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 Moorish literature : 
 
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FAMOUS PAINTINGS FROM THE PARIS SALON. 
 
 A HAREM IN GRANADA. 
 
 Photogravure from the o'riginal painting by Eddiiard Michter, exhiMted in the 
 Paris Salon of jSSj. ' ' 
 
ROMANTIC BALLADS, 
 
 TALES OF THE BERBERS, 
 
 STORIES OF THE KABYLES, FOLK-LORE 
 
 AND 
 
 NATIONAL TRADITIONS 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FOR THE FIRST TIME 
 
 WITH A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY 
 RENE BASSET, PH.D. 
 
 OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FRANCE, AND DIRECTOR 
 OF THE ACAOimiE D' ALGER 
 
 REVISED EDITION 
 
 
 CGLONIAl^ 
 
 Vrr 
 

 Copyright, 1901, 
 Bv THE COLONIAL PRESS. 
 
 -p^ (Jo t-H ^li 
 
 I -^ . ,-r-| i^ I (J *^ 
 
 //^/A/ 
 
 
S99 
 
 SPECIAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE region which extends from the frontiers of Egypt 
 to the Atlantic Ocean, and from the Mediterranean to 
 the Niger, was in ancient times inhabited by a people 
 to whom we give the general name of Berbers, but whom the 
 ancients, particularly those of the Eastern portion, knew un- 
 der the name of Moors. " They were called Maurisi by the 
 Greeks," said Strabo, " in the first century a.d., and Mauri 
 by the Romans. They are of Lybian origin, and form a power- 
 ful and rich nation." ^ This name of Moors is applied not only 
 to the descendants of the ancient Lybians and Numidians, who 
 live in the nomad state or in settled abodes, but also to the 
 descendants of the Arabs who, in the eighth century a.d., 
 brought with them Islamism, imposed by the sabre of Ogbah 
 and his successors. Even further was it carried, into Spain, 
 when Berbers and Arabs, reunited under the standard of 
 Moussa and Tarik, added this country to the empire of the 
 Khalifa. In the fifteenth century the Portuguese, in their 
 turn, took the name to the Orient, and gave the name of Moors 
 to the Mussulmans whom they found on the Oriental coast 
 of Africa and in India. 
 
 The appellation particularizes, as one may see, three peoples 
 entirely dififerent in origin — the Berbers, the Arabs of the west, 
 and the Spanish Mussulmans, widely divided, indeed, by polit- 
 ical struggles, but united since the seventh and eighth centuries 
 in their religious law. This distinction must be kept in mind, 
 as it furnishes the necessary divisions for a study of the Moor- 
 ish literature. 
 
 The term Moorish Literature may appear ambitious ap- 
 plied to the monuments of the Berber language which have 
 come down to us, or are gathered daily either from the lips 
 of singers on the mountains of the Jurgura, of the Aures, or 
 of the Atlas of Morocco; under the tents of the Touaregs 
 
 ' Geographica, t. xviii, ch. 3, § ii. 
 iii 
 
fv SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the desert or the M'oo^s of Senegal; in the oases of the 
 south of Algeria or in Tunis... ^ But it is useless to search for 
 literary monuments such as'hafye been transmitted to us from 
 Egypt and India, Assyria and Persia, ancient Judea, Greece 
 and Rome ; from the Middle Ages ; from Celt, Slav, and Ger- 
 man; from the Semitic and Ouralo-altaique tongues; the ex- 
 treme Orient, and the modern literature of the Old and New 
 World. 
 
 But the manifestations of thought, in popular form, are no 
 less curious and worthy of study among the Berbers. I do 
 not speak of the treatises on religion which in the Middle 
 Ages and in our day were translated from the Arabic into cer- 
 tain dialects : that borrowed literature, which also exists among 
 the Sonalulis of Eastern Africa and the Haussas and the Peuls 
 of the Soudan, has nothing original. But the popular litera- 
 ture — the stories and songs — has an altogether different im- 
 portance. It is, above all, the expression of the daily life, 
 whether it relates to fetes or battles or even simple fights. 
 These songs may be satirical or laudatory, to celebrate the 
 victory of one party or deplore the defeat of the True Believers 
 by the Christians, resounding on the lips of children or women, 
 or shouted in political defiance. They permit us, in spite of 
 a coarse rhythm and language often incorrect, an insight into 
 their manner of life, and to feel as do peoples established for 
 centuries on African soil. Their ancestors, the Machouacha, 
 threatened Egypt in the time of Moses and took possession 
 of it, and more than twenty centuries later, with the Fatimides, 
 converted Spain to the Mussulman faith. Under Arab chiefs 
 they would have overcome all Eastern Europe, had it not been 
 for the hammer of Charles Martel, which crushed them on 
 the field of Poitiers. 
 
 The richest harvest of Berber songs in our possession is, 
 without doubt, that in the dialect of the Zouaous, inhabiting 
 the Jurgura mountains, which rise some miles distant from 
 Algiers, their crests covered with snow part of the year.^ All 
 kinds of songs are represented ; the rondeaux of children 
 whose inspiration is alike in all countries: 
 
 " Oh, moonlight clear in the narrow streets, 
 Tell to our little friends 
 
 ' Hanoteau, Poesies Populaires de la Khabylie du Jurgura, Paris, 1867, 8vo, 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION v 
 
 To come out now with us to play — 
 
 To play with us to-night. , 
 
 If they come not, then we will go 
 
 To them with leather shoes. (Kabkab.)* 
 
 " Rise up, O Sun, and hie thee forth, 
 On thee we'll put a bonnet old : 
 We'll plough for thee a little field — 
 A little field of pebbles full : 
 Our oxen but a pair of mice." 
 
 " Oh, far distant moon : 
 Could I but see thee, Ali ! 
 Ali, son of Sliman, 
 The beard* of Milan 
 Has gone to draw water. 
 Her cruse, it is broken; 
 But he mends it with thread. 
 And draws water with her: 
 He cried to Ayesha: 
 ' Give me my sabre, 
 That I kill the merle 
 Perched on the dunghill 
 Where she dreams; 
 She has eaten all my olives.' " <• 
 
 In the same category one may find the songs which are pe- 
 culiar to the women, " couplets with which they accompany 
 themselves in their dances; the songs, the complaints which 
 one hears them repeat during whole hours in a rather slow 
 and monotonous rhythm while they are at their household 
 labors, turning the hand-mill, spinning and weaving cloths, 
 and composed by the women, both words and music." " 
 
 One of the songs, among others, and the most celebrated in 
 the region of the Oued-Sahal, belonging to a class called Deker, 
 is consecrated to the memory of an assassin, Daman-On-Mesal, 
 executed by a French justice. As in most of these couplets, 
 it is the guilty one who excites the interest: 
 
 "The Christian oppresses. He has snatched away 
 
 This deserving young man; 
 He took him away to Bougre, 
 
 The Christian women marvelled at him. 
 Pardieu ! O Mussulmans, you 
 Have repudiated Kabyle honor." '' 
 
 * A sort of sandal. • AflFectionate term (or a child. 
 
 • Hanoteau, v. 441-443. ' Hanoteau, Preface, p. iii. ' Hanoteau, p. 94. 
 
vi SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 With the Berbers of lower Morocco the women's songs are 
 called by the Arab name Eghna. . 
 
 If the woman, as in all Mussulman society, plays an inferior 
 role— inferior to that allowed to her in our modern civilizations 
 —she is not less the object of songs which celebrate the power 
 given her by beauty : 
 
 " O bird with azure plumes, 
 Go, be my messenger — 
 I ask thee that thy flight be swift; 
 Take from me now thy recompense. 
 Rise with the dawn — ah, very soon — 
 For me neglect a hundred plans; 
 Direct thy flight toward the fount. 
 To Tanina and Cherifa. 
 
 " Speak to the eyelash-darkened maid, 
 To the beautiful one of the pure, white throat; 
 With teeth like milky pearls. 
 Red as vermillion are her cheeks; 
 Her graceful charms have stol'n my reason ; 
 Ceaselessly I see her in my dreams." * 
 
 " A woman with a pretty nose 
 Is worth a house of solid stone; 
 I'd give for her a hundred reaux,» 
 E'en if she quitted me as soon. 
 
 " Arching eyebrows on a maid. 
 With love the genii would entice, 
 I'd buy her for a thousand reaux, 
 Even if exile were the price. 
 
 " A woman neither fat nor lean 
 Is like a pleasant forest green. 
 When she unfolds her budding charms, 
 She gleams and glows with springtime sheen." i' 
 
 The same sentiment inspires the Touareg songs, among 
 which tribe women enjoy much greater liberty and possess a 
 knowledge of letters greater than that of the men, and know 
 more of that which we should call literature, if that word were 
 not too ambitious : 
 
 " For God's sake leave those hearts in peace, 
 'Tis Tosdenni torments them so ; 
 
 • Hanoteau, p. 350-357. • Reals. "• Hanoteau, pp. 30a, J03. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 She is more graceful than a troop 
 Of antelopes separated from gazelles; 
 More beautiful than snowy flocks, 
 Which move toward the tents, 
 And with the evening shades appear 
 To share the nightly gathering; 
 More beautiful than the striped silks 
 Enwrapped so closely under the haiks, 
 More beautiful than the glossy ebon veil, 
 Enveloped in its paper white. 
 With which the young man decks himself. 
 And which sets off his dusky cheek." i 
 
 The poetic talent of the Touareg women, and the use they 
 make of this gift — which they employ to celebrate or to rail 
 at, with the accompaniment of their one-stringed violin, that 
 which excites their admiration or inspires them with disdain 
 — is a stimulant for warriors : 
 
 " That which spurs me to battle is a word of scorn, 
 And the fear of the eternal malediction 
 Of God, and the circles of the young 
 Maidens with their violins. 
 Their disdain is for those men 
 Who care not for their own good names.* 
 
 " Noon has come, the meeting's sure. 
 Hearts of wind love not the battle; 
 As though they had no fear of the violins, 
 Which are on the knees of painted women — 
 Arab women, who were not fed on sheep's milk; 
 There is but camel's milk in all their land. 
 More than one other has preceded thee and is widowed. 
 For that in Amded, long since, 
 My own heart was burned. 
 Since you were a young lad I suffered — 
 Since I wore the veil and wrapped 
 My head in the folds of the haik." ' 
 
 War, and the struggle of faction against faction, of tribe 
 against tribe, of confederation against confederation, it is 
 which, with love, above all, has inspired the Berber men. 
 With the Khabyles a string of love-songs is called " Alamato," 
 
 > Masqueray, Observations grammaticales sur la grammair« Touareg et textes de la 
 Tourahog des Tailog, pp. zii, 213- Paris, 1897. 
 
 ■ Masqnetay, p. 22a. 
 
 ■ Masqueray, p. 227. 
 
viii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 because this word occurs in the first couplet, always with a 
 belligerent inspiration : 
 
 " He has seized his banner for the fight 
 In honor of the Bey whose cause he maintains, 
 He guides the warriors with their gorgeous cloaks. 
 With their spurs unto their boots well fastened, 
 All that was hostile they destroyed with violence ; 
 And brought the insurgents to reason." 
 
 This couplet is followed by a second, where allusion is made 
 to the snow which interrupts communication : 
 
 " Violently falls the snow, 
 In the mist that precedes the lightning; 
 It bends the branches to the earth, 
 And splits the tallest trees in twain. 
 Among the shepherds none can pasture his flock; 
 It closes to traffic all the roads to market. 
 Lovers then must trust the birds. 
 With messages to their loves — 
 Messages to express their passion. 
 
 " Gentle tame falcon of mine, 
 Rise in thy flight, spread out thy wings, 
 If thou art my friend do me this service ; 
 To-morrow, ere ever the rise of the sun. 
 Fly toward her house; there alight 
 On the window of my gracious beauty." * 
 
 With the Khabyles of the Jurgura the preceding love-songs 
 are the particular specialty of a whole list of poets who bear 
 the Arab name of T'eballa, or " tambourinists." Ordinarily 
 they are accompanied in their tours by a little troop of musi- 
 cians who play the tambourine and the haut-boy. Though 
 they are held in small estimation, and are relegated to the same 
 level as the butchers and measurers of grain, they are none 
 the less desired, and their presence is considered indispensable 
 at all ceremonies — wedding fetes, and on the birth of a son, 
 on the occasion of circumcision, or for simple banquets. 
 
 Another class, composed of Ameddah, " panegyrists," or 
 Fecia, " eloquent men," are considered as much higher in rank. 
 They take part in all affairs of the country, and their advice 
 is sought, for they dispense at will praise or blame. It is they 
 
 • Hanoteau, pp. 348-350. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 who express the national sentiment of each tribe, and in case 
 of war their accents uphft warriors, encourage the brave, and 
 wither the cowardly. They accompany themselves with a 
 Basque drum. Some, however, have with them one or two 
 , musicians who, after each couplet, play an air on the flute as 
 a refrain." 
 
 In war-songs it is remarkable to see with what rapidity his- 
 torical memories are lost. The most ancient lay of this kind 
 does not go beyond the conquest of Algiers by the French. 
 The most recent songs treat of contemporary events. Nothing 
 of the heroic traditions of the Berbers has survived in their 
 memory, and it is the Arab annalists who show us the role 
 they have played in history. If the songs relating to the con- 
 quest of Algeria had not been gathered half a century ago, 
 they would doubtless have been lost, or nearly so, to-day. At 
 that time, however, the remembrance was still alive, and the 
 poets quickly crystallized in song the rapidity of the triumph 
 of France, which represents their civilization: 
 
 " From the day when the Consul left Algiers, 
 The powerful French have gathered their hosts: 
 Now the Turks have gone, without hope of return, 
 Algiers the beautiful is wrested from them. 
 
 " Unhappy Isle that they built in the desert. 
 With vaults of limestone and brick; 
 
 The celestial guardian who over them watched has withdrawn. 
 Who can resist the power of God? 
 
 " The forts that surround Algiers like stars, 
 Are bereft of their masters; 
 The baptized ones have entered. 
 The Christian religion now is triumphant, 
 O my eyes, weep tears of blood, weep evermore ! 
 
 " They are beasts of burden without cruppers, 
 Their backs are loaded, 
 
 Under a bushel their unkempt heads are hidden. 
 They speak a patois unintelligible. 
 You can understand nothing they say. 
 
 " The combat with these gloomy invaders 
 L Is like the first ploughing of a virgin soil, 
 & To which the harrowing implements 
 
 * Hanoteau, Introdttction, 
 
X SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 Are rude and painful ; 
 Their attack is terrible. 
 
 " They drag their cannons with them, 
 And know how to use them, the impious ones; 
 When they fire, the smoke forms in thick clouds : 
 They are charged with shrapnel, 
 Which falls like the hail of approaching spring. 
 Unfortunate queen of cities — 
 City of noble ramparts, 
 Algiers, column of Islam, 
 Thou art like the habitation of the dead, 
 The banner of France envelops thee all." • 
 
 It is, one may believe, in similar terms that these songs, lost 
 to-day, recount the defeat of Jugurtha, or Talfarinas, by the 
 Romans, or that of the Kahina by the Arabs. But that which 
 shows clearly how rapidly these songs, and the remembrance 
 of what had inspired them, have been lost is the fact that in 
 a poem of the same kind on the same subject, composed some 
 fifty years ago by the Chelha of meridional Morocco, it is not 
 a question of France nor the Hussains, but the Christians in 
 general, against whom the poet endeavors to excite his com- 
 patriots. 
 
 It is so, too, with the declamatory songs of the latest period 
 of the Middle Ages, the dialects more or less precise, where 
 the oldest heroic historical poems, like the Song of Roland, 
 had disappeared to leave the field free for the imagination of 
 the poet who treats the struggles between Christians and Sara- 
 cens according to his own fantasy. 
 
 Thanks to General Hanoteau, the songs relating to the prin- 
 cipal events of Khabyle since the French conquest have been 
 saved from oblivion, viz., the expedition of Marechal Bugeaud 
 in 1867 ; that of General Pelissier in 1891 ; the insurrection of 
 Bon Bar'la; those of Ameravun in 1896, and the divers 
 episodes of the campaign of 1897 against the Aith Traten, 
 when the mountains were the last citadel of the Khabyle in- 
 dependence : 
 
 " The tribe was full of refugees. 
 From all sides they sought refuge 
 With the Aith Traten, the powerful confederation. 
 ' Let us go,' said they, ' to a sure refuge,' 
 
 • Hanoteav, pp. 2, 3. 5, 7, 9. 11. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 For the enemy has fallen on our heads,' 
 But in Arba they established their home." ' 
 
 The unhappy war of 1870, thanks to the stupidity of the 
 military authorities, revived the hope of a victorious insurrec- 
 tion. Mograne, Bon Mazrag, and the Sheikh Haddad aroused 
 the Khabyles, but the desert tribes did not respond to their ap- 
 peal. Barbary was again conquered, and the popular songs 
 composed on that occasion reproached them for the folly of 
 their attempt. 
 
 Bon Mezrah proclaimed in the mountains and on the plain : 
 
 " Come on, a Holy War against the Christians, 
 He followed his brother until his disaster. 
 His noble wife was lost to him. 
 As to his flocks and his children, 
 He left them to wander in Sahara. 
 Bon Mezrag is not a man, 
 But the lowest of all beings; 
 He deceived both Arabs and Khabyles, 
 Saying, ' I have news of the Christians.' 
 
 " I believed Haddad a saint indeed, 
 With miracles and supernatural gifts; 
 He has then no scent for game. 
 And singular to make himself he tries. 
 
 " I tell it to you ; to all of you here 
 (How many have fallen in the battles), 
 That the Sheikh has submitted. 
 From the mountain he has returned, 
 Whoever followed him was blind. 
 He took flight like one bereft of sense. 
 How many wise men have fallen 
 On his traces, the traces of an impostor, 
 From Babors unto Guerrouma ! 
 This joker has ruined the country — 
 He ravaged the world while he laughed; 
 By his fault he has made of this land a desert." ' 
 
 The conclusion of poems of this kind is an appeal to the 
 generosity of France: 
 
 " Since we have so low fallen,' 
 You beat on us as on a drum ; 
 
 ' Hanoteau, p. 124. 
 
 ' R. Basset, L'insarrection Algerienne, de 1871 dans les chansons populaires Khabyles. 
 Lourain, 1892. 
 •J. D. Lueiani, Chansons Khabyles de Isniail Azekkion. Algiers, J893. 
 
xii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 You have silenced our voices. 
 
 We ask of you a pardon sincere, 
 
 O France, nation of valorous men. 
 
 And eternal shall be our repentance. 
 
 From beginning to the end of the year 
 
 We are waiting and hoping alvirays: 
 
 My God ! Soften the hearts of the authorities." 
 
 With the Touaregs, the civil, or war against the Arabs, re- 
 places the war against the Christians, and has not been less 
 actively celebrated: 
 
 "We have saddled the shoulders of the docile camel, 
 I excite him with my sabre, touching his neck, 
 I fall on the crowd, give them sabre and lance; 
 And then there remains but a mound. 
 And the wild beasts find a brave meal." ^^ 
 
 One finds in this last verse the same inspiration that is found 
 in the celebrated passage of the Iliad, verses 2 and 5 : " Anger 
 which caused ten thousand Achseans to send to Hades numer- 
 ous souls of heroes, and to make food of them for the dogs 
 and birds of prey." It is thus that the Arab poet expresses 
 his ante-Islamic " Antarah " : 
 
 " My pitiless steel pierced all the vestments, 
 The general has no safety from my blade, 
 I have left him as food for savage beasts 
 Which tear him, crunching his bones. 
 His handsome hands and brave arms." ^ 
 
 The Scandinavian Skalds have had the same savage accents, 
 and one can remember a strophe from the song of the death 
 of Raynor Lodbrog: 
 
 " I was yet young when in the Orient we gave the wolves a bloody 
 repast and a pasture to the birds. When our rude swords rang on the 
 helmet, then they saw the sea rise and the vultures wade in blood." ^ 
 
 Robbery and pillage under armed bands, the ambuscade 
 even, are celebrated among the Touaregs with as great pleas- 
 ure as a brilHant engagement: 
 
 " Matella ! May thy father die ! 
 Thou art possessed by a demon, 
 
 " Masqueray, pp. 128, 229, 1 Mo'allagah, v. 40, so. 
 
 'Marmier, Lettres sur I'Islemde. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xiil 
 
 To believe that the Touaregs are not men. 
 
 They know how to ride the camel ; they 
 
 Ride in the morning and they ride at night; 
 
 They can travel ; they can gallop : 
 
 They know how to offer drink to those 
 
 Who remain upon their beasts. 
 
 They know how to surprise a 
 
 Courageous man in the night. 
 
 Happy he sleeps, fearless with kneeling camels; 
 
 They pierce him with a lance, 
 
 Sharp and slender as a thorn, 
 
 And leave him to groan until 
 
 His soul leaves his body : 
 
 The eagle waits to devour his entrails." » 
 
 They also show great scorn for those who lead a life rel- 
 atively less barbarous, and who adorn themselves as much as 
 the Touaregs can by means of science and commerce ; 
 
 " The Tsaggmaren are not men, 
 Not lance of iron, nor yet of wood, 
 They are not in harness, not in saddles. 
 They have no handsome saddle-bags, 
 They've naught of what makes mankind proud; 
 They've no fat and healthy camels, 
 The Tsaggmaren; don't speak of them; 
 They are people of a mixed race. 
 There is no condition not found with them. 
 Some are poor, yet not in need ; 
 Others are abused by the demon. 
 Others own nothing but their clubs. 
 There are those who make the pilgrimage, and repeat it. 
 There are those who can read the Koran and learn by that 
 They possess in the pasturage camels, and their little ones, 
 Besides nuggets of gold all safely wrapped." * 
 
 Another style, no less sought for among the Berbers in- 
 habiting cities, is the " complaint " which flourished in lower 
 Morocco, where it is known under the Arab name of Lqist 
 (history). When the subject is religious, they call it Nadith 
 (tradition). One of the most celebrated is that wherein they 
 tell of the descent into the infernal regions of a young man 
 in search of his father and mother. It will give an idea of 
 this style of composition to recite the beginning; 
 
 ' Hanoteau, Essaie de gramtnaire de la langue Tamachek, pp. zio, 2tt. Paris, i860. 
 ' Hanoteau, p. 21], 
 
XIV SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 " In the name of God, most clement and merciful, 
 Also benediction and homage to the prophet Mohammed, 
 In the name of God, listen to the words of the author^ 
 This is what the Talebs tell, according to the august Koran. 
 Let us begin this beautiful story by 
 Invoking the name of God. 
 Listen to this beautiful story, O good man, 
 We will recite the story of a young man 
 In Berbere; O God, give to us perfection; 
 That which we bring to you is found in truthful tradition, 
 Hard as a rock though thy heart be, it will melt; 
 The father and mother of Saba died in his childhood 
 And left him in great poverty; 
 
 Our compassionate Lord guided him and showed him the way, 
 God led him along toward the Prophet, 
 And gave to him the Koran." ^ 
 
 Other poems — for instance, that of Sidi Hammen and that 
 of Job — are equally celebrated in Morocco. The complaints 
 on religious subjects are accompanied on the violin, while those 
 treating of a historical event or a story with a moral have the 
 accompaniment of a guitar. We may class this kind of poems 
 among those called Tandant, in lower Morocco, which consist 
 in the enumeration of short maxims. The same class exist 
 also in Zouaona and in Touareg. 
 
