Shorter novels, vol. 3 : $b Eighteenth centuryJohnson, Samuel
General
Shorter novels, vol. 3 : $b Eighteenth century
Johnson, Samuel
English fiction -- 18th century
The caliph had nothing to offer in reply: he wished his mother a
prosperous journey, and ate on till he had finished his supper. At
midnight the camp broke up, amidst the flourishing of trumpets and other
martial instruments; but loud indeed must have been the sound of the
timbals, to overpower the blubbering of the emir and his grey-beards;
who, by an excessive profusion of tears, had so far exhausted the
radical moisture, that their eyes shrivelled up in their sockets, and
their hairs dropped off by the roots. Nouronihar, to whom such a
symphony was painful, did not grieve to get out of hearing. She
accompanied the caliph in the imperial litter, where they amused
themselves with imagining the splendour which was soon to surround them.
The other women, overcome with dejection, were dolefully rocked in their
cages; whilst Dilara consoled herself with anticipating the joy of
celebrating the rites of fire on the stately terraces of Istakar.
In four days they reached the spacious valley of Rocnabad. The season of
spring was in all its vigour; and the grotesque branches of the almond
trees in full blossom, fantastically chequered with hyacinths and
jonquils, breathed forth a delightful fragrance. Myriads of bees, and
scarce fewer of santons, had there taken up their abode. On the banks of
the stream, hives and oratories were alternately ranged; and their
neatness and whiteness were set off by the deep green of the cypresses
that spired up amongst them. These pious personages amused themselves
with cultivating little gardens, that abounded with flowers and fruits;
especially musk-melons of the best flavour that Persia could boast.
Sometimes dispersed over the meadow, they entertained themselves with
feeding peacocks whiter than snow, and turtles more blue than the
sapphire. In this manner were they occupied when the harbingers of the
imperial procession began to proclaim, “Inhabitants of Rocnabad!
prostrate yourselves on the brink of your pure waters; and tender your
thanksgivings to Heaven, that vouchsafeth to show you a ray of its
glory: for, lo! the commander of the faithful draws near.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Shorter novels, vol. 3 : $b Eighteenth century — John Shaqi
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