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."
The poor Santons, filled with holy energy, having bustled to light up wax
torches in their oratories and expand the Koran on their ebony desks,
went forth to meet the Caliph with baskets of honeycomb, dates, and
melons. But, whilst they were advancing in solemn procession and with
measured steps, the horses, camels, and guards wantoned over their tulips
and other flowers, and made a terrible havoc amongst them. The Santons
could not help casting from one eye a look of pity on the ravages
committing around them, whilst the other was fixed upon the Caliph and
heaven.
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