Suddenly, as it were, a universal
burst of song and melody broke forth from the groves and gardens of
the Generalife, and reached the prince in the solitude of his tower.
From every side he heard the same universal theme- love- love- love
chanted forth, and responded to in every variety of note and tone. The
prince listened in silence and perplexity. "What can be this love,"
thought he, "of which the world seems so full, and of which I know
nothing?" He applied for information to his friend the hawk. The
ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn: "You must apply," said he,
"to the vulgar peaceable birds of earth, who are made for the prey
of us princes of the air. My trade is war, and fighting my delight.
I am a warrior, and know nothing of this thing called love."
The prince turned from him with disgust, and sought the owl in his
retreat. "This is a bird," said he, "of peaceful habits, and may be
able to solve my question." So he asked the owl to tell him what was
this love about which all the birds in the groves below were singing.
Upon this, the owl put on a look of offended dignity. "My nights,"
said he, "are taken up in study and research, and my days in
ruminating in my cell upon all that I have learnt. As to these singing
birds of whom you talk, I never listen to them- I despise them and
their themes. Allah be praised, I cannot sing; I am a philosopher, and
know nothing of this thing called love.
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