 But the inspiration of the Khabyle poets does not always 
 maintain its exaltation. Their talents become an arm to 
 satirize those who have not given them a sufficiently large 
 recompense, or — worse still, and more unpardonable — who 
 have served to them a meagre repast : 
 
 " I went to the home of vile animals, 
 
 Ait Rebah is their name; 
 
 I found them lying under the sun tike green figs, 
 
 They looked ill and infirm. 
 
 They are lizards among adders. 
 
 They inspire no fear, for they bite not. 
 
 Put a sheepskin before them, they 
 . Will tear your arms and hands; 
 
 Their parched lips are all scaly. 
 
 Besides being red and spotted. 
 
 " As the vultures on their dung heaps, 
 When they see carrion, fall upon it. 
 Tearing out its entrails, 
 
 • R. Basset, Le Poime de Sabi, p. 15 et suis. Paris, 1879. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 That day is for them one of joy. 
 Judging by their breeches, 
 And the headdresses of their wives, 
 I think they are of Jewish origin." * 
 
 This song, composed by Mohammed Said or Aihel Hadji, 
 is still repeated when one wishes to insult persons from Aith 
 Erbah, who have tried several times to assassinate the poet 
 in revenge. 
 
 Sometimes two rival singers find themselves together, and 
 each begins to eulogize himself, which eulogy ends in a satire 
 on the other. But the joust begun by apostrophes and Ho- 
 meric insults finishes often with a fight, and the natural arm is 
 the Basque drum until others separate the adversaries.'' We 
 have an example in a dialogue of this kind between Youssuf 
 ou Kassi, of the Aith Djemnad, and Mohand ou Abdaha, of 
 the Aith Kraten. The challenge and the jousts — ^less the 
 blows — exist among the chellahs of lower Morocco, where 
 they are called Tamawoucht; but between man and woman 
 there is that which indicates the greatest liberty of manners. 
 The verses are improvised, and the authors are paid in small 
 money. Here is a specimen: 
 
 The woman: " When it thundfers and the sky is overcast. 
 
 Drive home the sheep, O watchful shepherd." 
 The man: " When it thunders, and the sky is overcast, 
 
 We will bring home the sheep." 
 The woman: " I wish I had a bunch of switches to strike you with! 
 
 May your father be accursed, Sheepkeeper ! " 
 The man: " Oh, God, I thank thee for having created 
 
 Old maids to grind meal for the toilers." * 
 
 Another manifestation, and not less important of the popu- 
 lar Berber literature, consists in the stories. Although no 
 attempt has been made in our days to gather them, many in- 
 dications permit us to believe that they have been at all times 
 well treasured by these people. In the story of Psyche that 
 Apuleius inserted at the end of the second century a.d., in the 
 romance of Metamorphoses,* we read that Venus imposed on 
 Psyche, among other trials, that of sorting out and placing 
 
 ' Hanoteau, Poemes Populaires de la Khabyle, pp. 179-181, Du Jurgura. 
 
 ' Hanoteau, p. 275 et seq. ■ Stemme, p. 7, 8. 
 
 ' Hanoteau, Essai de Grammaire Khabyle, p. 282 et seq. Alger. 
 
xvi SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 in separate jars the grains of wheat, oats, millet and poppy 
 pease, lentils and lima beans which she had mixed together. 
 This task, beyond the power of Psyche, was accomplished by 
 the ants which came to her aid, and thus she conquered the 
 task set by her cruel mother-in-law. 
 
 This same trial we find in a Berber story. It is an episode 
 in a Khabyle story of the Mohammed ben Sol'tan, who, to ob- 
 tain the hand of the daughter of a king, separated wheat, corn, 
 oats, and sorghum, which had been mingled together. This 
 trait is not found in Arab stories which have served as models 
 for the greater part of Khabyle tales. It is scarcely admissible 
 that the Berbers had read the " Golden Ass " of Apuleius, but 
 it is probable that he was born at Madaure, in Algeria, and 
 retained an episode of a popular Berber tale which he had 
 heard in his childhood, and placed in his story. 
 
 The tales have also preserved the memory of very ancient 
 customs, and in particular those of adoption. In the tales 
 gathered in Khabyle by General Hanoteau,^" T. Riviere,^ and 
 Moulieras,^ also that in the story of Mizab, the hero took upon 
 himself a supernatural task, and succeeded because he became 
 the adopted son of an ogress, at whose breast he nursed.' This 
 custom is an ancient one with the Berbers, for on a bas relief 
 at Thebes it shows us a chief of the Machouacha (the Egyptian 
 name of the Berbers) of the XXII Dynasty nursed and 
 adopted by the goddess Hathor. Arab stories of Egypt have 
 also preserved this trait — for instance, " The Bear of the 
 Kitchen," * and El Schater Mohammed.^ 
 
 During the conquest of the Magreb by the Arabs in the 
 seventh century a.d., Kahina, a Berber queen, who at a given 
 moment drove the Mussulman invaders away and personified 
 national defiance, employed the same ceremony to adopt 
 for son the Arab Khaled Ben Yazed, who was to betray her 
 later. 
 
 Assisted by these traits of indigenous manners, we can call 
 to mind ogres and pagans who represent an ancient population, 
 or, more exactly, the sectarians of an ancient religion like the 
 
 " Hanotean, p. 266. Le chasseur. 
 
 • Contes Populaires de la Khabylie du Jurgura, p. 259. Paris, 1892. Le chausseur. 
 
 ' Legendes et contes merveilleuses de la grande Khabylie, p. 20. 2 vols. Tunis, 1893' 
 1898. Le fils du Sultan et le chien des Chretiens, p. 90. Ristoire de Ali et sa mire. 
 
 • R. Basset, Nouveaux Contes Berbers, p. 18. Pans, 1897. La Pomme de jeunesse. 
 
 • Spitta-bey, Contes Arabes modernes, p. 12. Ley de 1883. 
 
 ' Arless Pasha, Contes Populaire de la vallte du Nil. Paris, 1895. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 Paganism or the Christianity which was maintained on some 
 points of Northern Africa, with the Berbers, until the eleventh 
 century a.d. Fabulous features from the Arabs have slipped 
 into the descriptions of the Djohala, mingled with the con- 
 fused souvenirs of mythological beings belonging to paganism 
 before the advent of Christianity. 
 
 It is difficult to separate the different sources of the Berber 
 stories. Besides those appearing to be of indigenous origin, 
 and which have for scene a grotto or a mountain, one could 
 scarcely deny that the greater part, whether relating to stories 
 of adventure, fairy stories, or comical tales, were borrowed 
 from foreign countries by way of the Arabs. Without doubt 
 they have furnished the larger part, but there are some of 
 which there are no counterparts in European countries. 
 " Half a cock," for instance, has travelled into the various 
 provinces of France, Ireland, Albania, among the Southern 
 Slavs, and to Portugal, from whence it went to Brazil; but 
 the Arabs do not know it, nor do they know Tom Thumb, 
 which with the Khabyles becomes H'ab Sliman. In the actual 
 state of our knowledge, we can only say that there is a strik- 
 ing resemblance between a Berber tale and such or such a 
 version. From thence comes the presumption of borrowed 
 matter. But, for the best results to be gained, one should be 
 in possession of all the versions. When it relates to celebrated 
 personages among the Mussulmans, like Solomon, or the feat- 
 ures of a legend of which no trace remains of the names, one 
 can certainly conclude that it is borrowed from the Arabs. It 
 is the same with the greater number of fairy tales, whose first 
 inventors, the Arabs, commenced with the " Thousand and One 
 Nights," and presented us with " The Languages of the 
 Beasts," and also with funny stories. 
 
 The principal personage of these last is Si Djeha, whose 
 name was borrowed from a comic narrative existing as early 
 as the eleventh century a.d. The contents are sometimes 
 coarse and sometimes witty, are nearly all more ancient, and 
 yet belong to the domain of pleasantries from which in Ger- 
 many sprung the anecdotes of Tyll Etilenspiegel and the Seven 
 Suabians, and in England the Wise Men of Gotham. In 
 Italy, and even in Albania, the name of Djeha is preserved 
 under the form of Guifa and Guicha; and the Turks, who 
 
xviii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 possess the richest literature on this person, have made him a 
 Ghadji Sirii Hissar, under the name of Nasr-eddin Hod] a (a 
 form altered from Djoha). The traits attributed to such per- 
 sons as Bon Idhes, Bon Goudous, Bon Kheenpouch, are equally 
 the same as those bestowed upon Si Djeha. 
 
 But if the Berbers have borrowed the majority of their tales, 
 they have given to their characters the manners and appear- 
 ance and names of their compatriots. The king does not differ 
 from the Amir of a village, or an Amanokul of the Touaregs. 
 The palace is the same as all those of a Haddarth, and Haroun 
 al Raschid himself, when he passes into Berber stories, is 
 plucked of the splendor he possesses in the " Thousand and 
 One Nights," and in Oriental stories. This anachronism ren- 
 ders the heroes of the tales more real, and they are real Berbers, 
 who are alive, and who express themselves like the mountain- 
 eers of Jurgura, the Arabs of the Atlas ; like the men of Ksour, 
 or the nomads of Sahara. In general there is little art in these 
 stories, and in style they are far below other collections cele- 
 brated through the entire world. 
 
 An important place is given to the fables or stories of ani- 
 mals, but there is little that is not borrowed from foreign lands, 
 and the animals are only such as the Berbers are familiar with'. 
 The adventures of the jackal do not differ from those of the 
 fox in European stories. An African trait may be signalled 
 in the prominence which it offers the hare, as in the stories of 
 Ouslofs and Bantous. Also, the hedgehog, neglected so la- 
 mentably in our fables, holds an important place; and if the 
 jackal manages to deceive the lion, he is, in spite of his astute 
 nature, duped by the hedgehog when he tries a fall with him. 
 As to the lion, the serpent, the cock, the frog, the turtle, the 
 hyena, the jackal, the rat, their roles offer little of the place 
 they play in the Arab tales, or even the Europeans. 
 
 If we pass from Berber we find the Arab tongue as spoken 
 among the Magreb, and will see that the literature is com- 
 posed of the same elements, particularly in the tales and songs. 
 There are few special publications concerning the first, but 
 there are few travellers who have not gathered some, and thus 
 rendered their relations with the people more pleasant. In 
 what concerns the fairy tales it is, above all, the children for 
 whom they are destined, " when at night, at the end of their 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 wearisome days, the mothers gather their children around them 
 under the tent, under the shelter of her Bon Rabah, the little 
 ones demand with tears a story to carry their imaginations far 
 away." " Kherrfin ya summa " (" Tell us a story ") , they say, 
 and she begins the long series of the exploits of Ah Di Douan.* 
 Even the men do not disdain to listen to the tales, and those 
 that were gathered from Tunis and Tripoli by Mr. Stemme,' 
 and in Morocco by Messrs. Souin and Stemme,* show that the 
 marvellous adventures, wherein intervene the Djinns, fairies, 
 ogres, and sorcerers, are no less popular among the Arab people 
 than among the Berbers. 
 
 We must not forget that these last-named have borrowed 
 much from the first ones, and it is by them that they have 
 known the celebrated Khalif of Bagdad, one of the principal 
 heroes of the " Thousand and One Nights," Haroun al Raschid, 
 whose presence surprises us not a little when figuring in ad- 
 ventures incompatible with the dignity of a successor of the 
 Prophet. 
 
 As in the Berber tales, one finds parallels to the Arab stories 
 among the folk-lore of Europe, whether they were borrowed 
 directly or whether they came from India. One will notice, 
 however, in the Arab tales a superior editing. The style is 
 more ornate, the incidents better arranged. One feels that, al- 
 though it deals with a language disdaining the usage of letters, 
 it is expressed almost as well as though in a cultivated literary 
 language. The gathering of the populations must also be 
 taken into consideration ; the citizens of Tunis, of Algiers, and 
 even in the cities of Morocco, have a more exact idea of civ- 
 ilized life than the Berber of the mountains or the desert. As 
 to the comic stories, it is still the Si Djeha who is the hero, 
 and his adventures differ little with those preserved in Berber, 
 and which are common to several literatures, even when the 
 principal person bears another name. 
 
 The popular poetry consists of two great divisions, quite 
 difiFerent as to subject. The first and best esteemed bears the 
 name of Klam el Djedd, and treats of that which concerns the 
 Prophet, the saints, and miracles. A specimen of this class is 
 
 * Deeplun, iRecueil de textes pour I'itude de I'Arabe parli, v. 12, p. iv. Paris, 1891. 
 'lumsche Marchen und Gedichte. Leipzig, 1898. 2 vols. Marchen und Gedichte 
 Aus der Stadt Tripolis in Nord Afrika. Leipzig. 
 ' Zum Arabischen Dialekt. Von Markko. Leipzig, 1893. Vers. 8. 
 
XX SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 the complaint relative to the rupture of the Dam of St. Denis 
 of Sig, of which the following is the commencement : 
 
 " A great disaster was fated : ^ 
 The cavalier gave the alarm, at the moment of the break; 
 The menace was realized by the Supreme Will, 
 My God ! Thou alone art good. 
 The dam, perfidious thing, 
 Precipitated his muddy Legions, 
 With loud growlings. 
 No bank so strong as to hold him in check. 
 
 " He spurred to the right. 
 The bridges which could not sustain his shock fell 
 Under his added weight; 
 His fury filled the country with fear, and he 
 Crushed the barrier that would retain him." 
 
 As to the class of declamatory poems, one in particular is 
 popular in Algiers, for it celebrates the conquest of the 
 Maghreb in the eleventh century by the divers branches of the 
 Beni-Hilal, from whom descend almost the whole of the Arabs 
 who now are living in the northwest of Africa. This veritable 
 poem is old enough, perhaps under its present form, for the 
 historian, Ten Khaldoun, who wrote at the end of the four- 
 teenth century and the beginning of the fifteenth, has preserved 
 the resume of the episode of Djazza, the heroine who aban- 
 doned her children and husband to follow her brothers to the 
 conquest of Thrgya Hajoute. To him are attributed verses 
 which do not lack regularity, nor a certain rhythm, and also a 
 facility of expression, but which abound in interpolations and 
 faults of grammar. The city people could not bear to hear 
 them nor to read them. In our days, for their taste has changed 
 — at least in that which touches the masses — the recital of the 
 deeds of the Helals is much liked in the Arab cafes in Algeria 
 and also in Tunis. Still more, these recitals have penetrated 
 to the Berbers, and if they have not preserved the indigenous 
 songs of the second Arab invasion, they have borrowed the 
 traditions of their conquerors, as we can see in the episode of 
 Ali el Hilalien and of Er-Redah. 
 
 The names of the invading chiefs have been preserved in 
 the declamatory songs: Abou Zeid, Hassan ben Serhan, and, 
 above all, Dyab ben Ghanum, in the mouth of whom the poet 
 
 rien?pri;-?6.'^™aris, X^ '"' '^ ''°"'" " '* ""="<"« ''"'^'^ <>a„s le Maghreb Alee- 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 puts at the end of the epic the recital of the exploits of his 
 
 race: 
 
 " Since the day when we quitted the soil and territory of the Medjid, 
 I have not opened my heart to joy; 
 
 We came to the homes of Chokir and Cherif ben Hachem who pours 
 upon thee (Djazzah) a rain of tears; 
 
 We have marched against Ed-Dabis ben Monime and we have over- 
 run his cities and plains. 
 
 We went to Koufat and have bought merchandise from the trades- 
 men who come to us by caravan. 
 
 We arrived at Ras el Ain in all our brave attire and we mastered all 
 the villages and their inhabitants. 
 
 We came to Haleb, whose territory we had overrun, borne by our 
 swift, magnificent steeds. 
 
 We entered the country of the Khazi Mohammed who wore a coat of 
 mail, with long, floating ends, 
 
 We traversed Syria, going toward Ghaza, and reached Egypt, belong- 
 ing to the son of Yakoub, Yousof, and found the Turks with 
 their swift steeds. 
 
 We reached the land of Raqin al Hoonara, and drowned him in a 
 deluge of blood. 
 
 We came to the country of the Mahdi, whom we rolled on the earth, 
 and as to his nobles their blood flowed in streams. 
 
 We came to the iron house of Boraih, and found that the Jewish was 
 the established religion. 
 
 We arrived at the home of the warrior. El Hashais : 
 
 The night was dark, he fell upon us while we slept without anxiety, 
 
 He took from us our delicate and honored young girls, beauties whose 
 eyes were darkened with kohol. 
 
 Abou Zeid marched against him with his sharp sword and left him 
 lying on the ground. 
 
 Abou So'dah Khalifah the Zemati, made an expedition against us, 
 and pursued us with the sword from all sides. 
 
 I killed Abou So'dah Khalifah the Zemati, and I have put you in 
 possession of all his estates. 
 
 They gave me three provinces and So'dah, this is the exact truth that 
 I am telling here. 
 
 Then came an old woman of evil augur and she threw dissension 
 among us, and the Helals left for a distant land. 
 
 Then Abou Ali said to me : ' Dyab, you are but a fool.' 
 
 I marched against him under the wing of the night, and flames were 
 lighted in the sheepfolds. 
 
 He sent against me Hassan the Hilali, I went to meet him and said, 
 ' Seize this wretched dog.' These are the words of the Zoght Dyab 
 ben Ghanem and the fire of illness was lighted in his breast." ^* 
 
 '" R. Basset. Un Episode d'une chanson de geste Arabe sur la seconde conquete de 
 I'Afrique Septentrionale par les Mussulmans. Bulletin de Correspondence Africaine, 
 p. 147. Alger, i8Ss, in 8vo. See also Stemme. Tripolitanisches Bederinenlieder. Leip- 
 zig, ZS04, in 8vo« 
 
xxii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 The second style of modern Arabic poetry is the " Kela- 
 mel hazel." It comprises the pieces which treat of wine, 
 women, and pleasures; and, in general, on all subjects con- 
 sidered light and unworthy of a serious mind. One may find 
 an example in the piece of " Said and Hyza," and in different 
 works of Mr. Stemme cited above. It is particularly among 
 the nomad Arabs that this style is found, even more than the 
 dwellers in cities, on whom rests the reproach of composing 
 verses where the study and sometimes the singularity of ex- 
 pression cannot replace the inspiration, the energy, and even 
 the delicacy of sentiment often found among the nomads: 
 
 " The country remains a desert, the days of heat are ended, the trees 
 
 of our land have borne the attack of Summer, that is my grief. 
 After it was so magnificent to behold, its leaves are fallen, one by 
 
 one, before my eyes. 
 But I do not covet the verdure of a cypress; my sorrow has for its 
 
 cause a woman, whose heart has captivated mine. 
 I will describe her clearly; you will know who she is; since she has 
 
 gone my heart fails me. 
 Cheika of the eye constantly veiled, daughter of Mouloud, thy love 
 
 has exhausted me. 
 I have reached a point where I walk dizzily like one who has drunken 
 
 and is drunk ; still am I fasting ; my heart has abandoned me. 
 Thy thick hair is like the ostrich's plumes, the male ostrich, feeding 
 
 in the depressions of the dunes ; thy eyebrows are like two nouns 
 
 [Arab letters] of a Tlemcen writing. 
 Thy eyes, my beautiful, are like two gleaming gun barrels, made at 
 
 Stamboul, city defiant of Christians. 
 The cheek of Cherikha is like the rose and the poppy when they open 
 
 under the showers. 
 Thy mouth insults the emerald and the diamond; thy saliva is a 
 
 remedy against the malady; without doubt it is that which has 
 
 cured me." ^ 
 
 To finish with the modem literature of the northwest of 
 Africa, I should mention a style of writings which played a 
 grand role some five centuries ago, but that sort is too closely 
 connected with those composing the poems on the Spanish 
 Moors, and of them I shall speak later. It remains now to but 
 enumerate the enigmas found in all popular literature, and 
 the satiric sayings attributed to holy persons of the fifteenth 
 century, who, for having been virtuous and having possessed 
 
 2i9?°'iLige??f^* sTo^""" ''^^ '^' Nomades Algeriennes. Revue Africaine, XLV, pp. 217- 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 the gift of miracles, were none the less men, and as such bore 
 anger and spite. The most celebrated of all was Sidi Ahmed 
 ben Yousuf, who was buried at Miliana. By reason of the 
 axiom, " They lend but to the rich," they attributed to him all 
 the satirical sayings which are heard in the villages and among 
 the tribes of Algeria, of which, perhaps, he did pronounce some. 
 Praises are rare: 
 
 " He whom you see, wild and tall, 
 Know him for a child of Algiers." 
 
 " Beni Menaur, son of the dispersed. 
 Has many soldiers. 
 And a false heart." 
 
 " Some are going to call you Blida (little village). 
 But I have called you Ourida (little rose)." 
 
