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the Khalif and Ali and Abou Isa drank and the damsels went away and were succeeded by other ten, clad in flowered silk of Yemen, brocaded with gold, who sat down on the chairs and sang various songs. The Khalif looked at one of them, who was like a wild cow of the desert, and said to her, “What is thy name, O damsel?” “My name is Zebiyeh, O Commander of the Faithful,” answered she. “Sing to us, O Zebiyeh,” said he; so she warbled some roulades and sang the following verses:
Houris, noble ladies, that reck not of disquiet, Like antelopes of Mecca, forbidden to be slain;
Of their soft speech, they’re taken for courtezans; but Islam Still makes them from unseemliness and lewdness to refrain.
Night ccccxvi.When she had finished, “Bravo!” cried the Khalif. “Whose is this song?” “The words are by Jerir,”[1] answered she, “and the air by Suraij.” Then the Khalif and his company drank, whilst the girls went away and there came yet another ten, as they were rubies, bareheaded and clad in red brocade, gold inwoven and broidered with pearls and jewels, who sat down on the stools and sang various airs. The Khalif looked at one of them, who was like the sun of the day, and said to her, “What is thy name?” “O Commander of the Faithful,” answered she, “my name is Fatin.” “Sing to us, O Fatin,” quoth he. So she played a lively measure and sang the following verses:
Vouchsafe me of thy grace; ’tis time to yield consent: Enough have I endured of absence and lament.
Thou’rt he whose face unites all charms, on whose account My patience have I lost, for very languishment.
I’ve spent my life for love of thee; ah, would to God I might receive return for that which I have spent!
“Bravo, O Fatin!” exclaimed the Khalif, when she had
- ↑ One of the greatest of Arab poets; he flourished in the first century of the Hegira.
