“‘Now, meanwhile, had my brethren found The water-pitcher, where it stood Behind the door upon the ground, And called my mother: and they all, As they were thirsty and the night Most sultry, drained the pitcher there; That they sat with it in my sight, Their lips still wet, when I came down.
“‘Now mark: I, being fevered, sick, (Most unblessed also,) at that sight Brake forth and cursed them. Dost thou hear? One was my mother. Now, do right.’
“But my lord mused a space, and said, ‘Send him away, sirs, and make on. It is some madman,’ the king said. As the king said, so was it done.
“The morrow at the self-same hour, In the king's path, behold, the man, Not kneeling, sternly fixed. He stood Right opposite, and thus began,
“Frowning grim down: ‘Thou wicked king, Most deaf where thou shouldst most give ear; What? Must I howl in the next world, Because thou wilt not listen here?
“‘What, wilt thou pray and get thee grace, And all grace shall to me be grudged? Nay but, I swear, from this thy path I will not stir till I be judged.’
“Then they who stood about the king Drew close together and conferred; Till that the king stood forth and said: ‘Before the priests thou shalt be heard.’
“But, when the Ulema were met And the thing heard, they doubted not; But sentenced him, as the law is, To die by stoning on the spot.
“Now the king charged us secretly: ‘Stoned must he be: the law stands so: Yet, if he seek to fly, give way; Forbid him not, but let him go.’
“So saying, the king took a stone, And cast it softly: but the man, With a great joy upon his face, Kneeled down, and cried not, neither ran.