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 va.s.sals 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: ?arith b. ?illiza.]

Less interesting is the _Mu'allaqa_ of ?arith b. ?illiza of Bakr.

Its inclusion among the _Mu'allaqat_ is probably due, as Noldeke suggested, to the fact that ?ammad, himself a client of Bakr, wished to flatter his patrons by selecting a counterpart to the _Mu'allaqa_ of 'Amr b. Kulthum, which immortalised their great rivals, the Banu Taghlib. ?arith'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 Banu Bakr by a certain group of the Banu Taghlib known as the Araqim:--

"Our brothers the Araqim 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 ?arith does not name was 'blackening' the Banu Bakr before the King of ?ira. 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 Basus:--

"Leave folly and error! If ye blind yourselves, Just therein lies the malady.

Recall the oaths of Dhu 'l-Majaz[231] for which Hostages gave security, Lest force or guile should break them: can caprice Annul the parchments utterly?[232]

[Sidenote: 'Antara.]

'Antara b. Shaddad, whose father belonged to the tribe of 'Abs, distinguished himself in the War of Da?is.[233] In modern times it is not as a poet that he is chiefly remembered, but as a hero of romance--the Bedouin Achilles. G.o.ddess-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 melee, 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 n.o.bly 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 ?ayyi'. His _Mu'allaqa_ is famous for its stirring battle-scenes, one of which is translated here:--[234]

"Learn, Malik'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 n.o.blest 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 Da?is, the _Mu'allaqa_ of his contemporary, Zuhayr b. Abi Sulma, 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 Dhubyan, Harim b. Sinan and ?arith b. 'Awf, the whole sum of blood-money to which the 'Absites were ent.i.tled 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 ?arith 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:--

n.o.ble pair of Ghay? ibn Murra,[235] well ye laboured to restore Ties of kindred hewn asunder by the b.l.o.o.d.y 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 Dhubyan 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 G.o.d the guilt ye dare not unto Him disclose?

Verily, what thing soever ye would hide from G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sage concerning the lawless deeds of a certain ?usayn b. ?am?am, 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 pa.s.ses 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 n.i.g.g.ard 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 s.p.a.ce 'twixt earth and heaven.

He that will not take the lance's b.u.t.t-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 _qa?ida_ 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 G.o.d, preserve me from his demon!"[242]

The poetical gifts which he inherited from his uncle Bashama he bequeathed to his son Ka'b, author of the famous ode, _Banat Su'ad_.

[Sidenote: Labid.]

Labid b. Rabi'a, of the Banu 'amir b. ?a'?a'a, was born in the latter half of the sixth century, and is said to have died soon after Mu'awiya'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, "G.o.d 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 pa.s.sages in his Diwan.

Labid 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 _qa?ida_ 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 Mina: Rijam and Ghawl are lone.

The camp in Rayyan'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]