If a stranger passed the tent of Hoseyn, he cried, "A churl's!" Or haply, "God help the man who has neither salt nor bread!" --"Nay," would a friend exclaim, "he needs nor pity nor scorn More than who spends small thought on the shore-sand, picking pearls, --Holds but in light esteem the seed-sort, bears instead 5 On his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which of night makes morn. "What if no flocks and herds enrich the son of Sinan? They went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand camels the due, Blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old. 'God gave them, let them go! But never since time began, 10 Muleykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match of you, And you are my prize, my Pearl; I laugh at men's land and gold!' "So in the pride of his soul laughs Hoseyn--and right, I say. Do the ten steeds run a race of glory? Outstripping all, Ever Muleykeh stands first steed at the victor's staff. 15 Who started, the owner's hope, gets shamed and named, that day. 'Silence,' or, last but one, is 'The Cuffed,' as we use to call Whom the paddock's lord thrusts forth. Right, Hoseyn, I say, to laugh!" "Boasts he Muleykeh the Pearl?" the stranger replies: "Be sure On him I waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both 20 On Duhl the son of Sheyban, who withers away in heart For envy of Hoseyn's luck. Such sickness admits no cure. A certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an oath, 'For the vulgar--flocks and herds! The Pearl is a prize apart.'" Lo, Duhl the son of Sheyban comes riding to Hoseyn's tent, 25 And he casts his saddle down, and enters and "Peace!" bids he. "You are poor, I know the cause: my plenty shall mend the wrong. 'Tis said of your Pearl--the price of a hundred camels spent In her purchase were scarce ill paid; such prudence is far from me Who proffer a thousand. Speak! Long parley may last too 30 long." Said Hoseyn, "You feed young beasts a many, of famous breed, Slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of Muzennem: There stumbles no weak-eyed she in the line as it climbs the hill. But I love Muleykeh's face; her forefront whitens indeed Like a yellowish wave's cream-crest. Your camels--go gaze on 35 them! Her fetlock is foam-splashed too. Myself am the richer still." A year goes by; lo, back to the tent again rides Duhl. "You are open-hearted, aye--moist-handed, a very prince. Why should I speak of sale? Be the mare your simple gift! My son is pined to death for her beauty; my wife prompts, 40 'Fool, Beg for his sake the Pearl! Be God the rewarder, since God pays debts seven for one; who squanders on Him shows thrift.'"