Chapter III: Pre-Islamic Poetry, Manners, and Religion (2)

Oh, the warriors girt with swords good for slashing,
Like the levin, when they drew them, outflashing!
Through the noonday heat they fared: then, benighted,
Farther fared, till at dawning they alighted.[197]
Breaths of sleep they sipped; and then, while they nodded,
Thou didst scare them: lo, they scattered and scudded.
Vengeance wreaked we upon them, unforgiving:
Of the two clans scarce was left a soul living.[198]

Ay, if _they_ bruised his glaive's edge 'twas in token
That by him many a time their own was broken.
Oft he made them kneel down by force and cunning--
Kneel on jags where the foot is torn with running.
Many a morn in shelter he took them napping;
After killing was the rieving and rapine.

They have gotten of me a roasting--I tire not
Of desiring them till me they desire not.
First, of foemen's blood my spear deeply drinketh,
Then a second time, deep in, it sinketh.
Lawful now to me is wine, long forbidden:
Sore my struggle ere the ban was o'erridden.[199]
Pour me wine, O son of ‘Amr! I would taste it,
Since with grief for mine uncle I am wasted.
O'er the fallen of Hudhayl stands screaming
The hyena; see the wolf's teeth gleaming!
Dawn will hear the flap of wings, will discover
Vultures treading corpses, too gorged to hover."

[Sidenote: Honour conferred by noble ancestry.]

All the virtues which enter into the Arabian conception of Honour were regarded not as personal qualities inherent or acquired, but as hereditary possessions which a man derived from his ancestors, and held in trust that he might transmit them untarnished to his descendants. It is the desire to uphold and emulate the fame of his forbears, rather than the hope of winning immortality for himself, that causes the Arab "to say the say and do the deeds of the noble." Far from sharing the sentiment of the Scots peasant--"a man's a man for a' that"--he looks askance at merit and renown unconsecrated by tradition.

"The glories that have grown up with the grass
Can match not those inherited of old."[200]

Ancestral renown (_ḥasab_) is sometimes likened to a strong castle built by sires for their sons, or to a lofty mountain which defies attack.[201] The poets are full of boastings (_mafákhir_) and revilings (_mathálib_) in which they loudly proclaim the nobility of their own ancestors, and try to blacken those of their enemy without any regard to decorum.

It was my intention to add here some general remarks on Arabian poetry as compared with that of the Hebrews, the Persians, and our own, but since example is better than precept I will now turn directly to those celebrated odes which are well known by the title of _Mu‘-allaqát_, or 'Suspended Poems,' to all who take the slightest interest in Arabic literature.[202]

[Sidenote: The Mu‘allaqát, or 'Suspended Poems.']

_Mu‘allaqa_ (plural, _Mu‘allaqát_) "is most likely derived from the word _‘ilq_, meaning 'a precious thing or a thing held in high estimation,' either because one 'hangs on' tenaciously to it, or because it is 'hung up' in a place of honour, or in a conspicuous place, in a treasury or storehouse."[203] In course of time the exact signification of _Mu‘allaqa_ was forgotten, and it became necessary to find a plausible explanation. Hence arose the legend, which frequent repetition has made familiar, that the 'Suspended Poems' were so called from having been hung up in the Ka‘ba on account of their merit; that this distinction was awarded by the judges at the fair of ‘Ukáẓ, near Mecca, where poets met in rivalry and recited their choicest productions; and that the successful compositions, before being affixed to the door of the Ka‘ba, were transcribed in letters of gold upon pieces of fine Egyptian linen.[204] Were these statements true, we should expect them to be confirmed by some allusion in the early literature. But as a matter of fact nothing of the kind is mentioned in the Koran or in religious tradition, in the ancient histories of Mecca, or in such works as the _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, which draw their information from old and trustworthy sources.[205] Almost the first authority who refers to the legend is the grammarian Aḥmad al-Naḥḥás († 949 A.D.), and by him it is stigmatised as entirely groundless. Moreover, although it was accepted by scholars like Reiske, Sir W. Jones, and even De Sacy, it is incredible in itself. Hengstenberg, in the Prolegomena to his edition of the _Mu‘-allaqa_ of Imru’u ’l-Qays (Bonn, 1823) asked some pertinent questions: Who were the judges, and how were they appointed? Why were only these seven poems thus distinguished? His further objection, that the art of writing was at that time a rare accomplishment, does not carry so much weight as he attached to it, but the story is sufficiently refuted by what we know of the character and customs of the Arabs in the sixth century and afterwards. Is it conceivable that the proud sons of the desert could have submitted a matter so nearly touching their tribal honour, of which they were jealous above all things, to external arbitration, or meekly acquiesced in the partial verdict of a court sitting in the neighbourhood of Mecca, which would certainly have shown scant consideration for competitors belonging to distant clans?[206]

[Sidenote: Origin of the collection.]

However _Mu‘allaqa_ is to be explained, the name is not contemporary with the poems themselves. In all probability they were so entitled by the person who first chose them out of innumerable others and embodied them in a separate collection. This is generally allowed to have been Ḥammád al-Ráwiya, a famous rhapsodist who flourished in the latter days of the Umayyad dynasty, and died about 772 A.D., in the reign of the ‘Abbásid Caliph Mahdí. What principle guided Ḥammád in his choice we do not know. Nöldeke conjectures that he was influenced by the fact that all the _Mu‘allaqát_ are long poems--they are sometimes called 'The Seven Long Poems' (_al-Sab‘ al-Ṭiwál_)--for in Ḥammád's time little of the ancient Arabian poetry survived in a state even of relative completeness.

[Sidenote: Difficulty of translating the Mu‘allaqát.]

It must be confessed that no rendering of the _Mu‘allaqát_ can furnish European readers with a just idea of the originals, a literal version least of all. They contain much that only a full commentary can make intelligible, much that to modern taste is absolutely incongruous with the poetic style. Their finest pictures of Bedouin life and manners often appear uncouth or grotesque, because without an intimate knowledge of the land and people it is impossible for us to see what the poet intended to convey, or to appreciate the truth and beauty of its expression; while the artificial framework, the narrow range of subject as well as treatment, and the frank realism of the whole strike us at once. In the following pages I shall give some account of the _Mu‘allaqát_ and their authors, and endeavour to bring out the characteristic qualities of each poem by selecting suitable passages for translation.[207]

[Sidenote: Imru’u ’l-Qays.]

