“O Birder, my mother’s in misery ✿ And blind with weeping my loss is she. I suffice not thy guest nor can serve for gift: ✿ Have ruth and compassion and set me free! With my parents I’ll bless thee and then will I ✿ Fly a-morn and at e’en-tide return to thee.”
Presently resumed he, “Seest thou not how my meat be mean and my maw be lean; nor verily can I stand thee in stead of cate nor thy hunger satiate: so fear Allah and set me at liberty then shall the Almighty requite thee with an abundant requital.” But the Fowler far from heeding his words, made him over to his son saying, “O my child, take this bird and faring homewards slaughter him and of him cook for us a cumin-ragout and a lemon-stew, a mess flavoured with verjuice and a second of mushrooms and a third with pomegranate seeds and a fourth of clotted curd[295] cooked with Summák,[296] and a fine fry and eke conserves of pears[297] and quinces and apples and apricots hight the rose-water and vermicelli[298] and Sikbáj;[299] and meat dressed with the six leaves and a porridge[300] and a rice-milk, and an ’Ajíjíyah[301] and fried flesh in strips and Kabábs and meat-olives and dishes the like of these. Also do thou make of his guts strings for bows and of his gullet a conduit for the terrace-roof and of his skin a tray-cloth and of his plumage cushions and pillows.” Now when the Fowl-let heard these words (and he was still in the Fowler’s hand), he laughed a laugh of sorrow and cried, “Woe to thee, O Birder whither be wended thy wits and thine understanding? Art Jinn-mad or wine-drunken? Art age-foolish or asleep? Art heavy-minded or remiss in thought? Indeed had I been that long-necked bird the ’Anká, daughter of Life, or were I the she-camel of Sálih to be, or the ram of Isaac the sacrificed, or the loquent calf of Al-Sámiri[302] or even a buffalo fattened daintily all this by thee mentioned had never come from me.” Hereat he fell to improvising and saying:—
“The Ruthful forbiddeth the eating of me ✿ And His Grace doth grace me with clemency: A Camel am I whom they overload ✿ And the Birder is daft when my flesh seeth he: From Solomon’s breed, O my God I have hope: ✿ If he kill me the Ruthful his drowning[303] decree.”