6

'their mother tongue; hardly, indeed, upon any 'but those to whom it is really such." Hence, certainly, one great cause of the apparent poverty, to an European ear, of much that delighted and thrilled the hearts of the Asiatic hearers to whom it was first addressed.

F. von Schlegel, in his very able summary of the characteristics of the dwellers in Arabia, remarks: Those tribe-feelings, and passions of 'pride and hatred, anger and revenge, so preva'lent among the Arabians, are the Arabians, are displayed in their 'ancient poetry, and even constitute its essential spirit and purpose.' Here, as in some other respects, this distinguished writer is perhaps paullò iniquior to the countrymen of Mahomet. Their loves, their liberality, their hospitality, their pride in their steeds, their fondness for poetry itself, at least claim a due share of the ancient Arab poems, as well as their love of pillage and their thirst for vengeance. But it is not to be denied that this last-named passion, so dear to the natural man, is frequently expressed with great vigour and gusto on the part of the minstrel.

A

specimen may perhaps interest the reader. In a battle between Arabs of Irak against the Ghassanide Arabs of Syria, Aswad, (king of Hira, from A.D. 471 to 491) overcame the Ghassanides, and took captive many of their princes. Aswad's own inclination was to accept a ransom and restore his prisoners. But a cousin of the king, by name Abou-Odheyna, who had lost a brother in the conflict, urged, only too successfully, a more san

'Quart. Rev. xxvii. 38, cit. ap. Hallam. Lit. of Europe, vol. ii. Philosophy of History, Lecture xii. ad init.

p. 287.

2

guinary course of proceeding in the following very celebrated verses :

'Man does not obtain what he desires every day; and jealous fortune will not permit him to enjoy a success at his leisure.

'When we are in possession of opportunity, wisdom commands that we should not let it escape us.

It is just to compel our enemies to drink of the cup whose bitterness they have made us taste.

To slay them with the sword with which they first struck us.

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Mercy towards the weak is a virtue, towards the strong it is madness. Any contrary maxim is false.

'Thou hast killed one brother in battle, and thou wouldest leave the others alive. It would be drawing certain peril on thy head.

'Do not let go the serpent after having cut his tail; if thou art wise, crush his head.

They have bared the sabre, let them feel its edge; they have kindled the fire, let them become its food.

'What will be said if thou sparest them ?-that it is not generosity on thy part, but a fear of consequences.

For they are princes, the pride of the family of Ghassan; a powerful family, whose ambition naturally desires thy kingdom.

They offer us a ransom. They boast of their horses and milch camels, whose beauty charms all beholders.

What? For our blood, which they have shed, they offer us milk in exchange? Of a surety the bargain would be glorious for us!

No, no! No ransom.

Remember thou, that from us, in such a case, they would accept neither gold nor silver !' 1

1

In this instance the poet was stimulated by the desire of producing a practical result. This, indeed, was regarded by the Arabs as one great end

1

Caussin, tom. ii. p. 65. They have also been given, with a Latin translation, says M. Caussin, by Schultens (Monumenta veterum Arabum, p. 57,) and by M. Fleischer (Histoire anteislamite, p. 124.)

both of poetry and eloquence ;-a man who had thus persuaded his tribe to anything great, or dissuaded them from a dangerous enterprise, was thenceforth honoured with the title of Khateb, or orator. Among those who did not write poetry themselves, it was esteemed an accomplishment and mark of good birth to have been so educated as to quote with ease and aptness upon all occasions. Another great aim of their poetry was to preserve, as in an historical record, the distinction of descents, the rights of tribes, and the memory of great achievements: hence a poet was deemed an honour to his tribe; other tribes congratulated the fortunate one on their possession; and at entertainments given in honour of the bard, the women wore their nuptial garments;-only the birth of a son, and of a foal of generous breed, were celebrated with an equal degree of rejoicing. Once every year was a meeting held of all the tribes, at which poets contended for a prize. Their prize poems are known as the Moallacat.2 Comparatively few have come down to us, as the use of writing was more rare before the age of Mahomet, or, as the Arabs would say, in the time of ignorance. We select a few examples from the curious researches of M. Caussin. It need hardly be said that the reader must not look for the logical sequence of the classic authors of Greece and Rome. The fulness of the periods, the elegance of the expression, and the allusive acuteness of the proverbial sayings, (frequently bearing

1 Sale, Prelim. Discourse, sect. i.

That is, Poems suspended; for they were hung to the walls of the Caaba, the great temple of all Arabians, at Mecca. (Caussin; Sale.)

reference to historic legends,) have been from the days even of the inspired Solomon, the attractions of Eastern composition ;-their verses are, indeed, as 'Orient pearls at random strung.'

Here is an extract from a prize-poem by Imroulcays, the founder of their laws of metre. It displays an observation of nature and enjoyment of its beauties which is but rarely exhibited in the pagan classics of the West :

'My friend, seest thou those lightnings, which move like rapid hands, and flash above those mountains of clouds which they crown?

They throw a light brighter than the lamps of the solitary, whose hand has lavished on the twisted wick, the oil expressed from the sesame.

I stop to watch them; my companions also stop with me between Dhâridj and Odbrayb. At what an immense distance lay the picture that attracted my attention!

The storm, as far as my eye could discern it, extended on the right to Mount Catan, and on the left to the mountains of Setan and Yadhbal.

It shed on Coutayfa, torrents that overthrew the highest trees.

It sent on the summit of Kenân a shower which drove the roes from their coverts.

'At Taymâ, the tempest has not left standing a palmtree, nor a house; only citadels made of enormous blocks of stones, have withstood its violence.

• Mount Thabîr, in the midst of clouds that dissolved into rain, looked like a venerable old man enveloped in a striped mantle.

In the morning the summit of Moudjaymir, full of the tracks of the torrents, looked like the clew of flax on a distaff.

'The storm in sending its waters on to the plain of Ghâbih, has renewed its verdure, and made blossoms burst forth; so the merchant of Yemen, when he makes a halt, opens his bales, and displays a thousand varied stuffs.

The birds of the valley are twittering with joy, as if they

were intoxicated since the dawn with a delicious and piquant wine.

The lions, which the torrents have carried off and drowned during the night, lie extended in the distance, along with feeble and weak plants uprooted on the ground."

So important a feature in the poetic character was this love of nature considered, that life in towns was esteemed unfavourable to the development of the bard's genius, because the townsman could not have the beauties of natural scenery continually before his eyes. But we hasten to afford proofs of the existence of some of the other themes of Arabian verse to which we have alluded. Hâtim, one of the noblest ante-Islamite chieftains of the tribe of Benóu Taij, on numberless occasions thoroughly acted up to the spirit of his generous professions. These words were addressed to his bride, Mâwia, a lady of such exalted rank as to entitle her to divorce her husband whenever she pleased. The latter part was written after she had exercised this privilege towards Hâtim himself.

'Riches, oh, Mâwia, come in the morning, and depart at evening. They are transitory, but they can procure for man immortal renown.

'Oh, Mâwia, in whatever state I am, never do I say to the man who begs of me, I have nothing to give thee. 'Oh, Mâwia, when my owl (my soul) shall fly into the desert, and my body, laid in the tomb, shall taste no more either water or wine,

'Shall I feel myself robbed of what I have given? Should I enjoy that which I had denied?

The world may know that Hâtim might be rich if he wished. But I devote to benevolence all that I acquire; and I nourish others to live in their memory.

1 Caussin, tom. ii. pp. 331, 332.