THE THIRTEENTH ASSEMBLY, CALLED
“OF BAGDAD.”

This Assembly is remarkable for an enigmatical address, which is difficult to be understood, even by one acquainted with the original. Ḥârith is conversing with some poets, when an old woman, followed by some lean and feeble children, makes her appearance. She at once begins to solicit alms, and sets forth her former prosperity and her present distress in a composition the peculiarity of which is that she introduces into it the names of parts of the human body, each of which is to be taken, and is intelligible only when taken, in another sense. Thus the word which means eye-ball, means also he who looks upon one with respect, and must be understood in this second sense; the word has the meanings of eye-brow and attendant, the latter of which must be understood. The passage, though not much in accordance with European tastes, belongs to an order of composition which the Arabs, seduced by the extraordinary richness of their language, have much affected. The close of the address introduces, in an equally artificial manner, the names of colours. The old woman afterwards recites some charming verses, and obtains alms from the people. She is followed by Hârith, who discovers her to be Abû Zayd, the im­postor, who, when alone, is heard to improvise some verses on his own cleverness.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I was in com­pany, on the banks of the Zowrâ, with some Shaykhs of the poets.—They were such that no rival would keep up even with their dust, no disputant would run with them in the training-ground.—And we flowed in a discourse that shamed the flowers, until we had halved the day.—Now, when the yield of our thoughts was failing, and our souls were desiring after their nests,— We caught sight of an old woman, who approached from afar, and trotted the trot of a good steed.—And she was leading behind her some children, thinner than spindles, weaker than the young of doves.—And when she saw us, she failed not to make towards us;—And when she stood before us, she said: God save the faces present, though they are not of my acquaintance!—Know, O ye who are the refuge of the hoping, the stay of the widowed, that I am of the Princes of the tribes, the ladies that are kept jealously:—My people and my husband were wont to settle on the Breast, and to journey at the Heart, to burden the Back, to advance the Hand; but when Fortune destroyed the Arms, and pained the Liver by means of the Limbs; and turned about till Back was Belly; then the Eye-ball grew dim, and the Eye-brow restless, and the Eye went forth, and the Palm was lost, and the Fore-arm grew dry, and the Right hand broke, and the Elbows departed, and there remained to us neither Front tooth nor Eye tooth.— Now, since the Green life has become Dust-coloured, and the Yellow loved one has been Tarnished, my White day is made Black, and my Black temple is made White, so that the Blue-eyed enemy has pitied me, and now welcome the Red death!* And there follow me those of whom ye see that their look is a sufficient examining, that their yellowness is their interpreter:—The furthest desire of each is a mess, the extreme of his wish is a mantle.—Now I had sworn that I would not give my cheek to shame, except before the generous, even though I should die of misery.—But the soul that dwells in me has whispered me that succour will be found with you, and the discerning of my heart has announced to me that ye are the fountains of gifts.—Now may God brighten him who will make my vow sinless, and verify my ob­serving;—And who will look on me with an eye into which parsimony sets a mote, while bounty plucks it out.

Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Now we were astonished at the excellence of her signifying and at the beauties of her metaphor.—So we said to her, “Thy prose has enchanted us, but how is thy versifying?”— She said, “Without a boast, it would make a rock to gush forth.”—We said, “If thou wilt place us among thy Reciters, we will not be niggardly in imparting to thee.”—She said, “I will first show you my worn out garment, and then give you to recite my poems.”—Then she put forth the sleeve of a well worn smock, and un­veiled the look of a crafty old woman, and indited:

I complain to God, with the complaining of the sick, against the trouble of the unjust, the hateful time.

O friends, I am of people who prospered long time, while the eyelid of fortune was cast down before them:

Their glory there was none to forbid, and their fame was spread abroad among men.

When foraging failed in the ashy year they were a goodly meadow:

Their fires were kindled to the travellers, and they fed the guest with fresh meat:

Their neighbour passed not his night in hunger, nor through fear did he say, “Choking hinders me.”

But the changes of destruction have made their seas of bounty to sink away from them, which I thought not would ever sink:

And put away from among them, into the bowels of the earth, those that were lions of guarding, healers of the sick.

That on which I carry is now my back, after being my beast, and my home is in the hollow, after being on the height.

My little ones fail not to mourn their misery, of which there is some flash every day.

When the pious man prays to his Lord by night, they also call Him with gushing tears.

O Thou who feedest the young raven in the nest, and settest the bone which is broken, and again broken;

Appoint to us, O God, one whose honour is pure and washed from the filth of blame;

Who will quench for us the fire of hunger, though only with a mess of the sour milk or the butter milk.

Now is there any who will remove what is come upon us, and make prize of thanks long and large?

For, by Him to whom the forelocks shall bow down in the day when the faces of the assemblage shall be black and white,

Were it not for these, my cheek would not expose itself, nor would I assay to the stringing of verse.

Said the narrator: Now, by Allah, she cleft our hearts in pieces with her verses, and called forth the gifts of our bosoms:—So that he gave her alms whose habit was to beg alms himself, and he was brisk to bestow on her who we thought would not be so.—And when her bosom was filled full with gold, and each of us had shown bounty to her,—She retreated, the little ones following her, and her mouth was wide with thanks.—But after she was gone, the company were all a-stretch to fathom her, that they might prove where their bounty had fallen.—And I went surety to them for eliciting the hinted secret, and rose up and followed the track of the old woman.—Until she came to a street choked with people, exceeding in its crowd.—Then she plunged into the throng, and slipped away from the simple children.—And she turned aside, with unconcern of mind, to a ruined mosque, and threw away her cloak, and drew off her veil.—But I spied at her through a chink of the door, and watched what strange thing she would bring to pass.—And when the gear of modesty fell off, I saw the face of Abû Zayd dawn out.—And I thought within myself that I would rush upon him and rebuke him for the course he was running.—But he threw himself back with the gesture of the contumacious, and raised the shrill note of singers, and broke forth, inditing thus:—

Oh! would I knew whether the time had gotten a knowledge of my power:

Whether it had learnt or learnt not the real truth how deep I go in deceiving:

How many of its sons I have won of by my wile and my fraud:

How oft I have sallied forth upon them in my known form and in disguise;

To catch one set by preaching, and others by poetry;

To excite one mind by vinegar, and another by wine;

Being at one time Ṣakhr, at another time the sister of Ṣakhr.

Now if I had followed the frequented path all the length of my life,

My fire and my portion would have failed, my need and my loss would have lasted.

So say to him who blames, “This is my excuse—take it.”

Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Now when the clearness of his case appeared to me, and the marvel of his wickedness, and the excuse which he had tinseled in his verses,—I knew that his devil was a rebellious one, who would not listen to rebuke, and would do nought but what he willed.—So I turned my reins to my companions, and published to them what my eye-witness­ing had established.—Then they were sullen at the loss of their presents, and vowed one to another to deny old women.