from worldly things! After I had buried him, I made my way to Baghdad and, going to the Caliphs palace, waited till he came forth, when I addressed him in one of the streets and gave him the ruby, which when he saw, he knew and fell down in a fainting-fit. His attendants laid hands on me, but he revived and said to them, Release him and bring him courteously to the palace. They did his bidding, and when he returned, he sent for me and carrying me into his chamber said to me, How doth the owner of this ruby? Quoth I, Verily, he is dead; and told him what had passed; whereupon he fell a-weeping and said, The son hath gained; but the sire hath lost. Then he called out, saying, Ho, such an one!; and behold there came out to him a lady who, when she saw me, would have withdrawn; but he cried to her, Come, and mind him not. So she entered and saluted, and he threw her the ruby, which when she saw and she knew, she shrieked a great shriek and fell down in a swoon. As soon as she came to herself, she said, O Commander of the Faithful, what hath Allah done with my son?; and he said to me, Do thou tell her his case (as he could not speak for weeping). Accordingly, I repeated the story to her, and she began to shed tears and say in a faint and wailing voice, How I have longed for thy sight, O solace of mine eyes! [FN#166] Would I might have given thee to drink, when thou hadst none to slake thy thirst! Would I might have cheered thee, whenas thou foundest never a cheerer! And she poured forth tears and recited these couplets,
I weep for one whose lot a lonely death befel; * Without a friend to whom he might complain and moan: And after glory and glad union with his friends, * He woke to desolation, friendless, lorn and lone; What Fortune hides a while she soon to all men shall show; * Death never spared a man; no, not a single one: O absent one, my Lord decreed thee strangerhood, * Far from thy nearest friends and to long exile gone: Though Death forbid my hope of meeting here again, * On Doom-days morrow we shall meet again, my son! [FN#167]
Quoth I, O Commander of the Faithful, was he indeed thy
