More contemptible than nail-parings in a heap of rubbish.—This trans­lation renders the reading of several manuscripts, my own included, which adds after qulâmah, nail-parings, the words fî qumâmah, in sweepings. Although not admitted into the printed editions, it doubtlessly improves the equibalance of the qarînah, and makes the phrase more forcible.

More vicious than the mule of Abû Dulâmeh (Ar. Prov., i. 416), a compendium of all possible depravities, and an impossible one into the bargain, impossible, I mean, to translate decently, but to be guessed at by fox-hunters, who remember what reynard is said to do when hard pressed by the hounds, excusable in his case as a means of self-defence, but in the mule sheer wanton mischief at the cost of harmless passers-by. Her master, son of an emancipated black slave, was a poet who flourished in the days of the last Omayyides and first Abbasides, and he has immortalised the brute by a Kaṣîdeh of considerable length and beauty.

More out of place than a bug (or dung-fly) in a perfume-box, in Arabic aḥyaru minbaqqatin fî ḥuqqat-in, lit., more bewildered, like one who has gone astray or lost his way, and here meaning that Abû Zayd contaminates his surroundings, as the malodorous insect spoils the scents amongst which it is rushing or fluttering about.

And supposing thou wert al-Ḥasan with his preaching and utterance, etc.—Al-Ḥasan Abu Sa‘îd al-Baṣrî, proverbial for pulpit eloquence, and a great devotee († A.H., 110; see Ibn Khallikân, i. 188).— Ash Sha‘bî, ‘Amir ibn ‘Abdallah of the tribe Sha‘b in Yemen, like the preceding a tâbi‘, or one who had conversed with Mohammed’s companions, a great scholar, deeply versed in law, and knowing the Koran by heart. He was a favourite with Ḥajjâj ibn Yûsuf (and died at Kûfa between A.H. 103 and 107 (Ibn Khallikân, i. 344, and Ar. Prov., i. 413).—Al Khalîl, or Abû ‘Abd ar-Raḥmân ibn Aḥmad al-Farâhîdî, the founder of Arabic grammar and prosody, to the discovery of which latter art he was led by listening to the fall of the hammers of blacksmiths, sounding to him alternately like daq, daq-daq, daqaq-daqaq, etc.; and striking on his ear like the rhythmical measures of the constituent elements of his native poetry, whereupon he built a most elaborate system of metrology (born A.H. 100, †160 or 170; see Ibn Khallikân, i. 252).—Jerîr, or Abû Hazrah ibn ‘Âtîyah, considered the greatest poet of early Islâm, rivalled only by Farazdak and Akht̤al, and equally distinguished in erotic and satiric poetry. He died ninety and odd years old, A.H. 110, in the same year as Farazdak, with whom he had carried on a lively warfare of “give and take” in lampoons (see Ibn Khalli-kân, i. 150).—Koss, the eloquent Christian Bishop of Najrân, for whom see Chenery’s note on the formula And now, vol. i. 269, and who is mentioned passim in other Assemblies of our author.— ‘Abd al-Ḥamîd ibn Yaḥyá ibn Sa‘îd, was secretary to Marwân ibn Mohammed, the last Khalif of the House of Omayyeh, and excelled by the beauty of his caligraphy and style, the use of which, how­ever, made in the service of an antagonist, incensed the founder of the Abbaside dynasty against him, who put him cruelly to death.— Abû ‘Amr Rubbân (according to others, Zubbân) ibn al-‘Alâ, noted for his profound knowledge of the Koran in its seven readings, made a vow to recite the whole of the sacred text every three nights. He was also a great grammarian and lexicographer (born in Mecca A.H. 70, † in Kûfa about A.H. 154; see Ibn Khallikân, i. 403).— Ibn Korayb al-Aṣma‘î, spoken of vol. i., p. 319, and frequently alluded to in the Makâmât. His life will be found in Ibn Khalli-kân, i. 403.

