In this Assembly, which Ḥarîri himself marks out as of some importance from a philological point of view by attaching to it a short commentary of his own, Al Ḥârith records another of his early reminiscences. In his youth he cherished a strong desire to mingle with Arabs of the desert, in order to make himself familiar with their manners and idioms. After having acquired, by strenuous exertion, a live-stock of camels and sheep, he settles amongst a Bedouin tribe of genuine descent, who willingly accord him their protection. One night a valuable milch camel went astray, and he sets out on horseback in search of her. During the night and the ensuing forenoon his efforts to find her are unavailing, and when mid-day grows high [approaches] with its oppressive heat, he feels compelled to seek shelter and rest under a shady tree. Scarcely has he done so, when he perceives a solitary wanderer nearing his resting-place. With mingled feelings of annoyance at the intrusion of a stranger, and of hope that he might hear through him news of his strayed camel, he awaits his coming. On his closer approach, however, he recognises in him Abú Zayd, whose welcome companion­ship makes him almost oblivious of his loss. In reply to his affectionate inquiries, Abû Zayd improvises some beautiful verses, in which he describes in racy language his Bohemian way of living, which renders him independent of favours that would have to be courted by self-abasement, more hateful to him than death itself. After having questioned on his part Al Ḥârith as to the reason of his presence in this lonely spot, and being told about the lost beast, and the hitherto fruitless search for her, he begs leave to take his noon-day sleep, and is soon deeply drowned in it. Al Ḥârith tries to keep awake, but the lull in their conversation makes him succumb to his drowsiness, and when he rouses himself at night-fall he finds to his dismay that Abû Zayd is gone together with the horse. In sore distress he awaits the morning, when he sees a rider on a camel travelling in the desert, to whom he waves his garment, to attract his attention, but the signal remains unheeded, and he has to run after the man, intending to ask him for a lift, however grudgingly it might be granted. Having reached him, he perceives on closer scrutiny that the man is seated on the lost camel. He drags him down from her back, and a violent altercation takes place, in the midst of which Abû Zayd again appears on the scene, and his coming, after yesterday’s experience, at first fills Al Ḥârith with misgivings as to his further intentions. Abû Zayd, however, at once sets his mind at rest, and addressing his antagonist in stern and threatening terms, soon puts him to flight. Then, guessing at the struggle between resentment and gratitude in Al Ḥârith’s breast, he recites some pithy lines, in which he advises him to make the best of a losing bargain and to forbear both thanks and rebuke. So they separate as fairly good friends, and Al Ḥârith returns home, having recovered his camel, but lost his horse.

Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm, related: In the prime of my life that has fleeted, I had a leaning towards intercourse with the people of the hair-tents, so that I might take after their high-mettled spirits and their Arab tongues. So I bestirred myself with the alertness of one not lacking in industry, and began to roam through low-lands and high-lands, until I had got together a string of those that groan [i.e., camels], along with a flock of those that bleat [i.e., sheep]. Then I betook myself to some Arabs, [fit to be] lieutenants of kings, sons of speech [saws]. They gave me a home with them in safest vicinity, and turned [blunted] from me the edge of any [hostile] tooth. No care alighted upon me while I was with them, no arrow struck [the smoothness] of my rock, until one night, bright with full-moon-sheen, there strayed from me a she-camel profuse of milk-flow. Then my heart suffered me not to forbear the quest of her, and to throw her halter upon her hump [allowing her to wander at will]. So I sprang upon a swift-paced steed, planting a trembling lance between thigh and stirrup, and fared forth all the night, scouring the desert, and exploring every copse and treeless place, until the morning dawn unfurled its ensigns, when the crier calls to prayer and to salvation. Then I alighted from my beast for the acquittance of the written ordinance, after which I bestrode him again, trying his mettle to the utmost. While I was coursing along, I saw no trace but I tracked it, no ridge but I mounted it, no valley but I fared across it, no rider but I questioned him; but withal my toil was bootless, and its gang to the watering-place found no [way of] return, until the heat waxed blinding, and the scorching noon­day sun would have distracted Ghaylân from his [beloved] Mayyah.

Now the day was longer than the shadow of the spear, and hotter than the tears of the bereft mother, and I made sure that, unless I sought shelter from the glow, and rested myself with slumber, excessive weariness would throw me prostrate with sickness—nay, Sha‘ûb [the severer] would cling to me. Hence I bent my way towards a Sarḥah tree, abounding in branches, with boughs thickly leaved, that I might sleep my noon-tide, till to the brink of sun-down; but by Allah, scarcely had my breath fetched air and my horse rested, when I beheld one coming from the left, in the garb of a wayfarer, who resorted to my place of resort, making straight for the spot I had chosen. Then I grudged his wending whither I had wended, and took refuge with Allah from the annoy of any sudden intruder. But then, again, I hoped that he might chance to be a bringer of news, or approve himself a guide [to my lost one]. And when he came nigh my tree, and had all but reached my biding-place, I found it was our learned friend [Shaykh] of Serûj, wearing his wallet by way of belt, and his travelling gear under his arm. Then he accosted me with friendliness, and made me forget my loss, and I inquired of him, whence he hailed just then and how he fared within and without. Forthwith, without a word of demur, he recited on the spur of the moment:

“Say to him, who would look into the inward state of my affair, thou shalt meet at my hands with all honour and regard.

I am roving from land to land, a night-traveller from one trackless desert to the other.

