My two companions in wine are youths noble of aspect, and at eve comes a singing girl to us, clad in a bright robe or a saffron-dyed tunic.

The bosom of her dress is open; she resists not the caresses of the guests; delicate are her naked breasts.

When we say, “Let us hear thy melody,” she begins gently, with a soft gaze at us; she puts not forth her voice:

But presently she raises her song, so that thou wouldst think mothers be wailing over a babe that is dead.

My ever-drinking of wine ceases not, nor my pleasure, nor my selling and spending my wealth inherited or gotten:

Until all my kindred have shunned me; I am separated from them as men separate the sickly camel.

Yet do the poor, the kinless, not deny my acquaintance; no, nor the lords of the wide-stretched tent. (Though his own tribe have abandoned him for his profligacy, yet he always has a friend among the poor whom he relieves, and the rich who delight in his society.)

O thou who blamest me for that I seek the shout of war, and give myself to pleasures, say, canst thou make me live for ever?

If thou hast no power to ward off fate, leave me to enjoy before it comes, though I squander all I have.

I swear that but for three things, which are a man’s joys, I would not care if the visitors turned away despairing from my bed of death.

The first of these is to elude the women of my family, who would censure me, and to drink the dark-red wine that foams as the water mixes with it.

Another is to urge into the fight, when one in danger calls to me, a broad-made steed, that rushes like the wolf of the ghaḍa wood which a man rouses to flight as it comes to drink.

The third is to while away a dark dull day (for then darkness is a pleasure) with a young beauty, under a lofty-columned tent.

The man of noble spirit drinks deep while he lives; should we both die to-morrow, fault-finder, thou shalt know which of us will thirst.

I see that the grave of him that is careful, that hoards his wealth, differs not from the grave of the dissolute, the spendthrift:

A hillock of earth is on each, with some flat stones laid together.

The young poet, at length, thoroughly ruined, left his kindred and repaired to the Court of ‘Amr, son of Munthir III., king of Hira, commonly called ‘Amr son of Hind, from the name of his mother. He was accompanied by his uncle Mutelemmis, whose real name was Jerîr son of ‘Abd al Masîḥ. ‘Amr ap­pointed them to attend on his brother Ḳâbûs, according to the Arab custom by which a man had, generally, two boon com­panions. Ḳâbûs was a boorish prince, and treated the two poets with great indignity; sometimes wearying them by forcing them to make long excursions in attendance on him; at others keeping them at the door of his tent while he drank within. At last the passionate and satirical Ṭarafeh made some verses upon him, beginning:

Oh would that in place of king ‘Amr we had but a few milch-cows lowing about our tent!

Sure Ḳâbûs, son of Hind, will ruin his kingdom; he is an exceeding fool.

These verses were brought to the ears of ‘Amr in the follow­ing manner:—A certain ‘Abd‘Amr, a favourite of the king, had married a sister of Ṭarafeh. The poet, however, had said satir­ically of him,

There is nought good about him but his money, and that waist which is so slender when he stands.

The point of this was that ‘Abd ‘Amr was enormously fat. The king was one day rallying him while he was naked in the bath, and said, “Your brother-in-law Ṭarafeh must have seen you as you now are when he made that verse.” “Ṭarafeh,” answered ‘Abd ‘Amr, “makes verses on you and your brother as well as on me;” he then repeated to the king the satirical lines of the poet on the king’s brother Ḳâbûs. Now this ‘Amr ibn Hind was a most ferocious and vindictive prince. He had burned alive ninety-nine men and one woman of the tribe of Temîm in accordance with a vow of vengeance he had made to destroy a hundred of the race. This deed, which is known in Arab his­tory as the “second Day of Owârah,” had gained for him the appellation of Al Moḥarriḳ, the Burner. Compare the proverb, “Ill-fated is he of the Barâjim who approaches.” Arab. Prov. I. 5. He now determined to destroy both Ṭarafeh and Mutelemmis. Sending for them he asked them if they desired to leave his Court. They answered in the affirmative; and he then told them that he would give them letters to Abû Kârib, Governor of Hejer or Baḥrayn for the king of Persia. Taking the letters, Mutelemmis and Ṭarafeh set out. Mutelem-mis suspected treachery, and as neither of the poets could read, he presented his letter to a young man in the way, and asked him what it contained. It was a request to the Governor of Hejer to put the bearer to death. Mutelemmis destroyed the letter, and implored Ṭarafeh to fly with him into Syria. Ṭarafeh obstinately refused, continued his journey to Abû Kârib, who arrested him, and caused him to be buried alive. Thus perished one of the most gifted of the early Arab poets, when he had scarcely attained manhood. He is often called Ibn al ‘Ishrîn, the youth of twenty years. ‘Amr ibn Hind was afterwards slain by the poet warrior ‘Amr ibn Kulthûm, author of the Mo‘al-laḳah, in revenge for an insult offered to his mother by Hind, the mother of ‘Amr; whence the proverb, “Quicker to slay than ‘Amr ibn Kulthûm.” Arab. Prov. II. 233.

Tell the Governor.—The verses are of the , which is a metre of the fourth circle, or . This circle consists of the primitive feet , which is the normal form of the . The measure of the is twice; the of the first and third feet being , and that of the second . The measure of the present verses is , or normal; being of the first of the first . Of the , there enter into this metre , and , and , which is the union of the two former. It is evident that these licences may affect any of the feet, since in the and the are , and also in , the and the are , the being a . So that in the , the foot may become , and may become . Instances of these licences will be found on examining the verses in the text.

To seek the traces after the substance.—These words, which have become proverbial, were first spoken by Mâlik ibn ‘Amr al ‘Âmili when he slew the king of Ghassân. The story is told in the commentary to the proverb: Arab. Prov. I. 221. The king, to punish the tribe of ‘Âmileh had imprisoned Mâlik and his brother Simâk. One day he called them before him and told them that he should put one of them to death. Each begged to be the victim, that his brother might be spared. The king selected Simâk, and he was executed. While going to his doom he improvised a poem, in which was the verse:

I swear that if they had slain Mâlik I would have been to them as a snake that watches to bite. (Two more lines are given by Sḥerîshi).

One day their mother heard a horseman reciting these lines, and she roused Mâlik to take vengence for his brother. He watched the king until he was on a journey with a small escort, and then fell upon him. The attendants offered Mâlik a hundred camels, the usual blood-wit for a murder, if he would spare the king. He said, “I will not seek a trace (or, as we should say, a shadow) after a substance,” and at once killed the king. The proverb corresponds to Æsop’s fable of the dog and the bone.

The ill-fate of Al Ḥosayn. — The misfortunes and death of Al Ḥosayn, son of ‘Ali, are too well known to require notice here.

The shoes of Ḥonayn: that is a bad bargain or a bootless errand. Ḥonayn was a shoemaker with whom an Arab of the desert haggled about the price of a pair of shoes. At last the man would not purchase, and they parted angrily. Ḥonayn resolved on revenge; so he went forward on the road by which he knew the Arab must pass and threw down one of the shoes. The Arab, when he came up, said, “How like this is to one of Ḥonayn’s shoes; if the other were with it I would take them.” In the mean time Ḥonayn had gone on and thrown down the other shoe, and then hidden himself near. When the Arab came to the second shoe he repented that he had not picked up the first; and fastening his camel, he returned to fetch it. Ḥonayn at once mounted and rode off, having thus gained a camel in exchange for a pair of shoes. When the Arab went back to his tribe they said to him, “What hast thou brought from thy journey?” He said, “I have brought back nothing but Ḥonayn’s shoes,” which became proverbial for a bootless errand. Compare the Twenty-sixth Assembly, “I will depart from thee with the shoes of Ḥonayn.” This is the legend as told by Sherîshi; but two others are given (Arab. Prov. I. 461), in the commentary on the proverb, More bootless than Ḥonayn. They were all probably fabricated to explain a popular phrase, the origin of which was lost.