Part 3

Abbassah now perceived there must be some secret connected with Nemah; so, after endeavoring to console her, she arose and went to the caliph, and addressed him, saying:

'Oh! Emir of the Faithful! give the newly-arrived maiden a few days' repose, and allow her time to become acquainted with her new home and companions. She is unhappy, and requires to be left to herself awhile.'

The sensible heart of the caliph was touched by the words of his sister, and he requested her to have a physician sought for, and consulted on the maiden's health. To this Abbassah replied: 'On my head and eyes be it;' and while she searches for a physician, let us return to the unhappy Numan.

Now when Numan had the misfortune to be separated from his mistress, and his beloved companion no more returned to his dwelling, his heart burnt and his eyes wept, and he bewailed her absence. His father also was much aggrieved at the loss of his son's idol. Soon the rose-cheeks of poor Numan faded like autumn leaves, and the alarmed parent sought advice of a physician. If divine wisdom guides the humble servant, the desire of the afflicted will be effected, and the object of his hopes be attained.

While the afflicted father, Rebi bin Jaber, was seated in his dwelling, overwhelmed with sorrow, suddenly a voice reached his ear, saying:

'Let him who needs an expert physician, and an able astrologer, one versed in the science of geomancy and the other hidden knowledges, appear.'

This was a man who, according to the custom of the country, proclaimed his calling in the public way. Rebi at once ordered his servants to bring the man in, and after showing him every attention, he requested of him a remedy for his son. When the learned man had felt Numan's pulse, he knew that no remedy was needed, and informed the parent that his son had not one atom of disease; but, added he, 'I perceive he is feverish from the passion of Love.'

Rebi now related to him the whole circumstance of his son's affliction, adding: 'Tell me, is his mistress dead or alive?--on this earth, or in heaven?--what is her condition?--to whose border has she become a prisoner?--and is there any means of freeing her?'

Now the physician was a perfect master of the science of geomancy; so taking his sand in his hand, he scattered and divided it; then observed its meaning; twice bent his head, and finally was confident that Nemah was in Damascus. 'Good news!' exclaimed the old man to Rebi; 'the end of this trial is lucky, though indeed the sand turns heavily. After your maiden left you, she did not pass the night in the city.'

'Since you know that she is in Damascus, pray,' said Rebi, 'throw the sand once more, so that we may know in whose house she is, and who holds her in confinement.'

The physician did as he was requested, threw another and yet another time his sand; and on examining it, added, smiling: 'Good news! good news to you! your maiden has been sent by the governor of this country to Damascus, where she now is in the palace of the caliph. With GOD's permission we will yet unloose this knot.'

Rebi, now greatly rejoiced, gave the physician large and costly presents; and, in case of success, promised him all he possessed in the world. 'Provide what is necessary for the voyage,' replied the physician, 'and let us set out direct for Damascus, where we will see what GOD will show us.'

Soon the essentials were got ready, and they departed; and in the course of a few days reached that city, where in its very centre they opened a shop, stocking it with liquids and drugs in Keshan vases. For some days they treated all who visited them for their complaints, and so successfully cured them, that their name soon became celebrated throughout the whole city. Poor Numan, in the hope of finding a remedy for his grief, sat all day long, opposite the physician, quiet and submissive as a burning night-candle.

At length a female slave in the caliph's palace having heard of the cures performed by the physician, informed Abbassah that a person had arrived at Damascus from Irak, who had remedies for all manner of diseases. The caliph's sister was overjoyed at this news. 'Let us send and represent to this physician poor Nemah's condition; perhaps he may benefit her also.' So one of the slaves of the Harem, named Kahermaneh, was sent to his shop, and addressing the physician, said: 'I am a servant of the Harem of the caliph, and have come to inform you that his favorite maiden is ill; if you are so fortunate as to find a remedy for her, great will be your recompense.' After questioning Kahermaneh, he remarked, that the maiden had no natural disease; 'tell me,' added he, 'her name.'

