Chapter XI: Preface: In the Name of God the Merciful, Most Merciful (3)

Look well, and leave thy blaming; for, tell me, hast thou ever known a time when a man would not win of the world when the game was in his hands?

Then I said to him: Away with thee, Old Shaykh of Hell, laden with infamy! For there is nothing like thee for the fairness of thy seeming and the foulness of thy purpose; except silvered dung or a whited sewer. Then we parted; and I went away to the right, and he went away to the left; and I set myself to the quarter of the south, and he set himself to the quarter of the north.

THE TWELFTH ASSEMBLY

(CALLED "OF DAMASCUS")[27]

Al Harith, son of Hammam, related: I journeyed from Irak to the Ghutah; and then was I master of haltered steeds and envied wealth. Freedom of arm called me to diversion, fulness of store led me to pride. And when I had reached the place after toil of soul, after making lean my camel, I found it such as tongues describe it; and in it was whatever souls long for or eyes delight in. So I thanked the bounty of travel and ran a heat with pleasure: and began there to break the seals of desires and gather the clusters of delights, until some travelers were making ready for the journey to Irak, and I had so recovered from my drowning, that regret visited me in calling to mind my home and longing after my fold. Then I struck the tents of exile and saddled the steeds of return. And when the company had equipped themselves and agreement was completed, we shrank from setting forth without taking with us a guard. And we sought one from every tribe and used a thousand devices to obtain him. But to find him in the clans failed, so that we thought he was not among the living. And for the want of such a one the resolves of the travelers were bewildered, and they assembled at the gate of Jayrun to take counsel. And they ceased not tying and untying, and plaiting and twining, until suggestion was exhausted and the hoper despaired. But opposite them was a person whose demeanor was as the demeanor of the youthful, and his garb as the garb of monks, and in his hand was the rosary of women, and in his eyes the mark of giddiness from watchings. And he had fastened his gaze on the assemblage and sharpened his ear to steal a hearing. And when it was the time of their turning homeward and their secret was manifest to him, he said to them, "O people, let your care relieve itself, let your mind be tranquil; for I will guard you with that which shall put off your fear and show itself in accord with you." Said the narrator: Then we asked him to show us concerning his safe conduct, and promised him a higher wage for it than for an embassy. And he declared it to be some words which he had been taught in a dream, whereby to guard himself from the malice of mankind. Then began one to steal a look at another, and to move his eyes between glances sideward and downward. So that it was plain to him that we thought meanly of his story, and conceived it to be futile. Whereupon he said, How is it that ye take my earnest for jest, and treat my gold as dross? Now, by Allah, oft have I gone through fearful tracts and entered among deadly dangers: and with this I have needed not the companying of a guard or to take with me a quiver. Besides, I will remove what gives you doubt, I will draw away the distrust that has come on you, in that I will consent with you in the desert and accompany you on the Semaweh. Then, if my promise has spoken you true, do ye renew my weal and prosper my fortune: but if my mouth has lied to you, then rend my skin and pour out my blood.

Said Al Harith, son of Hammam: Then we were inspired to believe his vision and take as true what he had related; so we ceased from disputing with him and cast lots for carrying him. And at his word we cut the loops of hindrance, and put away fear of harm or stay; and when the pack-saddles were fastened on and the setting forth was near, we sought to learn from him the magic words that we might make them a lasting safeguard. He said: "Let each of you repeat the Mother of the Koran as often as day or night comes on; then let him say with lowly tongue and humble voice: O God! O thou who givest life to the moldering dead! O thou who avertest harms! O thou who guardest from terrors! O thou generous in rewarding! O thou the refuge of suppliants! O thou the Lord of pardon and protection! Send thy blessing on Mohammed, the Seal of thy prophets, the Bringer of thy messages, and on the Lights of his kindred, the Keys of his victory; and give me refuge, O God, from the mischiefs of devils and the assaults of princes; from the vexing of the wrongers, and from suffering through the tyrannous; from the enmity of transgressors, and from the transgression of enemies; from the conquest of conquerors, from the spoiling of spoilers, from the crafts of the crafty, from the treacheries of the treacherous; and deliver me, O God, from the wrongfulness of neighbors and the neighborhood of the wrongful; and keep from me the hands of the harmful; bring me forth from the darkness of the oppressors; place me by thy mercy among thy servants who do aright. O God, keep me in my own land and in my journeying, in my exile and my coming homeward, in my foraging and my return from it, in my trafficking and my success from it, in my adventuring and my withdrawing from it. And guard me in myself and my property, in my honor and my goods, in my family and my means, in my household and my dwelling, in my strength and my fortune, in my riches and my death. Bring not on me reverse; make not the invader lord over me, but give me from thyself helping power. O God, watch over me with thy eye and thy aid, distinguish me by thy safeguard and thy bounty, befriend me with thy election and thy good, and consign me not to the keeping of any but thee. But grant to me health that weareth not away, and allot to me comfort that perisheth not; and free me from the terrors of misfortune, and shelter me with the coverings of thy boons; make not the talons of enemies to prevail against me, for thou art he that heareth prayer."

Then he looked down, and he turned not a glance, he answered not a word: so that we said, "A fear has confounded him or a stupor struck him dumb." Then he raised his head and drew his breath, and said, "I swear by the heaven with its constellations, and the earth with its plains, and the pouring flood, and the blazing sun, and the sounding sea, and the wind and the dust-storm, that this is the most sure of charms, one that will best suffice you for the wearers of the helmet. He who repeats it at the smiling of the dawn has no alarm of danger to the red of eve; and he who whispers it to the vanguard of the dark is safe the night long from plunder."

