The Literature of Arabia Part 4

Morn builds the heap which eve destroys; Yet can they have one sure delight-- The thought that we've employed them right.

What bliss can wealth afford to me When life's last solemn hour I see, When Mavia's sympathizing sighs Will but augment my agonies?

Can h.o.a.rded gold dispel the gloom That death must shed around his tomb?

Or cheer the ghost which hovers there, And fills with shrieks the desert air?

What boots it, Mavia, in the grave, Whether I lov'd to waste or save?

The hand that millions now can grasp, In death no more than mine shall clasp.

Were I ambitious to behold Increasing stores of treasured gold, Each tribe that roves the desert knows I might be wealthy if I chose:--

But other joys can gold impart, Far other wishes warm my heart-- Ne'er may I strive to swell the heap, Till want and woe have ceas'd to weep.

With brow unalter'd I can see The hour of wealth or poverty: I've drunk from both the cups of fate, Nor this could sink, nor that elate.

With fortune blest, I ne'er was found To look with scorn on those around; Nor for the loss of paltry ore, Shall Hatem seem to Hatem poor.

_Hatem Tai_.

[4] Hatem Tai was an Arabian chief, who lived a short time prior to the promulgation of Mohammedanism. He has been so much celebrated through the East for his generosity that even to this day the greatest encomium which can be given to a generous man is to say that he is as liberal as Hatem. Hatem was also a poet; but his talents were princ.i.p.ally exerted in recommending his favorite virtue.

THE BATTLE OF SABLA[5]

Sabla, them saw'st th' exulting foe In fancied triumphs crown'd; Thou heard'st their frantic females throw These galling taunts around:--

"Make now your choice--the terms we give, Desponding victims, hear; These fetters on your hands receive, Or in your hearts the spear."

"And is the conflict o'er," we cried, "And lie we at your feet?

And dare you vauntingly decide The fortune we must meet?

"A brighter day we soon shall see, Tho' now the prospect lowers, And conquest, peace, and liberty Shall gild our future hours."

The foe advanc'd:--in firm array We rush'd o'er Sabla's sands, And the red sabre mark'd our way Amidst their yielding bands.

Then, as they writh'd in death's cold grasp, We cried, "Our choice is made, These hands the sabre's hilt shall clasp, Your hearts shall have the blade."

_Jaafer Ben Alba_.

[5] This poem and the one following it are both taken from the Hamasa and afford curious instances of the animosity which prevailed amongst the several Arabian clans, and of the rancor with which they pursued each other, when once at variance.

VERSES TO MY ENEMIES

Why thus to pa.s.sion give the rein?

Why seek your kindred tribe to wrong?

Why strive to drag to light again The fatal feud entomb'd so long?

Think not, if fury ye display, But equal fury we can deal; Hope not, if wrong'd, but we repay Revenge for every wrong we feel.

Why thus to pa.s.sion give the rein?

Why seek the robe of peace to tear?

Rash youths desist, your course restrain, Or dread the wrath ye blindly dare.

Yet friends.h.i.+p we not ask from foes, Nor favor hope from you to prove, We lov'd you not, great Allah knows, Nor blam'd you that ye could not love.

To each are different feelings given, This slights, and that regards his brother; 'Tis ours to live--thanks to kind heav'n-- Hating and hated by each other.

_Alfadhel Ibn Alabas_.

ON HIS FRIENDS[6]

With conscious pride I view the band Of faithful friends that round me stand, With pride exult that I alone Can join these scatter'd gems in one:-- For they're a wreath of pearls, and I The silken cord on which they lie.

'Tis mine their inmost souls to see, Unlock'd is every heart to me, To me they cling, on me they rest, And I've a place in every breast:-- For they're a wreath of pearls, and I The silken cord on which they lie.

_Meskin Aldaramy_.

[6] These lines are also from the Hamasa.

ON TEMPER[7]

Yes, Leila, I swore by the fire of thine eyes, I ne'er could a sweetness unvaried endure; The bubbles of spirit, that sparkling arise, Forbid life to stagnate and render it pure.

But yet, my dear maid, tho' thy spirit's my pride, I'd wish for some sweetness to temper the bowl; If life be ne'er suffer'd to rest or subside, It may not be flat, but I fear 'twill be foul.

_Nabegat Beni Jaid_.

[7] There have been several Arabian poets of the name of Nabegat. The author of these verses was descended from the family of Jaid. As he died in the fortieth year of the Hegira, aged one hundred and twenty, he must have been fourscore at the promulgation of Islamism; he, however, declared himself an early convert to the new faith.

THE SONG OF MAISUNA[8]

The russet suit of camel's hair, With spirits light, and eye serene, Is dearer to my bosom far Than all the trappings of a queen.

The humble tent and murmuring breeze That whistles thro' its fluttering wall, My unaspiring fancy please Better than towers and splendid halls.

Th' attendant colts that bounding fly And frolic by the litter's side, Are dearer in Maisuna's eye Than gorgeous mules in all their pride.

The watch-dog's voice that bays whene'er A stranger seeks his master's cot, Sounds sweeter in Maisuna's ear Than yonder trumpet's long-drawn note.

The rustic youth unspoilt by art, Son of my kindred, poor but free, Will ever to Maisuna's heart Be dearer, pamper'd fool, than thee.

[8] Maisuma was a daughter of the tribe of Calab; a tribe, according to Abulfeda, remarkable both for the purity of dialect spoken in it, and for the number of poets it had produced. She was married, whilst very young, to the Caliph Mowiah. But this exalted situation by no means suited the disposition of Maisuna, and amidst all the pomp and splendor of Damascus, she languished for the simple pleasures of her native desert.

TO MY FATHER[9]