Chapter 15

When she had finished, she wrote the verses on a sheet of paper, which she folded in a piece of gold-embroidered silk and laid under her pillow. Now one of her nurses saw her; so she came up to her and held her in talk, till she slept, when she stole the scroll from under her pillow and reading it, knew that she had fallen in love with Uns el Wujoud. Then she returned the scroll to its place and when her mistress awoke, she said to her, 'O my lady, indeed, I am to thee a faithful counsellor and am tenderly solicitous for thee. Know that passion is grievous and the hiding it melteth iron and causeth sickness and unease; nor is there reproach for whoso confesses it.' 'O my nurse,' rejoined Rose-in-bud,'and what is the remedy of passion?' 'The remedy of passion is enjoyment,' answered the nurse. 'And how may one come by enjoyment?' asked Rose-in-bud. 'By letters and messages,' replied the nurse, 'and many a tender word and greeting; this brings lovers together and makes hard matters easy. So, if thou have aught at heart, mistress mine, I will engage to keep thy secret and do thy need and carry thy letters.'

When the girl heard this, her reason fled for joy; but she restrained herself from speech, till she should see the issue of the matter, saying in herself, 'None knoweth this thing of me, nor will I trust this woman with my secret, till I have proved her.' Then said the nurse, 'O my lady, I saw in my sleep as though one came to me and said, "Thy mistress and Uns el Wujoud love one another; so do thou serve their loves by carrying their messages and doing their need and keeping their secrets; and much good shall befall thee." So now I have told thee my dream, and it is thine to decide.' 'O my nurse,' quoth Rose-in-bud, 'canst thou keep secrets?' 'And how should I not keep secrets,' answered the nurse, 'I that am of the flower of the free-born?' Then Rose-in-bud pulled out the scroll, on which she had written the verses afore said, and said to her,' Carry this my letter to Uns el Wujoud and bring me his answer.'

So the nurse took the letter and repairing to Uns el Wujoud, kissed his hands and saluted him right courteously, then gave him the letter; and he read it and wrote on the back the following verses:

I temper my heart in passion and hide my case as I may; But my case interprets for me and doth my love bewray. And whenas my lids brim over with tears,--lest the spy should see And come to fathom my secret,--"My eye is sore," I say. Of old I was empty-hearted and knew not what love was; But now I am passion's bondman, my heart to love's a prey. To thee I prefer my petition, complaining of passion and pain, So haply thou mayst be softened and pity my dismay. With the tears of my eye I have traced it, that so unto thee it may The tidings of what I suffer for thee to thee convey. God watch o'er a visage, that veileth itself with beauty, a face That the full moon serves as a bondman and the stars as slaves obey! Yea' Allah protect her beauty, whose like I ne'er beheld! The boughs from her graceful carriage, indeed, might learn to sway. I beg thee to grant me a visit; algates, if it irk thee nought. An thou knewst how dearly I'd prize it, thou wouldst not say me nay. I give thee my life, so haply thou mayst accept it: to me Thy presence is life eternal and hell thy turning away.

Then he folded the letter and kissing it, gave it to the nurse and said to her, 'O nurse, incline thy lady's heart to me.' 'I hear and obey,' answered she and carried the letter to her mistress, who kissed it and laid it on her head, then wrote at the foot of it these verses:

Harkye, thou whose heart is taken with my grace and loveliness, Have but patience, and right surely thou my favours shalt possess. When we were assured the passion thou avouchedst was sincere And that that which us betided had betided thee no less, Gladly had we then vouchsafed thee what thou sighedst for, and more; But our guardians estopped us to each other from access. When night darkens on the dwellings, fires are lighted in our heart And our entrails burn within us, for desire and love's excess. Yea, for love and longing, slumber is a stranger to our couch And the burning pangs of fever do our body sore distress. 'Twas a law of passion ever, love and longing to conceal; Lift not thou the curtain from us nor our secret aye transgress. Ah, my heart is overflowing with the love of yon gazelle; Would it had not left our dwellings for the distant wilderness.

Then she folded the letter and gave it to the nurse, who took it and went out to go to the young man; but as she went forth the door, her master met her and said to her, 'Whither away?' 'To the bath,' answered she; but, in her trouble, she dropped the letter, without knowing it, and one of the servants, seeing it lying in the way, picked it up. When she came without the door, she sought for it, but found it not, so turned back to her mistress and told her of this and what had befallen her with the Vizier.

Meanwhile, the latter came out of the harem and seated himself on his couch. Presently, the servant, who had picked up the letter, came in to him, with it in his hand, and said, 'O my lord, I found this paper lying on the floor and picked it up.' So the Vizier took it from his hand, folded as it was, and opening it, read the verses above set down. Then he examined the writing and knew it for his daughter's hand; whereupon he went in to her mother, weeping so sore that his beard was drenched. 'What makes thee weep, O my lord?' asked she; and he answered, 'Take this letter and see what is therein.' So she took it and saw it to be a love-letter from her daughter Rose-in-bud to Uns el Wujoud; whereupon the tears sprang to her eyes; but she mastered herself and swallowing her tears, said to her husband, 'O my lord, there is no profit in weeping: the right course is to cast about for a means of preserving thine honour and concealing thy daughter's affair.' And she went on to comfort him and lighten his trouble. Quoth he, 'I am fearful of what may ensue this passion of my daughter, and that for two reasons. The first concerns myself; it is, that she is my daughter; the second, that Uns el Wujoud is a favourite with the Sultan, who loves him with an exceeding love, and maybe great troubles shall come of this affair. What deemest thou of the matter?' 'Wait,' answered she, 'whilst I pray to God for direction.' So she prayed a two-bow prayer, according to the prophetic ordinance of the prayer for divine guidance; after which she said to her husband, 'Amiddleward the Sea of Treasures stands a mountain called the Mount of the Bereaved Mother,' (the cause of which being so named shall follow in its place, if it be the will of God,) 'and thither can none come, save with difficulty; do thou make her an abiding-place there.'

So the Vizier and his wife agreed to build, on the mountain in question, a strong castle and lodge his daughter therein with a year's victual, to be annually renewed, and attendants to serve and keep her company. Accordingly, he collected builders and carpenters and architects and despatched them to the mountain, where they builded her an impregnable castle, never saw eyes its like. Then he made ready victual and carriage for the journey and going in to his daughter by night, bade her make ready to set out on a pleasure-excursion. She refused to set out by night, but he was instant with her, till she went forth; and when she saw the preparations for the journey, her heart misgave her of separation from her beloved and she wept sore and wrote upon the door the following verses, to acquaint him with what had passed and with the transports of passion and grief that were upon her, transports such as would make the flesh quake, that would cause the hearts of stones to melt and eyes to overflow with tears:

By Allah, O house, if the loved one pass in the morning-glow And greet with the greeting of lovers, as they pass to and fro, Give him our salutation, a pure and fragrant one, For that we have departed, and whither he may not know. Why on this wise they hurry me off by stealth, anights And lightly equipped, I know not, nor whither with me they go. Neath cover of night and darkness, they carry me forth, alack I Whilst the birds in the brake bewail us and make their moan for our woe; And the tongue of the case interprets their language and cries, "Alas, Alas for the pain of parting from those that we love, heigho!" When I saw that the cups of sev'rance were filled and that Fate, indeed, Would give us to drink of its bitter, unmingled, would we or no, I blended the draught with patience becoming, as best I might; But patience avails not to solace my heart for your loss, I trow.

Then she mounted, and they set forward with her and fared on over desert and plain and hill, till they came to the shore of the Sea of Treasures, where they pitched their tents and built a great ship, in which they embarked her and her suite and carried them over to the mountain. Here they left them in the castle and making their way back to the shore, broke up the vessel, in obedience to the Vizier's commandment, and returned home, weeping over what had befallen.