The oldest and most famous of the _Mu‘allaqát_ is that of Imru’u ’l-Qays, who was descended from the ancient kings of Yemen. His grandfather was King Ḥárith of Kinda, the antagonist of Mundhir III, King of Ḥíra, by whom he was defeated and slain.[208] On Ḥárith's death, the confederacy which he had built up split asunder, and his sons divided among themselves the different tribes of which it was composed. Ḥujr, the poet's father, ruled for some time over the Banú Asad in Central Arabia, but finally they revolted and put him to death. "The duty of avenging his murder fell upon Imru’u ’l-Qays, who is represented as the only capable prince of his family; and the few historical data which we have regarding him relate to his adventures while bent upon this vengeance."[209] They are told at considerable length in the _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, but need not detain us here. Suffice it to say that his efforts to punish the rebels, who were aided by Mundhir, the hereditary foe of his house, met with little success. He then set out for Constantinople, where he was favourably received by the Emperor Justinian, who desired to see the power of Kinda re-established as a thorn in the side of his Persian rivals. The emperor appointed him Phylarch of Palestine, but on his way thither he died at Angora (about 540 A.D.). He is said to have perished, like Nessus, from putting on a poisoned robe sent to him as a gift by Justinian, with whose daughter he had an intrigue. Hence he is sometimes called 'The Man of the Ulcers' (_Dhu ’l-Qurúḥ_).

Many fabulous traditions surround the romantic figure of Imru’u ’l-Qays.[210] According to one story, he was banished by his father, who despised him for being a poet and was enraged by the scandals to which his love adventures gave rise. Imru’u ’l-Qays left his home and wandered from tribe to tribe with a company of outcasts like himself, leading a wild life, which caused him to be known as 'The Vagabond Prince' (_al-Malik al-Ḑillíl_). When the news of his father's death reached him he cried, "My father wasted my youth, and now that I am old he has laid upon me the burden of blood-revenge. Wine to-day, business to-morrow!" Seven nights he continued the carouse; then he swore not to eat flesh, nor drink wine, nor use ointment, nor touch woman, nor wash his head until his vengeance was accomplished. In the valley of Tabála, north of Najrán, there was an idol called Dhu ’l-Khalaṣa much reverenced by the heathen Arabs. Imru’u ’l-Qays visited this oracle and consulted it in the ordinary way, by drawing one of three arrows entitled 'the Commanding,' 'the Forbidding,' and 'the Waiting.' He drew the second, whereupon he broke the arrows and dashed them on the face of the idol, exclaiming with a gross imprecation, "If _thy_ father had been slain, thou would'st not have hindered me!"

Imru’u ’l-Qays is almost universally reckoned the greatest of the Pre-islamic poets. Muḥammad described him as 'their leader to Hell-fire,' while the Caliphs ‘Umar and ‘Alí, _odium theologicum_ notwithstanding, extolled his genius and originality.[211] Coming to the _Mu‘allaqa_ itself, European critics have vied with each other in praising its exquisite diction and splendid images, the sweet flow of the verse, the charm and variety of the painting, and, above all, the feeling by which it is inspired of the joy and glory of youth. The passage translated below is taken from the first half of the poem, in which love is the prevailing theme:--[212]

"Once, on the hill, she mocked at me and swore,
'This hour I leave thee to return no more,'
Soft! if farewell is planted in thy mind,
Yet spare me, Fáṭima, disdain unkind.
Because my passion slays me, wilt thou part?
Because thy wish is law unto mine heart?
Nay, if thou so mislikest aught in me,
Shake loose my robe and let it fall down free.
But ah, the deadly pair, thy streaming eyes!
They pierce a heart that all in ruin lies.

How many a noble tent hath oped its treasure
To me, and I have ta'en my fill of pleasure,
Passing the warders who with eager speed
Had slain me, if they might but hush the deed,
What time in heaven the Pleiades unfold
A belt of orient gems distinct with gold.
I entered. By the curtain there stood she,
Clad lightly as for sleep, and looked on me.
'By God,' she cried, 'what recks thee of the cost?
I see thine ancient madness is not lost.'
I led her forth--she trailing as we go
Her broidered skirt, lest any footprint show--
Until beyond the tents the valley sank
With curving dunes and many a pilèd bank,
Then with both hands I drew her head to mine,
And lovingly the damsel did incline
Her slender waist and legs more plump than fine;--
A graceful figure, a complexion bright,
A bosom like a mirror in the light;
A white pale virgin pearl such lustre keeps,
Fed with clear water in untrodden deeps.
Now she bends half away: two cheeks appear,
And such an eye as marks the frighted deer
Beside her fawn; and lo, the shapely neck
Not bare of ornament, else without a fleck;
While from her shoulders in profusion fair,
Like clusters on the palm, hangs down her coal-dark hair."

In strange contrast with this tender and delicate idyll are the wild, hard verses almost immediately following, in which the poet roaming through the barren waste hears the howl of a starved wolf and hails him as a comrade:--

"Each one of us what thing he finds devours:
Lean is the wretch whose living is like ours."[213]

The noble qualities of his horse and its prowess in the chase are described, and the poem ends with a magnificent picture of a thunder-storm among the hills of Najd.

[Sidenote: Ṭarafa.]

Ṭarafa b. al-‘Abd was a member of the great tribe of Bakr. The particular clan to which he belonged was settled in Baḥrayn on the Persian Gulf. He early developed a talent for satire, which he exercised upon friend and foe indifferently; and after he had squandered his patrimony in dissolute pleasures, his family chased him away as though he were 'a mangy camel.' At length a reconciliation was effected. He promised to mend his ways, returned to his people, and took part, it is said, in the War of Basús. In a little while his means were dissipated once more and he was reduced to tend his brother's herds. His _Mu‘allaqa_ composed at this time won for him the favour of a rich kinsman and restored him to temporary independence. On the conclusion of peace between Bakr and Taghlib the youthful poet turned his eyes in the direction of Ḥíra, where ‘Amr b. Hind had lately succeeded to the throne (554 A.D.). He was well received by the king, who attached him, along with his uncle, the poet Mutalammis, to the service of the heir-apparent. But Ṭarafa's bitter tongue was destined to cost him dear. Fatigued and disgusted by the rigid ceremony of the court, he improvised a satire in which he said--

"Would that we had instead of ‘Amr
A milch-ewe bleating round our tent!"