 " Cherchel is but shame. 
 Avarice, and flight from society, 
 His face is that of a sheep, 
 His heart is the heart of a wolf; 
 Be either sailor or forge worker. 
 Or else leave the city." ^ 
 
 " He who stands there on a low hill 
 All dressed in a small mantle, 
 Holding in his hand a small stick 
 And calling to sorrow, ' Come and find me,' 
 Know him for a son of Medea." 
 
 " Miliana; Error and evil renown, 
 Of water and of wood. 
 People are jealous of it, 
 Women are Viziers there. 
 And men the captives." 
 
 " Tenes ; built upon a dunghill, 
 Its water is blood, 
 Its air is poison, 
 
 By the Eternal ! Sidi Ahmed will not pass the night here. 
 Get out of the house, O cat ! " 
 
 " People of Bon Speur, 
 Women and men, 
 That they throw into the sea." 
 
 • R. Basset. Les dictionnaires satiriques attribues i Sidi ben Yousof. Paris, 1890, 8v<x 
 
xxiv SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 " From the Orient and Occident, 
 I gathered the scamps, 
 
 I brought them to Sidi Mohammed ben Djellal. 
 There they escaped me, 
 One part went to Morocco, 
 And the rest went down into Eghres." 
 
 " Oran the depraved, 
 I sold thee at a reasonable price; 
 The Christians have come there. 
 Until the day of the resurrection.'' 
 
 " Tlemcen : Glory of the chevaliers ; 
 Her water, her air, 
 
 And the way her women veil themselves 
 Are found in no other land." 
 
 " Tunis : Land of hypocrisy and deceit. 
 In the day there is abundance of vagabonds, 
 At night their number is multiplied, 
 God grant that I be not buried in its soil." 
 
 Another no less celebrated in Morocco, Sidi Abdan Rahman 
 el Medjidont, is, they say, the author of sentences in four 
 verses, in which he curses the vices of his time and satirizes 
 the tribes, and attacks the women with a bitterness worthy of 
 Juvenal : 
 
 " Morocco is the land of treason ; 
 Accursed be its habitants; 
 They make guests sleep outside, 
 And steal their provisions." * 
 
 " Deceptive women are deceivers ever, 
 I hastened to escape them. 
 They girdle themselves with vipers; 
 And fasten their gowns with scorpions." 
 
 " Let not thyself fall victim to a widow. 
 Even if her cheeks are bouquets. 
 For though you are the best of husbands. 
 She will repeat ceaselessly, ' God, be merciful to the dead.' " 
 
 " No river on the mountains. 
 No warm nights in the winter. 
 No women doing kind actions. 
 No generous-hearted enemies." 
 
 • H. J. Castries. Les Gnomes de Sidi Abdir Raliman El Medjedoub. Paris, 1896. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xxv 
 
 The battle of the Guadalete, where sank the Visigoth em- 
 pire, deHvered Spain almost defenceless to the Arab and Berber 
 conquest. There developed then a civilization and an intel- 
 lectual culture far superior to those of the barbarous Christian 
 refugees in the Asturias, where they led a rude and coarse life 
 which but seasoned them for future struggles. Of their lit- 
 erary monuments, there remain to us but mediocre Latin chron- 
 icles. The court of the Omayades at Cordova saw a literature 
 blossom which did not disappear even after the fall of the 
 Khalifate. On the contrary, it seemed to regain a new vigor 
 in the small states which surged up about the Iberian Penin- 
 sula. The Christians, under the domination of the Mussul- 
 mans, allowed themselves to be seduced by the Arabian litera- 
 ture. " They loved to read their poems and romances. They 
 went to great expense and built immense libraries. They 
 scarcely knew how to express themselves in Latin, but when 
 it was necessary to write in Arabic, they found crowds of peo- 
 ple who understood that language, wrote it with the greatest 
 elegance, and composed poems even preferable in point of view 
 to the art of the Arab poets themselves." * 
 
 In spite of the complaints of fanatics like Euloge and Al- 
 varo, the literary history of that time was filled with Christian 
 names, either those of Spanish who had remained faithful to 
 the ancient faith, or renegades, or children of renegades. By 
 the side of the Arab names, like that of the Bishop Arib ben 
 Said of Cordova, are found those of Ibn Guzman (Son of 
 Guzman), Ibn el Goutya (son of Gothe), Ibn Loyon (son of 
 Leon), Ibn er Roumaye (son of the Greek), Ibn Konbaret (son 
 of Comparatus), Ibn Baschkoual (son of Paschal), and all 
 have left a name among letters. 
 
 One magnificent period in literature unfolded itself in the 
 eleventh century a.d., in the little courts of Seville, of Murcie, 
 of Malaga, Valence, Toledo, and Badajos. The kings, like El 
 Nis Sasim, El Mo'hadhid, El Mishamed, Hbn Razin, rank 
 among the best poets, and even the women answered with tal- 
 ent to the verses which they inspired. They have preserved 
 the names and the pieces of some of them: Aicha, Rhadia, 
 Fatima, Maryam, Touna, and the Princess Ouallada. Greek 
 antiquity has not left us more elegant verses, nor elegies more 
 
 * Dozy. Histoire des Mussulmans de I'Espagne, pp. 103-16S. Leyden, 1861, in i2mo, 4to. 
 
xxvi SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 passionate, than these, of which but a small portion has been 
 saved from forgetfulness in the anthologies of Hbn Khayan, 
 Hbn el Abbar, Hbn Bassam de Turad-eddin, and Ibn el Khatib 
 el Maggari. They needed the arrival of the Berbers to turn 
 them into Almoran. Those Berbers hastened there from the 
 middle of Sahara and the borders of Senegal to help the cause 
 of Islamism against Spanish rule, as it was menaced through 
 the victories of Alfonso of Castile. The result would have 
 been to stifle those free manifestations of the literary art under 
 a rigorous piety which was almost always but the thin varnish 
 of hypocrisy. 
 
 To the Almoravides succeeded the Almohades coming from 
 the Atlas of Morocco. To the Almohades, the Merias coming 
 from Sahara in Algeria, but in dying out each of these dynas- 
 ties left each time a little more ground under the hands of the 
 Christians, who, since the time in Telage, when they were 
 tracked into the caverns of Covadonga, had not ceased, in spite 
 of ill fortune of all sorts, to follow the work of deliverance. 
 It would have been accomplished centuries before if the inter- 
 nal struggle in Christian Spain in the fourteenth and fifteenth 
 centuries had not accorded some years of respite to the king- 
 dom which was being founded at Granada, and revived, al- 
 though with less brilliancy, the splendor of the times before 
 the twelfth century. 
 
 In the course of the long struggle the independent Christians 
 had not been able to avoid feeling in a certain measure some- 
 thing of the influence of their neighbors, now their most civ- 
 ilized subjects. They translated into prose imitations of the 
 tales such as those of the book of Patronis, borrowing from the 
 general chronicles or in translations like the " KaHla and 
 traditions, legendary or historic, as they found them in the 
 Dimna," or the book of " The Ruses of Women," in verse. 
 
 In their oldest romances— for instance, that of the " Children 
 of Sara," » and in those to which they have given the name of 
 romances fronterizos, or romances of the frontier— they give 
 the facts of the war between the Mussulmans and the 
 Christians. 
 
 But they gave the name of Mauresques to another and dif- 
 ferent class of romances, of which the heroes are chevaliers, 
 
 •T. Ramon MauendezPidal. La legende de 1« Infantes de Sara. Madrid, ,896. 8vo. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xxvii 
 
 who have nothing of the Mussulman but the name. The tal- 
 ent of certain litterateurs of the sixteenth century exercised 
 itself in that class where the persons are all conventional, or 
 the descriptions are all imaginative, and made a portrait of the 
 Mussulman society so exact that the romances of Esplandian, 
 Amadis de Gaul, and others, which evoked the delicious 
 knight-errantry of Don Quixote, can present a picture of 
 the veritable chivalry of the Middle Ages. We possess but 
 few verses of the Mussulmans of Granada. Argot de Moll 
 preserved them in Arabic, transcribed in Latin characters, 
 one piece being attributed to Mouley Abou Abdallah: 
 
 " The charming Alhamhra and its palaces weep 
 Over their loss, Muley Boabdil (Bon Abdallah), 
 Bring me my horse and my white buckler, 
 That I may fight to retake the Alhambra; 
 Bring me my horse and my buckler blue, 
 That I may go to fight to retake my children. 
 
 " My children are at Guadia, my wife at Jolfata; 
 Thou hast caused my ruin, O Setti 0mm el Fata. 
 My children are at Guadia, my wife at Jolfata, 
 Thou hast caused my ruin, O Setti Omra el Fata ! " « 
 
 As may be seen, these verses have no resemblance to those 
 called Moorish. These are of a purely Spanish diction.'^ 
 
 Some romances^ but not of these last-named, have kept traces 
 of the real legends of the Arabs. There is among them one 
 which treats of the adventures of Don Rodrigues, the last king 
 of the Visigoths—" The Closed House of Toledo." « " The 
 Seduction of la Cava," " The Vengeance of Count Julien," 
 " The Battle of Guadalete," are brought back in the same 
 fashion by the historians and writers of Mussulman romances. 
 
 The romance on the construction of the Alhambra has pre- 
 served the character of an Arabic legend which dates from 
 before the prophet.' There is also a romance on the conquest 
 of Spain, attributed to an Arab writer, the same man whom 
 Cervantes somewhat later feigned to present as the author of 
 Don Quixote, the Moor, Cid Hamet ben Engels.^" 
 
 • A. de Circourt. Histoire des Moors mudijares et des Moresques. Paris, 1846. 
 
 ' T. A. de Circourt. I. iii., p. 327-332. 
 
 ' R. Basset. Legendes Arabes d'Espagne. La Maison ferm^e de TolMe. Oran, 1898, in 
 Svo. 
 
 ' R. Basset. D'AIIiambra et le Chateau de Khanumag : Revue des traditions populaires. 
 Fairier, 1871, p. 459-465. 
 
 >* Histoire aes Conqultes d'Espagne par les Mores. Par Ali Aven Sufran. Paris, 1720. 
 
xxviii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 It is another style of writing, less seductive, perhaps, than 
 that of the Moorish romances, in spite of their lack of vivacity 
 and their bad taste. But why mark this as the expression of 
 the Mussulman sentiment under Christian domination ? Con- 
 quered by the Castilians, the Aragons, and the Portuguese, the 
 Moors had lost the use of Arabic, but they had preserved the 
 exterior sign- writing, just as their new converts retained their 
 usages and their national costumes. We possess a complete 
 literature composed in Spanish, but written in Arabic charac- 
 ters. They called it by the name of Aljaniado. Its chief 
 characteristic is that it treats of the principal legends of the 
 Mussulmans ; those of Solomon and Moses, of Jesus ; the birth, 
 childhood, and the marriage of Mohammed ; Temins ed Daria, 
 the war of the king El Mohallal, the miracle of the moon, the 
 ascension of Mohammed to heaven, the conversion of Omar, 
 the battle of Yarmouk, the golden castle, the marvels that God 
 showed to Abraham, AH and the forty young girls, the anti- 
 Christ and the day of judgment,^ etc. ; the legend of Joseph, 
 son of Jacob ; that of Alexander the Great,^ to which could 
 be added the story of the princess Zoraida,' without speaking 
 of the pious exhortations, magic formulas, conjurations, and 
 charms.* 
 
 The Moors held to these documents all the more that they 
 were written in Arabic, and that the fury of the Inquisition 
 was let loose upon them. To save them from the flames, their 
 owners hid them with the greatest care, and but recently, at 
 El Monacid, they found a whole library in Arabic and Al- 
 jamiado, hidden more than two centuries between the double 
 walls of an old house.^ The Mussulman proprietor of these 
 books and his descendants were dead, or had emigrated to 
 Africa, abandoning the treasure which was to see the light in 
 a more tolerant epoch. 
 
 Political relations also existed between those of the Moors 
 who remained in Spain as converts and such as had fled from 
 persecution and carried to the populations of the north of 
 Africa the hatred of the Spanish Christians. Thus we find 
 
 • Guillon Robles. Legendas Moriscas. Madrid, 1885-86. 36 petit in 8vo. 
 
 ™ „ .JS? ^°J'^^- La Legenda de Jose, hijo de Jacob, ye do Alexandre Magna. Zaia- 
 gozB, 1000, cn ovo. 
 
 ! t i^.^suilas el Hditz de La Princess Zoraida. Granada, 1892, i6mo. 
 
 • p;™!l ^ ?Lo ''* *i Mar banches. Colleccion el textos Aljamiados. Zaragoza, 1888. 8vo. 
 •Pamo. Las coplas del Peregrino de Puey Monson. Zaragoza, 1897. pIt.eA&ro 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xxix 
 
 among the popular literature of the Magreb the same legends, 
 but edited in Arabic. Only a small number has been pub- 
 lished.' Whether in one language or the other, editing does 
 not offer anything remarkable. The stories have been devel- 
 oped, after the traditions of the Mussulmans, by the demi- 
 litterateurs, and by that means they have become easier and 
 more accessible to the multitude. 
 
 It is thus that a literature in Spain sadly ends which, during 
 seven centuries, had counted historians and poets, philologists, 
 philosophers and savants, and which the Christian literature 
 replacing it can possibly equal in some points, but never 
 surpass.'' 
 
 ^.t^.^^ /Mt^.0»^-e4^ 
 
 ' R. Basset. Les Aventures Merveilleuses de Tunis et Dais. Rome, 1891, en 8vo. L'ex- 
 pklition du Chateau d'or, et la combat d'Ali et du dragon. Rome, 1893, en 8vo. M'lle 
 Florence Groff. Les sept dormants, La ville de Tram, et I'excursion contre la Makke, 
 Al^er, 189T, en 8vo. 
 
 ' M. Basset's " Special Introdi^ction " was written in French ; the English translation 
 was made by Robert Anot. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THE Moorish ballads which appear in this volume are 
 selected from a unique department of European liter- 
 ature. They are found in the Spanish language, but 
 their character is oriental; their inspiration comes from the 
 Mahometan conquerors of northern Africa, and while they 
 exhibit a blending of Spanish earnestness and chivalry with 
 the wild and dashing spirit of the Arab, they present a type 
 of literature which is quite unparalleled in the Latin and Teu- 
 tonic countries of the Mediterranean basin. 
 
 Spain is especially rich in ballad literature, infinitely richer 
 than any other civilized nation. These ballads take various 
 forms. By Cervantes and his countrymen they are styled 
 romances, and the romance generally consists in a poem which 
 describes the character, sufferings, or exploits of a single indi- 
 vidual. The language is simple; the versification, often art- 
 less though melodious, is seldom elaborated into complexity 
 of rhyme. But the heroic Moor is set before us in the most 
 vivid colors. The hues and material of his cloak, his housings, 
 his caftcm, and his plumes are given, and quite a vocabulary is 
 exhausted in depicting the color, sex, and breed of his war- 
 horse. His weapons, lance, scimitar, and corslet of steel are 
 dwelt upon with enthusiasm. He is as brave as Mars, and 
 as comely as Adonis. Sometimes he dashes into a bull-ring 
 and slays wild creatures in the sight of fair ladies and envious 
 men. He throws his lance of cane, which is filled with sand, 
 so high that it vanishes in the clouds. He is ready to strike 
 down, in his own house, the Christian who has taken from 
 him and wedded the lady of his choice. He is almost always 
 in love with some lady who is unkind and cold, and for her he 
 wanders at times in dark array, expressing his sombre mood 
 in the device and motto which he paints upon his shield. Some 
 of the ballads picture love more fortunate in the most charm- 
 
xxxii ' PREFACE 
 
 ing manner, and the dark tortures of jealousy are powerfully 
 described in others. The devotion of the Moor to his lady 
 is scarcely caricatured in the mocking language of Cervantes, 
 and is not exceeded by anything to be found in the history of 
 French chivalry. But the god of these ballads is Allah, and 
 they sometimes reveal a trace of ferocity which seems to be de- 
 rived from religious fanaticism. Nor can the reader fail to be 
 struck by the profound pathos which many of them express so 
 well. The dirges are supremely beautiful, their language ' 
 simple and direct, but perfect in descriptive touches and in the 
 cadence of the reiterated burden. 
 
 Beside the ballads of warlike and amorous adventures, 
 there are sea-songs, songs of captivity, and songs of the galley 
 slave. The Spanish Moor is seized by some African pirate 
 and carried away to toil in the mill of his master on some 
 foreign shore, or he is chained to the rowing-bench of the 
 Berber galley, thence to be taken and sold when the voyage is 
 over to some master who leaves him to weep in solitary toil 
 in the farm or garden. Sometimes he wins the love of his 
 mistress, who releases him and flies in his company. 
 
 All these ballads have vivid descriptions of scenery. The 
 towers of Baeza, the walls of Granada, the green vegas that 
 spread outside every city, the valley of the Guadalquivir, and 
 the rushing waters of the Tagus, the high cliffs of Cadiz, the 
 Pillars of Hercules, and the blue waves of the Mediterranean 
 make a life-like background to every incident. In the cities 
 the ladies throng the balconies of curling iron-work or crowd 
 the plaza where the joust or bull-fight is to be witnessed, or 
 steal at nightfall to the edge of the vega to meet a lover, and 
 sometimes to die in his arms at the hands of bandits. 
 
 There is a dramatic power in these ballads which is one of 
 their most remarkable features. They are sometimes mere 
 sketches, but oftener the story is told with consummate art, with 
 strict economy of word and phrase, and the denowment comes 
 with a point and power which show that the Moorish minstrel 
 was an artist of no mean skill and address. 
 
 The authors of the Moorish romances, songs, and ballads are 
 unknown. They have probably assumed their present literary 
 form after being part of the repertoire of successive minstrels, 
 and some of the incidents appear in ntore than one version. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 xxxiii 
 
 The most ancient of them are often the shortest, but they be- 
 long to the period when southern Spain under Mahometan 
 rule was at the height of its prosperity, and Arabian learning, 
 art, and literature made her rank among the first countries 
 in Europe. The peninsula was conquered by the Moors in the 
 caliphate of Walid I, 705-715 a.d., and the independent 
 dynasty of the Ommiades was founded by Abderrhaman at 
 Granada in 755 a.d. It was from this latter date that the 
 Spanish Moors began to assume that special character in lan- 
 guage, manners, and chivalric enthusiasm which is represented 
 in the present ballads; the spirit of Christian knighthood is 
 here seen blended with Arabian passion, impetuosity, and im- 
 pulsiveness, and the Spanish language has supplanted, even 
 among Mahometan poets, the oriental idiom. We may roughly 
 estimate the period in which the Moorish romance flourished 
 as comprised in the years between 1 100 and 1600 a.d. 
 
 The term Moorish is somewhat indefinite, and is used in 
 Spanish history as a synonym of Saracen or Mahometan. It 
 cannot be called a national appellation, though originally in 
 the Augustan age it was applied to the dwellers in Mauretania, 
 with whom the Romans had first come in contact when the 
 war with Hannibal was transferred from Italy and Spain to 
 Africa. In the present day, it may be applied to all the races 
 of northwestern Africa who have accepted Mahometanism ; 
 in which case it would include the aborigines of that region, 
 who live not on the coast and in towns, but in the Atlas 
 Mountain and the Sahara Desert. While these races, all Ber- 
 bers under different local names, are Mussulmans in pro- 
 fession, they are not so highly civilized as their co-religionists 
 who people the coast of the Mediterranean. They live a tribal 
 life, and are blood-thirsty and predatory. They are of course 
 mixed in race with the Arabians, but they are separate in their 
 life and institutions, and they possess no written literature. 
 Their oral literature is, however, abundant, though it is only 
 within quite recent years that it has become known to America 
 and Europe. The present collection of tales and fables is the 
 first which has hitherto been made in the English language. 
 The learned men who collected the tales of the Berbers and 
 Kabyles (who are identical in ethnical origin) underwent 
 many hardships in gathering from half-savage lips the material 
 
xxxiv PREFACE 
 
 for their volume. They were forced to live among the wild 
 tribesmen, join their nomad life, sit at their feasts, and watch 
 with them round their camp-fire, while it was with difficulty 
 they transferred to writing the syllables of a barbarous tongue. 
 The memory of the Berber story-teller seems to be incredibly 
 capacious and retentive, and the tales were recited over and 
 over again without a variation. As is to be expected these tales 
 are very varied, and many of them are of a didactic, if not 
 ethical, cast. They are instructive as revealing the social life 
 and character of these mountain and desert tribes. 
 
 We find the spirit of the vendetta pervading these tales 
 with more than Corsican bitterness and unreasoning cruelty, 
 every man being allowed to revenge himself by taking the 
 life or property of another. This private and personal war- 
 fare has done more than anything else to check the advance 
 in civilization of these tribesmen. The Berbers and Kabyles 
 are fanatical Mahometans and look upon Christians and 
 Jews as dogs and outcasts. It is considered honorable to cheat, 
 rob, or deceive by lies one who does not worship Allah. The 
 tales illustrate, moreover, the degraded position of women. 
 A wife is literally a chattel, not only to be bought, but to be 
 sold also, and to be treated in every respect as man's inferior — 
 a mere slave or beast of burden. Yet the tribesmen are pro- 
 foundly superstitious, and hold in great dread the evil spirits 
 who they think surround them and to whom they attribute 
 bodily and mental ills. An idiot is one who is possessed by a 
 wicked demon, and is to be feared accordingly. 
 
 There are found current among them a vast number of fairy 
 tales, such as equal in wildness and horror the strangest in- 
 ventions of oriental imagination. Their tales of ogres and 
 ogresses are unsoftened by any of that playfulness and bon- 
 homie which give such undying charm to the " Thousand 
 and One Nights." The element of the miraculous takes many 
 original forms in their popular tales, and they have more than 
 their share of the folk-lore legends and traditions such as 
 Herodotus loved to collect. It was said of old that something 
 new was always coming out of Africa, and certainly the con- 
 tribution which the Berbers and Kabyles have made to the fund 
 of wonder-stories in the world may be looked upon as new, in 
 more than one sense. It is new, not only because it is novel 
 
PREFACE XXXV 
 
 and unexpected, but because it is fresh, original and highly 
 interesting. 
 
