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at least, with the feeling that it is not for want of pains that I have, in many instances of which I am but too sensible, fallen short of my ideal.
The following is a specimen of the rhyming prose above mentioned, rendered in the jingle of the original. It is evident that it would have been by no means difficult to keep up the imitation throughout, but, upon consideration, I came, rightly or wrongly, to the conclusion that it was undesirable to do so, as it seemed to me that the seja-form was utterly foreign to the genius of English prose and that its preservation would be fatal to all vigour and harmony of style.
This letter is from him whom passion wastes away and whom desire doth slay and misery destroys him and dismay, him who of life despairs and looks for nought but death to end his cares, none is there to his mourning heart comfort or succour will impart, nor for his wakeful eye ’gainst care is helper nigh; his day is past in fire, his night in torment dire; his body for emaciation’s wasted sore, and there comes to him no messenger from her he doth adore.
The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night contains a very large quantity of verse, unequally distributed throughout the various tales,[1] and before proceeding to speak of this feature of the work, it may interest my readers if I give a brief outline of the general
- ↑ Some of the stories, such as the Queen of the Serpents, The Enchanted Horse, Jelyaad and Shimas and others, mainly of Persian or Indian origin, contain little or none, whilst in others page after page is occupied by verse, which, for instance, forms nearly a fifth part of the (Egyptian) stories of Zein el Mewasif and Ali Noureddin and the Frank King’s Daughter.