Shortly afterwards he happened to be seated at table opposite the king's sister. Struck with her beauty, he exclaimed--

"Behold, she has come back to me,
My fair gazelle whose ear-rings shine;
Had not the king been sitting here,
I would have pressed her lips to mine!"

‘Amr b. Hind was a man of violent and implacable temper. Ṭarafa's satire had already been reported to him, and this new impertinence added fuel to his wrath. Sending for Ṭarafa and Mutalammis, he granted them leave to visit their homes, and gave to each of them a sealed letter addressed to the governor of Baḥrayn. When they had passed outside the city the suspicions of Mutalammis were aroused. As neither he nor his companion could read, he handed his own letter to a boy of Ḥíra[214] and learned that it contained orders to bury him alive. Thereupon he flung the treacherous missive into the stream and implored Ṭarafa to do likewise. Ṭarafa refused to break the royal seal. He continued his journey to Baḥrayn, where he was thrown into prison and executed.

Thus perished miserably in the flower of his youth--according to some accounts he was not yet twenty--the passionate and eloquent Ṭarafa. In his _Mu‘allaqa_ he has drawn a spirited portrait of himself. The most striking feature of the poem, apart from a long and, to us who are not Bedouins, painfully tedious description of the camel, is its insistence on sensual enjoyment as the sole business of life:--

"Canst thou make me immortal, O thou that blamest me so
For haunting the battle and loving the pleasures that fly?
If thou hast not the power to ward me from Death, let me go
To meet him and scatter the wealth in my hand, ere I die.

Save only for three things in which noble youth take delight,
I care not how soon rises o'er me the coronach loud:
Wine that foams when the water is poured on it, ruddy, not bright.
Dark wine that I quaff stol'n away from the cavilling crowd;

"And second, my charge at the cry of distress on a steed
Bow-legged like the wolf you have startled when thirsty he cowers;
And third, the day-long with a lass in her tent of goat's hair
To hear the wild rain and beguile of their slowness the hours."[215]

Keeping, as far as possible, the chronological order, we have now to mention two _Mu‘allaqas_ which, though not directly related to each other,[216] are of the same period--the reign of ‘Amr b. Hind, King of Ḥíra (554-568 A.D.). Moreover, their strong mutual resemblance and their difference from the other _Mu‘allaqas_, especially from typical _qaṣídas_ like those of ‘Antara and Labíd, is a further reason for linking them together. Their distinguishing mark is the abnormal space devoted to the main subject, which leaves little room for the subsidiary motives.

[Sidenote: ‘Amr b. Kulthúm.]

‘Amr b. Kulthúm belonged to the tribe of Taghlib. His mother was Laylá, a daughter of the famous poet and warrior Muhalhil. That she was a woman of heroic mould appears from the following anecdote, which records a deed of prompt vengeance on the part of ‘Amr that gave rise to the proverb, "Bolder in onset than ‘Amr b. Kulthúm"[217]:--

[Sidenote: How ’Amr avenged an insult to his mother.]

One day ‘Amr. b. Hind, the King of Ḥíra, said to his
boon-companions, "Do ye know any Arab whose mother would disdain to
serve mine?" They answered, "Yes, the mother of ‘Amr b. Kulthúm."
"Why so?" asked the king. "Because," said they, "her father is
Muhalhil b. Rabí‘a and her uncle is Kulayb b. Wá’il, the most
puissant of the Arabs, and her husband is Kulthúm b. Málik, the
knightliest, and her son is ‘Amr, the chieftain of his tribe." Then
the king sent to ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, inviting him to pay a visit to
himself, and asking him to bring his mother, Laylá, to visit his own
mother, Hind. So ‘Amr came to Ḥíra with some men of Taghlib, and
Laylá came attended by a number of their women; and while the king
entertained ‘Amr and his friends in a pavilion which he had caused
to be erected between Ḥíra and the Euphrates, Laylá found
quarters with Hind in a tent adjoining. Now, the king had ordered
his mother, as soon as he should call for dessert, to dismiss the
servants, and cause Laylá to wait upon her. At the pre-arranged
signal she desired to be left alone with her guest, and said, "O
Laylá, hand me that dish." Laylá answered, "Let those who want
anything rise up and serve themselves." Hind repeated her demand,
and would take no denial. "O shame!" cried Laylá. "Help! Taghlib,
help!" When ‘Amr heard his mother's cry the blood flew to his
cheeks. He seized a sword hanging on the wall of the pavilion--the
only weapon there--and with a single blow smote the king dead.[218]

‘Amr's _Mu‘allaqa_ is the work of a man who united in himself the ideal qualities of manhood as these were understood by a race which has never failed to value, even too highly, the display of self-reliant action and decisive energy. And if in ‘Amr's poem these virtues are displayed with an exaggerated boastfulness which offends our sense of decency and proper reserve, it would be a grave error to conclude that all this sound and fury signifies nothing. The Bedouin poet deems it his bounden duty to glorify to the utmost himself, his family, and his tribe; the Bedouin warrior is never tired of proclaiming his unshakable valour and recounting his brilliant feats of arms: he hurls menaces and vaunts in the same breath, but it does not follow that he is a _Miles Gloriosus_. ‘Amr certainly was not: his _Mu‘allaqa_ leaves a vivid impression of conscious and exultant strength. The first eight verses seem to have been added to the poem at a very early date, for out of them arose the legend that ‘Amr drank himself to death with unmixed wine. It is likely that they were included in the original collection of the _Mu‘allaqát_, and they are worth translating for their own sake:---

"Up, maiden! Fetch the morning-drink and spare not
The wine of Andarín,
Clear wine that takes a saffron hue when water
Is mingled warm therein.
The lover tasting it forgets his passion,
His heart is eased of pain;
The stingy miser, as he lifts the goblet,
Regardeth not his gain.