Said the narrator: So we learned it till we knew it thoroughly, and rehearsed it together that we might not forget it. Then we set forth, urging the beasts by prayers, not by the song of drivers; and guarding the loads by words, not by warriors. And our companion frequented us evening and morning, but required not of us our promises: till when we spied the house-tops of 'Anah, he said to us, "Now, your help, your help!" Then we set before him the exposed and the hidden, and showed him the corded and the sealed, and said to him, "Decide as thou wilt, for thou wilt find among us none but will consent." But nothing enlivened him but the light, the adorning; nothing was comely in his eye but the coin. So of those he loaded on his burden, and rose up with enough to repair his poverty. Then he dodged us as dodges the cut-purse, and slipped away from us as slips quicksilver. And his departure saddened us, his shooting away astonished us: and we ceased not to seek him in every assembly, and to ask news of him from each that might mislead or guide. Until it was said, "Since he entered 'Anah he has not quitted the tavern." Then the foulness of this report set me on to test it, and to walk in a path to which I belonged not. So I went by night to the wine-hall in disguised habit; and there was the old man in a gay-colored dress amid casks and wine-vats; and about him were cup-bearers surpassing in beauty, and lights that glittered, and the myrtle and the jasmine, and the pipe and the lute. And at one time he bade broach the wine-casks, and at another he called the lutes to give utterance; and now he inhaled the perfumes, and now he courted the gazelles. But when I had thus stumbled on his hypocrisy, and the differing of his to-day from his yesterday, I said to him, Woe to thee, accursed! hast thou forgotten the day at the Jayrun? But he laughed heartily, and then indited charmingly:

I cling to journeying, I cross deserts, I loathe pride that I may cull joy:

And I plunge into floods, and tame steeds that I may draw the trains of pleasure and delight.

And I throw away staidness, and sell my land, for the sipping of wine, for the quaffing of cups.

And were it not for longing after the drinking of wine my mouth would not utter its elegancies;

Nor would my craft have lured the travelers to the land of Irak, through my carrying of rosaries.

Now be not angry, nor cry aloud, nor chide, for my excuse is plain:

And wonder not at an old man who settles himself in a well-filled house by a wine-cask that is brimming.

For truly wine strengthens the bones and heals sickness and drives away grief.

And the purest of joy is when the grave man throws off the veils of shame and flings them aside:

And the sweetest of passion is when the love-crazed ceases from the concealing of his love, and shows it openly.

Then avow thy love and cool thy heart: or else the fire-staff of thy grief will rub a spark on it;

And heal thy wounds, and draw out thy cares by the daughter of the vine, her the desired:

And assign to thy evening draught a cup-bearer who will stir the torment of desire when she gazes;

And a singer who will raise such a voice that the mountains of iron shall thrill at it when she chants.

And rebel against the adviser who will not permit thee to approach a beauty when she consents.

And range in thy cunning even to perverseness; and care not what is said of thee, and catch what suits thee:

And leave thy father if he refuse thee, and spread thy nets and hunt who comes by thee.

But be sincere with thy friend, and avoid the niggardly, and bestow kindness, and be constant in gifts;

And take refuge in repentance before thy departure; for whoso knocks at the door of the Merciful causes it to open.

Then I said to him, "O rare thy recitation, but fie on thy misconduct! Now, by Allah, tell me from what thicket is thy root, for thy puzzle vexes me." He said I love not to disclose myself; yet I will intimate it:

I am the novelty of the time, the wonder of nations;

I am the wily one, who plays his wiles among Arabs and foreigners;

But not the less a brother of need, whom fortune vexes and wrongs,

And the father of children who lie out like meat on the tray:

Now the brother of want, who has a household, is not blamed if he be wily.

Said the narrator: Then I knew that it was Abu Zayd, the man of ill-fame and disgrace, he that blackens the face of his hoariness. And the greatness of his contumacy offended me, and the foulness of the path of his resorting: so I said to him with the tongue of indignation and the confidence of acquaintance: "Is it not time, old man, that thou withdraw from debauchery?" But he was angry, and growled, and his countenance changed, and he thought a while: and then he said, "It is a night for merriment, not for rebuke, an occasion for drinking wine, not for contention; so leave speaking thy thought until we meet to-morrow." Then I left him, through fear of his drunken humor, not through dependence on his promise; and I passed my night clothed in the mourning of repentance, at having advanced the steps of my foot to the daughter of the vine, not of grace. And I made a vow to God Almighty that I would never again enter the tavern of a liquor-seller, even that I might be endowed with the dominion of Bagdad; and that I would not look upon the vats of wine, even that the season of youth might be restored to me. Then we saddled the white camels in the last darkness of night, and left together Abu Zayd and Iblis.

ARABIC LITERATURE

THE POETS OF ARABIA

"_Mortal joys, however pure,
Soon their turbid source betray;
Mortal bliss, however sure,
Soon must totter and decay._"
THE CALIPH RAHDI.

THE POETS OF ARABIA

(INTRODUCTION)

Arabic poetry, as explained in introducing the "Assemblies" of Al Hariri, is based largely on harmonies of sound and striking turns of phrasing. Hence most of the poems are brief; and a poet's fame depended upon a few brilliant couplets rather than on any sustained melody or long-continued flight of noble thought. One distinguished philosophical poem of some length is the well-known "Lament of the Vizier Abu Ismael." This we give in full at the conclusion of this section; but mainly we must illustrate the finest flowering of Arabic verse by selecting specimens of characteristic brevity.

Many of the Arab caliphs inclined to the gaieties of life rather than to their religious duties, and kept many poets around them. Indeed some of the caliphs themselves were poets: The Caliph Walid composed music as well as verse; and was hailed by his immediate companions as a great artist. His neglect of religion, however, was so reckless as to rouse the resentment of his people, and he lost his throne and life.

Most noted of all the Arab poets was Mutanabbi (905-965). His fantastic imagery and extravagant refinements of language were held by his admirers to be the very perfection of literature. More than forty commentaries were written to explain the subtleties of his verse. Such, indeed, was the intensity of Mutanabbi's poetic ecstasy that he fancied himself a prophet and began to preach a new religion, until a term in prison persuaded him to cling to the accepted form of Mohammedanism. In one well-known passage ridiculed by the great French critic, Huart, Mutanabbi says of an advancing army that it was so vast

"The warriors marched hidden in their dust;
They saw only with their ears."

The commentators explain, perhaps unnecessarily, that this means that the warriors' senses were confused by all the tumult, so that while they thought they saw, in reality they only heard the clamor of the marchers around them. In translation, Mutanabbi's verses lose all value. Deprived of their Arabic melody they seem mere bombast and absurdity. This, in fact, is the general charge which must be made against the later Arabic poetry. It too often degenerated into empty sound.

THE POETS OF ARABIA

THE SONG OF MAISUNA[28]

(WIFE OF THE CALIPH MOWIAH)

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.

TO MY FATHER[29]

(BY THE CALIPH YAZID)

Must then my failings from the shaft
Of anger ne'er escape?
And dost thou storm because I've quaff'd
The water of the grape?

That I can thus from wine be driv'n
Thou surely ne'er canst think—
Another reason thou hast giv'n
Why I resolve to drink.

'Twas sweet the flowing cup to seize,
'Tis sweet thy rage to see;
And first I drink myself to please;
And next—to anger thee.

ON FATALISM[30]

(BY THE HOLY IMAN SHAFAY)

Not always wealth, not always force
A splendid destiny commands;
The lordly vulture gnaws the corse
That rots upon yon barren sands.

Nor want, nor weakness still conspires
To bind us to a sordid state;
The fly that with a touch expires
Sips honey from the royal plate.

TO THE CALIPH HAROUN AL RASHID[31]

(BY PRINCE IBRAHIM BEN ADHAM)

Religion's gems can ne'er adorn
The flimsy robe by pleasure worn;
Its feeble texture soon would tear,
And give those jewels to the air.

Thrice happy they who seek th' abode
Of peace and pleasure in their God!
Who spurn the world, its joys despise,
And grasp at bliss beyond the skies.

LINES TO HAROUN AND YAHIA[32]

(BY THE MUSICIAN, ISAAC AL MOUSELI)

Th' affrighted sun ere while he fled,
And hid his radiant face in night;
A cheerless gloom the world o'erspread—
But Haroun came and all was bright.

Again the sun shoots forth his rays,
Nature is decked in beauty's robe—
For mighty Haroun's scepter sways,
And Yahia's arm sustains the globe.

THE RUIN OF THE BARMECIDES[33]

No, Barmec Time hath never shown
So sad a change of wayward fate;
Nor sorrowing mortals ever known
A grief so true, a loss so great.

Spouse of the world! Thy soothing breast
Did balm to every woe afford;
And now no more by thee caressed,
The widowed world bewails her lord.

TO TAHER BEN HOSIEN[34]

A pair of right hands and a single dim eye
Must form not a man, but a monster, they cry:
Change a hand to an eye, good Taher, if you can,
And a monster perhaps may be chang'd to man.

"Think not that we will take the cup
From any hand but thine."
]

TO MY MISTRESS[35]

(BY ABU TAMMAM HABIB)

Ungenerous and mistaken maid,
To scorn me thus because I'm poor!
Canst thou a liberal hand upbraid
For dealing round some worthless ore?

To spare 's the wish of little souls,
The great but gather to bestow;
Yon current down the mountain rolls,
And stagnates in the swamp below.

TO A FEMALE CUP-BEARER[36]

(BY ABU AL SALAM)

Come, Leila, fill the goblet up,
Beach round the rosy wine,
Think not that we will take the cup
From any hand but thine.

A draught like this 'twere vain to seek,
No grape can such supply;
It steals its tint from Leila's cheek,
Its brightness from her eye.

MASHDUD ON THE MONKS OF KHABBET[37]

Tenants of yon hallowed fane!
Let me your devotions share,
There increasing raptures reign—
None are ever sober there.

Crowded gardens, festive bowers
Ne'er shall claim a thought of mine;
You can give in Khabbet's towers—
Purer joys and brighter wine.

Though your pallid faces prove
How you nightly vigils keep,
'Tis but that you ever love
Flowing goblets more than sleep.

Though your eye-balls dim and sunk
Stream in penitential guise,
'Tis but that the wine you've drunk
Bubbles over from your eyes.

RAKEEK TO HIS FEMALE COMPANIONS

Though the peevish tongues upbraid,
Though the brows of wisdom scowl,
Fair ones here on roses laid,
Careless will we quaff the bowl.

Let the cup, with nectar crowned,
Through the grove its beams display,
It can shed a luster round,
Brighter than the torch of day.

Let it pass from hand to hand,
Circling still with ceaseless flight,
Till the streaks of gray expand
O'er the fleeting robe of night.

As night flits, she does but cry,
"Seize the moments that remain"—
Thus our joys with yours shall vie,
Tenants of yon hallowed fane!

DIALOGUE BY RAIS

_Rais_

Maid of sorrow, tell us why
Sad and drooping hangs thy head?
Is it grief that bids thee sigh?
Is it sleep that flies thy bed?

_Lady_

Ah! I mourn no fancied wound,
Pangs too true this heart have wrung,
Since the snakes which curl around
Selim's brows my bosom stung.

Destined now to keener woes,
I must see the youth depart,
He must go, and as he goes
Bend at once my bursting heart.

Slumber may desert my bed,
'Tis not slumber's charms I seek—
'Tis the robe of beauty spread
O'er my Selim's rosy cheek.

TO A LADY WEEPING[38]

(BY EBN ALRUMI)

When I beheld thy blue eyes shine
Through the bright drop that pity drew,
I saw beneath those tears of thine
A blue-ey'd violet bathed in dew.

The violet ever scents the gale,
Its hues adorn the fairest wreath,
But sweetest through a dewy veil
Its colors glow, its odors breathe.

And thus thy charms in brightness rise—
When wit and pleasure round thee play,
When mirth sits smiling in thine eyes,
Who but admires their sprightly ray?
But when through pity's flood they gleam,
Who but must love their softened beam?

ON A VALETUDINARIAN

(BY EBN ALRUMI)

So careful is Isa, and anxious to last,
So afraid of himself is he grown,
He swears through two nostrils the breath goes too fast,
And he's trying to breathe through but one.

ON A MISER

(BY EBN ALRUMI)

"Hang her, a thoughtless, wasteful fool,
She scatters corn where'er she goes"—
Quoth Hassan, angry at his mule,
That dropped a dinner to the crows.

TO CASSIM OBIO ALLAH[39]

(BY ALI IBN AHMED)

Poor Cassim! thou art doomed to mourn
By destiny's decree;
Whatever happens it must turn
To misery for thee.

Two sons hadst thou, the one thy pride,
The other was thy pest;
Ah, why did cruel death decide
To snatch away the best?

No wonder thou shouldst droop with woe,
Of such a child bereft;
But now thy tears must doubly flow,
For, ah! the other's left.

A FRIEND'S BIRTHDAY[40]

When born, in tears we saw thee drowned,
While thine assembled friends around,
With smiles their joy confessed;
So live, that at thy parting hour,
They may the flood of sorrow pour,
And thou in smiles be dressed!

TO A CAT

(BY IBN ALALAF ALNAHARWANY)

Poor puss is gone! 'Tis fate's decree—
Yet I must still her loss deplore,
For dearer than a child was she,
And ne'er shall I behold her more.

With many a sad presaging tear
This morn I saw her steal away,
While she went on without a fear
Except that she should miss her prey.

I saw her to the dove-house climb,
With cautious feet and slow she stept
Resolved to balance loss of time
By eating faster than she crept.

Her subtle foes were on the watch,
And marked her course, with fury fraught,
And while she hoped the birds to catch,
An arrow's point the huntress caught.

In fancy she had got them all,
And drunk their blood and sucked their breath;
Alas! she only got a fall,
And only drank the draught of death.

Why, why was pigeons' flesh so nice,
That thoughtless cats should love it thus?
Hadst thou but lived on rats and mice,
Thou hadst been living still, poor puss.

Curst be the taste, howe'er refined,
That prompts us for such joys to wish,
And curst the dainty where we find
Destruction lurking in the dish.

FIRE

_A Riddle_

The loftiest cedars I can eat,
Yet neither paunch nor mouth have I,
I storm whene'er you give me meat,
Whene'er you give me drink I die.

TO A LADY BLUSHING[41]

(BY THE CALIPH RADHI BILLAH)

Leila, whene'er I gaze on thee
My altered cheek turns pale,
While upon thine, sweet maid, I see
A deep'ning blush prevail.

Leila, shall I the cause impart
Why such a change takes place?
The crimson stream deserts my heart,
To mantle on thy face.

ON THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE

(BY THE CALIPH RADHI BILLAH)

Mortal joys, however pure,
Soon their turbid source betray;
Mortal bliss, however sure,
Soon must totter and decay.

Ye who now, with footsteps keen,
Range through hope's delusive field,
Tell us what the smiling scene
To your ardent grasp can yield?

Other youths have oft before
Deemed their joys would never fade,
Till themselves were seen no more
Swept into oblivion's shade.

Who, with health and pleasure gay,
E'er his fragile state could know,
Were not age and pain to say
Man is but the child of woe?

TO A DOVE

(BY SERAGE ALWARAK)

The dove to ease an aching breast,
In piteous murmurs vents her cares;
Like me she sorrows, for opprest,
Like me, a load of grief she bears.

Her plaints are heard in every wood,
While I would fain conceal my woes;
But vain's my wish, the briny flood,
The more I strive, the faster flows.

Sure, gentle bird, my drooping heart
Divides the pangs of love with thine,
And plaintive murm'rings are thy part,
And silent grief and tears are mine.

ON A THUNDER-STORM

(BY IBRAHIM BEN KHIRET ABOU ISAAC)

Bright smiled the morn, till o'er its head
The clouds in thicken'd foldings spread
A robe of sable hue;
Then, gathering round day's golden king,
They stretched their wide o'ershadowing wing,
And hid him from our view.

The rain his absent beams deplored,
And, soften'd into weeping, poured
Its tears in many a flood;
The lightning laughed with horrid glare;
The thunder growled, in rage; the air
In silent sorrow stood.

TO MY FAVORITE MISTRESS

(BY SAIF ADDAULET, SULTAN OF ALEPPO)

I saw their jealous eyeballs roll,
I saw them mark each glance of mine,
I saw thy terrors, and my soul
Shared ev'ry pang that tortured thine.

In vain to wean my constant heart,
Or quench my glowing flame, they strove;
Each deep-laid scheme, each envious art,
But waked my fears for her I love.

'Twas this compelled the stern decree,
That forced thee to those distant towers,
And left me naught but love for thee,
To cheer my solitary hours.

Yet let not Abla sink deprest,
Nor separation's pangs deplore;
We meet not—'tis to meet more blest;
We parted—'tis to part no more.

CRUCIFIXION OF EBN BAKIAH

(BY ABU HASSAN ALANBARY)

Whate'er thy fate, in life and death,
hou'rt doomed above us still to rise,
Whilst at a distance far beneath
We view thee with admiring eyes.

The gazing crowds still round thee throng,
Still to thy well-known voice repair,
As when erewhile thy hallow'd tongue
Poured in the mosque the solemn prayer.

Still, generous Vizier, we survey
Thine arms extended o'er our head,
As lately, in the festive day,
When they were stretched thy gifts to shed.

Earth's narrow boundaries strove in vain
To limit thy aspiring mind,
And now we see thy dust disdain
Within her breast to be confin'd.

The earth's too small for one so great,
Another mansion thou shalt have—
The clouds shall be thy winding sheet,
The spacious vault of heaven thy grave.

CAPRICES OF FORTUNE[42]

(BY SHEMS ALMAALI CABUS)

Why should I blush that Fortune's frown
Dooms me life's humble paths to tread?
To live unheeded, and unknown?
To sink forgotten to the dead?

'Tis not the good, the wise, the brave,
That surest shine, or highest rise;
The feather sports upon the wave,
The pearl in ocean's cavern lies.

Each lesser star that studs the sphere
Sparkles with undiminish'd light;
Dark and eclipsed alone appear
The lord of day, the queen of night.

ON LIFE

Like sheep, we're doomed to travel o'er
The fated track to all assigned,
These follow those that went before,
And leave the world to those behind.

As the flock seeks the pasturing shade,
Man presses to the future day,
While death, amidst the tufted glade,
Like the dun robber,[43] waits his prey.

EXTEMPORE VERSES[44]

(BY EBN ALRAMACRAM)

Lowering as Barkaidy's face
The wintry night came in,
Cold as the music of his bass,
And lengthened as his chin.

Sleep from my aching eyes had fled,
And kept as far apart,
As sense from Ebn Fahdi's head,
Or virtue from his heart.

The dubious paths my footsteps balked,
I slipp'd along the sod,
As if on Jaber's faith I'd walked,
Or on his truth had trod.

At length the rising King of day
Burst on the gloomy wood,
Like Carawash's eye, whose ray
Dispenses every good.

ON THE DEATH OF A SON[45]

(BY ALI BEN MOHAMMED ALTAHMANY)

Tyrant of man! Imperious Fate!
I bow before thy dread decree,
Nor hope in this uncertain state
To find a seat secure from thee.

Life is a dark, tumultuous stream,
With many a care and sorrow foul,
Yet thoughtless mortals vainly deem
That it can yield a limpid bowl.

Think not that stream will backward flow,
Or cease its destined course to keep;
As soon the blazing spark shall glow
Beneath the surface of the deep.

Believe not Fate at thy command
Will grant a meed she never gave;
As soon the airy tower shall stand,
That's built upon a passing wave.

Life is a sleep of threescore years,
Death bids us wake and hail the light,
And man, with all his hopes and fears,
Is but a phantom of the night.

ON MODERATION IN OUR PLEASURES[46]

(BY ABU ALCASSIM EBN TABATABA)

How oft does passion's grasp destroy
The pleasure that it strives to gain?
How soon the thoughtless course of joy
Is doomed to terminate in pain?

When prudence would thy steps delay,
She but restrains to make thee blest;
Whate'er from joy she lops away,
But heightens and secures the rest.

Wouldst thou a trembling flame expand,
That hastens in the lamp to die?
With careful touch, with sparing hand,
The feeding stream of life supply.

But if thy flask profusely sheds
A rushing torrent o'er the blaze,
Swift round the sinking flame it spreads,
And kills the fire it fain would raise.

THE VALE OF BOZAA[47]

(BY AHMED BEN YUSEF ALMENAZY)

The intertwining boughs for thee
Have wove, sweet dell, a verdant vest,
And thou in turn shalt give to me
A verdant couch upon thy breast.

To shield me from day's fervid glare
Thine oaks their fostering arms extend,
As anxious o'er her infant care
I've seen a watchful mother bend.

A brighter cup, a sweeter draught,
I gather from that rill of thine,
Than maddening drunkards ever quaff'd,
Than all the treasures of the vine.

So smooth the pebbles on its shore,
That not a maid can thither stray,
But counts her strings of jewels o'er,
And thinks the pearls have slipped away.

TO ADVERSITY[48]

(BY ABU MENBAA CARAWASH)

Hail, chastening friend Adversity! 'Tis thine
The mental ore to temper and refine,
To cast in virtue's mold the yielding heart,
And honor's polish to the mind impart.
Without thy wakening touch, thy plastic aid,
I'd lain the shapeless mass that nature made;
But formed, great artist, by thy magic hand,
I gleam a sword to conquer and command.

ON THE INCOMPATIBILITY OF PRIDE AND TRUE GLORY[49]

(BY ABU ALOLA)

Think not, Abdallah, pride and fame
Can ever travel hand in hand;
With breast opposed, and adverse aim,
On the same narrow path they stand.

Thus youth and age together meet,
And life's divided moments share;
This can't advance till that retreat,
What's here increased is lessened there.

And thus the falling shades of night
Still struggle with the lucid ray,
And e'er they stretch their gloomy flight
Must win the lengthened space from day.

THE DEATH OF NEDHAM ALMOLK

(BY SHEBAL ADDAULET)

Thy virtues famed through every land,
Thy spotless life, in age and youth,
Prove thee a pearl, by nature's hand,
Formed out of purity and truth.

Too long its beams of Orient light
Upon a thankless world were shed;
Allah has now revenged the slight,
And called it to its native bed.

TO A LADY

No, Abla, no—when Selim tells
Of many an unknown grace that dwells
In Abla's face and mien,
When he describes the sense refined,
That lights thine eye and fills thy mind,
By thee alone unseen.

'Tis not that drunk with love he sees
Ideal charms, which only please
Through passion's partial veil,
'Tis not that flattery's glozing tongue
Hath basely framed an idle song,
But truth that breathed the tale.

Thine eyes unaided ne'er could trace
Each opening charm, each varied grace,
That round thy person plays;
Some must remain concealed from thee,
For Selim's watchful eye to see,
For Selim's tongue to praise.

One polished mirror can declare
That eye so bright, that face so fair,
That cheek which shames the rose;
But how thy mantle waves behind,
How float thy tresses on the wind,
Another only shows.

AN EPIGRAM[50]

Whoever has recourse to thee
Can hope for health no more,
He's launched into perdition's sea,
A sea without a shore.

Where'er admission thou canst gain,
Where'er thy phiz can pierce,
At once the Doctor they retain,
The mourners and the hearse.

ON A LITTLE MAN WITH A VERY LARGE BEARD

(BY ISAAC BEN KHALIF)

How can thy chin that burden bear?
Is it all gravity to shock?
Is it to make the people stare?
And be thyself a laughing stock?

When I behold thy little feet
After thy beard obsequious run,
I always fancy that I meet
Some father followed by his son.

A man like thee scarce e'er appeared—
A beard like thine—where shall we find it?
Surely thou cherishest thy beard
In hopes to hide thyself behind it.

THE LAMENT OF THE VIZIER ABU ISMAEL[51]

No kind supporting hand I meet,
But Fortitude shall stay my feet;
No borrowed splendors round me shine,
But Virtue's luster all is mine;
A Fame unsullied still I boast,
Obscured, concealed, but never lost—
The same bright orb that led the day
Pours from the West his mellowed ray.

Zaura, farewell! No more I see
Within thy walls, a home for me;
Deserted, spurned, aside I'm tossed,
As an old sword whose scabbard's lost:
Around thy walls I seek in vain
Some bosom that will soothe my pain—
No friend is near to breathe relief,
Or brother to partake my grief.
For many a melancholy day
Through desert vales I've wound my way;
The faithful beast, whose back I press,
In groans laments her lord's distress;
In every quivering of my spear
A sympathetic sigh I hear;
The camel bending with his load,
And struggling through the thorny road,
'Midst the fatigues that bear him down,
In Hassan's woes forgets his own;
Yet cruel friends my wand'rings chide,
My sufferings slight, my toils deride.

Once wealth, I own, engrossed each thought,
There was a moment when I sought
The glitt'ring stores Ambition claims
To feed the wants his fancy frames;
But now 'tis past—the changing day
Has snatched my high-built hopes away,
And bade this wish my labors close—
Give me not riches, but repose.
'Tis he—that mien my friend declares,
That stature, like the lance he bears;
I see that breast which ne'er contained
A thought by fear or folly stained,
Whose powers can every change obey,
In business grave, in trifles gay,
And, formed each varying taste to please,
Can mingle dignity with ease.

What, though with magic influence, sleep,
O'er every closing eyelid creep:
Though drunk with its oblivious wine
Our comrades on their bales recline,
My Selim's trance I sure can break—
Selim, 'tis I, 'tis I who speak.
Dangers on every side impend,
And sleep'st thou, careless of thy friend?
Thou sleep'st while every star on high,
Beholds me with a wakeful eye—
Thou changest, ere the changeful night
Hath streak'd her fleeting robe with white.

'Tis love that hurries me along—
I'm deaf to fear's repressive song—
The rocks of Idham I'll ascend,
Though adverse darts each path defend,
And hostile sabers glitter there,
To guard the tresses of the fair.

Come, Selim, let us pierce the grove,
While night befriends, to seek my love.
The clouds of fragrance as they rise
Shall mark the place where Abla lies.
Around her tent my jealous foes,
Like lions, spread their watchful rows;
Amidst their bands, her bow'r appears
Embosomed in a wood of spears—
A wood still nourished by the dews,
Which smiles, and softest looks diffuse.
Thrice happy youths! who midst yon shades
Sweet converse hold with Idham's maids,
What bliss, to view them gild the hours,
And brighten wit and fancy's powers,
While every foible they disclose
New transport gives, new graces shows.
'Tis theirs to raise with conscious art
The flames of love in every heart;
'Tis yours to raise with festive glee
The flames of hospitality:
Smit by their glances lovers lie,
And helpless sink and hopeless die;
While slain by you the stately steed
To crown the feast, is doomed to bleed,
To crown the feast, where copious flows
The sparkling juice that soothes your woes,
That lulls each care and heals each wound,
As the enliv'ning bowl goes round.
Amidst those vales my eager feet
Shall trace my Abla's dear retreat,
A gale of health may hover there,
To breathe some solace to my care.
I fear not love—I bless the dart
Sent in a glance to pierce the heart:
With willing breast the sword I hail
That wounds me through an half-closed veil:
Though lions howling round the shade,
My footsteps haunt, my walks invade,
No fears shall drive me from the grove,
If Abla listen to my love.

Ah, Selim! shall the spells of ease
Thy friendship chain, thine ardor freeze!
Wilt thou enchanted thus, decline
Each gen'rous thought, each bold design?
Then far from men some cell prepare;
Or build a mansion in the air—
But yield to us, ambition's tide,
Who fearless on its waves can ride;
Enough for thee if thou receive
The scattered spray the billows leave.