 The fables of these tribes are very abundant and very 
 curious. The great hero of the animal fable in Europe has 
 always been the fox, whose cunning, greed, and duplicity are 
 immortalized in the finest fable the world's literature possesses. 
 The fables of northwest Africa employ the jackal instead of 
 Reynard, whose place the sycophant of the lion not inaptly fills. 
 
 There are a number of men among the Kabyles and other 
 Berber tribes who make a profession of reciting poems, tales, 
 and proverbs, and travel from one village or encampment to 
 another in search of an audience. They know the national 
 traditions, the heroic legends, and warlike adventures that per- 
 tain to each community, and are honored and welcomed 
 wherever they go. It was from these men that the various 
 narratives contained in this collection were obtained, and the 
 translation of them has engaged the talents and labors of some 
 of the world's foremost oriental scholars. 
 
 EAtXLuujjjui u/c^(h^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Moorish Ballads PAds 
 
 Fatima's Love 3 
 
 The Braggart Rebuked 4 
 
 The Admiral's Farewell 6 
 
 Moriana and Galvan 8 
 
 The Bereaved Father 10 
 
 The Warden of Molina 11 
 
 The Loves of Boabdil and Vindaraja 14 
 
 The Infanta Sevilla and Peranguelos 20 
 
 Celin's Farewell 21 
 
 Celin's Return 23 
 
 Baza Revisited 25 
 
 Captive Zara 27 
 
 The Jealous King 29 
 
 The Lovers of Antequera 33 
 
 Tarfe's Truce 35 
 
 The Two Moorish Knights 39 
 
 The King's Decision 43 
 
 Almanzar and Bobalias 44 
 
 The Moorish Infanta and Alfonzo Ramos 45 
 
 The Bull-fight of Zulema 46 
 
 The Renegade 49 
 
 The Tower of Gold 50 
 
 The Dirge for Aliatar 52 
 
 The Ship of Zara 54 
 
 Hamete Ali 56 
 
 Zaide's Love 59 
 
 Zaida's Jealousy 61 
 
 Zaida of Toledo 63 
 
 Zaide Rebuked 65 
 
 Zaida's Inconstancy 67 
 
 Zaide's Desolation 68 
 
 Zaida's Lament 69 
 
 Zaida's Curse 71 
 
 The Tournament of Zaide 73 
 
 Zaide's Complaint 74 
 
 xxxvii 
 
xxxviii CONTENTS 
 
 Moorish Ballads — Continued '"*'^' 
 
 Guhala's Love ^ 
 
 Azarco of Granada 7° 
 
 Azarco Rebuked , 79 
 
 Adelifa's Farewell 8i 
 
 Azarco's Farewell "^ 
 
 Celinda's Courtesy 84 
 
 Gazul's Despondency 86 
 
 Gazul in Love 86 
 
 Celinda's Inconstancy 87 
 
 The Bull-fight 89 
 
 Lovers Reconciled 9° 
 
 Call to Arms 92 
 
 Gazul Calumniated 93 
 
 Gazul's Despair 95 
 
 Vengeance of Gazul 97 
 
 Gazul and Albenzaide 100 
 
 Gazul's Arms loi 
 
 The Tournament 103 
 
 Abunemeya's Lament 105 
 
 The Despondent Lover 107 
 
 Love and Jealousy 108 
 
 The Captive of Toledo in 
 
 The Blazon of Abenamar 113 
 
 Woman's Fickleness 115 
 
 King Juan 117 
 
 Abenamar's Jealousy 1 19 
 
 Adelifa's Jealousy 120 
 
 Funeral of Abenamar. 123 
 
 Ballad of Albayaldos 124 
 
 The Night Raid of Reduan 125 
 
 Siege of Jaen 127 
 
 Death of Reduan 129 
 
 The Aged Lover 131 
 
 Fickleness Rebuked 132 
 
 The Galley Slave of Dragut 134 
 
 The Captive's Lament 136 
 
 Strike Sail ! 138 
 
 The Captive's Escape 139 
 
 The Spaniard of Oran 141 
 
 Moorish Romances 
 
 The Bull-fight of Gazul 145 
 
 The Zegri's Bride 148 
 
CONTENTS xxxlx 
 
 Moorish Romances— Continued page 
 
 The Bridal of Andalla 149 
 
 Zara's Ear-rings 1 50 
 
 The Lamentation for Celin 152 
 
 The Story of Sidi Brahim of Massat 155 
 
 Five Berber Stories 
 
 Djokhrane and the Jays 169 
 
 The Ogre and the Beautiful Woman 169 
 
 The False Vezir 170 
 
 The Soufi and the Targui 172 
 
 Ahmed el Hilalieu and El Redah 176 
 
 Poems of the Maghreb 
 
 All's Answer 183 
 
 In Honor of Lalla 185 
 
 Sayd and Hyzyya 187 
 
 The Aissaoua in Paris 195 
 
 Song of Fatima 203 
 
 The City Girl and the Country Girl 207 
 
 Popular Tales of the Berbers 
 
 The Turtle, the Frog, and the Serpent 215 
 
 The Hedgehog, the Jackal, and the Lion 216 
 
 The Stolen Woman 220 
 
 The King, the Arab, and the Monster 221 
 
 The Lion, the Jackal, and the Man 223 
 
 Salomon and the Griffin 225 
 
 Adventure of Sidi Mahomet 226 
 
 The Haunted Garden 227 
 
 The Woman and the Fairy 227 
 
 Hamed ben Ceggad 228 
 
 The Magic Napkin 230 
 
 The Child and the King of the Genii 231 
 
 The Seven Brothers 232 
 
 Half-a-Cock 234 
 
 Strange Meetings 237 
 
 The King and His Family. 238 
 
 Beddou 239 
 
 The Language of the Beasts 241 
 
 The Apple of Youth 244 
 
 Popular Tales of the Kabyles 
 
 Ali and Ou Ali 249 
 
 The Infidel Jew 253 
 
xl CONTENTS 
 
 Popular Tales of the Kabvlks— Continued FAGt 
 
 The Sheik's Head ■ • •■ ■ 254 
 
 The Wagtail and the Jackal 255 
 
 The Flute-player. 255 
 
 The Child 257 
 
 The Monkey and the Fisherman 258 
 
 The Two Friends 261 
 
 The Robber and the Two Pilgrims 262 
 
 The Little Child 265 
 
 The Wren 266 
 
 The Mule, the Jackal, and the Lion 266 
 
 Thadhellala 267 
 
 The Good Man and the Bad One 269 
 
 The Crow and the Child 271 
 
 H'ab Sliman 273 
 
 The King and His Son 276 
 
 Mahomet ben Soltan 278 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 A Harem in Granada ..... Frontispiece 
 
 Photogravure from the original painting by Edouard Richter 
 
 Page from a Syriac Bible . . . . . .180 
 
 Fac-simile manuscript of the Sixteenth Century 
 
MOORISH BALLADS 
 
 ROMANCEROS MoRISCOS 
 
 [Metrical Translation by Epiphanius Wilson, A.M.] 
 
MOORISH BALLADS 
 
 FATIMA'S LOVE 
 
 ON the morn of John the Baptist, just at the break of day, 
 The Moors upon Granada's fields streamed out in 
 bright array. 
 
 Their horses galloped o'er the sod, their lances flashed in air, 
 
 And the banners that their dames had wrought spread out 
 their colors fair. 
 
 Their quivers bright flashed in the light with gold and silk 
 brocade, 
 
 And the Moor who saw his love was there looked best in the 
 parade, 
 
 And the Moor who had no lady love strove hard some love 
 to gain. 
 
 'Mong those who from Alhambra's towers gazed on that war- 
 rior train. 
 
 There were two Moorish ladies there whom love had smit- 
 ten sore ; 
 
 Zarifa one, and Fatima the name the other bore. 
 
 Knit by warm friendship were their hearts till, filled with jeal- 
 ous pain. 
 
 Their glances met, as one fair knight came prancing o'er the 
 plain. 
 
 Zarifa spoke to Fatima, " How has love marred thy face ! 
 
 Once roses bloomed on either cheek, now lilies take their place ; 
 
 And you, who once would talk of love, now still and silent stay. 
 
 Come, come unto the window and watch the pageant gay! 
 
 Abindarraez is riding by; his train is full in view; 
 
 In all Granada none can boast a choicer retinue." 
 
 " It is not love, Zarifa, that robs my cheek of rose ; 
 
 No fond and anxious passion this mournful bosom knows ; 
 
 My cheeks are pale and I am still and silent, it is true, — 
 
 For, ah! I miss my father's face, whom fierce Alabey slew. 
 
 3 
 
4 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And did I crave the boon of love, a thousand knights were fain 
 To fight for me in service true on yonder flowery plain. 
 And all the love I give to each to give me back again. 
 And for Abindarraez, whose heart and valiant might, 
 You praise and from the window watch, with rapturous de- 
 light " 
 
 The lady stopped, for at their feet knelt down the well-loved 
 knight. 
 
 THE BRAGGART REBUKED 
 
 " If thou art brave in battle's hour 
 
 As thou art bold in pleasure's rout; 
 If thou canst make the lances fly 
 As thou canst fling thy words about; 
 
 " If thou canst in the vega fight 
 
 As thou the ladies' eyes canst praise; 
 And show on horseback half the skill 
 That marks thee in the dance's maze; 
 
 " Meet with the briskness of the joust 
 The challenge of the deadly lance. 
 And in the play of scimitars 
 Be sprightly as in festive dance; 
 
 " If thou art ready in the field 
 
 As thou art nimble on the square; 
 And canst the front of battle face 
 As though thou flirtest with the fair; 
 
 " If thou dost don thy shining mail 
 As lightly as thy festive suit, 
 And listenest to the trumpet call 
 As though it were thy lady's lute ; 
 
 " And if, as in the gamesome hour 
 
 Thou flingest round the rattling reed 
 Against the foeman's moated camp, 
 
 Thou spurrest on thy thundering steed ; 
 
THE BRAGGART REBUKED 
 
 " If, when the foe is face to face, 
 
 Thou boastest as thou oft hast done 
 When far away his ranks were ranged. 
 And the fierce fight had not begun;— 
 
 " Go, Zaide, to the Alhambra go, 
 
 And there defend thy soldier fame; 
 For every tongue is wagging there, 
 And all, derisive, speak thy name. 
 
 " And if thou fear to go alone. 
 
 Take others with thee to thine aid; 
 Thy friends are ready at thy beck, 
 And Zaide need not be afraid ! 
 
 " It is not in the palace court. 
 
 Amid the throng of ladies bright. 
 That the good soldier, by his tongue. 
 Proves himself valorous in the fight. 
 
 " It is not there his hands can show 
 What in the battle he can do; 
 But where the shock of onset tests 
 The fearless heart, the iron thew. 
 
 " Betake thee to the bloody field 
 
 And let thy sword thy praises sing; 
 But silence is most eloquent 
 Amid the courtiers of the King." 
 
 Thus Tarfe wrote, the Moorish knight, 
 His heart so filled with furious rage 
 
 That where his fiery pen had passed 
 It pierced and rent the flimsy page. 
 
 He called his varlet to his side, 
 " Now seek the Alhambra's hall," said he, 
 " And privately to Zaide say 
 
 That this epistle comes from me; 
 
 " And whisper, that none else may hear, 
 
 And say that I his coming wait. 
 
 Where Genii's crystal torrent laves 
 
 The pillars of yon palace gate." 
 
MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE ADMIRAL'S FAREWELL 
 
 The royal fleet with fluttering sail is waiting in the bay ; 
 And brave Mustapha, the Admiral, must start at break of day. 
 His hood and cloak of many hues he swiftly dons, and sets 
 Upon his brow his turban gay with pearls and amulets ; 
 Of many tints above his head his plumes are waving wide ; 
 Like a crescent moon his scimitar is dangling at his side ; 
 And standing at the window, he gazes forth, and, harkj 
 Across the rippling waters floats the summons to embark. 
 
 Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain! 
 
 Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. 
 
 Let the shrill fife, the flute, the sackbut ring 
 
 A summons to our Admiral, a salvo to our King ! 
 
 The haughty Turk his scarlet shoe upon the stirrup placed, 
 
 Right easily he vaulted to his saddle-tree in haste. 
 
 His courser was Arabian, in whose crest and pastern show 
 
 A glossy coat as soft as silk, as white as driven snow. 
 
 One mark alone was on his flank! 'twas branded deep and 
 
 dark; 
 The letter F in Arab script, stood out the sacred mark. 
 By the color of his courser he wished it to be seen 
 That the soul of the King's Admiral was white and true and 
 
 clean. 
 Oh, swift and full of mettle was the steed which that day bore 
 Mustapha, the High Admiral, down to the wave-beat shore! 
 The haughty Turk sails forth at morn, that Malta he may take. 
 But many the greater conquest his gallant men shall make ; 
 For his heart is high and his soul is bent on death or victory, 
 And he pauses, as the clashing sound comes from the distant 
 
 sea; 
 
 Blow, trumpets ; clarions, sound your strain ! 
 Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. 
 Let fife and flute, and sackbut in accord 
 
 Proclaim, Aboard! Aboard! 
 Thy pinnace waits thee at the slip, lord Admiral, 
 
 aboard ! 
 
THE ADMIRAL'S FAREWELL 7 
 
 And as he hears the summons Love makes for him reply, 
 " O whither, cruel fortune, wilt thou bid the warrior fly ? 
 Must I seek thee in the ocean, where the winds and billows 
 
 roar? 
 Must I seek thee there, because in vain I sought thee on the 
 
 shore ? 
 And dost thou think the ocean, crossed by my flashing sail, 
 With all its myriad waters and its rivers, can avail 
 To quench the ardent fire of love that rages in my breast. 
 And soothe the fever of my soul into one hour of rest ? 
 And as he mused, in bitter thought, Mustapha reached in haste 
 A balcony ; till dawn of day before that house he paced. 
 And all his heart's anxieties he counted o'er and o'er. 
 And, when the darkness of the night toward opening twilight 
 
 wore. 
 Upon the balcony there came the cause of all his sighs. 
 But a smile was on her rosy lips and a light was in her eyes. 
 " O lovely Zaida," he began, and gazed into her face, 
 " If my presence at thy window is a burden to thy peace. 
 One pledge bestow upon me, one pledge of love, I pray, 
 And let me kiss thy lily hand before I sail away." 
 " I grieve for thy departure," the lady made reply, 
 " And it needs no pledge to tell thee I am faithful till I die. 
 But if one token thou must have, take this ere thou depart ; 
 ('Twas fashioned by these hands of mine) and keep it on thy 
 
 heart!" 
 The Moor rose in his stirrups, he took it from her hand, 
 'Twas a piece of lace of gold and silk shaped for a helmet 
 
 band. 
 There was the wheel of fortune with subtile needle drawn, 
 (Ah, Fortune that had left him there dejected and forlorn !) 
 And as he paused, he heard the sound tumultuous come again, 
 'Twas from the fleet, down in the bay, and well he knew the 
 
 strain. 
 
 Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain; 
 Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. 
 Let fife and flute, and sackbut in accord 
 
 Proclaim, Aboard! Aboard! 
 Thy pinnace waits thee at the slip, lord Admiral, 
 
 aboard ! 
 
8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Oh, stay my foes, nor in such haste invite me to the field ! 
 Here let me take the triumphs that softer conquests yield ! 
 This is the goal of my desire, the aim of my design. 
 That Zaida's hand in mine be placed and her heart beat close 
 
 to mine! 
 Then spake the fair Sultana, and she dropped a tender tear, 
 " Nay mourn not for the present pain, for future bliss is near. 
 The wings of Time are swift, and they bear a brighter day ; 
 And when once the longed-for gift is here 'twill never pass 
 
 away ! " 
 Then the Moor's heart beat high with joy; to smiles were 
 
 changed his sighs. 
 In silent ecstasy he gazed into the lady's eyes. 
 He rode to meet his waiting fleet, for favoring was the wind. 
 But while his body went on board, he left his heart behind I 
 
 Blow, trumpets; clarions, sound your strain! 
 Strike, kettle-drum, the alarum in refrain. 
 Let the shrill fife, the flute, the sackbut ring 
 A summons to our Admiral, a salvo to our King. 
 
 MORIANA AND GALVAN 
 
 'Twas Princess Moriana, 
 
 Upon a castle's height. 
 That played with Moorish Galvan 
 
 At cards for her delight; 
 And oft he lost the stakes he set, 
 
 Full many a coin I wis ; 
 When Moriana lost, she gave 
 
 Her hand for him to kiss. 
 And after hours of pleasure 
 
 Moor Galvan sank to sleep; 
 And soon the lady saw a knight 
 
 Descend the mountain steep; 
 His voice was raised in sorrow, 
 
 His eyes with tears were wet, 
 For lovely Moriana 
 
 His heart could ne'er forget. 
 
MORIANA AND GALVAN 
 
 For her, upon St. John's Day, 
 
 While she was gathering flowers, 
 The Moors had made a captive, 
 
 Beneath her father's towers. 
 And Moriana raised her eyes 
 
 And saw her lover ride, 
 And on her cheeks her Moorish lord 
 
 The sparkling tears descried. 
 With anger raged his spirit. 
 
 And thus to her he cried: 
 " What ails thee, gentle lady? 
 
 Why flows with tears thine eye? 
 If Moors of mine have done thee wrong, 
 
 I swear that they shall die; 
 If any of thy maidens 
 
 Have caused thee this distress. 
 The whip across their shoulders 
 
 Shall avenge their wickedness. 
 Or, if the Christian countrymen 
 
 Have sorrow for thee made, 
 I will, with conquering armies. 
 
 Their provinces invade. 
 The warlike weapons that I don 
 
 Are festal robes to me ; 
 To me the din of battle 
 
 Is sweet tranquillity ; 
 The direst toils the warrior bears 
 
 With steadfast joy I meet ; 
 To me the watch that nightlong lasts 
 
 Is like a slumber sweet." 
 " No Moors of thine within these halls 
 
 Have caused to me this pain ; 
 No maidens waiting in my bower 
 
 Have showed to me disdain ; 
 Nor have my Christian kinsmen 
 
 To mourn my spirit made. 
 Provoking thee in vengeance 
 
 Their province to invade. 
 Vain the deep cause of my distress 
 
 From Galvan's eye to hide — 
 
lo MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 'Tis that I see down yonder mount 
 
 A knight in armor ride. 
 'Tis such a sight that does my tears 
 
 From very heart-springs move; 
 For yonder knight is all to me, 
 
 My husband and my love." 
 Straight the Moor's cheek with anger flushed, 
 
 Till red eclipsed the brown, 
 And his clenched fist he lifted 
 
 As if to strike her down. 
 He gnashed his teeth with passion, 
 
 The fangs with blood were red. 
 He called his slaves and bade them 
 
 Strike off the lady's head. 
 He bade them bind and take her 
 
 First to the mountain's height. 
 That she the doom might suffer 
 
 Within her husband's sight; 
 But all the lady answered, 
 
 When she was brought to death. 
 Were words of faith and loyalty 
 
 Borne on her parting breath : 
 " Behold, I die a Christian, 
 
 And here repeat my vows 
 Of faithfulness to yonder knight. 
 
 My loved and lawful spouse." 
 
 THE BEREAVED FATHER 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, thou hoary head. 
 What madness causes thy delay? 
 Thou killest swine on Thursday morn, 
 And eatest flesh on fasting day. 
 
 " 'Tis now seven years since first I trod 
 The valley and the wandering wood ; 
 My feet were bare, my flesh was torn, 
 And all my pathway stained in blood. 
 
THE WARDEN OF MOLINA ii 
 
 'Ah, mournfully I seek in vain 
 
 The Emperor's daughter, who had gone 
 A prisoner made by caitiff Moors, 
 Upon the morning of St. John. 
 
 ' She gathered flowers upon the plain, 
 She plucked the roses from the spray, 
 And in the orchard of her sire 
 They found and bore the maid away." 
 
 These words has Moriana heard, 
 
 Close nestled in the Moor's embrace ; 
 
 The tears that welled from out her eyes 
 Have wet her captor's swarthy face, 
 
 THE WARDEN OF MOLINA 
 
 The warden of Molina, ah ! furious was his speed. 
 
 As he dashed his glittering rowels in the flank of his good 
 
 steed, 
 And his reins left dangling from the bit, along the white high- 
 way, 
 For his mind was set to speed his horse, to speed and not to 
 
 stay. 
 He rode upon a grizzled roan, and with the wind he raced, 
 And the breezes rustled round him like a tempest in the was^te. 
 In the Plaza of Molina at last he made his stand. 
 And in a voice of thunder he uttered his command : 
 To arms, to arms, my captains! 
 Sound, clarions; trumpets, blow; 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
 " Now leave your feasts and banquetings and gird you in your 
 
 steel ! 
 And leave the couches of delight, where slumber's charm you 
 
 feel; 
 Your country calls for succor, all must the word obey, 
 For the freedom of your fathers is in your hands to-day. 
 Ah, sore may be the struggle, and vast may be the cost ; 
 But yet no tie of love must keep you now, or all is lost. 
 
12 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 In breasts where honor dwells there is no room in times like 
 
 these 
 To dally at a lady's side, kneel at a lady's knees. 
 
 To arms, to arms, my captains! 
 
 Sound, clarions; trumpets, blow; 
 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
 " Yes, in the hour of peril away with pleasure's thrall ! 
 Let honor take the lance and steed to meet our country's call. 
 For those who craven in the fight refuse to meet the foe 
 Shall sink beneath the feet of all struck by a bitterer blow ; 
 In moments when fair honor's crown is ofifered to the brave 
 And dangers yawn around our State, deep as the deadly grave, 
 'Tis right strong arms and sturdy hearts should take the sword 
 
 of might. 
 And eagerly for Fatherland descend into the fight. 
 
 To arms, to arms, my captains! 
 
 Sound, clarions; trumpets, blow; 
 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
 " Then lay aside the silken robes, the glittering brocade ; 
 
 Be all in vest of leather and twisted steel arrayed ; 
 
 On each left arm be hung the shield, safe guardian of the breast. 
 
