THE KHALIF AND THE ARAB.

Among the tales, wherein it hath been told,

In golden letters in a book of gold,

Of Hatim Tai's hospitality,

Who, substanceless in death and shadowy,

Made men his guests upon that mountain top

Whereon his tomb grayed from a thistle crop;—

A tomb of rock where women hewn of stone,

Rude figures, spread dishevelled hair; whose moan

From dark to daybreak made the silence cry;

The camel drivers, being tented nigh,

“Ghouls or hyenas,” shuddering would say

But only girls of granite find at day:—

And of that city, Sheddad son of Aad

Built mid the Sebaa sands.— A king who had

Dominion of the world and many kings.—

Builded in pride and power out of things

Unstable of the earth. For he had read

Of Paradise, and to his soul had said,

“Now in this life the like of Paradise

I‘ ll build me and the Prophet's may despise,

Knowing no need of that he promises.”

So for this city taxed the lands and seas,

And Columned Irem, on a blinding height,

Blazed in the desert like a chrysolite;

The manner of its building, it is told,

Alternate bricks of silver and of gold:

How Sheddad with his women and his slaves,

His thousand viziers, armored troops as waves

Of ocean countless, God with awful flame —

Shot sheer in thunder on him — God, his shame

Confounded and abolished, ere his eyes

Had glimpsed bright follies of that Paradise;

Lay blotted to a wilderness the land

Accursed, and the city lost in sand:

Among such tales — who questions of their sooth?—

One is recorded of an Arab youth:

The Khalif Hisham ben Abdulmelik

Hunting one day, by some unwonted freak

Rode parted from his retinue and gave

Chase to an antelope. Without or slave,

Amir or vizier to a pasture place

Of sheep he came, where dark, in tattered grace,

Watched one, an Arab youth. And as it came

The antelope drew off, with mouth of flame

And tongue of fire to the youth he turned

Shouting, “Ho! fellow! in what school hast learned!

Seest not the buck escapes me? worthless one!

O desert dullard!”

Rising in the sun,

“O ignorant,” he said, “of that just worth

Of those the worthy of our Muslim earth!

In that thou look'st upon me — what thou art!—

As one fit for contempt, thou lack'st no part

Of my disdain?— Allah! I would not own

A dog of thine for friend no other known —

Of speech a tyrant, manners of an ass!”

And flung him, rags and rage, into the grass.

Provoked, astonished, wrinkled angrily,

Hissed Hisham, “Slave! thou know'st me not I see!”

Calmly the youth, “Aye, verily I know,

O mannerless! thy tongue hath told me so,

Thy tongue commanding ere it spake me peace —

Soon art thou known, nor late may knowledge cease.”

“O dog! I am thy Khalif! by a hair

Thy life hangs rav'ling.”

“May it dangle there

Till thou art rotted!— Whiles, upon thy head

Misfortunes shower!— Of his dwelling place,

Allah, be thou forgetful!— What! his grace

Hisham ben Merwan, king of many words —

Few generosities!”...

A flash of swords

In drifts of dust and lo! the Khalif's troops

Surrounding ride. As when a merlin stoops

Some stranger quarry, prey that swims the wind,

Heron or eagle; kenning not its kind

There whence‘ tis cast until it, towering, feels

An eagle's tearing talons, falling reels

In broken circles downward — so the youth,

An Arab fearless as the face of Truth

Of all that made him instant of his death,

Waited with eyes indifferent, equal breath.

The palace reached, “Bring in the prisoner

Before the Khalif,” and he came as were

He in no wise concerned: unquestioning went

Chin bowed on breast, and on his feet a bent

Dark gaze of scornful freedom unafraid,

Till at the Khalif's throne his steps were staid;

And unsaluting, standing head held down,

An armed attendant blazed him with a frown,

“Dog of the Bedouins! thy eyes rot out!

Insulter! must the whole big world needs shout

‘ Commander of the Faithful,’ so thou see?”

To him the Arab sneering, “Verily,

Packsaddle of an ass.”

The Khalif's rage

Exceeded now, and, “By my realm and rage!

Arab, thy hour is come, thy very last;

Thy hope is vanished and thy life is past.”

The shepherd answered, “Aye?— by Allah, then,

O Hisham, if my time be stretched again,

Unscissored of what Destiny ordain,

Little or great, thy words give little pain.”

Then the chief Chamberlain, “O vilest one

Of all the Arabs! wilt thou not be done

Bandying thy baseness with the Ruler of

The Faithful?” spat upon his face. A scoff

Fiery made answer:

“There be some have heard

The nonsense of our God, the text absurd,

‘ One day each soul whatever shall be prompt

To bow before me and to give accompt.’”

Then wroth indeed was Hisham; hotly said,

“He braves us!— headsman, ho! his peevish head!

See; canst thou medicine its speech anew,

Doctor its multiplying words to few;

Divorce them well.” So, where the Arab stood,

Bound him; made kneel upon the cloth of blood:

With curving sword the headsman leaned at pause,

And, even as‘ tis custom made of laws,

To the descendant of the Prophet quoth,

“O Khalif, shall I strike?”

“By Iblis’ oath!

Strike!” answered Hisham; but again the slave

Questioned; and yet again the Khalif gave

His nodded “yea”; and for the third time then

He asked — and knowing neither men nor Jinn

Might save him if the Khalif spake assent,

Signalled the sword, the youth with body bent

Laughed — till the wang-teeth of each jaw appeared,

Laughed — as with scorn the King of kings he‘ d beard,

Insulting death. So, with redoubled spleen

Roared Hisham rising, “It is truly seen

That thou art mad who mockest Azrael!”

The Arab answered: “Listen!— Once befell,

Commander of the Faithful, that a hawk,

A hungry hawk, pounced on a sparrow-cock;

And winging nestward with his meal in claw,

To him the sparrow, for the creature saw

The hawk's conceit, addressed this slyly,‘ Oh,

Most great, most royal, there is not, I know,

That in me which will stay thy stomach's stress,

I am too paltry for thy mightiness’;

With which the hawk was pleased, and flattered so

In his self-praise, he let the sparrow go.”

Then smiled the Khalif Hisham; and a sign

Staying the scimitar, that hung malign

A threatening crescent, said, “God bless, preserve

The Prophet whom all true believers serve!—

Now by my kinship to the Prophet, and

Had he at first but spake us thus this hand

Had ne'er been reckless, and instead of hate

He had had all — except the Khalifate.”

Bade stuff his mouth with jewels and entreat

Him courteously, then from the palace beat.