Pass round from left to right! Why let'st thou, maiden,
Me and my comrades thirst?
Yet am I, whom thou wilt not serve this morning,
Of us three not the worst!
Many a cup in Baalbec and Damascus
And Qáṣirín I drained,
Howbeit we, ordained to death, shall one day
Meet death, to us ordained."[219]

In the next passage he describes his grief at the departure of his beloved, whom he sees in imagination arriving at her journey's end in distant Yamáma:--

"And oh, my love and yearning when at nightfall
I saw her camels haste,
Until sharp peaks uptowered like serried sword-blades,
And me Yamáma faced!
Such grief no mother-camel feels, bemoaning
Her young one lost, nor she,
The grey-haired woman whose hard fate hath left her
Of nine sons graves thrice three."[220]

Now the poet turns abruptly to his main theme. He addresses the King of Ḥíra, ‘Amr b. Hind, in terms of defiance, and warns the foes of Taghlib that they will meet more than their match:--

"Father of Hind,[221] take heed and ere thou movest
Rashly against us, learn
That still our banners go down white to battle
And home blood-red return.
And many a chief bediademed, the champion
Of the outlaws of the land,
Have we o'erthrown and stripped him, while around him
Fast-reined the horses stand.
Our neighbours lopped like thorn-trees, snarls in terror
Of us the demon-hound;[222]
Never we try our hand-mill on the foemen
But surely they are ground.
We are the heirs of glory, all Ma‘add knows,[223]
Our lances it defend,
And when the tent-pole tumbles in the foray,
Trust us to save our friend![224]

O ‘Amr, what mean'st thou? Are we, we of Taghlib,
Thy princeling's retinue?
O ‘Amr, what mean'st thou, rating us and hearkening
To tale-bearers untrue?
O ‘Amr, ere thee full many a time our spear-shaft
Has baffled foes to bow;[225]
Nipped in the vice it kicks like a wild camel
That will no touch allow--
Like a wild camel, so it creaks in bending
And splits the bender's brow!"[226]

The _Mu‘allaqa_ ends with a eulogy, superb in its extravagance, of the poet's tribe:--

"Well wot, when our tents rise along their valleys,
The men of every clan
That we give death to them that durst attempt us,
To friends what food we can;
That staunchly we maintain a cause we cherish,
Camp where we choose to ride,
Nor will we aught of peace, when we are angered,
Till we be satisfied.
We keep our vassals safe and sound, but rebels
We soon force to their knees;
And if we reach a well, we drink pure water,
Others the muddy lees.
Ours is the earth and all thereon: when _we_ strike,
There needs no second blow;
Kings lay before the new-weaned boy of Taghlib
Their heads in homage low.
We are called oppressors, being none, but shortly
A true name shall it be![227]
We have so filled the earth 'tis narrow for us,
And with our ships the sea![228]

[Sidenote: Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza.]

Less interesting is the _Mu‘allaqa_ of Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza of Bakr. Its inclusion among the _Mu‘allaqát_ is probably due, as Nöldeke suggested, to the fact that Ḥammád, himself a client of Bakr, wished to flatter his patrons by selecting a counterpart to the _Mu‘allaqa_ of ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, which immortalised their great rivals, the Banú Taghlib. Ḥárith's poem, however, has some historical importance, as it throws light on feuds in Northern Arabia connected with the antagonism of the Roman and Persian Empires. Its purpose is to complain of unjust accusations made against the Banú Bakr by a certain group of the Banú Taghlib known as the Aráqim:--

"Our brothers the Aráqim let their tongues
Against us rail unmeasuredly.
The innocent with the guilty they confound:
Of guilt what boots it to be free?
They brand us patrons of the vilest deed,
Our clients in each miscreant see."[229]

A person whom Ḥárith does not name was 'blackening' the Banú Bakr before the King of Ḥíra. The poet tells him not to imagine that his calumnies will have any lasting effect: often had Bakr been slandered by their foes, but (he finely adds):--

"Maugre their hate we stand, by firm-based might
Exalted and by ancestry--
Might which ere now hath dazzled men's eyes: thence scorn
To yield and haughty spirit have we.
On us the Days beat as on mountain dark
That soars in cloudless majesty,
Compact against the hard calamitous shocks
And buffetings of Destiny."[230]

He appeals to the offenders not wantonly to break the peace which ended the War of Basús:--

"Leave folly and error! If ye blind yourselves,
Just therein lies the malady.
Recall the oaths of Dhu ’l-Majáz[231] for which
Hostages gave security,
Lest force or guile should break them: can caprice
Annul the parchments utterly?[232]

[Sidenote: ‘Antara.]

‘Antara b. Shaddád, whose father belonged to the tribe of ‘Abs, distinguished himself in the War of Dáḥis.[233] In modern times it is not as a poet that he is chiefly remembered, but as a hero of romance--the Bedouin Achilles. Goddess-born, however, he could not be called by any stretch of imagination. His mother was a black slave, and he must often have been taunted with his African blood, which showed itself in a fiery courage that gained the respect of the pure-bred but generally less valorous Arabs. ‘Antara loved his cousin ‘Abla, and following the Arabian custom by which cousins have the first right to a girl's hand, he asked her in marriage. His suit was vain--the son of a slave mother being regarded as a slave unless acknowledged by his father--until on one occasion, while the ‘Absites were hotly engaged with some raiders who had driven off their camels, ‘Antara refused to join in the mêlée, saying, "A slave does not understand how to fight; his work is to milk the camels and bind their udders." "Charge!" cried his father, "thou art free." Though ‘Antara uttered no idle boast when he sang--

"On one side nobly born and of the best
Of ‘Abs am I: my sword makes good the rest!"

his contemptuous references to 'jabbering barbarians,' and to 'slaves with their ears cut off, clad in sheepskins,' are characteristic of the man who had risen to eminence in spite of the stain on his scutcheon. He died at a great age in a foray against the neighbouring tribe of Ṭayyi’. His _Mu‘allaqa_ is famous for its stirring battle-scenes, one of which is translated here:--[234]

"Learn, Málik's daughter, how
I rush into the fray,
And how I draw back only
At sharing of the prey.

I never quit the saddle,
My strong steed nimbly bounds;
Warrior after warrior
Have covered him with wounds.

