Ḥârith, being in affluence, crosses from Irak to Damascus to enjoy the luxury of that city. After he has had his fill of pleasure he bethinks himself of returning homeward, and joins a caravan that is about to cross the Semâweh, the desert which lies between Syria and the Euphrates. The travellers are ready to depart, but are delayed by their inability to find an escort, which they think indispensable for their protection against robbers. While they are consulting they are watched by a dervish, who at last announces to them that he has the means of keeping them safe from harm; and, on their inquiring further, tells them that his safeguard is a magic form of words revealed to him in a dream. They are at first incredulous, but at length consent to take him with them, and to use his incantation. He then repeats it, and it proves to be a prayer full of assonances and rhymes, beseeching the general protection of the Almighty. They all learn it by heart and then set forth, repeating it twice a day on their journey. As they are not molested on the road they judge the charm to have been successful; and when they come in sight of ‘Ânah, the first town on the other side of the desert, they reward him richly with what he likes best, gold and jewels. When he has taken all he can get, he makes his escape, and the next thing they hear of him is that he is drinking in the taverns of ‘Ânah, a city celebrated for its wine. Ḥârith, shocked at this enormity in a pious dervish, determines to seek him out, and soon finds him revel­ling amid wine and music in the guest chamber of a wine-shop. He taxes him with his wickedness, and then the old man improvises a Bacchanalian chant, which is one of the finest pieces in Ḥarîri’s work. In form this poem resembles that which is introduced into the last Assembly, though the metre is more light and lively, as Ḥarîri, no doubt, desired to display his genius by the contrast. Ḥârith, charmed with the verses, asks who the old man is; and from his answer discovers that he is Abû Zayd. He makes an ineffectual attempt to reclaim him, and then quits the wine-shop, repentant at having set foot in such a place. This Assembly is one of the most admired productions of the author, who has lavished on it all the resources of his marvellous rhetoric. It has been imitated with great skill by Rückert; who, however, wanders very far from the original.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related:—I journeyed from Irak to the Ghûṭah; and then was I master of haltered steeds and envied wealth.—Freedom of arm called me to diversion, fullness of store led me to pride. —And when I had reached the place after toil of soul, after making lean my camel,—I found it such as tongues describe it; and in it was whatever souls long for or eyes delight in.—So I thanked the bounty of travel and ran a heat with pleasure:—And began there to break the seals of desires and gather the clusters of delights.— Until some travellers were making ready for the journey to Irak, and I had so recovered from my drowning, that regret visited me in calling to mind my home and long­ing after my fold.—Then I struck the tents of exile and saddled the steeds of return.—And when the company had equipped themselves and agreement was completed, we shrank from setting forth without taking with us a guard.—And we sought one from every tribe and used a thousand devices to obtain him.— But to find him in the clans failed, so that we thought he was not among the living.—And for the want of such a one the resolves of the travellers were bewildered, and they assembled at the gate of Jayrûn to take counsel.—And they ceased not tying and untying, and plaiting and twining, until suggestion was exhausted and the hoper despaired.— But opposite them was a person whose demeanour was as the demeanour of the youthful, and his garb as the garb of monks, and in his hand was the rosary of women, and in his eyes the mark of giddiness from watchings.— And he had fastened his gaze on the assemblage and sharpened his ear to steal a hearing.—And when it was the time of their turning homeward and their secret was manifest to him,—He said to them, “O people, let your care relieve itself, let your mind be tranquil; for I will guard you with that which shall put off your fear and show itself in accord with you.”—Said the narrator: Then we asked him to show us concerning his safe con­duct, and promised him a higher wage for it than for an embassy.—And he declared it to be some words which he had been taught in a dream, whereby to guard him­self from the malice of mankind.—Then began one to steal a look at another, and to move his eyes between glances sideward and downward.—So that it was plain to him that we thought meanly of his story, and conceived it to be futile.—Whereupon he said, How is it that ye take my earnest for jest, and treat my gold as dross?—Now, by Allah, oft have I gone through fearful tracts and entered among deadly dangers:—And with this I have needed not the companying of a guard or to take with me a quiver.—Besides, I will remove what gives you doubt, I will draw away the distrust that has come on you,—In that I will consent with you in the desert and accompany you on the Semâweh.—Then, if my promise has spoken you true, do ye renew my weal and prosper my fortune:—But if my mouth has lied to you, then rend my skin and pour out my blood.

Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Then we were in­spired to believe his vision and take as true what he had related;— So we ceased from disputing with him and cast lots for carrying him.—And at his word we cut the loops of hindrance, and put away fear of harm or stay;—And when the pack saddles were fastened on and the setting forth was near, we sought to learn from him the magic words that we might make them a lasting safeguard.—He said: Let each of you repeat the Mother of the Koran as often as day or night comes on; —Then let him say with lowly tongue and humble voice, —O God! O thou who givest life to the mouldering dead! O thou who avertest harms! O thou who guardest from terrors! O thou generous in rewarding! O thou the refuge of suppliants! O thou the Lord of pardon and protection! Send thy blessing on Mohammed, the Seal of thy prophets, the Bringer of thy messages, and on the Lights of his kindred, the Keys of his victory;— And give me refuge, O God, from the mischiefs of devils and the assaults of princes; from the vexing of the wrongers, and from suffering through the tyrannous; from the enmity of transgressors, and from the trans­gression of enemies; from the conquest of conquerors, from the spoiling of spoilers, from the crafts of the crafty, from the treacheries of the treacherous;—And deliver me, O God, from the wrongfulness of neighbours and the neighbourhood of the wrongful;—And keep from me the hands of the harmful; bring me forth from the darkness of the oppressors; place me by thy mercy among thy servants who do aright.—O God, keep me in my own land and in my journeying, in my exile and my coming homeward, in my foraging and my return from it, in my trafficking and my success from it, in my adventuring and my withdrawing from it.—And guard me in myself and my property, in my honour and my goods, in my family and my means, in my household and my dwelling, in my strength and my fortune, in my riches and my death.—Bring not on me reverse; make not the invader lord over me, but give me from thyself helping power.—O God, watch over me with thy eye and thy aid, distinguish me by thy safeguard and thy bounty, befriend me with thy election and thy good, and consign me not to the keeping of any but thee.— But grant to me health that weareth not away, and allot to me comfort that perisheth not; and free me from the terrors of misfortune, and shelter me with the cover­ings of thy boons; make not the talons of enemies to prevail against me, for thou art He that heareth prayer.

Then he looked down, and he turned not a glance, he answered not a word:—So that we said, “A fear has confounded him or a stupor struck him dumb.”—Then he raised his head and drew his breath, and said, I swear by the heaven with its constellations, and the earth with its plains, and the pouring flood, and the blazing sun, and the sounding sea, and the wind and the dust-storm,— That this is the most sure of charms, one that will best suffice you for the wearers of the helmet.—He who repeats it at the smiling of the dawn has no alarm of danger to the red of eve;—And he who whispers it to the vanguard of the dark is safe the night long from plunder.

Said the narrator: So we learned it till we knew it thoroughly, and rehearsed it together that we might not forget it.—Then we set forth, urging the beasts by prayers, not by the song of drivers; and guarding the loads by words, not by warriors.—And our companion frequented us evening and morning, but required not of us our promises:—Till when we spied the house-tops of ‘Ânah, he said to us, “Now, your help, your help!”— Then we set before him the exposed and the hidden, and showed him the corded and the sealed.—And said to him, “Decide as thou wilt, for thou wilt find among us none but will consent.”—But nothing enlivened him but the light, the adorning; nothing was comely in his eye but the coin.—So of those he loaded on his burden, and rose up with enough to repair his poverty.—Then he dodged us as dodges the cut-purse, and slipped away from us as slips quicksilver.—And his departure saddened us, his shooting away astonished us:—And we ceased not to seek him in every assembly, and to ask news of him from each that might mislead or guide.—Until it was said, “Since he entered ‘Ânah he has not quitted the tavern.”—Then the foulness of this report set me on to test it, and to walk in a path to which I belonged not.— So I went by night to the wine-hall in disguised habit; and there was the old man in a gay-coloured dress amid casks and wine vats;—And about him were cup­bearers surpassing in beauty, and lights that glittered, and the myrtle and the jasmine, and the pipe and the lute.—And at one time he bade broach the wine casks, and at another he called the lutes to give utterance; and now he inhaled the perfumes, and now he courted the gazelles.—But when I had thus stumbled on his hypo­crisy, and the differing of his to-day from his yester­day;—I said to him, Woe to thee, accursed! hast thou forgotten the day at the Jayrûn?—But he laughed heartily, and then indited charmingly: