorrowed over your riches, if but a grain were notched away, yet have ye been forgetful of the cutting off of your friends:—And ye have been cast down at the befalling of adversity, but have made little of the perish­ing of your kindred.—Ye have laughed at a funeral as ye laughed not in the hour of dancing; ye have walked wantonly behind biers, as ye walked not in the day that ye grasped gifts.—Ye have turned from the recital of the mourning women to the preparing of banquets; and from the anguish of the bereaved to daintiness in feastings.—Ye care not for him who moul­ders, and ye move not the thought of death in your mind.—So that it is as if ye were joined to Death by clientship, or had gotten security from Time, or were confident of your own safety, or had made sure of a peace with the Destroyer of delights.—No! it is an ill thing that ye imagine.—Again, no! surely ye shall learn. Then he recited:

O thou who claimest understanding; how long, O brother of delu­sion, wilt thou marshal sin and blame, and err exceeding error?

Is not the shame plain to thee? doth not hoariness warn thee? (and in its counsel there is no doubtfulness); nor hath thy hear­ing become deaf.

Is not Death calling thee? doth he not make thee hear his voice? dost thou not fear thy passing away, so as to be wary and anxious?

How long wilt thou be bewildered in carelessness, and walk proudly in vanity, and go eagerly to diversion, as if death were not for all?

Till when will last thy swerving, and thy delaying to mend habits that unite in thee vices whose every sort shall be collected in thee?

If thou anger thy Master thou art not disquieted at it; but if thy scheme be bootless thou burnest with vexation.

If the graving of the yellow one gleam to thee thou art joyful; but if the bier pass by thee thou feignest grief, and there is no grief.

Thou resistest him who counselleth righteousness; thou art hard in understanding; thou swervest aside: but thou followest the guid­ing of him who deceiveth, who lieth, who defameth.

Thou walkest in the desire of thy soul; thou schemest after money; but thou forgettest the darkness of the grave, and remem-berest not what is there.

But if true happiness had looked upon thee, thy own look would not have led thee amiss; nor wouldest thou be saddened when the preaching wipeth away griefs.

Thou shalt weep blood, not tears, when thou perceivest that no company can protect thee in the Court of Assembling; no kinsman of mother or father.

It is as though I could see thee when thou goest down to the vault and divest deep; when thy kinsmen have committed thee to a place narrower than a needle’s eye.

There is the body stretched out that the worms may devour it, until the coffin-wood is bored through and the bones moulder.

And afterward there is no escape from that review of souls: since Ṣirâṭ is prepared; its bridge is stretched over the fire to every one who cometh thither.

And how many a guide shall go astray! and how many a great one shall be vile! and how many a learned one shall slip and say “The business surpasseth.”

Therefore hasten, O simple one, to that by which the bitter is made sweet; for thy life is now near to decay and thou hast not withdrawn thyself from blame.

And rely not on fortune though it be soft, though it be gay: for so wilt thou be found like one deceived by a viper that spitteth venom.

And lower thyself from thy loftiness; for death is meeting thee and reaching at thy collar; and he is one who shrinketh not back when he hath purposed.

And avoid proud turning away of the cheek if fortune have pros­pered thee: bridle thy speech if it would run astray; for how happy is he who bridleth it!

And relieve the brother of sorrow, and believe him when he speaketh; and mend thy ragged conduct; for he hath prospered who mendeth it.

And plume him whose plumage hath fallen in calamity great or small; and sorrow not at the loss, and be not covetous in amassing.

And resist thy base nature, and accustom thy hand to liberality, and listen not to blame for it, and keep thy hand from hoarding.

And make provision of good for thy soul, and leave that which will bring on ill, and prepare the ship for thy journey, and dread the deep of the sea.

Thus have I given my precepts, friend, and shown as one who showeth clearly: and happy the man who walketh by my doctrines and maketh them his example.

Then he drew back his sleeve from an arm strong of sinew, on which he had fastened the splints of deceit not of fracture;—Presenting himself to beg in the garb of impudence:—And by it he beguiled those people until his sleeve was brimmed and full;—Then he came down from the hillock merry at the gift.—Said the narrator: But I pulled him from behind by the hem of his cloak; and he turned to me submissively, and faced me, salut­ing me:—And lo! it was our old Abû Zayd, in his very self, and in all his deceit: and I said to him,

How many, Abû Zayd, will be the varieties of thy cunning to drive the prey to thy net? and wilt thou not care who censures?

And he answered without shame and without hesi­tation:

Look well, and leave thy blaming; for, tell me, hast thou ever known a time when a man would not win of the world when the game was in his hands.

Then I said to him: Away with thee, Old Shaykh of Hell, laden with infamy!—For there is nothing like thee for the fairness of thy seeming and the foulness of thy purpose; except silvered dung or a whited sewer.— Then we parted; and I went away to the right, and he went away to the left; and I set myself to the quarter of the south, and he set himself to the quarter of the north.