Full-armed against me stood
One feared of fighting men:
He fled not oversoon
Nor let himself be ta'en.

With straight hard-shafted spear
I dealt him in his side
A sudden thrust which opened
Two streaming gashes wide,

Two gashes whence outgurgled
His life-blood: at the sound
Night-roaming ravenous wolves
Flock eagerly around.

So with my doughty spear
I trussed his coat of mail--
For truly, when the spear strikes,
The noblest man is frail--

And left him low to banquet
The wild beasts gathering there;
They have torn off his fingers,
His wrist and fingers fair!"

[Sidenote: Zuhayr.]

While ‘Antara's poem belongs to the final stages of the War of Dáḥis, the _Mu‘allaqa_ of his contemporary, Zuhayr b. Abí Sulmá, of the tribe of Muzayna, celebrates an act of private munificence which brought about the conclusion of peace. By the self-sacrificing intervention of two chiefs of Dhubyán, Harim b. Sinán and Ḥárith b. ‘Awf, the whole sum of blood-money to which the ‘Absites were entitled on account of the greater number of those who had fallen on their side, was paid over to them. Such an example of generous and disinterested patriotism--for Harim and Ḥárith had shed no blood themselves--was a fit subject for one of whom it was said that he never praised men but as they deserved:--

Noble pair of Ghayẓ ibn Murra,[235] well ye laboured to restore
Ties of kindred hewn asunder by the bloody strokes of war.
Witness now mine oath the ancient House in Mecca's hallowed bound,[236]
Which its builders of Quraysh and Jurhum solemnly went round,[237]
That in hard or easy issue never wanting were ye found!
Peace ye gave to ‘Abs and Dhubyán when each fell by other's hand
And the evil fumes they pestled up between them filled the land."[238]

At the end of his panegyric the poet, turning to the lately reconciled tribesmen and their confederates, earnestly warns them against nursing thoughts of vengeance:--

"Will ye hide from God the guilt ye dare not unto Him disclose?
Verily, what thing soever ye would hide from God, He knows.
Either it is laid up meantime in a scroll and treasured there
For the day of retribution, or avenged all unaware.[239]
War ye have known and war have tasted: not by hearsay are ye wise.
Raise no more the hideous monster! If ye let her raven, she cries
Ravenously for blood and crushes, like a mill-stone, all below,
And from her twin-conceiving womb she brings forth woe on woe."[240]

After a somewhat obscure passage concerning the lawless deeds of a certain Ḥusayn b. Ḑamḍam, which had well-nigh caused a fresh outbreak of hostilities, Zuhayr proceeds, with a natural and touching allusion to his venerable age, to enforce the lessons of conduct and morality suggested by the situation:--

"I am weary of life's burden: well a man may weary be
After eighty years, and this much now is manifest to me:
Death is like a night-blind camel stumbling on:--the smitten die
But the others age and wax in weakness whom he passes by.
He that often deals with folk in unkind fashion, underneath
They will trample him and make him feel the sharpness of their teeth.
He that hath enough and over and is niggard with his pelf
Will be hated of his people and left free to praise himself.
He alone who with fair actions ever fortifies his fame
Wins it fully: blame will find him out unless he shrinks from blame.
He that for his cistern's guarding trusts not in his own stout arm
Sees it ruined: he must harm his foe or he must suffer harm.
He that fears the bridge of Death across it finally is driven,
Though he span as with a ladder all the space 'twixt earth and heaven.
He that will not take the lance's butt-end while he has the chance
Must thereafter be contented with the spike-end of the lance.
He that keeps his word is blamed not; he whose heart repaireth straight
To the sanctuary of duty never needs to hesitate.
He that hies abroad to strangers doth account his friends his foes;
He that honours not himself lacks honour wheresoe'er he goes.
Be a man's true nature what it will, that nature is revealed
To his neighbours, let him fancy as he may that 'tis concealed."[241]

The ripe sententious wisdom and moral earnestness of Zuhayr's poetry are in keeping with what has been said above concerning his religious ideas and, from another point of view, with the tradition that he used to compose a _qaṣída_ in four months, correct it for four months, submit it to the poets of his acquaintance during a like period, and not make it public until a year had expired.

Of his life there is little to tell. Probably he died before Islam, though it is related that when he was a centenarian he met the Prophet, who cried out on seeing him, "O God, preserve me from his demon!"[242] The poetical gifts which he inherited from his uncle Basháma he bequeathed to his son Ka‘b, author of the famous ode, _Bánat Su‘ád_.

[Sidenote: Labíd.]

Labíd b. Rabí‘a, of the Banú ‘Ámir b. Ṣa‘ṣa‘a, was born in the latter half of the sixth century, and is said to have died soon after Mu‘áwiya's accession to the Caliphate, which took place in A.D. 661. He is thus the youngest of the Seven Poets. On accepting Islam he abjured poetry, saying, "God has given me the Koran in exchange for it." Like Zuhayr, he had, even in his heathen days, a strong vein of religious feeling, as is shown by many passages in his Díwán.

Labíd was a true Bedouin, and his _Mu‘allaqa_, with its charmingly fresh pictures of desert life and scenery, must be considered one of the finest examples of the Pre-islamic _qaṣída_ that have come down to us. The poet owes something to his predecessors, but the greater part seems to be drawn from his own observation. He begins in the conventional manner by describing the almost unrecognisable vestiges of the camping-ground of the clan to which his mistress belonged:--

"Waste lies the land where once alighted and did wone
The people of Miná: Rijám and Ghawl are lone.
The camp in Rayyán's vale is marked by relics dim
Like weather-beaten script engraved on ancient stone.
Over this ruined scene, since it was desolate,
Whole years with secular and sacred months had flown.
In spring 'twas blest by showers 'neath starry influence shed,
And thunder-clouds bestowed a scant or copious boon.
Pale herbs had shot up, ostriches on either slope
Their chicks had gotten and gazelles their young had thrown;
And large-eyed wild-cows there beside the new-born calves
Reclined, while round them formed a troop the calves half-grown.
Torrents of rain had swept the dusty ruins bare,
Until, as writing freshly charactered, they shone,
Or like to curved tattoo-lines on a woman's arm,
With soot besprinkled so that every line is shown.
I stopped and asked, but what avails it that we ask
Dumb changeless things that speak a language all unknown?"[243]

After lamenting the departure of his beloved the poet bids himself think no more about her: he will ride swiftly away from the spot. Naturally, he must praise his camel, and he introduces by way of comparison two wonderful pictures of animal life. In the former the onager is described racing at full speed over the backs of the hills when thirst and hunger drive him with his mate far from the barren solitudes into which they usually retire. The second paints a wild-cow, whose young calf has been devoured by wolves, sleeping among the sand-dunes through a night of incessant rain. At daybreak "her feet glide over the firm wet soil." For a whole week she runs to and fro, anxiously seeking her calf, when suddenly she hears the sound of hunters approaching and makes off in alarm. Being unable to get within bowshot, the hunters loose their dogs, but she turns desperately upon them, wounding one with her needle-like horn and killing another.