'Strange!' replied Kahermaneh, 'do you treat the sick, or purchase slaves, that you ask her name?'

'Pardon me,' he answered; 'I asked the sick person's name so as to count the letters which compose it, then write some appropriate holy names on her star, and see what kind of remedies are necessary.'

On hearing this, the slave exclaimed: 'May GOD bless you; your talent has been proven on every science;' and so gave him the name of Nemah, adding, that her father was called Tevfik; at which he said 'GOD's Tevfik (assistance) will aid us.'

When poor Numan heard the name of the object of all his desires, bloody tears fell from his eyes, and he uttered an 'Ah!' full of plaintive sorrow. The physician told him in his own language, [Arabic]; 'Divulge not, but be silent; rise, and hand me that vase of medicine;' which Numan obeying, he wrapped up in paper a piece of _mâjuu_ (electuary), and pouring a liquid from another vase into a bottle, told him to tie up its mouth with paper, and in his own usual style, to write on it that the patient should every morning mix some of the liquid with water and drink it. This Numan having done, he delivered the medicines to Kahermaneh.

Now when Nemah saw the hand-writing of her lover, she involuntarily sprang from her seat, and hastily mixing some of the liquid, as directed, drank it off and said to Kahermaneh, 'Your goodness has been recompensed; my heart finds great relief from this medicine; and if my complaint can be cured, it will be by this. What kind of a man is this physician?'

'He is from Cufah,' was the reply; 'is a man of extraordinary talents, and acquainted with every kind of science. He has in his employ,' added Kahermaneh, 'a youth of great beauty and gentleness;' and as she described his person and dress Nemah's eyes filled with tears, for she understood it was Numan.

While they were engaged in conversation, the caliph came to pay his maiden a visit, and Kahermaneh said to him: 'Oh! Prince of the Faithful! an expert physician has visited our city, from whom I obtained medicines which have proven most beneficial to Nemah.' On learning this the caliph was greatly rejoiced, and putting five hundred pieces of silver in a purse gave it to the maiden, bidding her send a portion of it to the physician who had benefited her. 'His labor is not lost,' added he; 'let him be diligent and attentive.' Nemah took four hundred of the pieces and gave them to Kahermaneh, and then putting the remainder into a purse, with a scrap of paper on which she had written with her own hand: 'This from Nemah, who is separated from her beloved friend, her country, and home;' then sealing it, she gave the purse to Kahermaneh, who carried it to the physician, saying: 'Thanks and blessings to you, for your remedies have proven very beneficial to our sick one, who has regained her color and strength, and her heart is rejoiced.'

The physician handed the purse over to Numan, who on beholding the hand-writing of his mistress, his senses left him, and his cypress form like a shadow strowed the ground. The physician threw rose-scented water in his face, and as his senses slowly returned, tears fell from his eyes. Kahermaneh seeing this, her liver burned within her; she also wept, and in sympathizing grief, addressed Numan thus: 'Unhappy youth, may they never smile who make you weep; pray tell me the cause of your grief.'

Oh! joy of the heart, and light of the eyes! Perce's envy, and Hoore's jealousy: On the mind of your breast is the dust of grief, And yours must be no common sorrow.

Numan replied: 'You are more piteous and tender even than my parents. I am that unhappy youth whose companion Hedjadj ez Zalim, governor of Cufah, by means of a deceitful old woman enticed out on a visit, and sent off as a present to the caliph. This is the grief which has separated me from my home and country, and sent me forth an exile in affliction.'

'Ah!' replied Kahermaneh; 'and that beautiful creature is afflicted wholly from being separated from you.'

Now the physician offered the purse to Kahermaneh, saying: 'I have no need of money; I beg you, for the sake of my gray head, be kind to our cause; keep our secret, and if you do us a favor, until death we will not forget you in our prayers.' In fine, Kahermaneh promised to peril even her soul in their service, and to bring the lovers together.

