This Assembly contains the “grammatical riddles” of which the author speaks in his preface. Abû Zayd, falling into the company of some refined persons who are amusing themselves in the suburbs of Bagdad, is at first despised by them for the shabbiness of his garb. But the recitation of a singer causes the conversation to turn upon the famous and never-ending controversy concerning the use of the raf‘ and the naṣb, or, in European terminology, the nominative and accu­sative case, in certain Arabic phrases. The company plunge into the dispute with all the ardour which never failed to be kindled by grammatical disquisitions; and when they can come to no agree­ment, Abû Zayd interposes, and gives his opinion. As they do not accept it readily, and attempt to argue with him, he at once reduces them to submission by proposing twelve enigmas, involving abstruse and technical points of Arabic grammar. No one can solve them; and Abû Zayd refuses to gratify their curiosity by giving an expla­nation until each one of them has made him a present. Then he leaves them, refusing to drink with them on the ground that in his declining age he had made a vow against wine. The answers are briefly given in an appendix from the pen of Ḥarîri himself.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: I was in company in the portion of Ar Rabî‘, in the season of spring, with youths whose faces were brighter than its lights, whose dispositions were more goodly than its flowers, whose utterances were more delicate than the air of its dawns. —And through them I looked upon what would shame the flowering spring and suffice for the sounds of lutes.— And we had taken oath together for the guarding of affection and the forbidding of self-seeking; and that no one of us should hold aloof in enjoyment, or keep to himself even the smallest pleasure.—Now we had agreed together on a day whose mist had risen, whose beauty was growing, whose light cloud bade to the morning draught,—That we would amuse ourselves by going forth to one of the meadows, to pasture our eyes on the shining plots, and polish our minds by a fore­casting of the rains;—So we sallied forth, and we were as the months in number, and as the two boon-com­panions of Jathîmeh in affection,—To a garden which had assumed its gilding and adorned itself, whose flowers were various in their kinds and hues;—And with us were the headstrong ruddy wine, and cupbearers like suns; and the singer who charms the hearer and delights him, who feasts each hearing with what it covets.—Now when we had fully taken seat, and the cups were circling to us, there intruded on us a sharp fellow, on him was an old coat:—And we frowned on him as frown the soft damsels on the gray-heads, and we felt that the purity of our day was now troubled. —But he greeted with the greeting of the intelligent; and taking seat he opened perfume-vials of prose and verse;—But we shrank from his expansion, and hastened to roll up what he spread out; until chanted our rare singer, our charming modulator:

How long, Su‘âd, wilt thou not join my cord, nor pity me for what I meet with?

I have been patient with thee until my patience is overcome, until my spirit has almost reached my throat.

But come! I am resolved to do myself right, drinking thereby to my mistress as she drinks to me;

For if union () please her—then union (); but if rupture —then rupture like a very divorce.

Said Al Ḥârith: Then we asked the player on the double-twisted strings why he naṣbed the first and raf‘ed the second.—And he swore by the tomb of his parents that he had spoken as Sîbawayh preferred.— But the opinions of the company were divided as to the admissibility of the naṣb and raf‘.—And a section said, “The raf‘ of both, that is correct;” and a part said, “Nothing is lawful but the state of naṣb;” while to the rest the answer was impracticable, and the clamour­ing kindled among them.—But that intruder showed the smilingness of one who knows a matter, though he spoke not a single word.—However, when the cries were still, and the scolded and the scolder were silent, he said, “O people, I will announce to you its inter­pretation, I will distinguish the sound phrase from the sick.—Verily the raf‘ and the naṣb of each are lawful, and an interchange of the inflection be­tween them;—And that is according to what is left understood, and to the virtual signification which is elided in this puzzle.”—Then was the company reck­less in hastening to dispute with him, and in gliding into contention with him.—But he said: Well, since ye call to me to “Come down,” and ye gird yourselves for the war:

What is the word which, as ye will, is a particle that is loved, or the name of that which contains the slender milch-camel?

And what is the noun which alternates between a singular that binds, and a plural that clings?

And what is the which, when it attaches itself, takes away heaviness and loosens the bound?

And where does the enter and depose the regent without courtesy?

And what is that which is always manṣûb as a term of circumstance, while only a particle makes it makhfûḍ?

And what is the annexed noun which lacks one of the handles of annexion, and whose power varies between evening and morning?

And what is the regent whose last joins his first, and whose reverse effects what he effects?

And what is the regent whose deputy is more spacious than he in abode, and greater in craft, and more fre­quent in mention of God Most High?

And in what place do males put on the veils of women, and the ladies of the alcoves go forth with the turbans of men?

And where is the keeping of ranks necessary to the struck and the striker?

And what is the noun which gives no sense except by the addition to it of two words, or the shortening of it to two letters; and in the first case there is adhesion, and in the second compulsion?

And what is the epithet which, when it is followed by , he to whom it is applied lessens in men’s eyes, and is set low in reputation, and is reckoned among the simpletons, and expoes himself to dishonour?

Now these are twelve questions to match your num­ber, to balance your disputatiousness; if ye add, I add; if ye return, I return.

Said the teller of this story: Now from these his riddles, which terrified as they poured, there came on our thoughts bewilderment and barrenness.—And when it baffled us to swim in his sea, and our talismans had yielded to his enchantment,—We changed from weari­ness in looking at him to the seeking of instruction from him, and from the wrong of being annoyed by him to the desire of learning of him.—But he said, “Now by Him who has sent down grammar into speech to be as salt in food, and has veiled its risings from the per­ceptions of the vulgar,—I will not give you a wish, I will not heal for you a pain, unless every hand endow me, and each of you distinguish me by a gift.”—Then re­mained not one in the company but was obedient to his command, and cast to him the hidden treasure of his sleeve.—And when he had got it under his wallet-string he kindled the flame of his genius.—And then did he disclose of the secrets of his riddles and of the wonders of his puzzling, that wherewith he cleared away the rust from our understandings, that whose rising he manifested by the light of proof.—And we were aston­ished when we understood, and we wondered when we were answered, and we repented over what had escaped from us.—And we began to excuse ourselves with the excusing of the sagacious; and we offered to him the quaffing of the wine-cup.—But he said, “Need is not courtesy; and as for drinking, there remains in it no sweetness for me.”—Then he turned up his face mo­rosely, and plucked away his side scornfully, and recited:

Gray hair forbids me that wherein are my joys; how then should I bring together the wine and my hands’ palms?

Is the morning draught of the old wine lawful, now that the hoariness of my head lights up my morning?

I swear that wine shall never again blend with me as long as my breath cleaves to my body, and my words to my speech;

That my hand shall not deck itself with the cups of must; that I will not turn round my lot among the goblets;

That I will not set my thought to the mixed drink; that I will not go joyfully to the wine;

That I will not gather myself to the wine cooled of the north wind; that I will choose no companion, save the sober.

Hoariness blots out my merriment when he writes upon my head; hated be he for a blotting scribe!