Then, once more addressing his beloved, the poet speaks complacently of his share in the feasting and revelling, on which a noble Arab plumes himself hardly less than on his bravery:--

"Know'st thou not, O Nawár, that I am wont to tie
The cords of love, yet also snap them without fear?
That I abandon places when I like them not,
Unless Death chain the soul and straiten her career?
Nay, surely, but thou know'st not I have passed in talk
Many a cool night of pleasure and convivial cheer,
And often to a booth, above which hung for sign
A banner, have resorted when old wine was dear.
For no light price I purchased many a dusky skin
Or black clay jar, and broached it that the juice ran clear;
And many a song of shrill-voiced singing-girl I paid,
And her whose fingers made sweet music to mine ear."[244]

Continuing, he boasts of dangerous service as a spy in the enemy's country, when he watched all day on the top of a steep crag; of his fearless demeanour and dignified assertion of his rights in an assembly at Ḥíra, to which he came as a delegate, and of his liberality to the poor. The closing verses are devoted, in accordance with custom, to matters of immediate interest and to a panegyric on the virtues of the poet's kin.

Besides the authors of the _Mu‘allaqát_ three poets may be mentioned, of whom the two first-named are universally acknowledged to rank with the greatest that Arabia has produced--Nábigha, A‘shá, and ‘Alqama.

[Sidenote: Nábigha of Dhubyán.]

Nábigha[245]--his proper name is Ziyád b. Mu‘áwiya, of the tribe Dhubyán--lived at the courts of Ghassán and Ḥíra during the latter half of the century before Islam. His chief patron was King Nu‘mán b. Mundhir Abú Qábús of Ḥíra. For many years he basked in the sunshine of royal favour, enjoying every privilege that Nu‘mán bestowed on his most intimate friends. The occasion of their falling out is differently related. According to one story, the poet described the charms of Queen Mutajarrida, which Nu‘mán had asked him to celebrate, with such charm and liveliness as to excite her husband's suspicion; but it is said--and Nábigha's own words make it probable--that his enemies denounced him as the author of a scurrilous satire against Nu‘mán which had been forged by themselves. At any rate he had no choice but to quit Ḥíra with all speed, and ere long we find him in Ghassán, welcomed and honoured, as the panegyrist of King ‘Amr b. Ḥárith and the noble house of Jafna. But his heart was in Ḥíra still. Deeply wounded by the calumnies of which he was the victim, he never ceased to affirm his innocence and to lament the misery of exile. The following poem, which he addressed to Nu‘mán, is at once a justification and an appeal for mercy[246]:--

"They brought me word, O King, thou blamedst me;
For this am I o'erwhelmed with grief and care.
I passed a sick man's night: the nurses seemed,
Spreading my couch, to have heaped up briars there.
Now (lest thou cherish in thy mind a doubt)
Invoking our last refuge, God, I swear
That he, whoever told thee I was false,
Is the more lying and faithless of the pair.
Exiled perforce, I found a strip of land
Where I could live and safely take the air:
Kings made me arbiter of their possessions,
And called me to their side and spoke me fair--
Even as thou dost grace thy favourites
Nor deem'st a fault the gratitude they bear.[247]
O leave thine anger! Else, in view of men
A mangy camel, smeared with pitch, I were.
Seest thou not God hath given thee eminence
Before which monarchs tremble and despair?
All other kings are stars and thou a sun:
When the sun rises, lo, the heavens are bare!
A friend in trouble thou wilt not forsake;
I may have sinned: in sinning all men share.
If I am wronged, thou hast but wronged a slave,
And if thou spar'st, 'tis like thyself to spare."

It is pleasant to record that Nábigha was finally reconciled to the prince whom he loved, and that Ḥíra again became his home. The date of his death is unknown, but it certainly took place before Islam was promulgated. Had the opportunity been granted to him he might have died a Moslem: he calls himself 'a religious man' (_dhú ummatin_),[248] and although the tradition that he was actually a Christian lacks authority, his long residence in Syria and ‘Iráq must have made him acquainted with the externals of Christianity and with some, at least, of its leading ideas.

[Sidenote: A‘shá.]

The grave and earnest tone characteristic of Nábigha's poetry seldom prevails in that of his younger contemporary, Maymún b. Qays, who is generally known by his surname, al-A‘shá--that is, 'the man of weak sight.' A professional troubadour, he roamed from one end of Arabia to the other, harp in hand, singing the praises of those who rewarded him; and such was his fame as a satirist that few ventured to withhold the bounty which he asked. By common consent he stands in the very first rank of Arabian poets. Abu ’l-Faraj, the author of the _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, declares him to be superior to all the rest, adding, however, "this opinion is not held unanimously as regards A‘shá or any other." His wandering life brought him into contact with every kind of culture then existing in Arabia. Although he was not an avowed Christian, his poetry shows to what an extent he was influenced by the Bishops of Najrán, with whom he was intimately connected, and by the Christian merchants of Ḥíra who sold him their wine. He did not rise above the pagan level of morality.