The chase yields me food, the sandal is my riding-beast, all my equipment the wallet and the ferruled staff.

If I chance to alight in a city, my abode is the garret of the hostelry, and my boon-companion a scroll.

There is nothing mine, that I miss when it is gone, or fret about when the vicissitudes [wiles] of time rob me thereof;

Save that I pass my night free from concern, and my mind has severed partnership with sorrow.

I sleep at night the fill of my eyelids and my heart is cool of burning grief and anxiety;

I reck not from what cup I sip, and sip again, or what is the sweetness that comes from the bitter-sweet;

No, not I, though I allow me not abasement to become an easy road to bounties;

For if an object of desire dons the raiment of shame, out on him who courts a gift,

And whenever a wretch inclines to baseness, my nature shrinks from his fashion and inclining.

Death for me, no base deed, mount the bier liefer, than embark in villainy.”

Then he raised his glance to me, and said: “For some purpose did Ḳoṣayr cut off his nose.” So I told him the tale of my strayed camel, and what I had endured this day and the by-gone night; and he said: “Leave concerning thyself about things departed, or pining for that which has perished; regret not what is gone, though it were a river of gold; nor incline to him who veers from thee, and kindles the fire of thy anguish, though he were the son of thy loins, or the own brother of thy soul.” Then he added: “Hast thou a mind to a noon-day nap, and to abstain from talk? For forsooth our bodies are [as it were] jaded camels for fatigue, and the heat is all aglow; whereas there is nothing to furbish up the mind, and to enliven the languid, like sleep at noon while the blaze is fiercest, especially [most so] in the two months, when the skin of the camel shrivels through excessive thirst.” I replied: “As thou wilt, I have no wish to thwart thee.” Thereupon he made the ground his bed, and fell a-dozing, nay, soon he gave evidence that he was fast asleep. But I sat leaning on my elbow, to keep watch, and not to succumb to slumber; however, drowsiness overpowered me, after our tongues were bridled, and I recovered not myself, until night had crept in, and the stars began to twinkle, when, lo, there was no friend of Serûj, and, alas, no saddle-beast, so that I passed a night such as Nâbighah sings of, preg­nant with the grief of Jacob, while I was battling against my sullenness, and vying with the stars in wakefulness. Now I bethought me that I had hence­forth to fare on foot, now in what wise I should retrace my homeward way; until, at the smile of morn, there appeared to me on the horizon a rider, ambling over the plain with the stride of the ostrich. So I signalled to him with my garment, hoping that he would turn in my direction. He, however, heeded not my signal, nor took he compassion on my anxiety, trotting on at his leisure and smiting my entrails with the arrow of his contempt. Then I hastened in his track, to ask him for a mount behind him, though I should have to put up with his superciliousness. But when I reached him, by dint of hard running, and cast my eye on him with a sweeping glance, I found that my camel was his riding-beast, and what I had lost he had picked up. Then I belied me not in dragging him from her hunch, and tussling with him for the end of her halter, calling out: “I am her master; it is I from whom she has strayed; to me belongs her colt and her milk! So be not like Ash‘ab in greediness, and give no trouble, lest thou see trouble!” But he took to abusing and shout­ing, and he waxed impudent, and would not be abashed; and while he assaulted and relented in turns, now acting the lion, now cowering, behold, there came upon us Abû Zayd, clad in the leopard’s skin, rushing along with the rush of the furious torrent. Then I feared, that his feat of to-day might be like his per­formance of yesterday, that [the brightness of] his full moon would equal [that of] his sun, after which I would join the two tan-gatherers, never to be seen again, and become a [mere] tale after the substance. So I saw no help but to remind him of former bonds, and yester­day’s misdeed, and conjured him by Allah, [asking] if he came to make good my wrong, or to encompass my utter ruin. He however said: “God forfend that I should despatch one whom I have wounded, or follow up the Simoom of my day with a deadly night-blast. Rather have I come to find out the truth of thy state, and to be a right hand to thy left.” Thereupon my anxiety was allayed, and my suspiciousness subsided. I made him aware of my milch camel, and of the cloak of insolence that my mate had assumed, when he glanced at him as the lion of the thicket glances at his prey. Then he pointed his lance against him, swearing by Him who kindles the morning, that if he made not away with the swiftness of the fly, and contented him­self with escape as the best part of his booty, he would pierce his neck-vein with the spear, and make his offspring and friends mourn for him. Forthwith the fellow let go the halter of the camel, and ran apace, taking to his heels in hottest haste. Abû Zayd said to me: “Seize her and mount her hump, for of the two boons, booty and witness for the faith, she is one, and one woe is easier to bear than two.”

Said Al Ḥârith, son of Hammâm: Then I was at a loss, whether to rebuke Abû Zayd, or thank him, and how to balance the benefit received from him, against the damage endured. But it was as if someone had whispered to him the secret of my breast, or he had divined what stirred in my heart, for he accosted me with open brow, and indited with a glib tongue:

“O brother mine who bears up with my injury better than my brethren and own kinsfolk,

If my yesterday has harmed thee, my to-day has brought thee joy.

So forgive that for the sake of this, and spare me both thanks and blame.”

Then he added: “I am hasty and thou art sluggish, how then should we agree?” Wherewith he turned away to cleave the ground, urging his steed to career, aye, what a career! But I tarried not to take seat on my beast, and return to my homestead, and after hap and mishap reached my tent-village.