So, taking with her some more medicines, similarly put up and labelled, this kind woman returned to the palace of the caliph, and opening the conversation with Nemah, found that she verified all Numan had told her. 'Do you desire to see him again?' asked she. Nemah replied: 'Can you ask the sick body if it wants health, or the dying man if he wishes for life? If I can but see his beautiful face once more with mortal eyes, I would then willingly expire.'

Kahermaneh said: 'Then give me a spare suit of female clothes;' which having received, she proceeded forthwith to the physician's shop, and on putting the question to Numan whether he desired to see Nemah again, he answered, 'Yes, even if I but look and die:'

To the ardent lover no deception is wrong; Whatever the heart speaks must be true. Boundless are the ardent impulses of love: To die is a small sacrifice for one's beloved.

'Hasten, then,' said the good woman, 'put on that female dress, and let us set out; but the All-Just alone can fulfil your wishes.' They now took leave of the physician, and praying as they went, reached the entrance of the palace, where a eunuch asked who was Kahermaneh's companion? The reply was, that she was the sister of the caliph's favorite. When they had reached the inner gate of the Harem, Kahermaneh said: 'I cannot pass beyond this, but will wait for you here. This passage leads by ten apartments; follow it, counting as you go, and remember that _the ninth_ is Nemah's, while the tenth is that of the caliph's sister. Make no mistake, and after seeing your mistress, return to this spot.'

Numan did as he was directed; passing on, and counting the apartments as he went; but from timidity and fear he miscounted, and entered the apartment of the caliph's sister, Abbassah, which was furnished with a throne-like sofa, and its walls covered with silk and brocade. It was empty, but poor Numan, half dead with fear, in momentary expectation of seeing his mistress enter, threw himself on the sofa.

Presently a stately and noble person, like the world-adorning Phoebus, entered the apartment, who to her great surprise beheld a woman seated on her sofa, who from fear did not rise up to respect her. Abbassah, for it was her, exclaimed, 'What foolish woman are you, who without my permission dare to enter thus my apartment?' But suddenly, acting according to her Hashemite generosity of character, she added, in a milder tone: 'Who are you? Come, fear not, but tell me your story.'

Poor Numan, speechless with fright, could only throw himself at Abbassah's feet, and humbly rub his face and eyes upon them. The noble-hearted woman was touched with pity, and said: 'Be not afflicted; you are in a place of safety.' Then exposing his face, she perceived he was a man; and kindly added: 'Unhappy man, what secret cause has reduced you to adopt this disguise? what misfortune has befallen you? Speak, and tell me the truth, for [Arabic] 'safety is in sincerity.' Numan, with tears in his eyes, related all his story to Abbassah; and it so touched the heart of the noble princess that she also wept, until her tears fell down on her angelic bosom, and she exclaimed: 'Oh! Numan, be no longer afflicted, for you are safe.' Clapping her hands until her maidens came in, 'Prepare,' said she, 'a seat for me, and then, giving my sâlâms to sweet Nemah, invite her to come to see me.'

Abbassah directed her maidens to make place; and so soon as Nemah had made her appearance, she saw Numan, and these two faithful lovers rushing into each other's arms, fell senseless on the floor. She threw rose-scented water in their faces, and when they had regained their senses, they, offering prayers and thanks for her benevolence, threw themselves at her feet. Immediately joy was on every countenance, and the maidens attendant upon Abbassah were greatly rejoiced for their companion's sake. Each drank three goblets of wine, and each taking their appropriate instrument, played a lively air, accompanying it with their voices. Even Nemah, forgetful of her past sorrows, took a lute in her hand and played an air appropriate to the occasion of her reünion with her lover.