It is related that he set out to visit Muḥammad for the purpose
of reciting to him an ode which he had composed in his honour. When
the Quraysh heard of this, they feared lest their adversary's
reputation should be increased by the panegyric of a bard so famous
and popular. Accordingly, they intercepted him on his way, and asked
whither he was bound. "To your kinsman," said he, "that I may accept
Islam." "He will forbid and make unlawful to thee certain practices
of which thou art fond." "What are these?" said A‘shá.
"Fornication," said Abú Sufyán, "I have not abandoned it," he
replied, "but it has abandoned me. What else?" "Gambling." "Perhaps
I shall obtain from him something to compensate me for the loss of
gambling. What else?" "Usury." "I have never borrowed nor lent. What
else?" "Wine." "Oh, in that case I will drink the water I have left
stored at al-Mihrás." Seeing that A‘shá was not to be deterred, Abú
Sufyán offered him a hundred camels on condition that he should
return to his home in Yamáma and await the issue of the struggle
between Muḥammad and the Quraysh. "I agree," said A‘shá. "O ye
Quraysh," cried Abú Sufyán, "this is A‘shá, and by God, if he
becomes a follower of Muḥammad, he will inflame the Arabs against
you by his poetry. Collect, therefore, a hundred camels for
him."[249]

A‘shá excels in the description of wine and wine-parties. One who visited Manfúḥa in Yamáma, where the poet was buried, relates that revellers used to meet at his grave and pour out beside it the last drops that remained in their cups. As an example of his style in this _genre_ I translate a few lines from the most celebrated of his poems, which is included by some critics among the _Mu‘allaqát_:--

"Many a time I hastened early to the tavern--while there ran
At my heels a ready cook, a nimble, active serving-man--
'Midst a gallant troop, like Indian scimitars, of mettle high;
Well they know that every mortal, shod and bare alike, must die.
Propped at ease I greet them gaily, them with myrtle-boughs I greet,
Pass among them wine that gushes from the jar's mouth bittersweet.
Emptying goblet after goblet--but the source may no man drain--
Never cease they from carousing save to cry, 'Fill up again!'
Briskly runs the page to serve them: on his ears hang pearls: below,
Tight the girdle draws his doublet as he bustles to and fro.
'Twas the harp, thou mightest fancy, waked the lute's responsive note,
When the loose-robed chantress touched it and sang shrill with
quavering throat.
Here and there among the party damsels fair superbly glide:
Each her long white skirt lets trail and swings a wine-skin at her
side."[250]

[Sidenote: ‘Alqama.]

Very little is known of the life of ‘Alqama b. ‘Abada, who was surnamed _al-Faḥl_ (the Stallion). His most famous poem is that which he addressed to the Ghassánid Ḥárith al-A‘raj after the Battle of Ḥalíma, imploring him to set free some prisoners of Tamím--the poet's tribe--among whom was his own brother or nephew, Shás. The following lines have almost become proverbial:--

"Of women do ye ask me? I can spy
Their ailments with a shrewd physician's eye.
The man whose head is grey or small his herds
No favour wins of them but mocking words.
Are riches known, to riches they aspire,
And youthful bloom is still their heart's desire."[251]

[Sidenote: Elegiac poetry.]

In view of these slighting verses it is proper to observe that the poetry of Arabian women of the Pre-islamic period is distinctly masculine in character. Their songs are seldom of Love, but often of Death. Elegy (_rithá_ or _marthiya_) was regarded as their special province. The oldest form of elegy appears in the verses chanted on the death of Ta’abbaṭa Sharran by his sister:--

"O the good knight ye left low at Rakhmán,
Thábit son of Jábir son of Sufyán!
He filled the cup for friends and ever slew his man."[252]

"As a rule the Arabian dirge is very simple. The poetess begins with a description of her grief, of the tears that she cannot quench, and then she shows how worthy to be deeply mourned was he whom death has taken away. He is described as a pattern of the two principal Arabian virtues, bravery and liberality, and the question is anxiously asked, 'Who will now make high resolves, overthrow the enemy, and in time of want feed the poor and entertain the stranger?' If the hero of the dirge died a violent death we find in addition a burning lust of revenge, a thirst for the slayer's blood, expressed with an intensity of feeling of which only women are capable."[253]

[Sidenote: Khansá.]

Among Arabian women who have excelled in poetry the place of honour is due to Khansá--her real name was Tumáḍir--who flourished in the last years before Islam. By far the most famous of her elegies are those in which she bewailed her valiant brothers, Mu‘áwiya and Ṣakhr, both of whom were struck down by sword or spear. It is impossible to translate the poignant and vivid emotion, the energy of passion and noble simplicity of style which distinguish the poetry of Khansá, but here are a few verses:--

Death's messenger cried aloud the loss of the generous one,
So loud cried he, by my life, that far he was heard and wide.
Then rose I, and scarce my soul could follow to meet the news,
For anguish and sore dismay and horror that Ṣakhr had died.
In my misery and despair I seemed as a drunken man,
Upstanding awhile--then soon his tottering limbs subside."[254]

_Yudhakkiruní ṭulú‘u ’l-shamsi Ṣakhran
wa-adhkuruhú likulli ghurúbi shamsi._

"Sunrise awakes in me the sad remembrance
Of Ṣakhr, and I recall him at every sunset."

[Sidenote: The last poets born in the Age of Paganism.]

To the poets who have been enumerated many might be added--_e.g._, Ḥassán b. Thábit, who was 'retained' by the Prophet and did useful work on his behalf; Ka‘b b. Zuhayr, author or the famous panegyric on Muḥammad beginning "_Bánat Su‘ád_" (Su‘ád has departed); Mutammim b. Nuwayra, who, like Khansá, mourned the loss of a brother; Abú Miḥjan, the singer of wine, whose devotion to the forbidden beverage was punished by the Caliph ‘Umar with imprisonment and exile; and al-Ḥuṭay’a (the Dwarf), who was unrivalled in satire. All these belonged to the class of _Mukhaḍramún_, _i.e._, they were born in the Pagan Age but died, if not Moslems, at any rate after the proclamation of Islam.

[Sidenote: Collections of ancient poetry.]

The grammarians of Baṣra and Kúfa, by whom the remains of ancient Arabian poetry were rescued from oblivion, arranged and collected their material according to various principles. Either the poems of an individual or those of a number of individuals belonging to the same tribe or class were brought together--such a collection was called _Díwán_, plural _Dawáwín_; or, again, the compiler edited a certain number of _qaṣídas_ chosen for their fame or excellence or on other grounds, or he formed an anthology of shorter pieces or fragments, which were arranged under different heads according to their subject-matter.