Ye twain remind me of Shann and T̤abaqah, and hawk and pellet, lit., I see that ye twain are, etc.—The explanation of the two proverbs here alluded to is disputed, but their meaning in this place is, “I see that you are a match for each other.” The first is, wâfaqa shannun t̤abaqata, Shann has matched T̤abaqah (Ar. Prov., ii. 800, 835), where, according to most interpreters, the names are those of two Arab tribes. Others, however, say that Shann was a sharp-witted Arab, who vowed that he would not wed, unless a woman his equal in sagacity. While he was roaming about in search of her, he met with a travelling companion, whom he asked on setting out together: “Wilt thou carry me, or shall I carry thee?” Said the man: “O thou fool! carries ever one mounted another who is mounted also?” Shann kept silent until they came to a sown field, when he said: “Thinkest thou that this field has already been eaten up or not?” “Thou idiot!” replied the man, “seest thou not that it stands in ears?” Another pause of silence, till they were met by a funeral, and Shann asked: “Reckest thou that the man on the bier is alive or dead?” Then the man exclaimed: “In all my life I have never come across a dafter dolt than thou art; fanciest thou that people escort a living man to the grave?” Presently they reached the village of the man, who made his fellow-traveller welcome at his home. Now he had a daughter called T̤abaqah, and taking her aside, he related to her their colloquy as a piece of rare fun. But she said to him: “The man was quite right in his speech, and his questions were all that might be expected from one like him. When he asked thee, ‘Wilt thou carry me, or shall I carry thee?’ his meaning was, ‘Wilt thou talk to me, or shall I talk to thee, in order to make us bear up with the tediousness of the journey?’ As for his question about the field, whether it had been eaten up or not, he meant, whether its owners had taken and con­sumed the price of its produce in advance or not. Lastly, when he asked whether the man on the bier was alive, he wanted to know whether he left a son behind, by whom he would continue to live in man’s memory, or not.” When the host joined his guest again, and told him of his daughter’s interpretation of their converse, the latter sued for her hand and married her, and when he brought her to his own people, relating the proofs of sense and sagacity which she had given him, they said: “Shann is well matched with T̤abaqah.” Aṣma‘î is credited with a third, somewhat lame explanation, to the effect that shann means a worn-out skin-bag, which, when furnished with an adequate covering, was fitted for further use, and gave rise to the saying in question. The actual form of the second proverb (Ar. Prov., i. 365), applied to one who is frightened by an enemy or put to the test by his equal, is: khida’a khida‘a warâ’a-ki bunduqah, the verbal meaning of which turns on that of khida’a, which may either be the name of a tribe, warned to be pursued by a rival tribe of the name of Bunduqah, or it may signify the bird thus called (vulture, hawk), in which case bunduqah is the pellet of the archer, the tenor of the proverb being: “Hawk, hawk, the pellet is after (or behind) thee!” Applied to the couple engaged in altercation, it means in both cases that either party finds a match in the other.

Enter in thy conduct the level road, allusion to the proverb, “He who enters the level road is safe from tripping” (Ar. Prov., ii. 675), and here intended as a caution to the husband to approach his wife in lawful fashion.

I shall not hoist my sail to him, another metaphor which sufficiently explains itself, considering that it is the sail which makes the ship to go.

With the three binding forms of oath.—These are either the three forms of divorce allowed by ash-Shâfi‘î (see “Dict. of Islâm,” p. 87, iii., and p. 90, v.); or the oath by the name of God in its three forms: wa’llâhi, bi’llâhi, tallâhi, or divorce, manumission of a slave, and pilgrimage to Mecca.

The fundament of either of you has missed the pit, a proverbial ex­pression (Ar. Prov., i. 444) applied to one who misplaces anything or misses the object of his wish, and arising from a man’s having dug two holes, the one for keeping provisions in, the other to serve as a privy. His two sons mistook the former for the latter, when he addressed them with the words above.

And make an example of you for those who have eyes to see, alluding to Koran, iii. 11: “In this truly was a lesson for men endued with discernment.”

And naught I water but my field for planting.—Compare to this the note on p. 244 above.

That it is I who taught the Shaykh to versify with such glibness, in Arabic anni ’llatî laqqanati ’sh-shaikha ’l-arâjîzâ. In translating thus I follow the reading of my own MS. in preference to De Sacy, who, probably misguided by the French idiom, “C’est moi qui ai,” adopts the reading: laqqantu (1st person) ẕâ ’sh-shaikha. Naṣîf al-Yazaji, in his critical letter, censures him on this point, proposing the very reading which my MS. contains, and Mehren, who has translated and annotated this letter, defends the French against the Arabic scholar, but the redactors of the second edition of De Sacy refute Mehren’s arguments in a lengthy note, which, I think, settles the question definitely. Arâjîz is plural of urjûzah, a poem in rejez metre, and as this is a very popular and easy-flowing kind of metrical composition, I feel myself justified in rendering the word in this place by “to versify with such glibness,” and a little lower down by “doggerel-rhyme.”