 And take the crooked scimitar and put the lance in rest. 
 
 And face the fortune of the day, for it is vain to fly. 
 
 And the coward and the braggart now alone are doomed to 
 
 die. 
 And let each manly bosom show, in the impending fray, 
 A valor such as Mars himself in fury might display. 
 
 To arms, to arms, my captains! 
 
 Sound, clarions ; trumpets, blow ; 
 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
 He spoke, and at his valiant words, that rang through all the 
 
 square, 
 The veriest cowards of the town resolved to do and dare ; 
 And stirred by honor's eager fire forth from the gate they 
 
 stream, 
 
THE WARDEN OF MOLINA 
 
 13 
 
 And plumes are waving in the air, and spears and falchions 
 
 gleam ; 
 And turbaned heads and faces fierce, and smiles in anger 
 
 quenched. 
 And sweating steeds and flashing spurs and hands in fury 
 
 clenched, 
 Follow the fluttering banners that toward the vega swarm. 
 And many a voice re-echoes the words of wild alarm. 
 To arms, to arms, my captains! 
 Sound, clarions; trumpets, blow; 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
 And, like the timid lambs that crowd with bleatings in the fold. 
 When they advancing to their throats the furious wolf behold, 
 The lovely Moorish maidens, with wet but flashing eyes, 
 Are crowded in a public square and fill the air with cries ; 
 And tho', like tender women, 'tis vain for them to arm, 
 Yet loudly they re-echo the words of the alarm. 
 To heaven they cry for succor, and, while to heaven they pray. 
 They call the knights they love so well to arm them for the 
 fray. 
 
 To arms, to arms, my captains! 
 
 Sound, clarions; trumpets, blow; 
 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
 The foremost Moorish nobles, Molina's chosen band. 
 Rush forward from the city the invaders to withstand. 
 There marshalled in a squadron with shining arms they speed, 
 Like knights and noble gentlemen, to meet their country's 
 
 need. 
 Twelve thousand Christians crowd the plain, twelve thousand 
 
 warriors tried. 
 They fire the homes, they reap the corn, upon the vega wide ; 
 And the warriors of MoUna their furious lances ply, 
 And in their own Arabian tongue they raise the rallying cry. 
 
 To arms, to arms, my captains ! 
 
 Sound, clarions; trumpets, blow; 
 
 And let the thundering kettle-drum 
 
 Give challenge to the foe. 
 
14 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE LOVES OF BOABDIL AND VINDARAJA 
 
 Where Antequera's city stands, upon the southern plain, 
 The captive Vindaraja sits and mourns her lot in vain. 
 While Chico, proud Granada's King, nor night nor day can 
 
 rest, 
 For of all the Moorish ladies Vindaraja he loves best ; 
 And while naught can give her solace and naught can dry her 
 
 tear, 
 'Tis not the task of slavery nor the cell that brings her fear ; 
 For while in Antequera her body lingers still. 
 Her heart is in Granada upon Alhambra's hill. 
 There, while the Moorish monarch longs to have her at his 
 
 side. 
 More keen is Vindaraja's wish to be a monarch's bride. 
 Ah ! long delays the moment that shall bring her liberty, 
 A thousand thousand years in every second seem to fly ! 
 For she thinks of royal Chico, and her face with tears is wet. 
 For she knows that absence oft will make the fondest heart 
 
 forget. 
 And the lover who is truest may yet suspicion feel. 
 For the loved one in some distant land whose heart is firm as 
 
 steel. 
 And now to solve her anxious doubts, she takes the pen one 
 
 day 
 And writes to royal Chico, in Granada far away. 
 Ah 1 long the letter that she wrote to tell him of her state. 
 In lonely prison cell confined, a captive desolate! 
 She sent it by a Moorish knight, and sealed it with her ring ; 
 He was warden of Alhambra and stood beside the King, 
 And he had come sent by the King to Antequera's tower. 
 To learn how Vindaraja fared within that prison bower. 
 The Moor was faithful to his charge, a warrior stout and 
 
 leal. 
 And Chico took the note of love and trembling broke the 
 
 seal; 
 And when the open page he saw and read what it contained, 
 These were the words in which the maid of her hard lot com- 
 plained : 
 
THE LOVES OF BOABDIL AND VINDARAJA 15 
 
 The Letter of Vindaraja 
 
 " Ah, hapless is the love-lorn maid like me in captive plight, 
 For freedom once was mine, and I was happy day and night. 
 Yes, happy, for I knew that thou hadst given me thy love, 
 Precious the gift to lonely hearts all other gifts above. 
 Well mightest thou forget me, though 'twere treachery to say 
 The flame that filled thy royal heart as yet had passed away. 
 Still, though too oft do lovers' hearts in absent hours repine. 
 I know if there are faithful vows, then faithful will be thine ! 
 'Tis hard, indeed, for lovers to crush the doubting thought 
 Which to the brooding bosom some lonely hour has brought. 
 There is no safety for the love, when languish out of sight 
 The form, the smile, the flashing eyes that once were love's 
 
 delight ; 
 Nor can I, I confess it, feel certain of thy vow ! 
 How many Moorish ladies are gathered round thee now ! 
 How many fairer, brighter forms are clustered at thy throne, 
 Whose power might change to very wax the heart of steel or 
 
 stone ! 
 And if, indeed, there be a cause why I should blame thy heart, 
 'Tis the delay that thou hast shown in taking here my part. 
 Why are not armies sent to break these prison bars, and bring 
 Back to her home the Moorish maid, the favorite of the King? 
 A maid whose eyes are changed to springs whence flow the 
 
 flood of tears. 
 For she thinks of thee and weeps for thee through all these 
 
 absent years. 
 Believe me, if 'twere thou, who lay a captive in his chain. 
 My life of joy, to rescue thee, my heart of blood I'd drain ! 
 
 King and master, if, indeed, I am thy loved one still. 
 As in those days when I was first upon Alhambra's hill. 
 Send rescue for thy darling, or fear her love may fade. 
 For love that needs the sunlight must wither in the shade. 
 And yet I cannot doubt thee ; if e'er suspicion's breath 
 Should chill my heart, that moment would be Vindaraja's 
 
 death. 
 Nor think should you forget me or spurn me from your arms. 
 That life for Vindaraja could have no other charms. 
 It was thy boast thou once did love a princess, now a slave, 
 
 1 boasted that to thy behest I full obedience gave ! 
 
i6 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And from this prison should I come, in freedom once again. 
 
 To sit and hear thy words of love on Andalusia's plain. 
 
 The brightest thought would be to me that thou, the King, 
 
 has seen 
 Twas right to free a wretched slave that she might be thy 
 
 Queen. 
 Hard is the lot of bondage here, and heavy is my chain. 
 And from my prison bars I gaze with lamentation vain ; 
 But these are slight and idle things — my one, my sole distress 
 Is that I cannot see thy face and welcome thy caress ! 
 This only is the passion that can my bosom rend ; 
 'Tis this alone that makes me long for death, my sufferings 
 
 end. 
 The plagues of life are naught to me ; life's only joy is this — 
 To see thee and to hear thee and to blush beneath thy kiss ! 
 Alas ! perchance this evening or to-morrow morn, may be, 
 The lords who hold me here a slave in sad captivity, 
 May, since they think me wanton, their treacherous measures 
 
 take 
 That I should be a Christian and my former faith forsake. 
 But I tell them, and I weep to tell, that I will ne'er forego 
 The creed my fathers fought for in centuries long ago ! 
 And yet I might forswear it, but that that creed divine 
 'Tis vain I struggle to deny, for, ah, that creed is thine ! " 
 King Chico read his lady's note and silent laid it down ; 
 Then to the window he drew nigh, and gazed upon the town ; 
 And lost in thought he pondered upon each tender line. 
 And sudden tears and a sigh of grief were his inward sorrow's 
 
 sign. 
 And he called for ink and paper, that Vindaraja's heart 
 Might know that he remembered her and sought to heal its 
 
 smart. 
 He would tell her that the absence which caused to her those 
 
 fears 
 Had only made her dearer still, through all those mournful 
 
 years. 
 He would tell her that his heart was sad, because she was not 
 
 near — 
 Yes, far more sad than Moorish slave chained on the south 
 
 frontier. 
 
THE LOVES OF BOABDIL AND VINDARAJA 17 
 
 And then he wrote the letter to the darHng Moorish slave, 
 And this is the tender message that royal Chico gave : 
 
 The Letter of the King 
 
 "Thy words have done me grievous wrong, for, lovely 
 
 Mooress, couldst thou think 
 That he who loves thee more than life could e'er to such a 
 
 treachery sink? 
 His life is naught without the thought that thou art happy in 
 
 thy lot ; 
 And while the red blood at his heart is beating thou art ne'er 
 
 forgot ! 
 Thou woundest me because thy heart mistrusts me as a fickle 
 
 fool; 
 Thou dost not know when passion true has one apt pupil taken 
 
 to school. 
 Oblivion could not, could not cloud the image on his soul im- 
 pressed. 
 Unless dark treachery from the first had been the monarch of 
 
 his breast; 
 And if perhaps some weary hours I thought that Vindaraja's 
 
 mind 
 Might in some happier cavalier the solace of her slavery find, 
 I checked the thought; I drove away the vision that with 
 
 death was rife, 
 For e'er my trust in thee I lost, in battle I'd forego my life ! 
 Yet even the doubt that thou hast breathed gives me no fran- 
 chise to forget, 
 And were I willing that thy face should cease to fill my vision, 
 
 yet 
 'Tis separation's self that binds us closer though the centuries 
 
 roll, 
 And forges that eternal chain that binds together soul and 
 
 soul! 
 And even were this thought no more than the wild vision of 
 
 my mind, 
 Yet in a thousand worlds no face to change for thine this 
 
 heart could find. 
 Thro' life, thro' death 'twere all the same, and when to heaven 
 
 our glance we raise, 
 a 
 
,8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Full in the very heart of bliss thine eyes shall meet my ardent 
 
 gaze. 
 For eyes that have beheld thy face, full readily the truth will 
 
 own 
 That God exhausted, when he made thee, all the treasures of 
 
 his throne! 
 And my trusting heart will answer while it fills my veins with 
 
 fire 
 That to hear of, is to see thee ; and to see, is to desire I , 
 
 Yet unless my Vindaraja I could look upon awhile. 
 As some traveller in a desert I should perish for her smile ; 
 For 'tis longing for her presence makes the spring of life 
 
 to me, 
 And allays the secret suffering none except her eye can see. 
 In this thought alone my spirit finds refreshment and delight ; 
 This is sweeter than the struggle, than the glory of the fight ; 
 And if e'er I could forget her heaving breast and laughing 
 
 eye, 
 Tender word, and soft caresses — ^Vindaraja, I should die ! 
 If the King should bid me hasten to release thee from thy 
 
 chain. 
 Oh, believe me, dearest lady, he would never bid in vain ; 
 Naught he could demand were greater than the price that I 
 
 would pay. 
 If in high Alhambra's halls I once again could see thee gay ! 
 None can say I am remiss, and heedless of thy dismal fate ; 
 Love comes to prompt me every hour, he will not let my zeal 
 
 abate. 
 If occasion call, I yield myself, my soul to set thee free ; 
 Take this offering if thou wilt, I wait thy word on bended 
 
 knee. 
 Dost thou suffer, noble lady, by these fancies overwrought? 
 Ah, my soul is filled with sorrow at the agonizing thought; 
 For to know that Vindaraja languishes, oppressed with care. 
 Is enough to make death welcome, if I could but rescue 
 
 her. 
 Yes, the world shall know that I would die not only for the 
 
 bliss 
 
 Of clasping thee in love's embrace and kindling at thy tender 
 kiss. 
 
THE LOVES OF BOABDIL AND VINDARAJA 19 
 
 This, indeed, would be a prize, for which the coward death 
 
 would dare — 
 I would die to make thee happy, tho' thy lot I might not 
 
 share ! 
 Then, though I should fail to lift the burden on my darling 
 
 laid, 
 Though I could not prove my love by rescuing my Moorish 
 
 maid. 
 Yet my love would have this witness, first, thy confidence 
 
 sublime. 
 Then my death for thee, recorded on the scroll of future time ! 
 Yes, my death, for should I perish, it were comfort but to 
 
 think 
 Thou couldst have henceforth on earth no blacker, bitterer 
 
 cup to drink ! 
 Sorrow's shafts would be exhausted, thou couldst laugh at 
 
 fortune's power. 
 The' I lost thee, yet this thought would cheer me in my part- 
 ing hour. 
 Yet I believe that fate intends (oh, bear this forecast in thy 
 
 mind !) 
 That all the love my passions crave will soon a full fruition 
 
 find; 
 Fast my passion stronger grows, and if of love there meas- 
 ure be, 
 Believe it, dearest, that the whole can find its summary in me ! 
 Deem that thou art foully wronged, whose graces have such 
 
 power to bless. 
 If any of thy subject slaves to thee, their queen, should offer 
 
 less. 
 And accept this pledged assurance, that oblivion cannot roll 
 O'er the image of thy beauty stamped on this enamored soul. 
 Then dismiss thy anxious musings, let them with the wind 
 
 away. 
 As the gloomy clouds are scattered at the rising of the day. 
 Think that he is now thy slave, who, when he wooed thee, 
 
 was thy King; 
 Think that not the brightest morning can to him contentment 
 
 bring, 
 Till the light of other moments in thy melting eyes he trace. 
 
20 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And the gates of Paradise are opened in thy warm embrace. 
 
 Since thou knowest that death to me and thee will strike an 
 equal blow. 
 
 It is just that, while we live, our hearts with equal hopes 
 should glow. 
 
 Then no longer vex thy lover with complaints that he may 
 change ; 
 
 Darling, oft these bitter questions can the fondest love es- 
 trange ; 
 
 No, I dream not of estrangement, for thy Chico evermore 
 
 Thinks upon his Vindaraja's image only to adore." 
 
 THE INFANTA SEVILLA AND PERANZUELOS 
 
 Upon Toledo's loftiest towers 
 
 Sevilla kept the height ; 
 So wondrous fair was she that love 
 
 Was blinded at the sight. 
 
 She stood amid the battlements, 
 
 And gazed upon the scene 
 Where Tagus runs through woodland 
 
 And flowers and glades of green. 
 
 And she saw upon the wide highway 
 
 The figure of a knight ; 
 He rode upon a dappled steed. 
 
 And all his arms were bright. 
 
 Seven Moors in chains he led with him. 
 
 And one arm's length aloof 
 Came a dog of a Moor from Morocco's shore 
 
 In arms of double proof. 
 
 His steed was swift, his countenance 
 
 In a warlike scowl was set. 
 And in his furious rage he cursed 
 
 The beard of Mahomet ! 
 
 He shouted, as he galloped up : 
 " Now halt thee, Christian hound ; 
 
CELIN'S FAREWELL <i 
 
 I see at the head of thy captive band 
 My sire, in fetters bound. 
 
 " And the rest are brothers of my blood, 
 
 And friends I long to free ; 
 And if thou wilt surrender all, 
 
 I'll pay thee gold and fee." 
 
 When Peranzuelos heard him. 
 
 He wheeled his courser round. 
 With lance in rest, he hotly pressed 
 
 To strike him to the ground; 
 His sudden rage and onset came 
 
 Swift as the thunder's sound. 
 
 The Moor at the first encounter reeled 
 
 To earth, from his saddle bow ; 
 And the Christian knight, dismounting, 
 
 Set heel on the neck of his foe. 
 
 He cleft his head from his shoulders, 
 
 And, marshalling his train. 
 Made haste once more on his journey 
 
 Across Toledo's plain. 
 
 CELIN'S FAREWELL 
 
 He sadly gazes back again upon those bastions high. 
 
 The towers and fretted battlements that soar into the sky; 
 
 And Celin, whom the King in wrath has from Granada 
 
 banned 
 Weeps as he turns to leave for aye his own dear native land ; 
 No hope has he his footsteps from exile to retrace ; 
 No hope again to look upon his lady's lovely face. 
 Then sighing deep he went his way, and as he went he said : 
 
 " I see thee shining from afar. 
 
 As in heaven's arch some radiant star. 
 
 Granada, queen and crown of loveliness, 
 
 Listen to my lament, and mourn for my distress. 
 
12 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " I see outstretched before my eyes thy green and beauteous 
 
 shore, 
 Those meadow-lands and gardens that with flowers are 
 
 dappled o'er. 
 The wind that lingers o'er those glades received the tribute 
 
 given 
 By many a trembling calyx, wet with the dews of heaven. 
 From Genii's banks full many a bough down to the water 
 
 bends, 
 Yon vega's green and fertile line from flood to wall extends ; 
 There laughing ladies seek the shade that yields to them de- 
 light. 
 And the velvet turf is printed deep by many a mounted knight. 
 I see thee shining from afar, 
 As in heaven's arch some radiant star. 
 Granada, queen and town of loveliness, 
 Listen to my lament, and mourn for my distress. 
 
 " Ye springs and founts that sparkling well from yonder 
 
 mountain-side, 
 And flow with dimpling torrent o'er mead and garden wide. 
 If e'er the tears that from my breast to these sad eyes ascend 
 Should with your happy waters their floods of sadness blend, 
 Oh, take them to your bosom with love, for love has bidden 
 These drops to tell the wasting woe that in my heart is hidden. 
 
 I see thee shining from afar. 
 
 As in heaven's arch some radiant star. 
 
 Granada, queen and crown of loveliness. 
 
 Listen to my lament, and mourn for my distress. 
 
 " Ye balmy winds of heaven, whose sound is in the rippling 
 
 trees. 
 Whose scented breath brings back to me a thousand memories, 
 Ye sweep beneath the arch of heaven like to the ocean surge 
 That beats from Guadalquivir's bay to earth's extremest 
 
 verge. 
 Oh, when ye to Granada come (and may great Allah send 
 His guardian host to guide you to that sweet journey's end!), 
 Carry my sighs along with you, and breathe them in the ear 
 Of foes who do me deadly wrong, of her who holds me dear. 
 
CELIN'S RETURN »3 
 
 Oh, tell them all the agony I bear in banishment. 
 
 That she may share my sorrow, and my foe the King relent. 
 
 I see thee shining from afar, 
 
 As in heaven's arch some radiant star. 
 
 Granada, queen and crown of loveliness, 
 
 Listen to my lament, and mourn for my distress." 
 
 CELIN'S RETURN 
 
 Now Celin would be merry, and appoints a festal day. 
 When he the pang of absence from his lady would allay: 
 The brave Abencerrages and Gulanes straight he calls. 
 His bosom friends, to join him as he decks his stately halls. 
 And secretly he bids them come, and in secret bids them go ; 
 For the day of merriment must come unnoticed by his foe; 
 For peering eyes and curious ears are watching high and low, 
 But he only seeks one happy day may reparation bring 
 For the foul and causeless punishment inflicted by the King. 
 " For in the widest prison-house is misery for me. 
 And the stoutest heart is broken unless the hand is 
 free." 
 
 His followers all he bade them dress in Christian array. 
 
 With rude and rustic mantles of color bright and gay ; 
 
 With silken streamers in their caps, their caps of pointed 
 
 crown. 
 With flowing blouse, and mantle and gaberdine of brown. 
 But he himself wore sober robes of white and lion gray. 
 The emblems of the hopeless grief in which the warrior lay. 
 And the thoughts of Adalifa, of her words and glancing eyes. 
 Gave colors of befitting gloom to tint his dark disguise. 
 And he came with purpose to perform some great and glorious 
 
 deed. 
 To drive away the saddening thoughts that made the bosom 
 
 bleed. 
 " For in the widest prison-house is misery to me. 
 And the stoutest heart is broken unless the arm be 
 free." 
 
24 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 There streams into Granada's gate a stately cavalcade 
 Of prancing steeds caparisoned, and knights in steel arrayed ; 
 And all their acclamations raise, when Celin comes in sight— 
 " The foremost in the tournament, the bravest in the fight "— 
 And Moorish maiden Cegri straight to the window flies, 
 To see the glittering pageant and to hear the joyous cries. 
 She calls her maidens all to mark how, from misfortune free, 
 The gallant Celin comes again, the ladies' knight is he ! 
 They know the story of his fate and undeserved disgrace. 
 And eagerly they gaze upon the splendor of his face. 
 Needs not his exploit in the fields, his valorous deeds to tell — 
 The ladies of Granada have heard and know them well ! 
 " For in the widest prison-house is misery to me, 
 And the stoutest heart must break unless the warrior's 
 arm be free." 
 
 The beauty of Granada crowds Elvira's gate this night; 
 There are straining necks and flushing cheeks when Celin 
 
 comes in sight ; 
 And whispered tales go round the groups, and hearts indig- 
 nant swell. 
 As they think what in Granada that hero knight befell. 
 Now a thousand Moorish warriors to Celin's fame aspire. 
 And a thousand ladies gaze on him with passionate desire. 
 And they talk of Adalifa, to whom he made his vow. 
 Though neither speech nor written page unites them longer 
 now. 
 " For in the widest prison-house is misery to me. 
 And the stoutest heart must break unless the warrior's 
 arms be free." 
 
 The city waits his coming, for the feast has been prepared, 
 By rich and poor, by high and low the revel shall be shared ; 
 And there are warriors high in hope to win the jousting prize, 
 And there are ladies longing for a smile from Celin's eyes. 
 But when the news of gladness reached Adalifa's ear. 
 Her loving heart was touched with grief and filled with jealous 
 
 fear; 
 And she wrote to Celin, bidding him to hold no revel high, 
 For the thought of such rejoicing brought the tear-drop to 
 
 her eye ; 
 
BAZA REVISITED 25 
 
 The Moor received the letter as Granada came in sight, 
 And straight' he turned his courser's head toward Jaen's tow- 
 ering height, 
 And exchanged for hues of mourning his robe of festal white. 
 " For in the widest prison-house is misery to me. 
 And the stoutest heart is broke unless the warrior's 
 arm be free." 
 