Contempt and want the wretch await
Who slumbers in an abject state—
'Midst rushing crowds, by toil and pain
The meed of Honor we must gain;
At Honor's call, the camel hastes
Through trackless wilds and dreary wastes,
Till in the glorious race she find
The fleetest coursers left behind:
By toils like these alone, he cries,
Th' adventurous youths to greatness rise;
If bloated indolence were fame,
And pompous ease our noblest aim,
The orb that regulates the day
Would ne'er from Aries' mansion stray.

I've bent at Fortune's shrine too long—
Too oft she heard my suppliant tongue—
Too oft has mocked my idle prayers,
While fools and knaves engrossed her cares,
Awake for them, asleep to me,
Heedless of worth she scorned each plea.
Ah! had her eyes more just surveyed
The diff'rent claims which each displayed,
Those eyes from partial fondness free
Had slept to them, and waked for me.
But, 'midst my sorrows and my toils,
Hope ever soothed my breast with smiles;
The hand removed each gathering ill,
And oped life's closing prospects still.
Yet spite of all her friendly art
The specious scene ne'er gained my heart;
I loved it not although the day
Met my approach, and cheered my way;
I loath it now the hours retreat,
And fly me with reverted feet.

My soul from every tarnish free
May boldly vaunt her purity,
But ah, how keen, however bright,
The saber glitter to the sight,
Its splendor's lost, its polish vain,
Till some bold hand the steel sustain.

Why have my days been stretched by fate,
To see the vile and vicious great—
While I, who led the race so long,
Am last and meanest of the throng?
Ah, why has death so long delayed
To wrap me in his friendly shade,
Left me to wander thus alone,
When all my heart held dear is gone!

But let me check these fretful sighs—
Well may the base above me rise,
When yonder planets as they run
Mount in the sky above the sun.
Resigned I bow to Fate's decree,
Nor hope his laws will change for me;
Each shifting scene, each varying hour,
But proves the ruthless tyrant's power.

But though with ills unnumbered curst,
We owe to faithless man the worst;
For man can smile with specious art,
And plant a dagger in the heart.
He only's fitted for the strife
Which fills the boist'rous paths of life,
Who, as he treads the crowded scenes,
Upon no kindred bosom leans.
Too long my foolish heart had deemed
Mankind as virtuous as they seemed;
The spell is broke, their faults are bare,
And now I see them as they are;
Truth from each tainted breast has flown,
And falsehood marks them all her own.
Incredulous I listen now
To every tongue, and every vow,
For still there yawns a gulf between
Those honeyed words, and what they mean;
With honest pride elate, I see
The sons of falsehood shrink from me,
As from the right line's even way
The biassed curves deflecting stray—
But what avails it to complain?
With souls like theirs reproof is vain;
If honor e'er such bosoms share
The saber's point must fix it there.

But why exhaust life's rapid bowl,
And suck the dregs with sorrow foul,
When long ere this my mouth has drained
Whatever zest the cup contained?
Why should we mount upon the wave,
And ocean's yawning horrows brave,
When we may swallow from the flask
Whate'er the wants of mortals ask?
Contentment's realms no fears invade,
No cares annoy, no sorrows shade,
There placed secure, in peace we rest,
Nor aught demand to make us blest.
While pleasure's gay fantastic bower,
The splendid pageant of an hour,
Like yonder meteor in the skies,
Flits with a breath no more to rise.

As through life's various walks we're led,
May prudence hover o'er our head!
May she our words, our actions guide,
Our faults correct, our secrets hide!
May she, where'er our footsteps stray,
Direct our paths, and clear the way!

Till, every scene of tumult past,
She bring us to repose at last,
Teach us to love that peaceful shore,
And roam through folly's wilds no more!

MOORISH LITERATURE

SCIENCE AND HISTORY AMONG THE MOORS

"_The religion sacred to philosophers is to study that which is, for the most sublime worship one can render to God is the recognition and knowledge of his works._" —AVERROES.

MOORISH LITERATURE

SCIENCE AND HISTORY

(INTRODUCTION)

The name "Moor" is used loosely to describe all those peoples who sprang from the mingling of the Berber, or Hamitic, stock of North Africa, with the Arabs or Semitic stock who swept over the region in the Mohammedan conquest. The chief achievement of this mixed or Moorish race was the establishment of their brilliant kingdom and independent caliphate in Spain. Under the most powerful of these Spanish caliphs, Ahderrahman III. (A.D. 912-961), their capital Cordova had six hundred mosques, including its still celebrated chief mosque, the most beautiful building of that age in Europe. The Moorish kingdom of Spain had then seventeen universities and over seventy large libraries. It was the most cultured land of Europe, the goal of scholars from less peaceful and less learned Christendom.

The Moorish kingdom in the course of the twelfth century broke up into many tiny States. These soon fought among themselves and plunged each other into a common ruin. African Moors, of far more ignorant and fanatic type, came to aid their Spanish brethren; and under the pressure of these barbarians, culture rapidly declined. The universities were broken up. The great scholar Averroes, who had been the pride of his nation, was accused of heresy. His teachings were found not sufficiently subservient to the Koran; and finally, in 1195, he was driven into exile. This event, or Averroes' death soon afterward, may be reckoned as marking the downfall of the Moorish leadership in science and philosophy.

