The Book Of The Thousand Nights And A Night, Vol 1 Page-271

The Book Of The Thousand Nights And A Night, Vol 1

A plain and literal translation of the arabian nights entertainments

appeared in my face. The young man looked at me and, comprehending the matter, said, “O Physician of the age, marvel not at my case; I will tell thee my story as soon as we quit the baths.” Then we washed and, returning to his house, ate somewhat of food and took rest awhile; after which he asked me, “What sayest thou to solacing thee by inspecting the supper hall?”; and I answered “So let it be.” Thereupon he ordered the slaves to carry out the carpets and cushions required and roast a lamb and bring us some fruit. They did his bidding and we ate together, he using the left hand for the purpose. After a while I said to him, “Now tell me thy tale.” “O Physician of the age,” replied he, “hear what befell me. Know that I am of the sons of Mosul, where my grandfather died leaving nine children of whom my father was the eldest. All grew up and took to them wives, but none of them was blessed with offspring except my father, to whom Providence vouchsafed me. So I grew up amongst my uncles who rejoiced in me with exceeding joy, till I came to man’s estate. One day which happened to be a Friday, I went to the Cathedral mosque of Mosul with my father and my uncles, and we prayed the congregational prayers, after which the folk went forth, except my father and uncles, who sat talking of wondrous things in foreign parts and the marvellous sights of strange cities. At last they mentioned Egypt, and one of my uncles said, “Travellers tell us that there is not on earth’s face aught fairer than Cairo and her Nile;” and these words made me long to see Cairo. Quoth my father, “Whoso hath not seen Cairo hath not seen the world. Her dust is golden and her Nile a miracle holden; and her women are as Houris fair; puppets, beautiful pictures; her houses are palaces rare; her water is sweet and light[FN#575] and her mud a commodity and a medicine beyond compare, even as said the poet in this his poetry:— The Nile[FN#576] flood this day is the gain you own; You alone in such gain and bounties wone: The Nile is my tear flood of severance, And here none is forlorn but I alone. Moreover temperate is her air, and with fragrance blent, Which surpasseth aloes wood in scent; and how should it be otherwise, she being the Mother of the World? And Allah favour him who wrote these lines:—