In the midst of this display of delight, lo! the caliph came unexpectedly to see his sister; and on hearing the sound of music and song, approached her door in light step, saying, 'Barik Allah! GOD be blessed! what sweet sounds are these?' So soon as Abbassah became aware of his approach, she threw a shawl over Numan, and advancing to receive the caliph, prepared a seat for him. Turning to his sister, 'Pray,' said he, 'whatever your conversation may have been, continue it, and let us be a partaker of your mirth.' Abbassah forthwith handed him also three cups full of ruby liquid, which he drank; and after it had exhilarated him, she addressed him as follows:

'Oh! Emir of the Faithful! know that once in past times there was an aged man who had a heart-binding son, brought up with great delicateness and care, for whom he had purchased a maiden, who for beauty and accomplishments was the admiration of the world. These two young persons were educated and grew up together, and loved each other with the strongest affection. Now it happened that one evening when this lover and his mistress were amusing themselves in their own dwelling, the governor of that city, an unjust and tyrannical man, passed under their house and heard the sweet voice of the maiden. So, on the day following, he, by means of a vile woman, deceives the maiden, gets her in his power, and sends her as a present to the sovereign of the age. The youthful lover becomes greatly distressed on being separated from his mistress, and devotes his life to find her. By one means or other he obtains admittance to the palace in which she is confined, and they meet. In the midst of their rejoicings, and the mutual recital of the sufferings which they had experienced during their separation, lo! the sovereign of the country suddenly enters the apartment, and without a moment's delay, or making a single inquiry, draws his sword and puts them to death on the spot. This is all one can expect of an ignorant sovereign, who never inquires into the merits of an affair. But what do you think of it?'

'Stupid ignorance!' replied the caliph; 'the lovers were excusable: he should have learned their story, aided the accomplishment of their desires, and prevented future injustice.'

Abbassah exclaimed: 'Oh! Prince of the Faithful! generosity and benevolence is an inheritance of the tribe of Koraish:[A] tell me, by the souls of your noble forefathers, did such an act, or such a circumstance occur during your reign, and in your own empire, what would you do?'

[Footnote A: THE tribe from which MOHAMMED descended.]

'I swear that when I was convinced that their condition was as you describe,' replied the caliph, 'I would bestow my favor upon them, and the deceitful governor, whose duty it was to protect true Mussulmans, I would punish for evil administration.'

Abbassah now thanked her brother, kissed his hand, and as she exclaimed, 'May your protecting shadow never pass over the heads of the innocent without rendering them justice!' drew the shawl from off Numan, and said: 'Behold, oh, Prince! the subject of my tale. This is the unfortunate youth, and this the unhappy maiden, who so cruelly was separated from her lover! Hedjadj ez Zalem treated them as I have related; and is it proper that he should endeavor to cause you, noble prince! to commit sin and injustice? Power to do good is in your own princely hands; do whatever you may deem best.'

While Abbassah was yet speaking, the two lovers threw themselves at the caliph's feet; and when she had finished, Abdul Malek, with the generosity and justice which distinguished his reign, raised them up, and taking Nemah by the hand gave her to Numan, dressed him in a robe of honor, and placed him in the highest ranks of his officers. Soon after he dismissed Hedjadj from his office, and appointed the prince in his place. To Kahermaneh he gave one thousand dinars: the sorrow which she had once felt for the lovers was turned to joy; and under the shadow of the caliph's favor she never knew adversity. As to Hedjadj the Cruel, the loss of his office rendered him miserable, and he ever after lived in poverty.

J. P. B.

SONNET

TO L. AND M. D., THE BUDS OF THE SARANAC.

AN angel breathed upon a budding flower, And on that breath the bud went up to heaven, Yet left a fragrance in the little bower, To which its first warm blushes had been given; And, by that fragrance nursed, another grew, And so they both had being in the last, And on this one distilled Heaven's choicest dew, And rays of glorious light were on it cast, Until the floweret claimed a higher birth, And would not open on a scene so drear, For it was more of paradise than earth, And strains from thence came ever floating near; And so it passed, and long ere noontide's hour, The bud of earth had oped, a heaven-born flower.

WINTER.

STERN tyrant of the year! The circling hours bring thine ascendant day, And hill and plain, sky, sea, and stream obey Thy rule austere.

The conqueror's march is thine; Each step thou mark'st with trophies of decay, And with the fair earth's ruins thy proud way Dost thickly line.

Deathful thy scowl of gloom; And the soft green from tree and shrub doth pass, And summer's delicate flowers and twinkling grass Are spoiled of bloom.