 BAZA REVISITED 
 
 Brave Celin came, the valiant son of him the castelain 
 Of the fortress of Alora and Alhama's windy plain. 
 He came to see great Baza, where he in former days 
 Had won from Zara's father that aged warrior's praise. 
 The Moor gazed on that fortress strong, the towers all deso- 
 late, 
 The castle high that touched the sky, the rampart and the 
 
 gate. 
 The ruined hold he greeted, it seemed its native land, 
 For there his bliss had been complete while Zara held his 
 
 hand. 
 And Fortune's cruel fickleness he furiously reviled. 
 For his heart sent madness to his brain and all his words were 
 
 wild. 
 " O goddess who controllest on earth our human fate, 
 How is it I offend thee, that my life is desolate ? 
 Ah ! many were the triumphs that from Zara's hands I bore, 
 When in the joust or in the dance she smiled on me of yore. 
 And now, while equal fortune incessantly I chase, 
 Naught can I gather from thy hand but disaster and disgrace. 
 Since King Fernando brought his host fair Baza to blockade, 
 My lot has been a wretched lot of anguish unalloyed. 
 Yet was Fernando kind to me with all his kingly art. 
 He won my body to his arms, he could not win my heart." 
 While thus he spoke the mantle that he wore he cast away ; 
 'Twas green, 'twas striped with red and white, 'twas lined with 
 
 dismal gray. 
 " Best suits my fate, best suits the hue, in this misfortune's 
 day; 
 
26 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Not green, not white nor purple, but the palmer's garb of 
 
 gray. 
 I ask no plumes for helm or cap of nature's living green, 
 For hope has vanished from my Ufe of that which might have 
 
 been ! 
 And from my target will I blot the blazon that is vain — 
 The lynx whose eyes are fixed upon the prey that it would 
 
 gain. 
 For the glances that I cast around meet fortune's foul disdain ; 
 And I will blot the legend, as an accursed screed. 
 'Twas writ in Christian letters plain that all the world might 
 
 read: 
 ' My good right arm can gain me more altho' its range be 
 
 short, 
 Then all I know by eye-sight or the boundless range of 
 
 thought.' 
 The blue tahala fluttering bright upon my armored brow 
 In brilliant hue assorts but ill with the lot I meet with now. 
 I cast away this gaudy cap, it bears the purple dye ; 
 Not that my love is faithless, for I own her constancy; 
 But for the fear that there may be, within the maiden's sight, 
 A lover worthier of her love than this unhappy knight." 
 With that he took his lance in hand, and placed it in its rest, 
 And o'er the plain with bloody spur the mournful Celin 
 
 pressed. 
 On his steed's neck he threw the reins, the reins hung dangling 
 
 low. 
 That the courser might have liberty to choose where he would 
 
 ^°' 
 And he said : " My steed, oh, journey well, and make thy way 
 
 to find 
 
 The bliss which still eludes me, tho' 'tis ever in my mind. 
 
 Nor bit nor rein shall now restrain thy course across the lea, 
 
 For the curb and the bridle I only use from infamy to flee." 
 
CAPTIVE ZARA 27 
 
 CAPTIVE ZARA 
 
 In Palma there was little joy, so lovely Zara found ; 
 She felt herself a slave, although by captive chain unbound. 
 In Palma's towers she wandered from all the guests apart; 
 For while Palma had her body, 'twas Baza held her heart. 
 And while her heart was fixed on one, her charms no less 
 
 enthralled 
 The heart of this brave cavalier, Celin Andalla called. 
 Ah, hapless, hapless maiden, for in her deep despair 
 She did not know what grief her face had caused that knight 
 
 to bear; 
 And though the Countess Palma strove with many a service 
 
 kind 
 To show her love, to soothe the pang that wrung the maiden's 
 
 mind. 
 Yet borne upon the tempest of the captive's bitter grief, 
 She never lowered the sail to give her suffering heart relief. 
 And, in search of consolation to another captive maid, 
 She told the bitter sorrow to no one else displayed. 
 She told it, while the tears ran fast, and yet no balm did gain. 
 For it made more keen her grief, I ween, to give another pain. 
 And she said to her companion, as she clasped her tender 
 
 hand: 
 " I was born in high Granada, my loved, my native land ; 
 For years within Alhambra's courts my life ran on serene; 
 I was a princess of the realm and handmaid to a queen. 
 Within her private chamber I served both night and day. 
 And the costliest jewels of her crown in my protection lay. 
 To her I was the favorite of all the maids she knew ; 
 And, ah ! my royal mistress I loved, I loved her true ! 
 No closer tie I owned on earth than bound me to her side ; 
 No closer tie ; I loved her more than all the world beside. 
 But more I loved than aught on earth, the gallant Moorish 
 
 knight. 
 Brave Celin, who is solely mine, and I his sole delight. 
 Yes, he was brave, and all men own the valor of his brand ; 
 Yes, and for this I loved him more than monarchs of the land. 
 For me he lived, for me he fought, for me he mourned and 
 
 wept, 
 
a8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 When he saw me in this captive home Hke a ship to the 
 
 breakers swept. 
 He called on heaven, and heaven was deaf to all his bitter cry, 
 For the victim of the strife of kings, of the bloody war, was I ; 
 It was my father bade him first to seek our strong retreat. 
 Would God that he had never come to Baza's castle seat ! 
 Would God that he had never come, an armored knight, to 
 
 stand 
 Amid the soldiers that were ranked beneath my sire's com- 
 mand. 
 He came, he came, that vaUant Moor, beneath our roof to rest. 
 His body served my father ; his heart, my sole behest ; 
 What perils did he face upon that castle's frowning height! 
 Winning my father's praise, he gained more favor in my 
 
 sight. 
 And when the city by the bands of Christians was assailed, 
 My soul 'neath terrors fiercer still in lonely terror quailed. 
 For I have lost my sire, and I have lost my lover brave, 
 For here I languish all alone, a subject and a slave. 
 And yet the Moor, altho' he left with me his loving heart, 
 I fear may have forgotten that I own his better part. 
 And now the needle that I ply is witness to the state 
 Of bondage, which I feel to-day with heart disconsolate. 
 And here upon the web be writ, in the Arabian tongue. 
 The legend that shall tell the tale of how my heart is wrung. 
 Here read : ' If thou hast ta'en my heart when thou didst ride 
 
 away. 
 Remember that myself, my living soul, behind thee stay.' 
 And on the other side these words embroidered would I place: 
 ' The word shall never fail that once I spake before thy face.' 
 And on the border underneath this posy, written plain: 
 ' The promise that I made to thee still constant shall remain.' 
 And last of all, this line I add, the last and yet the best : 
 ' Thou ne'er shalt find inconstancy in this unchanging breast.' 
 Thus runs the embroidery of love, and in the midst appears 
 A phoenix, painted clear, the bird that lives eternal years. 
 For she from the cold ashes of life at its last wane, 
 Takes hope, and spreads her wings and soars through skyey 
 
 tracks again. 
 And there a hunter draws his bow outlined with skilful thread, 
 
THE JEALOUS KING 29 
 
 And underneath a word which says, ' Nay, shoot not at the 
 
 dead.' 
 Thus spake the Moorish maiden, and in her eyes were tears of 
 
 grief, 
 Tho' in her busy needle she seemed to find relief. 
 And the kindly countess called from far : " Zara, what aileth 
 
 thee? 
 Where art thou ? For I called, and yet thou didst not answer 
 
 me. 
 
 THE JEALOUS KING 
 
 'Twas eight stout warriors matched with eight, and ten with 
 
 valiant ten, 
 As Aliatare formed a band allied with Moslem men. 
 To joust, with loaded canes, that day in proud Toledo's ring. 
 Against proud Adelifa's host before their lord the King. 
 The King by proclamation had announced the knightly play. 
 For the cheerful trumpets sang a truce upon that very day ; 
 And Zaide, high Belchite's King, had sworn that war should 
 
 cease. 
 And with Tarf e of Valentia had ratified the peace. 
 But others spread the news, that flew like fire from tongue to 
 
 tongue. 
 That the King was doting-mad with love, for then the King 
 
 was young; 
 And had given to Celindaja the ordering of the day. 
 And there were knights beside the King she loved to see at 
 
 play. 
 And now the lists are opened and, lo ! a dazzling band, 
 The Saracens, on sorrel steeds leap forth upon the sand ; 
 Their trailing cloaks are flashing like the golden orange rind, 
 The hoods of green from their shoulders hang and flutter in 
 
 the wind. 
 They carry targets blazoned bright with scimitars arow. 
 But each deadly blade is deftly made into a Cupid's bow. 
 A shining legend can be seen in letters ranged above ; 
 And " Fire and Blood " the motto runs. It speaks of war and 
 
 love. 
 
50 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 In double file a company of warriors succeed ; 
 
 The bold Aliatares come mounted on Arab steeds. 
 
 The livery that they wear is dyed in tint of crimson red ; 
 
 And flower and leaf in white relief its surface overspread. 
 
 The globe of heaven, which many a star and constellation 
 
 strow. 
 Borne upon Atlas' shoulders, is the blazon that they show. 
 And a Moor of Aliatar this motto does express, 
 Written upon a streamer, " I Endure through Weariness." 
 The Adelifas follow ; a mighty race are they. 
 Their armor is more costly, their mantles are more gay. 
 Of bright carnation is the web, enriched with saffron streaks, 
 And for favors there are fluttering veils upon their helmet 
 
 peaks. 
 A globe they blazon on their shields, but it is bruised and broke 
 By a savage with a bludgeon, who deals it many a stroke ; 
 And a rod, and underneath it this motto tells the tale. 
 All written in Arabian scrip. It says, " The Strong Prevail." 
 The eight Azarques following these into the plaza spring, 
 With air of haughty arrogance they gallop round the ring. 
 Of blue and purple and pale gold are the mantles that they 
 
 wear. 
 And for plumes they carry amulets that dangle high in air. 
 On their left arm are their targets, painted a dazzling green. 
 The orb of heaven is outlined there on which two hands are 
 
 seen. 
 The motto, " Green is paramount," is lettered full in view ; 
 Its arrogance explains to all those targets' vivid hue. 
 Then foams the King in rage to see his doting love was fleered, 
 And his heart is filled with bitter thought as that proud shield 
 
 appeared. 
 And he called the warden of his keep, Celin his henchman tried, 
 And he pointed to Azarque, and, flushed with anger, cried— 
 " The sun upon that haughty shield myself will bid it set ; 
 It works some mischief upon me, like an evil amulet. 
 Azarque drew his ready lance, his strong arm hurled it high. 
 The light shaft soared amid the clouds, and vanished in the sky. 
 And those whose vision followed it grew dizzy at the sight, 
 They knew not whither it had flown, nor where it would alight. 
 
THE JEALOUS KING 31 
 
 The ladies of the burgesses at many a window press 
 To see the javelin from his hand rise with such readiness, 
 And those who on the platform were seated with the King 
 Bent back to see how well the cane that gallant Moor could 
 
 fling. 
 And as Azarque forward rides, as in retreat he flies, 
 " Now, Allah guard thee, gallant knight," with shouts the 
 
 people cries. 
 " My curse upon him ; he shall die," the jealous King replies. 
 But Celindaja paid no heed to all that cavalcade ; 
 Her lips were parched, her throat was dry, her heart was sore 
 
 dismayed. 
 She asked that they would bring her fruit, but yet she strove 
 
 in vain 
 With juice of any earthly tree to slake her fevered pain. 
 " Now let the sport be ended," the angry King decreed. 
 The joust was late, and every judge in weariness agreed. 
 And as they closed the empty lists, they heard the King's com- 
 mand^ 
 " Now seize, now seize Azarque, a traitor to this land." 
 The double lines of cavaliers who led the jousting train 
 Threw down upon the open square the spear of idle cane ; 
 Then swiftly seized the lance of steel and couching it for fight, 
 According to the royal wish rode down upon the knight. 
 For arms and plea must ever bootless prove 
 To curb the passions of a king in love. 
 
 The other band came forth to save Azarque from his foes, 
 
 But the stout Moor waves his hand to them ere they in battle 
 close. 
 
 Then calmly cries : " Tho' love, it seems, has no respect for 
 law, 
 
 'Tis right that ye keep peace to-day and from the lists with- 
 draw! 
 
 Nay, gentlemen, your lances lower before it be too late ; 
 
 And let our foes their lances raise, in sign of passion's hate ; 
 
 Thus without blood accorded be a victory and defeat. 
 
 'Tis only bloodshed makes the one more bitter or more sweet, 
 For arms or reason unavailing prove 
 To curb the passions of a king in love." 
 
ja MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 At last they seize the struggling Moor, the chains are on his 
 
 hands ; 
 And the populace, with anger filled, arrange themselves in 
 
 bands. 
 They place a guard at every point, in haste to set him free, 
 But where the brave commander who shall lead to victory? 
 And where the leader who shall shout and stir their hearts to 
 
 fight? 
 These are but empty braggarts, but prowlers of the night. 
 Cut-throats and needy idlers— and so the tumult ends— 
 Azarque lies in prison, forsaken by his friends. 
 
 For, ah, both arms and reason powerless prove 
 
 To turn the purpose of a king in love. 
 
 Alone does Celindaja the coward crowd implore, 
 
 " Oh, save him, save him, generous friends, give back to me 
 
 my Moor." 
 She stands upon the balcony and from that lofty place 
 Would fling herself upon the stones to save him from disgrace. 
 Her mother round the weeping girl has flung her withered arm. 
 " O fool," she whispers in her ear, " in Mary's name be calm ! " 
 Thou madly rushest to thy death by this distracted show. 
 Surely thou knowest well this truth, if anyone can know, 
 
 How arms and reason powerless prove 
 
 To turn the purpose of a king in love. 
 
 Then came a message of the King, in which the monarch said 
 That a house wherein his kindred dwelt must be a prison made. 
 Then Celindaja, white with rage : " Go to the King and say 
 I choose to be my prison-house for many and many a day, 
 The memory of Azarque, in which henceforth I live : 
 But the treachery of a monarch my heart will not forgive. 
 For the will of one weak woman shall never powerless prove 
 To turn the foolish purpose of a king who is in love. 
 
 " Alas for thee, Toledo ! in former times they said 
 That they called thee for vengeance upon a traitor's head. 
 But now 'tis not on traitors, but on loyal men and true 
 That they call to thee for vengeance, which to caitiff hearts 
 are due. 
 
THE LOVERS OF ANTEQUERA 33 
 
 And Tagus gently murmurs in his billows fresh and free 
 
 And hastens from Toledo to reach the mighty sea." 
 
 E'er she said more, 'they seized the dame, and led her to the 
 
 gate, 
 Where the warden of the castle in solemn judgment sate. 
 
 THE LOVERS OF ANTEQUERA 
 
 The brave Hamete reined his steed and from the crupper bent. 
 
 To greet fair Tartagona, who saw him with content. 
 
 The daughter of Zulema, who had many a foe repelled 
 
 From the castle on the hill, which he in Archidora held; 
 
 For six-and-thirty years he kept the Christian host at bay, 
 
 A watchful warden, fearless of the stoutest foes' array. 
 
 And now adown the well-known path, a secret path and sure, 
 
 Led by the noble lady, hurried the gallant Moor. 
 
 The sentinels beneath the wall were careless^ or they slept ; 
 
 They heeded not Hamete as down the slope he crept. , 
 
 And when he reached the level plain, full twenty feet away. 
 
 He hobbled fast his courser, lest he should farther stray. 
 
 Then to the Moorish lady he turned, as if to speak. 
 
 Around her waist he flung his arms and kissed her on the 
 
 cheek. 
 " O goddess of my heart," he said, " by actions I will prove, 
 If thou wilt name some high emprise, how faithful is my love ! 
 And in Granada I am great, and have much honored been. 
 Both by the King Fernando and Isabel his Queen. 
 My name is high, my lineage long, yet none of all my line 
 Have reached the pitch of glory which men allow is mine. 
 Narvarez is a knight of name, in love and arms adept. 
 In Antequera's castle he well the marches kept. 
 Jarifa was a captive maid, he loved Jarifa well. 
 And oft the maiden visited within her prison cell. 
 And, if the thing with honor and virtuous heart may be. 
 What he did with Jarifa, that would I do with thee." 
 A star was shining overhead upon the breast of night. 
 The warrior turned his course, and led the lady by its light. 
 They reached the foot of one tall rock, and stood within the 
 
 shade, 
 3 
 
34 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Where thousand thousand ivy leaves a bower of beauty made. 
 They heard the genet browsing and stamping as he fed, 
 And smiling Love his pinions over the lovers spread. 
 But ere they reached the pleasant bower, they saw before them 
 
 stand, 
 Armed to the teeth, with frowning face, a strange and savage 
 
 band. 
 Yes, seventy men with sword in hand surrounded dame and 
 
 knight. 
 The robbers of the mountain, and they trembled at the sight ! 
 With one accord these freebooters upon Hamete fell. 
 Like hounds that on the stag at bay rush at the hunter's call, 
 Burned the Moor's heart at once with wrath, at once with pas- 
 sion's flame, 
 To save the life and, more than life, the honor of his dame. 
 Straight to his feet he sprung and straight he drew his mighty 
 
 sword. 
 And plunged into the robber crowd and uttered not a word. 
 No jousting game was e'er so brisk as that which then he 
 
 waged ; 
 On arm and thigh with deadly blow the slashing weapon raged ; 
 Though certain was his death, yet still, with failing heart, he 
 
 prayed 
 That till his lady could escape, that death might be delayed. 
 But, in the dark, a deadly stone, flung with no warning sound. 
 Was buried in his forehead and stretched him on the ground. 
 The breath his heaving bosom left and, from his nerveless 
 
 hand, 
 The sword fell clattering to the ground, before that bloody 
 
 band. 
 And when the damsel saw herself within those caitiffs' power. 
 And saw the city mantled in the darkness of the hour. 
 No grief that ever woman felt was equal to her pain. 
 And no despair like that of hers shall e'er be known again. 
 Those villains did not see those locks, that shone like threads 
 
 of gold ; 
 Only the summer sunlight their wondrous beauty told. 
 They did not mark the glittering chain of gold and jewels fine, 
 That in the daylight would appear her ivory throat to twine. 
 But straight she took the scimitar, that once her lover wore, 
 
TARFE'S TRUCE 
 
 35 
 
 It lay amid the dewy grass, drenched to the hilt in gore. 
 And, falling on the bloody point, she pierced her bosom 
 
 through, 
 And Tartagona breathed her last, mourned by that robber 
 
 crew. 
 And there she lay, clasping in death her lover's lifeless face. 
 Her valor's paragon, and she the glass of woman's grace. 
 And since that hour the tale is told, while many a tear-drop 
 
 falls. 
 Of the lovers of the vega by Antequera's walls. 
 And they praise the noble lady and they curse the robber band, 
 And they name her the Lucretia of fair Andalusia's land. 
 And if the hearer of the tale should doubt that it be true, 
 Let him pass along the mountain road, till Ronda comes in 
 
 view. 
 There must he halt and searching he may the story trace 
 In letters that are deeply cut on the rocky mountain's face. 
 
 TARFE'S TRUCE 
 
 "Oho, ye Catholic cavaliers 
 
 Who eye Granada day and night, 
 On whose left shoulder is the cross. 
 The crimson cross, your blazon bright. 
 
 " If e'er your youthful hearts have felt 
 The flame of love that brings delight, 
 As angry Mars, in coat of steel. 
 Feels the fierce ardor of the fight; 
 
 " If 'tis your will, within our walls. 
 To join the joust, with loaded reed. 
 As ye were wont, beneath these towers 
 The bloody lance of war to speed; 
 
 " If bloodless tumult in the square 
 
 May serve instead of battle's fray, 
 And, donning now the silken cloak. 
 Ye put the coat of steel away; 
 
36 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Six troops of Saracens are here ; 
 
 Six Christian troops, with targe and steed 
 Be ready, when the day is fixed. 
 To join the jousting of the reed. 
 
 " For 'tis not right that furious war. 
 
 Which sets the city's roofs in flames. 
 Should kindle with a fruitless fire 
 The tender bosom of our dames. 
 
 " In spite of all we suffer here 
 
 Our ladies are with you arrayed. 
 They pity you in this fierce war. 
 This labor of the long blockade. 
 
 " Amid the hardships of the siege 
 Let pleasure yield a respite brief; 
 (For war must ever have its truce) 
 And give our hardships some relief. 
 
 " What solace to the war-worn frame, 
 To every soul what blest release. 
 To fling aside the targe and mail, 
 And don one hour the plumes of peace ! 
 
 " And he who shall the victor be 
 
 Among the jousters of the game, 
 I pledge my knightly word to him. 
 In token of his valorous fame, 
 
 " On his right arm myself to bind 
 The favor of my lady bright ; 
 'Twas given me by her own white hand. 
 The hand as fair as it is white." 
 
 'Twas thus that Tarfe, valiant Moor, 
 His proclamation wrote at large ; 
 
 He, King Darraja's favored squire, 
 Has nailed the cartel to his targe. 
 
 'Twas on the day the truce was made. 
 By Calatrava's master bold. 
 
TARFE'S TRUCE 
 
 To change the quarters of his camp, 
 And with his foes a conference hold. 
 
 Six Moorish stripHngs Tarfe sent 
 
 In bold Abencerraje's train — 
 His kindred both in race and house — 
 
 To meet the leaguers on the plain. 
 
 In every tent was welcome warm ; 
 
 And when their challenge they display, 
 The master granted their request 
 
 To join the joust on Easter day. 
 
 In courteous words that cartel bold 
 
 He answered; and a cavalcade 
 Of Christians, with the Moorish guards, 
 
 Their journey to Granada made. 
 
 The guise of war at once was dropped; 
 
 The armory closed its iron door; 
 And all put on the damask robes 
 
 That at high festival they wore. 
 
 The Moorish youths and maidens crowd. 
 With joyful face, the city square; 
 
 These mount their steeds, those sit and braid 
 Bright favors for their knights to wear. 
 
 Those stern antagonists in war. 
 
 Like friends, within the town are met; 
 
 And peacefully they grasp the hand, 
 And for one day the past forget. 
 
