Story of Tughral, King of Shirāz, and the Hindu Watchman

One night in winter Tughral passed by a Hindu sentinel, who was shivering like the star Canopus in the icy rain. Moved to pity, he said: “Thou shalt have my fur coat. Wait by the terrace and I will send it by the hand of a slave.”

On entering his palace he was met by a beautiful slave, at the sight of whom the poor sentinel passed from his mind. The fur coat slipped through the latter’s ears; through his ill-luck it never reached his shoulders.

The king slept through the night devoid of care; but what said the chief watchman to him in the morning?—

“Perhaps thou didst forget that ‘lucky man’ when thy hand was upon the bosom of thy slave. By thee the night was spent in tranquillity and joy; what knowest thou how the night has gone with us?”

They with the caravan bend their heads over the cauldron; what care they for them that toil on foot through the desert sand?

Tarry, O active youths, for old and feeble men are with the caravan. Well hast thou slept in the litter while the driver held the nose-string of the camel. What of the desert and mountains? what of the stones and the sand? Ask how it fares with them that lag behind.