Meanwhile, Uns el Wujoud arose from sleep and prayed the morning prayer, after which he mounted and rode forth to wait upon the Sultan. On his way, he passed by the Vizier's house, thinking to see some of his followers, as of wont, but saw no one and drawing near the door, read the verses aforesaid written thereon. At this sight, his senses failed him; fire was kindled in his vitals and he returned to his lodging, where he passed the rest of the day in ceaseless trouble and anxiety, without finding ease or patience, till night darkened upon him, when his transport redoubled. So he put off his clothes and disguising himself in a fakir's habit, set out, at a venture, under cover of the night, distraught and knowing not whither he went.

He wandered on all that night and next day, till the heat of the sun grew fierce and the mountains flamed like fire and thirst was grievous upon him. Presently, he espied a tree, by whose side was a spring of running water; so he made towards it and sitting down in the shade, on the bank of the rivulet, essayed to drink, but found that the water had no taste in his mouth. Then, [looking in the stream,] he saw that his body was wasted, his colour changed and his face grown pale and his, feet, to boot, swollen with walking and weariness. So he shed copious tears and repeated the following verses:

The lover is drunken with love of his fair; In longing and heat he redoubles fore'er. Love-maddened, confounded, distracted, perplexed, No dwelling is pleasant to him and no fare. For how, to a lover cut off from his love, Can life be delightsome? 'Twere strange an it were. I melt with the fire of my passion for her And the tears down my cheek roll and never forbear. Shall I ever behold her or one from her stead, With whom I may solace my heart in despair?

And he wept till he wet the ground; after which he rose and fared on again over deserts and wilds, till there came out upon him a lion, with a neck buried in hair, a head the bigness of a dome, a mouth wider than the door [thereof] and teeth like elephants' tusks. When Uns el Wujoud saw him, he gave himself up for lost and turning towards Mecca, pronounced the professions of the faith and prepared for death.

Now he had read in books that whoso will flatter the lion, beguileth him, for that he is lightly duped by fair words and glorieth in praise; so he began and said, 'O lion of the forest and the waste! O unconquerable warrior! O father of heroes and Sultan of wild beasts! Behold, I am a desireful lover, whom passion and severance have undone. Since I parted from my beloved, I have lost my reason; wherefore, do thou hearken to my speech and have ruth on my passion and love-longing.' When the lion heard this, he drew back from him and sitting down on his hind-quarters, raised his head to him and began to frisk his tail and paws to him; which when Uns el Wujoud saw, he recited these verses:

Wilt slay me, O lord of the desert, before My enslaver I meet with, e'en her I adore? No fat on me is; I'm no booty for thee; For the loss of my loved one hath wasted me sore. Yea, my love's separation hath worn out my soul, And I'm grown like a shape, with a shroud covered o'er. Give the railers not cause to exult in my woe, O prince of the spoilers, O lion of war! A lover, all sleepless for loss of my dear, I'm drowned in the tears from mine eyelids that pour; And my pining for her in the darkness of night Hath robbed me, for passion, of reason and lore.

When he had finished, the lion rose and coming softly up to him, with his eyes full of tears, licked him with his tongue, then walked on before him, signing to him, as who should say, 'Follow me.' So he followed him, and he led him on till he brought him, over a mountain, to the farther side, where he came upon the track of a caravan and knew it to be that of Rose-in-bud and her company. When the lion saw that he knew the track and set himself to follow it, he turned back and went his way; whilst Uns el Wujoud followed the foot-marks, till they brought him to a surging sea, swollen with clashing billows. The trail led down to the water's edge and there broke off; whereby he knew that they had taken ship there and had continued their journey by sea. So he lost hope of finding his beloved and repeated the following verses, weeping sore:

Far's the place of visitation and my patience faileth me For my love; but how to reach her o'er the abysses of the sea? When, for love of her, my vitals are consumed and I've forsworn Slumber, sleep for wake exchanging, ah, how can I patient be? Since the day she left the homesteads and departed, hath my heart Burnt with never-ceasing anguish, all a-fire with agony. Oxus and Jaxartes, running like Euphrates, are my tears; More than rain and flood abounding, run like rivers to the sea. Ulcerated are my eyelids with the running of the tears, And my heart on fires of passion's burnt and wasted utterly. Yea, the armies of my longing and my transport on me pressed, And the hosts of my endurance did before them break and flee. Lavishly my life I've ventured for the love of her; for life Is the lightest to a lover of all ventures, verily. Be an eye of God unpunished that beheld the beauteous one, Than the moon how much more splendid, in the harem's sanctuary! Struck was I and smitten prostrate by wide-opened eyes, whose shafts, From a bow all stringless loosened, pierced the hapless heart of me. By the soft and flexile motions of her shape she captived me, Swaying as the limber branches sway upon the cassia-tree. Union with her I covet, that therewith I may apply Solace to the pains of passion, love and care and misery. For the love of her, afflicted, as I am, I have become; All that's fallen on me betided from the evil eye, perdie.

Then he wept, till he swooned away, and abode in his swoon a long while. When he came to himself, he looked right and left and seeing none in the desert, was fearful of the wild beasts; so he climbed to the top of a high mountain, where he heard a man's voice speaking within a cavern. He listened and found it to be that of a devotee, who had forsworn the world and given himself up to pious exercises. So he knocked thrice at the cavern door; but the hermit made him no answer, neither came forth to him; wherefore he sighed heavily and recited the following verses:

What way is open unto me, to my desire to get And put off weariness and toil and trouble and regret? All pains and terrors have combined on me, to make me hoar And old of head and heart, whilst I a very child am yet. I find no friend to solace me of longing and unease' Nor one 'gainst passion and its stress to aid me and abet. Alas, the torments I endure for waste and wistful love! Fortune, meseems, 'gainst me is turned and altogether set. Ah, woe's me for the lover's pain, unresting, passion-burnt, Him who in parting's bitter cup his lips perforce hath wet! His wit is ravished clean away by separation's woe, Fire in his heart and all consumed his entrails by its fret. Ah, what a dreadful day it was, when to her stead I came And that, which on the door was writ, my eyes confounded met! I wept, until I gave the earth to drink of my despair; But still from friend and foe I hid the woes that me beset. Then strayed I forth till, in the waste, a lion sprang on me And would have slain me straight; but him with flattering words I met And soothed him. So he spared my life and succoured me, as 'twere He too had known love's taste and been entangled in its net. Yet, for all this, could I but win to come to my desire, All, that I've suffered and endured, straightway I should forget. O thou, that harbour'st in thy cave, distracted from the world, Meseems thou'st tasted love and been its slave, O anchoret!

Hardly had he made an end of these verses when, behold, the door of the cavern opened and he heard one say' 'Alas, the pity of it I' So he entered and saluted the hermit, who returned his greeting and said to him, 'What is thy name?' 'Uns el Wujoud,' answered the young man. 'And what brings thee hither?' asked the hermit. So he told him his whole story, whereat he wept and said' 'O Uns el Wujoud, these twenty years have I dwelt in this place, but never beheld I any here, till the other day, when I heard a noise of cries and weeping, and looking forth in the direction of the sound, saw much people and tents pitched on the sea-shore. They built a ship, in which they embarked and sailed away. Then some of them returned with the ship and breaking it up, went their way; and methinks those, who embarked in the ship and returned not, are they whom thou seekest. In that case, thy trouble must needs be grievous and thou art excusable; though never yet was lover but suffered sorrows.' Then he recited the following verses:

Uns el Wujoud, thou deem'st me free of heart, but, wel-a-way! Longing and transport and desire fold and unfold me aye. Yea, love and passion have I known even from my earliest years, Since at my mother's nursing breast a suckling babe I lay. I struggled sore and long with Love, till I his power confessed. If thou enquire at him of me, he will me not unsay. I quaffed the cup of passion out, with languor and disease, And as a phantom I became for pining and decay. Strong was I, but my strength is gone and neath the swords of eyes, The armies of my patience broke and vanished clean away. Hope not to win delight of love, without chagrin and woe; For contrary with contrary conjoined is alway. But fear not change from lover true; do thou but constant be Unto thy wish, and thou shalt sure be happy yet some day: For unto lovers passion hath ordained that to forget Is heresy, forbidden all its mandates that obey.