 And gallant Almarada comes 
 
 (Not Tarfe's self more brave, I ween), 
 Lord of a lovely Moorish dame. 
 
 Who rules her lover like a queen. 
 
 A hundred thousand favors she 
 
 In public or in private gives, 
 To show her lover that her life 
 
 Is Almarada's while she lives! 
 
 37 
 
38 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And once upon a cloudy night. 
 Fit curtain for his amorous mood. 
 
 The gallant Moor the high hills scaled 
 And on Alhambra's terrace stood. 
 
 Arrived, he saw a Moorish maid 
 Stand at a window opened wide; 
 
 He gave her many a precious gem ; 
 He gave her many a gift beside. 
 
 He spoke and said : " My lady fair. 
 Though I have never wronged him, still 
 
 Darraja stands upon the watch. 
 By fair or foul, to do me ill. 
 
 " Those eyes of thine, which hold more hearts 
 Than are the stars that heaven displays; 
 
 That slay more Moors with shafts of love 
 Than with his sword the master slays ; 
 
 " When will they soften at my smile ? 
 
 And when wilt thou, my love, relent? 
 Let Tarfe go, whose words are big. 
 
 While his sword-arm is impotent ! 
 
 " Thou seest I am not such as he ; 
 
 His haughty words, so seldom true, 
 Are filled with boasting ; what he boasts 
 
 This sturdy arm of mine can do. 
 
 " My arm, my lance, ah ! well 'tis known 
 How oft in battle's darkest hour 
 
 They saved Granada's city proud 
 
 From yielding to the Christian's power." 
 
 Thus amorous Almarada spoke 
 
 When Tarfe came and caught the word; 
 
 And as his ear the message seized, 
 
 His right hand seized upon his sword. 
 
 Yet did he deem some Christian troop 
 Was in the darkness hovering by ; 
 
THE TWO MOORISH KNIGHTS 
 
 And at the thought, with terror struck, 
 He turned in eager haste to fly! 
 
 Darraja roused him at the din; 
 
 And with loud voice to Tarfe spoke; 
 He knew him from his cloak of blue, 
 
 For he had given the Moor that cloak t 
 
 THE TWO MOORISH KNIGHTS 
 
 Upon two mares both strong and fleet. 
 White as the cygnet's snowy wing. 
 
 Beneath Granada's arching gate 
 Passed Tarfe and Belchite's King. 
 
 Like beauty marks the dames they serve ; 
 
 Like colors at their spear-heads wave ; 
 While Tarfe kneels at Celia's feet. 
 
 The King is Dorelice's slave. 
 
 With belts of green and azure blue 
 The gallant knights are girded fair; 
 
 Their cloaks with golden orange glow, 
 And verdant are the vests they wear. 
 
 And gold and silver, side by side. 
 Are glittering on their garment's hem ; 
 
 And, mingled with the metals, shine 
 The lights of many a costly gem. 
 
 Their veils are woven iron-gray. 
 The melancholy tint of woe — 
 
 And o'er their heads the dusky plumes 
 Their grief and desolation show. 
 
 And each upon his target bears 
 Emblazoned badges, telling true 
 
 Their passion and their torturing pangs. 
 In many a dark and dismal hue, 
 
 39 
 
40 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The King's device shines on his shield — 
 A seated lady, passing fair ; 
 
 A monarch, with a downcast eye. 
 Before the dame is kneeling there. 
 
 His crown is lying at her feet 
 That she may spurn it in disdain ; 
 
 A heart in flames above is set; 
 And this the story of his pain. 
 
 " In frost is bom this flame of love " — 
 Such legend circles the device — 
 
 " And the fierce fire in which I burn 
 Is nourished by the breath of ice." 
 
 Upon her brow the lady wears 
 A crown; her dexter hand sustains 
 
 A royal sceptre, gilded bright. 
 To show that o'er all hearts she reigns. 
 
 An orb in her left hand she bears, 
 
 For all the world her power must feel ; 
 
 There Fortune prostrate lies; the dame 
 Halts with her foot the whirling wheel. 
 
 But Tarfe's shield is blank and bare, 
 Lest Adelifa should be moved 
 
 With jealous rage, to learn that he 
 Her Moorish rival, Celia, loved. 
 
 He merely blazons on his targe 
 A peaceful olive-branch, and eyes 
 
 That sparkle in a beauteous face, 
 Like starlets in the autumn skies. 
 
 And on the branch of olive shines 
 This legend : " If thy burning ray 
 
 Consume me with the fire of love, 
 See that I wither not away." 
 
 They spurred their horses as they saw 
 The ladies their approach surveyed; 
 
THE TWO MOORISH KNIGHTS 41 
 
 And when they reached their journey's end 
 The King to DoreHce said: 
 
 " The goddesses who reign above 
 
 With envy of thy beauty tell ; 
 When heaven and glory are thy gifts, 
 
 Why should I feel the pangs of hell? 
 
 " Oh, tell me what is thy desire ? 
 
 And does heaven's light more pleasure bring 
 Than to own monarchs as thy slaves, 
 
 And be the heiress to a king? 
 
 " I ask from thee no favor sweet ; 
 
 Nor love nor honor at thy hand; 
 But only that thou choose me out 
 
 The servant of thy least command. 
 
 " The choicest nobles of the realm 
 
 The glory of this office crave ; 
 The lowliest soldier, with delight. 
 
 Would die to prove himself thy slave. 
 
 " Each life, each heart is at thy feet ; 
 
 Thou with a thousand hearts mayst live ; 
 And if thou wouldst not grant my prayer. 
 
 Oh, take the warning that I give. 
 
 " For there are ladies in the court 
 
 To my desires would fain consent. 
 And lovely Bendarrafa once 
 
 These jealous words but lately sent: 
 
 " ' Those letters and those written lines. 
 Why dost thou not their sense divine? 
 
 Are they not printed on thy heart 
 As thy loved image is on mine ? 
 
 " ' Why art thou absent still so long? 
 
 It cannot be that thou art dead ? ' " 
 Then ceased the King and silent stood, 
 
 While Tarfe to his Celia said: 
 
4a MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Celestial Celia be thy name ; 
 
 Celestial calm is on thy brow; 
 Yet all the radiance of thy face 
 
 Thy cruelty eclipses now. 
 
 " A witch like Circe dost thou seem ; 
 
 For Circe could o'ercloud the sky ; 
 Oh, let the sun appear once more. 
 
 And bid the clouds of darkness fly ! 
 
 " Ah, would to God that on the feast, 
 The Baptist's consecrated day, 
 
 I might my arms about thee fling 
 And lead thee from thy home away. 
 
 " Yet say not that 'tis in thy power 
 To yield or all my hopes to kill; 
 
 For thou shalt learn that all the world. 
 In leaguer, cannot bend my will. 
 
 " And France can tell how many a time 
 I fought upon the tented field, 
 
 And forced upon their bended knee 
 Her loftiest paladins to yield. 
 
 "I vanquished many a valiant knight 
 Who on his shield the lilies bore ; 
 
 And on Vandalia's plain subdued 
 
 Of Red Cross warriors many a score. 
 
 " The noblest I had brought to yield 
 
 Upon Granada's gory plain. 
 Did I not shrink with such vile blood 
 
 The honor of my sword to stain." 
 
 At this the trumpets called to arms ; 
 
 Without one farewell word each knight 
 Turned from the lady of his heart 
 
 And spurred his steed in headlong flight. 
 
THE KING'S DECISION 43 
 
 THE KING'S DECISION 
 
 Amid a thousand sapient Moors 
 
 From Andalusia came, 
 Was an ancient Moor, who ruled the land, 
 
 Rey Bucar was his name. 
 
 And many a year this sage had dwelt 
 
 With the lady he loved best; 
 And at last he summoned the Cortes, 
 
 As his leman made request. 
 
 The day was set on which his lords 
 
 And commoners should meet. 
 And they talked to the King of his wide realm's need, 
 
 As the King sat in his seat. 
 
 And many the laws they passed that day; 
 
 And among them a law that said 
 That the lover who took a maid for his love 
 
 The maid of his choice must wed; 
 And he who broke this ordinance 
 
 Should pay for it with his head. 
 
 And all agreed that the law was good; 
 
 Save a cousin of the King, 
 Who came and stood before him. 
 
 With complaint and questioning ; 
 
 " This law, which now your Highness 
 
 Has on your lieges laid, 
 I like it not, though many hearts 
 
 It has exultant made. 
 
 " Me only does it grieve, and bring 
 
 Disaster on my life ; 
 For the lady that I love the best, 
 
 Is already wedded wife; 
 
 "Wedded she is, wedded amiss; 
 111 husband has she got. 
 
44 
 
 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And oft does pity fill my heart 
 For her distressful lot. 
 
 " And this one thing I tell thee, King, 
 To none else has it been told : 
 
 If I think her love is silver. 
 She thinks my love is gold." 
 
 Then spake Rey Bucar in reply. 
 
 This sentence uttered he: 
 " If thy love be wedded wife, the law 
 
 Hath no penalty for thee." 
 
 ALMANZOR AND BOBALIAS 
 
 The King Almanzor slept one night, 
 
 And, oh ! his sleep was blest ; 
 Not all the seven Moorish kings 
 
 Could dare to break his rest. 
 
 The infante Bobalias 
 
 Bethought of him and cried: 
 " Now rouse thee, rouse thee, uncle dear ! 
 
 And hasten to my side. 
 
 " And bid them fetch the ladders 
 Owned by my sire the King; 
 
 And the seven mules that carry them 
 Into my presence bring. 
 
 " And give to me the seven stout Moors 
 
 Who shall their harness set. 
 For the love, the love of the countess 
 
 I never can forget." 
 
 " Ill-mannered art thou, nephew, 
 
 And never wilt amend; 
 The sweetest sleep I ever slept, 
 
 Thou bringest to an end." 
 
THE MOORISH INFANTA AND ALFONZO RAMOS 45 
 
 Now they have brought the ladders 
 
 Owned by his sire the King. 
 And, to bear the load along the road. 
 
 Seven sturdy mules they bring; 
 
 And seven stout Moors^ by whom the mules 
 
 In housings are arrayed. 
 And to the walls of the countess 
 
 Their journey have they made. 
 There, at the foot of yonder tower, 
 
 They halt their cavalcade. 
 
 In the arms of the count Alminique 
 
 The countess lay at rest; 
 The infante has ta'en her by the hand, 
 
 And caught her to his breast. 
 
 THE MOORISH INFANTA AND ALFONZO RAMOS 
 
 Beneath the shade of an olive-tree 
 
 Stood the infanta fair; 
 A golden comb was in her hands, 
 
 And well she decked her hair. 
 
 To heaven she raised her eyes, and saw. 
 
 That early morning-tide, 
 A clump of spears and an armored band 
 
 From Guadalquivir ride. 
 
 Alfonzo Ramos with them came, 
 
 The admiral of Castile. 
 " Now welcome, Alfonzo Ramos ! 
 
 Now welcome^ steed and steel. 
 What tidings do you bring of my fleet, 
 
 What tidings of woe or weal ? " 
 
 " I'll tell thee tidings, lady, 
 
 If my life thou wilt assure." 
 " Tell on, Alfonzo Ramos, 
 
 Thy life shall be secure." 
 
46 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Seville, Seville has fallen. 
 To the arms of the Berber Moor." 
 
 " But for my word thy head this day 
 To the vultures had been tost ! " 
 
 " If head of mine were forfeited, 
 'Tis thine must pay the cost." 
 
 THE BULL-FIGHT OF ZULEMA 
 
 He was a valorous gentleman, a gay and gallant knight, 
 
 Like stars on heaven's fifth circle was the splendor of his might. 
 
 In peace, accomplished in the arts of great Apollo's choir, 
 
 In war, the brilliant swordsman that Mars might well admire. 
 
 His great exploits were written on history's brightest page. 
 
 And rightly was he reckoned as the mirror of his age ; 
 
 Great deeds he did with point of lance and won bright honor's 
 crown. 
 
 Before the year when each red cheek was clothed in manly 
 down. 
 
 And such he was through all the world by minstrel harps ex- 
 tolled, 
 
 Both for the vigor of his arm and for his bearing bold. 
 
 His very foes, whom he had made surrender in the fight. 
 
 While trembling at his valor, asked blessings on the knight. 
 
 And Fame herself, whose pace is swift, whose voice like fire 
 can run. 
 
 Grew weary with reciting the deeds that he had done. 
 
 To tell aright his jeopardies, escapes, and rescues wrought, 
 
 A swifter-flying pinion and a louder tongue she sought ! 
 
 Such was Zulema, such was he, the warrior of renown. 
 
 The son of that Zulema who ruled Toledo's town. 
 
 Ah ! bright the fame the father left, for it shall never die — 
 
 The glory of his greater son shall keep its memory. 
 
 Now once it happened that he reached a city's towering gate ; 
 
 'Twas Avila, and there that day the games they celebrate. 
 
 The mighty square, when he arrived, was changed into a 
 bower ; 
 
 And every knight wore fluttering plumes and every dame a 
 flower. 
 
THE BULL-FIGHT OF ZULEMA 47 
 
 The scene was strange, because the Moor, in southern cities 
 
 reared. 
 Had never seen how gay Castile on festal days appeared. 
 He marked the Adelifas in the King's pavilion stand, 
 And he asked, and his prayer was granted, to join the cham- 
 pion band. 
 Yet when they gave consent they feared that great Zulema's 
 
 might 
 Would surely quite excel in joust the best Castilian knight. 
 But a thousand times they asked that heaven would give to him 
 
 success, "^ 
 
 And a thousand times they wondered at his glorious Moorish 
 
 dress. 
 Full many a lady's beck and smile were on the warrior bent. 
 And they looked on his manly beauty and they sighed with deep 
 
 content. 
 But now Zulema by the hand the wardens take and greet. 
 And 'mid the highest noblemen they yield the knight a seat. 
 His seat was placed in honor 'mid ladies gay and bright. 
 Mid warriors of Castile, the first in courage and in might. 
 Then suddenly, more swift than wind, more wild than comet's 
 
 glare, 
 Jerama's bull, far famed was he, rushed on the crowded square. 
 Ah ! brave was he in flashing eyes, and fierce was he in heart. 
 His brow was like a storm-cloud, each horn a giant's dart. 
 His wide-spread nostrils snorted fire, his neck was short and 
 
 deep. 
 His skin was black as the thunder-cloud that crowns the moun- 
 tain's steep. 
 Before his coming fled the crowd, until the sunny square 
 Was emptied of the multitude, and every stone was bare. 
 Those only who on horseback sat remained to face the foe. 
 Now trembling with alarm they stand, and now with hope they 
 
 glow. 
 Good sport they looked to have with him, and lay him in the 
 
 dust. 
 But the Andalusian hero evaded every thrust. 
 And sometimes, with a gallant charge he threw them from 
 
 their seat. 
 He gored them with his savage horn, and trod them with his 
 
 feet! 
 
48 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Ah! great the shame of the vanquished knights; they dared 
 
 not raise their eyes 
 To the ladies who looked down and smiled from banks and bal- 
 conies. 
 For those soft eyes were fixed no more upon each vanquished 
 
 knight, 
 But on the monster proud and strong who conquered them in 
 
 fight. 
 The dames upon the royal seat to Zulema turned their eyes, 
 And one, the loveliest of them all, who wore a strange disguise, 
 Yet through her veil such rays she shot that she seemed like 
 
 the sun on high 
 When he rises, quenching all the stars that filled the midnight 
 
 sky. 
 She made a sign to him and spoke directly from her heart. 
 Whose tongue is in a woman's eye. Ah ! well it plays its part ! 
 She bade him to redeem the day and avenge each gallant knight 
 Who had fallen in the dust before the foe in stubborn fight. 
 And the Moor with gracious mien assents, and from his seat 
 
 descends ; 
 But first with glance and waving scarf a tender message sends 
 To the lovely Moorish damsel who had called him to the fray. 
 And had filled his heart with sudden love upon the festal day. 
 And as he leapt into the sand it was as if he flew. 
 For love lent wings at his lady's nod, some glorious deed to do. 
 And when the bull beheld approach, upon the bloody sand, 
 His bold and tall antagonist, a dagger in his hand. 
 He roared like thunder, with his hoofs he pawed the dusty 
 
 ground. 
 The plaza shook, the castle tower re-echoed to the sound ! 
 Long subject to the hand of man, and in subjection bom. 
 He thought to subject human foe to hoof and mighty horn. 
 Zulema started toward the beast, loud cries would hold him 
 
 back, 
 But well he knew that victory would follow his attack. 
 The bull was on him with a bound, and, glaring face to face, 
 They stood one moment, while a hush fell on the crowded place. 
 With bold right hand Zulema drew his keen and mighty blade ; 
 Blow after blow 'mid blood and dust upon his foe he laid ; 
 The startled beast retired before such onslaught of his foe. 
 
THE RENEGADE 49 
 
 And the people shouted loud applause and the King himself 
 
 bowed low. 
 The bull with tossing head roared forth a challenge to the 
 
 knight, 
 As Zulema turned, and with a bound rushed to the desperate 
 
 fight. 
 Ah! cruel were the strokes that rained upon that foaming 
 
 flank! 
 Into the sand that life-blood like a shower of autumn sank. 
 He roars, he snorts, he spurns the. ground, the bloody dust flies 
 
 high. 
 Now here, now there, in angry pain they see the monster fly. 
 He turns to see what new-found foe has crossed his path to-day ; 
 But when Zulema faces him he stops to turn away. 
 For the third time the fight begins ; the bull with many a roar 
 Turns to his foe, while from his lips run mingled foam and 
 
 gore. 
 The Moor enraged to see the beast again before him stand. 
 Deals him the deep, the fatal wound, with an unerring hand. 
 That wound, at last, has oped the gate through which may 
 
 enter death. 
 And staggering to the dust the beast snorts forth his latest 
 
 breath. 
 As the bull falls, the crowded square rings with a loud acclaim, 
 And envy bums in many a knight, and love in many a dame. 
 The highest nobles of the land the conqueror embrace; 
 He sees the blush of passion burn on many a damsel's face. 
 And Fame has blown her trumpet and flies from town to town, 
 And Apollo takes his pen and writes the hero's title down. 
 
 THE RENEGADE 
 
 Through the mountains of Moncayo, 
 
 Lo ! all in arms arrayed. 
 Rides pagan BobaUas, 
 
 Bobalias the renegade. 
 
 Seven times he was a Moor, seven times 
 
 To Christ he trembling turned ; 
 4 
 
50 
 
 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 At the eighth, the devil cozened him 
 And the Christian cross he spurned, 
 
 And took back the faith of Mahomet, 
 In childhood he had learned. 
 
 He was the mightiest of the Moors, 
 
 And letters from afar 
 Had told him how Sevila 
 
 Was marshalling for war. 
 
 He arms his ships and galleys, 
 His infantry and horse. 
 And straight to Guadalquivir's flood 
 His pennons take their course. 
 
 The flags that on Tablada's plain 
 
 Above his camp unfold, 
 Flutter above three hundred tents 
 
 Of silk brocade and gold. 
 
 In the middle, the pavilion 
 Of the pagan they prepare; 
 
 On the summit a ruby stone is set, 
 A jewel rich and rare. 
 
 It gleams at morn, and when the night 
 Mantles the world at length. 
 
 It pours a ray like the light of day. 
 When the sun is at its strength. 
 
 THE TOWER OF GOLD 
 
 Brave Arbolan a prisoner lay 
 
 Within the Tower of Gold ; 
 By order of the King there stood 
 
 Four guards to keep the hold. 
 'Twas not because against his King 
 
 He played a treacherous pjirt; 
 But only that Guhala's charms 
 
 Had won the captive's heart. 
 
THE TOWER OF GOLD 
 
 " Guhala, Guhala, 
 My longing heart must cry ; 
 
 This mournful vow I utter now — 
 To see thee or to die." 
 
 No longer free those sturdy limbs ! 
 
 Revenge had bid them bind 
 The iron chain on hands and feet ; 
 
 They could not chain his mind ! 
 How dolorous was the warrior's lot! 
 
 All hope at last had fled ; 
 And, standing at the window. 
 
 With sighing voice he said: 
 
 " Guhala, Guhala, 
 My longing heart must cry ; 
 
 This mournful vow I utter now — 
 To see thee or to die." 
 
 He turned his eyes to where the banks 
 
 Of Guadalquivir lay; 
 " Inhuman King ! " in grief he •cried, 
 
 " Thy mandates I obey ; 
 Thou bidst them load my limbs with steel j 
 
 Thy cruel sentinel 
 Keeps watch beside my prison door; 
 
 Yet who my crime can tell? 
 
 " Guhala, Guhala, 
 My longing heart must cry; 
 
 This mournful vow I utter now— 
 To see thee or to die." 
 
 5' 
 
52 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE DIRGE FOR ALIATAR 
 
 No azure-hued tahalia now 
 Flutters about each warrior's browj 
 No crooked scimitars display 
 Their gilded scabbards to the day. 
 The Afric turbans, that of yore 
 Were fashioned on Morocco's shore. 
 To-day their tufted crown is bare; 
 There are no fluttering feathers there. 
 In mourning garments all are clad, 
 Fit harness for the occasion sad ; 
 But, four by four the mighty throng 
 In slow procession streams along. 
 Ah ! Aliatar ! well he knew 
 The soldiers of his army true, 
 The soldiers whose afflicted strain 
 Gives utterance to their bosom's pain. 
 
 Sadly we march along the crowded street. 
 
 While trumpets hoarsely blare and drums tempestuous beat. 
 
 The phoenix that would shine in gold 
 On the high banner's fluttering fold. 
 Scarce can the breeze in gladness bring 
 To spread aloft its waving wing. 
 It seemed as if the fire of death 
 For the first time had quenched her breath. 
 For tribulation o'er the world 
 The mantle of despair had furled ; 
 There was no breeze the ground to bless, 
 The plain lay panting in distress ; 
 Beneath the traiUng silken shroud 
 Alfarez carried through the crowd. 
 
 Sadly we march along the crowded street, 
 
 While trumpets hoarsely blare and drums tempestuous beat. 
 