In our volume we give some of Averroes' most celebrated commentaries, as typifying the culmination of Moorish culture. We give also, as its opening note, the speech with which Tarik, the first conqueror of Spain, in the year A.D. 711 led his army to cross the Straits of Gibraltar and began the attack upon the earlier Christian inhabitants. This speech does not, however, preserve the actual words of Tarik; it only presents the tradition of them as preserved by the Moorish historian Al Maggari, who wrote in Africa long after the last of the Moors had been driven out of Spain. In Al Maggari's day the older Arabic traditions of exact service had quite faded. The Moors had become poets and dreamers instead of scientists and critical historians. The very name of Al Maggari's history may be accepted as typifying its character. He called it "Breath of Perfumes."

SCIENCE AND HISTORY

PHILOSOPHIC THOUGHTS

(BY AVERROES)

The first to preach the resurrection were the prophets of Israel after Moses, then the Evangelical Christians, then the Sabians, whose religion has been called by Ibn-Hazm the oldest in the world. The reason so many founders of religion established this dogma was because they supposed this belief would moralize men and induce them to be virtuous in their own interests. I do not quarrel with Al Ghazali or Motecallemin for saying that the soul is immortal, but I object to the idea that the soul is a mere accident, and that a man can take again the body which has fallen into decay. No, he may take another, similar to the first, but that which has been dead can not return to life. These two bodies are only one, viewed as a species, but they are two in number. Aristotle has said in the last lines of his "Generation and Corruption": "A body once corrupted can never become the same again; it can never return as an individual whole, but it can return to the specific variety of which it is a part. When air separates from water or water separates from air, each of these substances can not become again the thing it was, but must return to its own species."

* * * * *

How have we come to adopt these tales of the creation? Through habit. Just as a man inured to poison can take it with impunity, so a man used to them from childhood can accept the most unbelievable opinions. Therefore the opinions of the masses are only formed through habit. The people believe that which they hear incessantly repeated. And that is why the power of religion is so much stronger than that of philosophy, for it is not accustomed to hearing the opposite of its belief, a thing which happens very often to philosophy: So one sees frequently, nowadays, men who, having entered suddenly into the study of the speculative sciences, lose the religious beliefs which they have only held through habit, and become _zendihs_ (infidels).

The religion sacred to philosophers is to study that which _is_, for the most sublime worship one can render to God is the recognition and knowledge of his works, which leads us to know him, himself, in all his _reality_. In the eyes of God that is the noblest action, while the vilest action is to tax with error and presumption those who practise this worship, higher than any other, who adore him by this religion, the best of all religions.

Among the most dangerous of these fictions concerning a future life are those which counsel virtue as a means of arriving at happiness. In that case virtue is no longer worth anything, since one only abstains from voluptuousness in the hope of being doubly repaid in the future. The brave will only seek death to evade a worse evil. The good will only respect the belongings of others in order to acquire twice as much.

Wine is forbidden because it excites wickedness and quarrels; but I am preserved from those excesses by wisdom: I take it only to sharpen my wits.[52]

That renegade philosopher, Al Ghazali, has gathered up all he learned from the writings of the philosophers, and has turned against them the arms he borrowed from them.

As for us, the philosophers, at the risk of exposing ourselves to the rage of the persecutors of philosophy, which was our mother, we will, when the time is ripe, uncover the poison hidden in Al Ghazali's book.

* * * * *

Our social state does not bring out all the resources and possibilities there are in women; it would seem that they are only destined to bear and rear children, and this state of servitude has destroyed in them the capability for larger things. That is why one never sees, with us, a woman possessed of the moral virtues—their lives pass like those of flowers, and they are a burden upon their husbands. From this comes also the misery which devours our cities, for there are twice as many women there as men, but the former are not permitted to work for their own support.

* * * * *

My father aided in rescuing from prison Ibn Badja, who was accused of heresy. My father does not understand that his own son will one day be regarded as a far worse heretic.

God alone knows if I am one; but it is absolutely certain that it was only the intrigues of my enemies which led to my condemnation. I thought only of editing Aristotle and establishing accord between religion and philosophy.

TARIK'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOLDIERS

(FROM THE HISTORY OF AL MAGGARI)

When Tarik had been informed of the approach of the enemy, he rose in the midst of his companions and, after having glorified God in the highest, he spoke to his soldiers thus:

"Oh my warriors, whither would you flee? Behind you is the sea, before you, the enemy. You have left now only the hope of your courage and your constancy. Remember that in this country you are more unfortunate than the orphan seated at the table of the avaricious master. Your enemy is before you, protected by an innumerable army; he has men in abundance, but you, as your only aid, have your own swords, and, as your only chance for life, such chance as you can snatch from the hands of your enemy. If the absolute want to which you are reduced is prolonged ever so little, if you delay to seize immediate success, your good fortune will vanish, and your enemies, whom your very presence has filled with fear, will take courage. Put far from you the disgrace from which you flee in dreams, and attack this monarch who has left his strongly fortified city to meet you. Here is a splendid opportunity to defeat him, if you will consent to expose yourselves freely to death. Do not believe that I desire to incite you to face dangers which I shall refuse to share with you. In the attack I myself will be in the fore, where the chance of life is always least.

"Remember that if you suffer a few moments in patience, you will afterward enjoy supreme delight. Do not imagine that your fate can be separated from mine, and rest assured that if you fall, I shall perish with you, or avenge you. You have heard that in this country there are a large number of ravishingly beautiful Greek maidens, their graceful forms are draped in sumptuous gowns on which gleam pearls, coral, and purest gold, and they live in the palaces of royal kings. The Commander of True Believers, Alwalid, son of Abdalmelik, has chosen you for this attack from among all his Arab warriors; and he promises that you shall become his comrades and shall hold the rank of kings in this country. Such is his confidence in your intrepidity. The one fruit which he desires to obtain from your bravery is that the word of God shall be exalted in this country, and that the true religion shall be established here. The spoils will belong to yourselves.