Then he rose and coming to the youth, embraced him, and they wept together, till the hills rang with their crying and they fell down in a swoon. When they revived, they swore brotherhood in God the Most High, and the hermit said to Uns el Wujoud, 'This night will I pray to God and seek of Him direction what thou shouldst do to attain thy desire.'

To return to Rose-in-bud. When they brought her into the castle and she beheld its ordinance, she wept and exclaimed, 'By Allah, thou art a goodly place, save that thou lackest the presence of the beloved in thee!' Then, seeing [many] birds in the island, she bade her people set snares for them and hang up all they caught in cages within the castle; and they did so. But she sat at a window of the castle and bethought her of what had passed, and passion and transport and love-longing redoubled upon her, till she burst into tears and repeated the following verses:

To whom, of my desire complaining, shall I cry, To whom, for loss of loves and parting's sorrow, sigh? Flames rage within my breast, but I reveal them not, For fear lest they my case discover to the spy. I'm grown as thin as e'er a bodkin's wood, so worn With absence and lament and agony am I. Where is the loved one's eye, to see how I'm become Even as a blasted tree, stripped bare and like to die? They wronged me, when they shut me prisoner in a place, Wherein my love, alas I may never come me nigh. Greetings a thousandfold I beg the sun to bear, What time he riseth up and setteth from the sky, To a beloved one, who puts the moon to shame, For loveliness, and doth the Indian cane outvie. If the rose ape his cheek, "Now God forfend," I say, "That of my portion aught to pilfer thou shouldst try." Lo, in his mouth are springs of limpid water sweet, Refreshment that would bring to those in flames who lie. How shall I one forget who is my heart and soul, My malady and he that healing can apply?

Then, as the shadows darkened upon her, her longing increased and she called to mind the past and recited these verses also:

The shadows darken and passion stirs up my sickness amain And longing rouses within me the old desireful pain. The anguish of parting hath taken its sojourn in my breast And love and longing and sorrow have maddened heart and brain. Passion hath made me restless and yearning consumes my soul And tears discover my secret, that else concealed had lain. I know of no way to ease me of sickness and care and woe; Nor can my weak endeavour reknit Love's severed skein. My heart is a raging furnace, because of the heat whereof My entrails are racked with anguish, that nothing can assain. O thou, that thinkest to blame me for what is fallen on me, Enough, I suffer with patience whatever the Fates ordain. I swear I shall ne'er find comfort nor be consoled for them, The oath of the children of passion, whose oaths are never in vain! Bear tidings, O night, to my dear ones and greet them and witness bear That thou knowest in thee I sleep not, but ever to wake am fain.

Meanwhile, the hermit said to Uns el Wujoud, 'Go down into the valley and fetch me palm-fibre.' So he went and returned with the palm-fibre, which the hermit took and twisting into ropes, made therewith a net, such as is used for carrying straw; after which he said to the youth, 'O Uns el Wujoud, in the heart of the valley grows a gourd, which springs up and dries upon its roots. Go thither and fill this net therewith; then tie it together and casting it into the water, embark thereon and make for the midst of the sea, so haply thou shalt come to thy desire; for he, who adventureth not himself, shall not attain that he seeketh.' 'I hear and obey,' answered Uns el Wujoud and bidding the hermit farewell after he had prayed for him, betook himself to the hollow of the valley, where he did as he had counselled him and launched out upon the water, supported by the net.