Beneath thy chilling breath The sweet-voiced brooks, that bounded on their way Gleesome and frisk, as children at their play, Lie stiff in death.

Thou speak'st, and the blithe hum Of insect life, the choral measures sung By tuneful birds the greenwood boughs among, Are stricken dumb.

Earth's sceptre thou dost bear; And the white badge of servitude to thee Each crested mount, low valley, stream, and tree Submissive wear.

Therefore, dread power! rejoice; Bid the shrill winds pipe out thy triumph high, And ocean's glad, accordant waves reply With thunder-voice.

Yet, deem not, potent One! Though subject earth lie prostrate at thy feet, That, throned in universal empire's seat, Thou reign'st alone.

The nobler Spirit-world No trophies of thy prowess yields to thee; No flaunting banner of thy sovereignty Is there unfurled.

The gladsome stream of thought Glides fertilizing on, untamed and free, And tracks its bright way toward Thought's central sea, Heeding thee nought.

The green growths of the soul Their fragrance breathe, despite thy stormy air, And not one delicate tint their blossoms wear Owns thy control.

No winter blights and lours Where sojourneth the faithful spirit clear, Fruitage and bloom for it the teeming year Conjointly showers.

Then hail, dread Power, to thee! Intently gazing in thy rugged face, E'en there, methinks, benignity I trace, True kindness see.

Thou bidst me turn within To what, untouched of time and change, doth live, That, which not outward things can ever give, Or from me win.

One universal tomb May close on all earth's glorious, bright, and fair, But to itself still true, the Soul shall wear Unwithering bloom.

D. H. B.

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS.

BY PETER VON GEIST.

PRELIMINARY.--Sitting in the seat and looking on the scenes of youth; calling back its feelings and thinking over its thoughts; is, we may suppose, seldom pleasing to manhood. Fragments of plans; wrong but captivating views of life; dead hopes which once lived and bloomed; vast schemes dwindled like dry leaves; resolutions broken and re-broken; all covered and lost sight of, under the stream of events that is perpetually flowing into the memory, will come up, bringing a smile and a pang; and the youth of TWENTY will stand in living colors before the man of FORTY.

FORTY. Your face is full of joy, young man; are you thinking of me?

TWENTY. I am thinking of you, and therefore am I full of joy.

FORTY. I know nothing in me that should give you so much pleasure to contemplate.

TWENTY. Do you count, then, honor, wealth, benefactions, and the blessings of your country, as nothing? Do I not see your head encircled with the garland of praise? Are you not enriched with all knowledge and adorned with all graces? Is this a small thing? I would give away ten years of my life, if the space that intervenes between you and me--Now and Then--might be annihilated this instant!

FORTY. It is perhaps as well that that space cannot be annihilated or diminished. But could you spare ten years without feeling the loss? Do you suppose yourself sufficiently armed and equipped already, for the campaign?

TWENTY. On to the combat! What armor would you have, but a quick eye, a steady hand, and a courageous heart?

FORTY. By 'a courageous heart,' you probably mean animal spirits; but they will flag in a little while. Have you thought of that?

TWENTY. No, Sir, I do not mean animal spirits. I mean a bold, unshrinking heart, that goes forth to meet the world, and never faints; one which does not grow weary when it is encompassed with adversity, but looks, and hopes, and fights on, till it gains its high end. Is not that armor enough?

FORTY. It is, no doubt; so hard that it can receive and not be pierced by the darts of the enemy?

TWENTY. There is no need of its being hard. The encounter is not a battle; it is a joust, a tournament, a passage of arms. And cannot brothers and friends tilt, and still be brothers and friends?

FORTY. You regard, then, the business of life as the amusements of a gala-day?

TWENTY. No, Sir! no, Sir! These figures of speech only conceal and disguise its nature. It is neither a battle nor a play; it is labor. By the sweat of his brow must man eat his bread.

FORTY. 'Thorns also, and thistles shall spring up to him.'