The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, vol 4 by Sir Richard Francis Burton (hardest books to read .TXT) 📖

And saith a third,

‘He came to see me, hiding neath the skirt of night, * Hasting his steps as wended he in cautious plight.

I rose and spread my cheek upon his path like rug, * Abject, and trailed my skirt to hide it from his sight; But rose the crescent moon and strave its best to show * The world our loves like nail-slice raying radiant light:[FN#367]

Then what befel befel: I need not aught describe; * But think thy best, and ask me naught of wrong or right.

Meet not thy lover save at night for fear of slander * The Sun’s a tittle-tattler and the Moon’s a pander.’

And a fifth,

‘I love not white girls blown with fat who puff and pant; * The maid for me is young brunette embonpoint-scant.

I’d rather ride a colt that’s darn upon the day * Of race, and set my friends upon the elephant.’

And a sixth,

My lover came to me one night, * And clips we both with fond embrace;

And lay together till we saw * The morning come with swiftest pace.

Now I pray Allah and my Lord * To reunite us of His grace And make night last me long as he * Lies in the arms that tightly lace.’

Were I to set forth all the praises of blackness, my tale would be tedious; but little and enough is better than too much of unfilling stuff. As for thee, O blonde, thy colour is that of leprosy and thine embrace is suffocation;[FN#368] and it is of report that hoar-frost and icy cold[FN#369] are in Gehenna for the torment of the wicked. Again, of things black and excellent is ink, wherewith is written Allah’s word; and were it not for black ambergris and black musk, there would be no perfumes to carry to Kings. How many glories I may not mention dwell in blackness, and how well saith the poet, ‘Seest not that musk, the nut brown musk, e’er claims the highest price * Whilst for a load of whitest lime none more than dirham bids?

And while white speck upon the eye deforms the loveliest youth, *

Black eyes discharge the sharpest shafts in lashes from their lids.’

Quoth her master, ‘Sit thee down: this much sufficeth.’ So she sat down and he signed to the fat girl, who rose”—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Three Hundred and Thirty-sixth Night, She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that “the man of Al-Yaman, the master of the handmaids, signed to the fat girl who rose and, pointing her finger at the slim girl, bared her calves and wrists and uncovered her stomach, showing its dimples and the plump rondure of her navel. Then she donned a shift of fine stuff, that exposed her whole body, and said: ‘Praised be Allah who created me, for that He beautified my face and made me fat and fair of the fattest and fairest; and likened me to branches laden with fruit, and bestowed upon me abounding beauty and brightness: and praised be He no less, for that He hath given me the precedence and honoured me, when He mentioneth me in His holy Book! Quoth the Most High, ‘And he brought a fatted calf.’[FN#370] And He hath made me like unto a vergier full of peaches and pomegranates. In very sooth even as the townsfolk long for fat birds and eat of them and love not lean birds, so do the sons of Adam desire fat meat and eat of it. How many vauntful attributes are there not in fatness, and how well saith the poet, ‘Farewell thy love, for see, the Cafilah’s[FN#371] on the move: *

O man, canst bear to say adieu and leave thy love?

‘Tis as her going were to seek her neighbour’s tent, * The gait of fat fair maid, whom hearts shall all approve.’

Sawest thou ever one stand before a flesher’s stall but sought of him fat flesh? The wise say, ‘Joyance is in three things, eating meat and riding meat and putting meat into meat.’[FN#372] As for thee, O thin one, thy calves are like the shanks of sparrows or the pokers of furnaces; and thou art a cruciform plank of a piece of flesh poor and rank; there is naught in thee to gladden the heart; even as saith the poet,

‘With Allah take I refuge from whatever driveth me * To bed with one like footrasp[FN#373] or the roughest ropery: In every limb she hath a horn that butteth me whene’er * I fain would rest, so morn and eve I wend me wearily.’

Quoth her master, ‘Sit thee down: this much sufficeth.’ So she sat down and he signed to the slender girl, who rose, as she were a willow-wand, or a rattan-frond or a stalk of sweet basil, and said: ‘Praised be Allah who created me and beautified me and made my embraces the end of all desire and likened me to the branch, whereto all hearts incline. If I rise, I rise lightly; if I sit, I sit prettily; I am nimble-witted at a jest and merrier-souled than mirth itself. Never heard I one describe his mistress, saying, ‘My beloved is the bigness of an elephant or like a mountain long and broad;’ but rather, ‘My lady hath a slender waist and a slim shape.’[FN#374] Furthermore a little food filleth me and a little water quencheth my thirst; my sport is agile and my habit active; for I am sprightlier than the sparrow and lighter-skipping than the starling. My favours are the longing of the lover and the delight of the desirer; for I am goodly of shape, sweet of smile and graceful as the bending willow-wand or the rattan-cane[FN#375] or the stalk of the basil-plant; nor is there any can compare with me in loveliness, even as saith one of me,

‘Thy shape with willow branch I dare compare, * And hold thy figure as my fortunes fair:

I wake each morn distraught, and follow thee, * And from the rival’s eye in fear I fare.’

