In this Assembly Abû Zayd is represented as gaining a splendid present by the narrative of an alleged misfortune. We are left in doubt whether his story be true or only one of his usual artifices to ob­tain the bounty of his friends. In a journey from Damascus to Bagdad, the caravan, in which are Ḥârith and Abû Zayd, halts at Sinjâr, a city of the Diyâr Rabî‘ah, which lies on the northern route between Syria and Irak. There a merchant was giving a wedding feast, to which, according to the hospitable custom of the East, all classes were invited. After the more substantial viands have been consumed, a glass vase of sweetmeats is produced, at the sight of which Abû Zayd starts up and quits the circle of guests. On being asked the reason of this conduct he declares that he is bound by an oath not to remain in the vicinity of anything that is transparent and betrays what is inside it. The company unwillingly send away the sweet­meats, and Abû Zayd then tells his story, which is that, being possessed of a beautiful and accomplished slave girl, he had revealed the secret to a false friend, who had betrayed it to the Governor. This officer being desirous to obtain such a paragon as a present to his Prince, had taken the girl from him by force; on which Abû Zayd had vowed that he would never remain in company with any thing that could not keep a secret: and as glass has this defect he must decline to sit opposite to a glass vase. The host respects this somewhat fanciful scruple, and in the end orders sweetmeats to be brought in silver vases, and presents Abû Zayd, not only with the contents of the vessels, but the vessels themselves. Though the conceit on which this composition is founded is puerile enough, the Assembly is one of the most poetical in Ḥarîri’s work, and a choice specimen of his rich and elaborate diction. Whatever merits it may possess are, however, diminished by the circumstance that it is a close imitation, and in parts almost a literal copy, of one by Al Hamadâni.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I was once on the return journey from Damascus, on my way to the City of Peace,—With travellers of the Benû Nomayr, a company of wealth and worth.—And with us was Abû Zayd, of Serûj, he that is an enchainment to the hasty, and a beguiling to the bereaved, the wonder of the time, the pointed at with the finger for his eloquence.—Now our halting at Sinjâr fell on a time when one of the mer­chants there was making a marriage feast:—And he bade to his banquet the whole commonalty, both of settled land and of desert; so that his bidding extended to the caravan, and he comprised in it both the important and those of no account.—Now when we had responded to his bidder, and arrived at his hall, he set before us viands of one hand and two, whatever is sweet in the mouth or fair to the eye.—And after this he brought forth a vase, which was as though it had been congealed of air, or condensed of sunbeam motes, or moulded of the light of the open plain, or peeled from the white pearl: —And it had been furnished with assortments of comfits, and affused with a pervading perfume, and there had been poured into it a draught from Tesnîm, and it disclosed a fair aspect, and the fragrance of a gentle breeze.—Now when our appetites were kindled at its presence, and our palates were eager for the trial of it; and it was imminent that the squadrons should be sent forth against its train, and that we should cry at the spoiling of it, Revenge!—Lo Abû Zayd sprang up like a madman, and sundered from it as far as the lizard is sundered from the fish.—Then we sought of him that he should return, and not be as was Ḳodâr among Thamûd.—But he said, “By Him who raises the dead from their sepulchres, I will not return except the vase be taken away.—So we found no escape from humouring him, and acquitting him of his vow.—And we bade carry it away, and our minds were carried after it and our tears flowed concerning it.—And when he had returned to his seat, and was free from guilt, we asked him wherefore he rose, and for what reason he bade take away the vase.—He said, “Because that glass is a be­trayer; and for years I have had an oath that the same place should not hold me and one who betrays.”—We said to him, “What is the cause of thy strict oath and thy binding vow?”—He said: I had a neighbour whose tongue cajoled, while his heart was a scorpion; whose speech was a honeycomb to refresh, while his hidden thought was a concentred venom:—And through his living near me I was led to converse with him, and by his false smiling I was deluded into consorting with him:—And the fairness of his seeming infatuated me to companying with him, and the guile of his character drew me on to intimacy with him.—And I associated with him in the thought that he would be to me as a most close neighbour; but it was made manifest that he was a swooping eagle:—And I was familiar with him in the belief that he was a familiar friend, but he showed that he was a treacherous serpent.—And I ate my salt with him, and knew not that at the testing he would be of those whose loss is rejoiced at:—And I drank my wine with him, and understood not that on trial he would be of those whose departure is a delight.

Now in my house was a maiden to whom no rival could be found in perfection.—If she unveiled, the two lights of heaven were shamed, and each heart was burned with the fires of love.—If she smiled, she made the beads of silver to be despised, and pearls would be sold for what is worthless.—If she gazed, she roused love-fancies; she realized the witchcraft of Babylon.—If she spoke, she en­chained the heart of the wise, and called down the wild goats from the crags.—If she read the Koran, she would heal the heart-sick, she would give life to one buried alive; so that thou wouldest think her gifted with the pipes of David.—If she sang, Ma‘bad would become as a slave to her, and to Isaac it would be said, “Away! begone!”—If she piped, Zonâm would appear an impostor beside her; although he was a leader in his generation, one confident in his charming.— If she danced, she dislodged the turbans from men’s heads; she would make thee forget the dance of the bubbles in the cups.—And possessed of her I despised the red camels; and with the enjoyment of her I adorned the neck of my prosperity.—And I veiled her face from the sun and moon; I excluded the mention of her from the paths of my night-talk;—Yet withal was I fearful lest a breeze by night might bear her fragrance, or a Saṭîḥ divine of her, or the flashing lightning betray her.—And it came to pass, through the decay of my minished fortune, and the malignness of my unlucky star, that the heat of wine caused me to describe her to my blabbing neighbour.—Then understanding re­turned after the arrow had been shot, and I felt trouble and vexation, knowing that the thing was lost which was committed to such a sieve.—But yet I stipulated with him to keep close what I had uttered, and to guard my secret even though I should anger him.—And he declared that he treasured secrets as the miser treasures the denar; and that he would not rend veils of con­fidence even were he exposed to be cast into fire.

But not more than a day or two had passed when it occurred to the ruler of that town, and its Governor having authority,—That he would repair to the court of his Prince to make a new display of his horsemen, and pray a rain from the cloud of his bounty;—And he wished for a present to take with him, such as should accord with the Prince’s desire; that he might offer it in the course of his interview.—Whereon he began to be liberal in rewards to his scouts, and to heighten the inducements to whoso should possess him of his wish.— Then stooped that treacherous neighbour his flight to the largess, and, putting on the breast-plate of infamy, re­belled against the blame of the blamer.—And he came to the Governor, stretching his ears, and published what I had told him as a secret.—And I had no alarm till his de­pendants rushed in to me and his servants swarmed upon me, urging me to prefer him with my peerless pearl, on the condition that I should dictate to him her price. —Then sorrow overwhelmed me as the sea overwhelmed Pharaoh and his host.—And I ceased not to defend her, but defence availed not; and to intercede with him, but intercession profited not.—And as often as he saw in me an increase of evasion and the desire of escape, he shouted, he burned with rage, he gnashed upon me with his teeth.—But yet my soul consented not to part from its full moon, nor that I should tear the heart from my breast.—But when threatening turned to assault, and invective to beating, the fear of death led me to barter the black of my eye for the yellow of coin; but the informer gained nought but guilt and ignominy.—And since then I have had a vow to God Most High that I would never again keep in presence of a betrayer.—Now glass is distinguished by this base quality; nay, its name has been made a proverb for treachery;—So that the tenour of my oath extends to it, and that is the reason that my hand stretches not forth to it.