Arabs -- Folklore; Fairy tales -- Arab countries; Tales -- Arab countries
As soon as this cruel enchantress, for she is unworthy of bearing
the title of queen, had thus transformed me, and by means of her
magic had conveyed me to this apartment, she destroyed my capital,
which was both flourishing and well inhabited; she annihilated the
palaces, public places, and markets; turned the whole place into a
lake, or pond, and rendered the country, as you may perceive, quite
a desert. The four sorts of fish, which are in the pond, are four
different classes of inhabitants, who professed different religions,
and inhabited the capital. The white were Musselmen; the red,
Persians, who worship fire; the blue, Christians; and the yellow,
Jews; the four little hills were four islands; whence the name of
the kingdom originated. I was informed of all this by the
enchantress, who herself related the effects of her rage. Nor was
even this all; she did not confine her fury to the destruction of my
empire, and to my enchantment, for she comes every day and gives me
a hundred blows with a thong, made of a bull’s hide, upon my
shoulders, from whence she draws blood at every stroke. As soon as
she has finished this punishment, she covers me with a thick stuff,
made of goat’s hair; and puts a robe of rich brocade over it, not
for the sake of honouring, but of mocking me.” In saying this, the
young king of the Black Isles could not refrain from tears; and the
sultan’s heart was so oppressed, he could not offer him any
consolation. The young king then, lifting up his eyes towards
Heaven, exclaimed, “I submit, O powerful Creator of all things, to
thy judgments, and to the decrees of thy providence. Since it is thy
pleasure, I patiently suffer every evil; yet I trust thy infinite
goodness will one day recompense me.”
“Inform me,” cried the sultan, affected by the recital of so
strange a story, and eager to revenge his injuries, “inform me
where this perfidious enchantress resides, and where also is this
infamous paramour, whom she has entombed before his death. “My
lord,” answered the prince, “he, as I have before mentioned, is
at the Palace of Tears, in a tomb, formed like a dome; and this
palace has a communication with the castle on the side towards the
entrance. I cannot exactly tell you to what spot the enchantress has
retired; but she visits her lover every day at sun-rise, after
having inflicted on me the sanguinary punishment I related: and you
may easily judge, that I cannot defend myself from such great
cruelty. She always brings with her a sort of liquor, which is the
only thing that is able to keep him alive; and she never ceases to
complain of the silence which he has invariably kept since he was
wounded.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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