It is for the like of me that amourists run mad and that those who desire me wax distracted. If my lover would draw me to him, I am drawn to him; and if he would have me incline to him, I incline to him and not against him. But now, as for thee, O fat of body, thine eating is the feeding of an elephant, and neither much nor little filleth thee. When thou liest with a man who is lean, he hath no ease of thee; nor can he anyways take his pleasure of thee; for the bigness of thy belly holdeth him off from going in unto thee and the fatness of thy thighs hindereth him from coming at thy slit. What goodness is there in thy grossness, and what courtesy or pleasantness in thy coarseness?

Fat flesh is fit for naught but the flasher, nor is there one point therein that pleadeth for praise. If one joke with thee, thou art angry; if one sport with thee, thou art sulky; if thou sleep, thou snorest if thou walk, thou lollest out thy tongue! if thou eat, thou art never filled. Thou art heavier than mountains and fouler than corruption and crime. Thou hast in thee nor agility nor benedicite nor thinkest thou of aught save meat and sleep. When thou pissest thou swishes”; if thou turd thou gruntest like a bursten wine skin or an elephant transmogrified.

If thou go to the water closet, thou needest one to wash thy gap and pluck out the hairs which overgrow it; and this is the extreme of sluggish ness and the sign, outward and visible, of stupidity[FN#376] In short, there is no good thing about thee, and indeed the poet Title of thee,

‘Heavy and swollen like an urine-bladder blown, * With hips and thighs like mountain propping piles of stone; Whene’er she walks in Western hemisphere, her tread * Makes the far Eastern world with weight to moan and groan.’

Quoth her master, ‘Sit thee down, this sufficeth;’ so she sat down and he signed to the yellow girl, who rose to her feet and praised Allah Almighty and magnified His name, calling down peace and blessing on Mohammed the best of His creatures; after which she pointed her finger at the brunette and said to her,” And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Three Hundred and Thirty-seventh Night, She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that “the yellow girl stood up and praised Almighty Allah and magnified His name; after which she pointed her finger at the brown girl and said to her: ‘I am the one praised in the Koran, and the Compassionate hath described my complexion and its excellence over all other hues in His manifest Book, where Allah saith, ‘A yellow, pure yellow, whose colour gladdeneth the beholders.’[FN#377] Wherefore my colour is a sign and portent and my grace is supreme and my beauty a term extreme; for that my tint is the tint of a ducat and the colour of the planets and moons and the hue of ripe apples. My fashion is the fashion of the fair, and the dye of saffron outvieth all other dyes; so my semblance is wondrous and my colour marvellous. I am soft of body and of high price, comprising all qualities of beauty. My colour is essentially precious as virgin gold, and how many boasts and glories cloth it not unfold! Of the like of me quoth the poet, ‘Her golden yellow is the sheeny sun’s; * And like gold sequins she delights the sight:

Saffron small portion of her glance can show; * Nay,[FN#378] she outvies the moon when brightest bright.’

And I shall at once begin in thy dispraise, O berry-brown girl!

Thy tincture is that of the buffalo, and all souls shudder at thy sight. If thy colour be in any created thing, it is blamed; if it be in food, it is poisoned; for thy hue is the hue of the dung-fly; it is a mark of ugliness even in dogs; and among the colours it is one which strikes with amazement and is of the signs of mourning. Never heard I of brown gold or brown pearls or brown gems. If thou enter the privy, thy colour changeth, and when thou comest out, thou addest ugliness to ugliness. Thou art a non-descript; neither black, that thou mayst be recognised, nor white, that thou mayst be described; and in thee there is no good quality, even as saith the poet,

‘The hue of dusty motes is hers; that dull brown hue of hers * Is mouldy like the dust and mud by Cossid’s foot upthrown:[FN#379]

I never look upon her brow, e’en for eye-twinkling’s space, *

But in brown study fall I and my thoughts take browner tone.’

Quoth her master, ‘Sit thee down; this much sufficeth;’ so she sat down and he signed to the brunette. Now she was a model of beauty and loveliness and symmetry and perfect grace; soft of skin, slim of shape, of stature rare, and coal-black hair; with cheeks rosy-pink, eyes black rimmed by nature’s hand, face fair, and eloquent tongue; moreover slender-waisted and heavy-hipped.

So she rose and said: ‘Praise be to Allah who hath created me neither leper-white nor bile-yellow nor charcoal-black, but hath made my colour to be beloved of men of wit and wisdom, for all the poets extol berry-brown maids in every tongue and exalt their colour over all