"They say me: —Thou shinest a light to mankind * With thy lore as the night which the Moon doth uplight! I answer, "A truce to your jests and your gibes; * Without luck what is learning?—a poor-devil wight! If they take me to pawn with my lore in my pouch, * With my volumes to read and my ink-case to write, For one day's provision they never could pledge me; * As likely on Doomsday to draw bill at sight:" How poorly, indeed, doth it fare wi' the poor, * With his pauper existence and beggarly plight: In summer he faileth provision to find; * In winter the fire-pot's his only delight: The street-dogs with bite and with bark to him rise, * And each losel receives him with bark and with bite: If he lift up his voice and complain of his wrong, * None pities or heeds him, however he's right; And when sorrows and evils like these he must brave * His happiest homestead were down in the grave." When the Caliph heard his verses he said to Ja'afar, "See this poor man and note his verses, for surely they point to his necessities." Then he accosted him and asked, "O Shaykh, what be thine occupation?" and the poor man answered, "O my lord, I am a fisherman with a family to keep and I have been out between mid-day and this time; and not a thing hath Allah made my portion wherewithal to feed my family. I cannot even pawn myself to buy them a supper and I hate and disgust my life and I hanker after death." Quoth the Caliph, "Say me, wilt thou return with us to Tigris' bank and cast thy net on my luck, and whatsoever turneth up I will buy of thee for an hundred gold pieces?" The man rejoiced when he heard these words and said, "On my head be it! I will go back with you;" and, returning with them river-wards, made a cast and waited a while; then he hauled in the rope and dragged the net ashore and there appeared in it a chest padlocked and heavy. The Caliph examined it and lifted it finding it weighty; so he gave the fisherman two hundred dinars and sent him about his business; whilst Masrur, aided by the Caliph, carried the chest to the palace and set it down and lighted the candles. Ja'afar and Masrur then broke it open and found therein a basket of palm-leaves corded with red worsted. This they cut open and saw within it a piece of carpet which they lifted out, and under it was a woman's mantilla folded in four, which they pulled out; and at the bottom of the chest they came upon a young lady, fair as a silver ingot, slain and cut into nineteen pieces. When the Caliph looked upon her he cried, "Alas!" and tears ran down his cheeks and turning to Ja'afar he said, "O dog of Wazirs, [FN#354] shall folk be murdered in our reign and be cast into the river to be a burden and a responsibility for us on the Day of Doom? By Allah, we must avenge this woman on her murderer and he shall be made die the worst of deaths!" And presently he added, " Now, as surely as we are descended from the Sons of Abbas, [FN#355] if thou bring us not him who slew her, that we