[Sidenote: Díwáns.]

Among _Díwáns_ mention may be made of _The Díwáns of the Six Poets_, viz. Nábigha, ‘Antara, Ṭarafa, Zuhayr, ‘Alqama, and Imru’u ’l-Qays, edited with a full commentary by the Spanish philologist al-A‘lam († 1083 A.D.) and published in 1870 by Ahlwardt; and of _The Poems of the Hudhaylites_ (_Ash‘áru ’l-Hudhaliyyín_) collected by al-Sukkarí († 888 A.D.), which have been published by Kosegarten and Wellhausen.

The chief Anthologies, taken in the order of their composition, are:--

[Sidenote: Anthologies. 1. The _Mu‘allaqát_.]

1. The _Mu‘allaqát_, which is the title given to a collection of seven odes by Imru’u ’l-Qays, Ṭarafa, Zuhayr, Labíd, ‘Antara, ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, and Ḥárith b. Ḥilliza; to these two odes by Nábigha and A‘shá are sometimes added. The compiler was probably Ḥammád al-Ráwiya, a famous rhapsodist of Persian descent, who flourished under the Umayyads and died in the second half of the eighth century of our era. As the _Mu‘allaqát_ have been discussed above, we may pass on directly to a much larger, though less celebrated, collection dating from the same period, viz.:--

[Sidenote: 2. The _Mufaḍḍaliyyát_.]

2. The _Mufaḍḍaliyyát_,[255] by which title it is generally known after its compiler, Mufaḍḍal al-Ḑabbí († circa 786 A.D.), who made it at the instance of the Caliph Manṣúr for the instruction of his son and successor, Mahdí. It comprises 128 odes and is extant in two recensions, that of Anbárí († 916 A.D.), which derives from Ibnu ’l-A‘rábí, the stepson of Mufaḍḍal, and that of Marzúqí († 1030 A.D.). About a third of the _Mufaḍḍaliyyát_ was published in 1885 by Thorbecke, and Sir Charles Lyall has recently edited the complete text with Arabic commentary and English translation and notes.[256]

All students of Arabian poetry are familiar with--

[Sidenote: 3. The _Ḥamása_ of Abú Tammám.]

3. The _Ḥamása_ of Abú Tammám Ḥabíb b. Aws, himself a distinguished poet, who flourished under the Caliphs Ma’mún and Mu‘taṣim, and died about 850 A.D. Towards the end of his life he visited ‘Abdulláh b. Ṭáhir, the powerful governor of Khurásán, who was virtually an independent sovereign. It was on this journey, as Ibn Khallikán relates, that Abú Tammám composed the _Ḥamása_; for on arriving at Hamadhán (Ecbatana) the winter had set in, and as the cold was excessively severe in that country, the snow blocked up the road and obliged him to stop and await the thaw. During his stay he resided with one of the most eminent men of the place, who possessed a library in which were some collections of poems composed by the Arabs of the desert and other authors. Having then sufficient leisure, he perused those works and selected from them the passages out of which he formed his _Ḥamása_.[257] The work is divided into ten sections of unequal length, the first, from which it received its name, occupying (together with the commentary) 360 pages in Freytag's edition, while the seventh and eighth require only thirteen pages between them. These sections or chapters bear the following titles:--

I. The Chapter of Fortitude (_Bábu ’l-Ḥamása_).
II. The Chapter of Dirges (_Bábu ’l-Maráthí_).
III. The Chapter of Good Manners (_Bábu ’l-Adab_).
IV. The Chapter of Love-Songs (_Bábu ’l-Nasíb_).
V. The Chapter of Satire (_Bábu ’l-Hijá_).
VI. The Chapter of Guests (Hospitality) and Panegyric (_Bábu
’l-Aḍyáf wa ’l-Madíh_).
VII. The Chapter of Descriptions (_Bábu ’l-Ṣifát_).
VIII. The Chapter of Travel and Repose (_Bábu ’l-Sayr wa ’l-Nu‘ás_).
IX. The Chapter of Facetiæ (_Bábu ’l-Mulaḥ_).
X. The Chapter of Vituperation of Women (_Bábu Madhammati
’l-Nisá_).

The contents of the _Ḥamása_ include short poems complete in themselves as well as passages extracted from longer poems; of the poets represented, some of whom belong to the Pre-islamic and others to the early Islamic period, comparatively few are celebrated, while many are anonymous or only known by the verses attached to their names. If the high level of excellence attained by these obscure singers shows, on the one hand, that a natural genius for poetry was widely diffused and that the art was successfully cultivated among all ranks of Arabian society, we must not forget how much is due to the fine taste of Abú Tammám, who, as the commentator Tibrízí has remarked, "is a better poet in his _Ḥamása_ than in his poetry."

[Sidenote: 4. The _Ḥamása_ of Buḥturí.]

4. The _Ḥamása_ of Buḥturí († 897 A.D.), a younger contemporary of Abú Tammám, is inferior to its model.[258] However convenient from a practical standpoint, the division into a great number of sections, each illustrating a narrowly defined topic, seriously impairs the artistic value of the work; moreover, Buḥturí seems to have had a less catholic appreciation of the beauties of poetry--he admired, it is said, only what was in harmony with his own style and ideas.

[Sidenote: 5. The _Jamhara_.]

5. The _Jamharatu Ash‘ári ’l-‘Arab_, a collection of forty-nine odes, was put together probably about 1000 A.D. by Abú Zayd Muḥammad al-Qurashí, of whom we find no mention elsewhere.

[Sidenote: Prose sources.]

Apart from the _Díwáns_ and anthologies, numerous Pre-islamic verses are cited in biographical, philological, and other works, _e.g._, the _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_ by Abu ’l-Faraj of Iṣfahán († 967 _A.D._), the _Kitábu ’l-Amálí_ by Abú ‘Alí al-Qálí († 967 _A.D._), the _Kámil_ of Mubarrad († 898 A.D.), and the _Khizánatu ’l-Adab_ of ‘Abdu ’l-Qádir of Baghdád († 1682 A.D.).