IN the caliph's garden, known as the Odoriferous,
bloomed one day a stately rose;
As the favourite sultana is queen of the harem, so was
this rose queen of the garden;
And she looked down with contempt on all the other
flowers, for she alone was beloved of the bulbul--
Through the long night reposing on her fragrant
bosom, to her ear alone did he address his tuneful
flatteries.
The praises of the poet are sure to increase the innate
vanity of an acknowledged beauty, and queen rose
accordingly gave herself great airs in the garden;
There was scarcely a flower whom she did not disdain,
but she seemed to detest the poppy.
What is so eloquent as a lady's hatred? and thus did
queen rose address the poppy:--
'You vulgar, gaudy creature, pray what brought you
to court?
Your proper home is among rustics, in the corn-field,
where you fall a prey to the sickle;
Faugh! your breath is offensive to me, I almost faint
beneath it, in spite of all the natural perfumes with
which it has pleased Allah and his holy Prophet
to bless me.'
So piously will some people conclude the most uncharit-
able speeches.
The poppy reddened a little at these words, but only
hung her head in silence;
For modest genius despises the taunts of the self-
conceited.
Now it chanced that the caliph came forth to walk in
the garden, with the beloved of his soul.
And he saw and admired the queen rose, and plucked
her, and gave her to his companion.
And the sultana, being confused at the many beautiful
compliments that the caliph paid her, pulled this
haughty queen to pieces, and scattered the leaves
here and there in the dust as she walked.
And on the same day there came into the garden a sage
philosopher, to whom was intrusted the care of the
caliph's health;
And he carefully culled the poppy, and prepared from
its seeds an excellent drug,
With which he afterwards cured the commander of the
faithful of a grievous malady.