 For Aliatar, one sad morn. 
 Mounted his steed and blew his horn ; 
 
THE DIRGE FOR ALIATAR S3 
 
 A hundred Moors behind him rode; 
 Fleeter than wind their coursers strode. 
 Toward Motril their course is made, 
 While foes the castle town blockade; 
 There Aliatar's brother lay, 
 Pent by the foes that fatal day. 
 Woe work the hour, the day, when he 
 Vaulted upon his saddle-tree! 
 Ne'er from that seat should he descend 
 To challenge foe or welcome friend, 
 Nor knew he that the hour was near. 
 His couch should be the funeral bier. 
 
 Sadly we march along the crowded street, 
 
 While trumpets hoarsely blare and drums tempestuous beat. 
 
 »t 
 That day the master's knights were sent. 
 As if on sport and jousting bent ; 
 And Aliatar, on his way, 
 By cruel ambush they betray ; 
 With sword and hauberk they surround 
 And smite the warrior to the ground. 
 And wounded deep from every vein 
 He bleeding lies upon the plain. 
 The furious foes in deadly fight 
 His scanty followers put to flight. 
 In panic-stricken fear they fly. 
 And leave him unavenged to die. 
 
 Sadly we march along the crowded street. 
 
 While trumpets hoarsely blare and drums tempestuous beat. 
 
 Ah sadly swift the news has flown 
 To Zaida in the silent town ; 
 Speechless she sat, while every thought 
 Fresh sorrow to her bosom brought; 
 Then flowed her tears in larger flood. 
 Than from his wounds the tide of blood. 
 Like dazzling pearls the tear-drops streak 
 The pallid beauty of her cheek. 
 
54. MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Say, Love, and didst thou e'er behold 
 A maid more fair and knight more bold? 
 And if thou didst not see him die, 
 And Zaida's tears of agony. 
 The bandage on thine orbs draw tight — 
 That thou mayst never meet the sight! 
 
 Sadly we march along the crowded street. 
 
 While trumpets hoarsely blare and drums tempestuous beat. 
 
 Not only Zaida's eyes are wet. 
 
 For him her soul shall ne'er forget ; 
 
 But many a heart in equal share 
 
 The sorrow of that lady bare. 
 
 Yes, all who drink the water sweet 
 
 Where Genii's stream and Darro meet, 
 
 All of bold Albaicins's line, 
 
 Who mid Alhambra's princes shine — 
 
 The ladies mourn the warrior high. 
 
 Mirror of love and courtesy ; 
 
 The brave lament him, as their peer ; 
 
 The princes, as their comrade dear ; 
 
 The poor deplore, with hearts that bleed. 
 
 Their shelter in the time of need. 
 
 Sadly we march along the crowded street. 
 
 While trumpets hoarsely blare and drums tempestuous beat. 
 
 THE SHIP OF ZARA 
 
 It was the Moorish maiden, the fairest of the fair, 
 Whose name amid the Moorish knights was worshipped every- 
 where. 
 And she was wise and modest, as her race has ever been. 
 And in Alhambra's palace courts she waited on the Queen, 
 A daughter of Hamete — of royal line was he, 
 And held the mighty castle of Baja's town in fee. 
 Now sad and mournful all the day the maiden weeping sat, 
 And her captive heart was thinking still of the distant caliphat, 
 Which in the stubborn straits of war had passed from Moslem 
 reign, 
 
THE SHIP OF ZARA 55 
 
 And now was the dominion of King Ferdinand of Spain. 
 She thought upon the dreary siege in Baja's desert vale 
 When th« fight was long and the food of beasts and men began 
 
 to fail, 
 And her wretched father, forced to yield, gave up his castle 
 
 hold. 
 For falling were the towers, falling fast his warriors bold. 
 And Zara, lovely Zara, did he give into the care 
 Of the noble Countess Palma, who loved the maiden fair. 
 And the countess had to Baja come when Queen Isabella came. 
 The lovely vega of the town to waste with sword and flame. 
 And the countess asked of Zara if she were skilled in aught. 
 The needle, or the 'broidery frame, to Christian damsels taught. 
 And how she made the hours go by when, on Guadalquivir's 
 
 strand, 
 She sat in the Alhambra, a princess of the land. 
 And, while her eyes were full of tears, the Moorish maid re- 
 plied : 
 " 'Twas I the silver tinsel fixed on garments duly dyed ; 
 'Twas I who with deft fingers with gold lace overlaid 
 The dazzling robes of flowery tint of velvet and brocade. 
 And sometimes would I take my lute and play for dancers 
 
 there ; 
 And sometimes trust my own weak voice in some romantic air ; 
 But now, this moment, I retain but one, one mournful art — 
 To weep, to mourn the banishment that ever grieves my heart. 
 And since 'tis thou alone whose bread, whose roof my life didst 
 
 save, 
 I weep the bitterest tears of all because I am a slave ! 
 Yet wouldst thou deign, O lady dear, to make more light 
 
 to me 
 The hours I pass beneath thy roof, in dark captivity, — 
 I bid thee build for me, if thou approve of the design. 
 An ocean bark, well fitted to cross the surging brine ; 
 Let it be swift, let it be strong, and leave all barks behind. 
 When on the surges of the main it feels the favoring wind. 
 We'll launch it from the sloping shore, and, when the wind 
 
 is high. 
 And the fierce billows threatening mix their foam-tops with 
 
 the sky, 
 
56 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 We'll lower the mainsail, lest the storm should carry us away, 
 And sweep us on the reefs that lurk in some deep Afric bay. 
 And on the lofty topmast shall this inscription stand, 
 Written in letters which they use in every Christian land : 
 ' This ship is tossed in many a storm, it lands on many a shore, 
 And the wide sea, beneath the wind, it swiftly travels o'er; 
 'Tis like the human heart which brings no treasure and no g^in, 
 Till, tossed by hard misfortune, it has known the sea of pain;' 
 And let there be upon the fringe round this inscription hung 
 Another legend which shall say in the Arabian tongue : 
 ' Oh, might it be that Allah, the merciful, would send 
 To all my captive miseries a swift and happy end.' " 
 The countess said : " To build this ship methinks would please 
 
 me well. 
 Such tasks the sorrows of thy heart might lighten or dispelj 
 And, Zara, when the summer comes, and winds and floods are 
 
 free. 
 We'll build our bark, we'll hoist our sail, and start across the 
 
 sea. 
 
 HAMETE ALI 
 
 Hamete AH on his way toward the city goes, 
 His tunic is a brilliant green with stripes of crimson rose. 
 In sign that no despondency this daring wanderer knows. 
 His arm, that wears the twisted steel, reflects the sunlight 
 
 sheen, 
 And bound to it by many a knot is hung his hood of green. 
 And o'er his bonnet azure-blue, two feathery plumes there fly ; 
 The one is green as the summer and one is blue as sky. 
 He does not wear these hues to show that he is passion's slave. 
 They are emblems of the life that beats within his bosom brave. 
 Yet dusky is his lance's hue and dusky is his shield, 
 On which are serpents scattered upon a golden field. 
 Their venomed tongues are quivering and ears before them 
 
 stand, 
 To show how slanderous hearts can spread their poison o'er 
 
 the land. 
 A lettered motto in the midst which everyone may read, 
 Is written in Arabian script, ah ! good that all should heed ! 
 
HAMETE ALI 
 
 S7 
 
 " 'Tis naught but innocence of heart can save me from the 
 
 blow 
 With which the slanderous serpents would lay their victim 
 
 low." 
 Upon a piebald colt he rode along the valley's side, 
 The bravest of the valiant Moors and once Granada's pride. 
 In furious rage descending from bold Ubeda's steep, 
 He crossed the vale and mounted to Baza's castle keep. 
 Defiant still of Fortune's power, his thoughts at last found vent. 
 For Fortune had been cruel, and in words of discontent, 
 As if he blamed the serpent upon his shield displayed. 
 The torrent of his heart broke forth and in wrath the warrior 
 
 said: 
 " O wasters of the brightest hope I knew in years long past ! 
 O clouds by which the blazing sun of bliss is overcast ! 
 O blight of love, O ruin of aspirations pure ! 
 Vile worms, that gnaw and waste away the treasures most 
 
 secure ! 
 Attempt no more to banish me from my own native land, 
 That in my place of honor ye, envious slaves, may stand ; 
 I, too, have friends, whose swords are keen, whose love is 
 
 strong and leal. 
 To them I look for my defence by stratagem or steel. 
 
 And, Fortune, do thy worst; it is not meant. 
 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment. 
 
 ' Permit it not that in the generous breasts of those whose 
 
 blood 
 Flows in my veins, who by my side as faithful champions 
 
 stood, 
 Those cursed asps, whose effigies my shield's circumference fill, 
 Could plant the thoughts of villany by which they work me ill. 
 Just heaven forbids their words should blot the honor of my 
 
 name. 
 For pure and faithful is my heart, howe'er my foes defame ; 
 And Zaida, lovely Zaida, at a word that did me wrong. 
 Would close her ears in scornful ire and curse the slanderous 
 
 tongue. 
 
 And, Fortune, do thy worst ; it is not meant, 
 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment. 
 
58 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Nay, Fortune, turn no more thy wheel, I care not that it rest, 
 Nor bid thee draw the nail that makes it stand at man's behest. 
 Oh, may I never say to thee, when for thy aid I call. 
 Let me attain the height of bliss whate'er may be my fall ! 
 And when I roam from those I love, may never cloud arise 
 To dim my hope of a return and hide me from their eyes. 
 Yet doubtless, 'tis the absent are oftenest forgot. 
 Till those who loved when they were near in absence love them 
 not. 
 
 And, 'Fortune, do thy worst; it is not meant. 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment. 
 
 " And since 'tis my unhappy lot, through slander's cruel wiles, 
 I should be robbed so many years of Zaida's cheering smiles. 
 Yet those who say that I am false, and name Celinda's name, 
 Oh, may they gain no end at length but obloquy and shame ! 
 It is not just that to these words and to these anxious fears. 
 These wild complaints, the god of love should close his heed- 
 less ears ! 
 Yes, I deserve a better fate, the fate that makes more sure ; 
 The fame of those whose slanderous tongue in banishment 
 endure. 
 
 And, Fortune, do thy worst ; it is not meant. 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment." 
 
 He spoke, and, lo ! before him he saw the city stand. 
 
 With walls and towers that frowned in might upon that fertile 
 
 land. 
 And he saw the glittering banners of Almanzor set on high. 
 And swaying in the gentle breeze that filled the summer sky. 
 And those who stood upon the walls, soon as he came in sight. 
 Streamed forth from the portcullis with welcome for the knight, 
 For they marvelled at the prancing steed that rushed across 
 
 the plain. 
 They marvelled at his thundering voice and words of deep 
 
 disdain. 
 
 And, Fortune, do thy worst ; it is not meant. 
 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment. 
 
 And as he rode into the town and galloped to the square, 
 Upon the balconies he saw bright dames with faces bare; 
 
ZAIDE'S LOVE 
 
 59 
 
 They stood, they gazed with eyes of love and gestures of de- 
 light, 
 For they joyed to see among them so stout, so fair a knight. 
 And all of Baza's people with cries his coming greet. 
 And follow at his horse's tail from street to crowded street. 
 His heart with gratitude was filled, his bosom filled with pride. 
 And with dofifed bonnet, lo, he bowed and once again he cried : 
 " And, Fortune, do thy worst ; it is not meant. 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment." 
 
 They led him to the warden's house, and there was feasting 
 
 high. 
 Brave men and beauteous women in crowds were standing by. 
 The trumpets blew in merry strain, the Moorish horns resound, 
 And the strain of joy was echoed from every castle round. 
 And from his colt dismounting he laid his lance aside. 
 And greeted all the multitude that filled the plaza wide. . 
 Then to the strong tower pf the place he hurried from the 
 
 street, 
 And as he went a thousand times his lips would still repeat : 
 
 " And, Fortune, do thy worst ; it is not meant. 
 
 By Allah, that his knight should die in banishment." 
 
 ZAIDE'S LOVE 
 
 Then Zaide stood enraptured and gazed with placid eye. 
 
 For the moment when his heart's desire should be fulfilled was 
 
 nigh. 
 Propitious was the moment, and happy was the hour, 
 When all that he had longed for had come into his power. 
 And he said : " Thrice happy is the wall, and happy is the 
 
 bar, 
 Tho' from my fond embraces, Zaida, it keeps thee far ; 
 For long as thou shalt live on earth, my Zaida, thou art mine ; 
 And the heart that in my bosom beats, long as it beats, is thine. 
 And happy is the green, green sod on which thy feet are set. 
 For the pressure of thy tender foot the grass shall ne'er forget. 
 Shall ne'er forget the white, white heel that o'er the pathway 
 
 came, 
 
6o MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Leaving behind it, everywhere, the print of snow and flame. 
 But far more happy is the knight, if e'er should Allah send 
 To this dark separation a bright and peaceful end. 
 For seems to me the hours that pass, without thy presence 
 
 dear, 
 Wear the dark robe of sorrow, that orphaned children wear. 
 I seek to have thee with me, for it is only to the weak 
 That the happiness is wanting that they do not dare to seek. 
 And if the doom of death is ours, it will not haste the more 
 Because we scorn to think of it upon this happy shore. 
 But ere it come, that doom of death which fills us with alarms, 
 May Allah grant to me the boon of resting in thine arms ! 
 And if, in that supremest bliss, fate favors my design. 
 And love is crowned, the lot of life contented I resign. 
 O darling Zjida; blest is he, 'mid thousands, who can say 
 That on that bosom, in those arms he for one moment lay! 
 Come, darling, to thy Zaide's side, and yield to him thy love ; 
 Thou knowest him brave and good and kind, all other knights 
 
 above ; 
 In owning him thy lover true, thou wilt a partner count 
 Who above all in valor's list is champion paramount. 
 Thy beauty's sway should be unchecked as death's prevailing 
 
 might. 
 But, ah, how many worlds would then sink into endless night ! 
 But come, fair Zaida, quickly come to these expectant arms, 
 And let me win at last the prize of victory o'er thy charms. 
 It is a debt thou owest me, oh, let the debt be paid." 
 Then Zaida rose and showed herself in beauty's robe arrayed, 
 And the Moor cried : " May Allah grant thy sun may ever 
 
 shine. 
 To light with its full splendor this lonely life of mine ! 
 And tho' my stammering tongue be dumb, and like a broken 
 
 lute. 
 And in its loudest efforts to speak thy praise be mute. 
 It can at least announce to thee, loud as the thunder's peal, 
 The service that I owe to thee, the passion that I feel." 
 The Moorish lady smiled at this, and spake in tender tone ; 
 " If all this silent tongue of thine has said be loyal shown, 
 If all thy vows be from thy heart, and all thy heavy sighs 
 From out a breast unchanging, a constant spirit rise, 
 
ZAIDA'S JEALOUSY 6i 
 
 I swear that I would grant thy wish and follow thy behest ; 
 But, ah, I fear lest thy fierce love should bring to me no rest, 
 I fear these honeyed words that from thy lips so lightly fly 
 At last should prove a serpent's fang to sting me till I die." 
 Then swore to her the Moor : " If this the end should ever be. 
 May the firm earth beneath my feet yawn wide and swallow me ! 
 And may the blessed sunlight, the symbol of my hope. 
 Wither these orbs and leave me in eternal night to grope ! " 
 At this the lovers joined their hands and hearts, and, with a 
 
 kiss. 
 Sealed all their vows of friendship and promises of bliss — 
 Their love was strong and solid and constant should remain. 
 Till death should end their bondage and break the golden 
 
 chain. 
 
 ZAIDA'S JEALOUSY. 
 
 Kind friend of Bencerraje's line, what judgment dost thou hold 
 Of all that Zaida's changeful moods before thine eyes unfold ? 
 Now by my life I swear that she to all would yield her will ; 
 Yet by my death I swear that she to all is recreant still. 
 Come near, my friend, and listen while I show to you this note, 
 Which to the lovely lady in bitter grief I wrote; 
 Repeat not what I read to thee, for 'twere a deadly shame. 
 Since thou her face admirest, should slander smirch her name : 
 " O Moorish maiden, who like time, forever on the wing. 
 Dost smiles and tears, with changing charm, to every bosom 
 
 bring. 
 Thy love is but a masquerade, and thou with grudging hand 
 Scatterest the crumbs of hope on all the crowds that round 
 
 thee stand. 
 With thee there is no other law of love and kindliness 
 But what alone may give thee joy and garland of success. 
 With each new plume thy maidens in thy dark locks arrange, 
 With each new tinted garment thy thoughts, thy fancies 
 
 change. 
 I own that thou art fairer than even the fairest flower 
 That at the flush of early dawn bedecks the summer's bower. 
 But, ah, the flowers in summer hours change even till they 
 
 fade, 
 
62 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And thou art changeful as the rose that withers in the shade. 
 And though thou art the mirror of beauty's glittering train. 
 Thy bosom has one blemish, thy mind one deadly stain ; 
 For upon all alike thou shed'st the radiance of thy smile, 
 And this the treachery by which thou dost the world beguile. 
 I do not plead in my complaint thy loveliness is marred. 
 Because thy words are cruel, because thy heart is hard ; 
 Would God that thou wert insensible as is the ocean wild 
 And not to all who meet thee so affable and mild ; 
 Ah, sweetest is the lingering fruit that latest comes in time. 
 Ah, sweetest is the palm-tree's nut that those who reach must 
 
 climb. 
 Alas ! 'twas only yesterday a stranger reached the town — 
 Thou ofiferedst him thy heart and bade him keep it for his own ! 
 O Zatida, tell me, how was this ? for oft I heard thee say 
 That thou wert mine and 'twas to me thy heart was given 
 
 away. 
 Hast thou more hearts than one, false girl, or is it changeful- 
 
 ness 
 That makes thee give that stranger guest the heart that I 
 
 possess ? 
 One heart alone is mine, and that to thee did I resign. 
 If thou hast many, is my love inadequate to thine? 
 O Zaida, how I fear for thee, my veins with anger glow ; 
 O Zaida, turn once more to me, and let the stranger go. 
 As soon as he hath left thy side his pledges, thou wilt find, 
 Were hollow and his promises all scattered to the wind. 
 And if thou sayst thou canst not feel the pains that absence 
 
 brings, 
 'Tis that thy heart has never known love's gentle whisperings. 
 'Tis that thy fickle mind has me relinquished here to pine, 
 Like some old slave forgotten in this palace court of thine. 
 Ah, little dost thou reck of me, of all my pleasures flown, 
 But in thy pride dost only think, false lady, of thine own. 
 And is it weakness bids me still to all thy faults be blind 
 And bear thy lovely image thus stamped upon my mind ? 
 For when I love, the slight offence, though fleeting may be 
 
 the smart, 
 Is heinous as the treacherous stroke that stabs a faithful heart. 
 And woman by one look unkind, one frown, can bring despair 
 
ZAIDA OF TOLEDO 63 
 
 Upon the bosom of the man whose spirit worships her. 
 Take, then, this counsel, 'tis the last that I shall breathe to 
 
 thee, 
 Though on the winds I know these words of mine will wasted 
 
 be: 
 I was the first on whom thou didst bestow the fond caress, 
 And gave those pledges of thy soul, that hour of happinessj 
 Oh, keep the faith of those young days ! Thy honor and re- 
 nown 
 Thou must not blight by love unkind, by treachery's heartless 
 
 frown. 
 For naught in life is safe'and sure if faith thou shouldst discard, 
 And the sunlight of the fairest soul is oft the swiftest marred. 
 I will not sign this letter nor set to it my name; 
 For I am not that happy man to whom love's message came. 
 Who in thy bower thy accents sweet enraptured heard that day, 
 When on thy heaving bosom, thy chosen love, I lay. 
 Yet well thou'lt know the hand that wrote this letter for thine 
 
 eye. 
 For conscience will remind thee of thy fickle treachery. 
 Dissemble as thou wilt, and play with woman's skill thy part. 
 Thou knowest there is but one who bears for thee a broken 
 
 heart." 
 Thus read the valiant castellan of Baza's castle tower. 
 Then sealed the scrip and sent it to the Moorish maiden's 
 
 bower. 
 
 ZAIDA OF TOLEDO 
 
 Upon a gilded balcony, which decked a mansion high, 
 A place where ladies kept their watch on every passer-by, 
 While Tagus with a murmur mild his gentle waters drew 
 To touch the mighty buttress with waves so bright and blue. 
 Stands Zaida, radiant in her charms, the flower of Moorish 
 
 maids, 
 And with her arching hand of snow her anxious eyes she 
 
 shades, 
 Searching the long and dusty road that to Ocaiia leads, 
 For the flash of knightly armor and the tramp of hurrying 
 
 steeds. 
 
64 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The glow of amorous hope has Ht her cheek with rosy red, 
 Yet wrinkles of too anxious love her beauteous brow o'er- 
 
 spread ; 
 For she looks to see if up the road there rides a warrior tall— 
 The haughty Bencerraje, whom she loves the best of all. 
 At every looming figure that blots the vega bright, 
 She starts and peers with changing face, and strains her 
 
 eager sight ; 
 For every burly form she sees upon the distant street 
 Is to her the Bencerraje whom her bosom longs to greet. 
 And many a distant object that rose upon her view 
 Filled her whole soul with rapture, as her eager eyes it drew ; 
 But when it nearer came, she turned away, in half despair, 
 Her vision had deceived her, Bencerraje was not there. 
 " My own, my Bencerraje, if but lately you descried 
 That I was angry in my heart, and stubborn in my pride. 
 Oh, let my eyes win pardon, for they with tears were wet. 
 Why wilt thou not forgive me, why wilt thou not forget? 
 And I repented of that mood, and gave myself the blame, 
 And thought, perhaps it was my fault that, at the jousting 
 
 game. 
 There was no face among the knights so filled with care as 
 
 thine, • 
 So sad and so dejected, yes, I thought the blame was mine! 
 And yet I was, if thou with thought impartial wilt reflect. 
 Not without cause incensed with thee, for all thy strange 
 
 neglect. 
 Neglect that not from falseness or words of mine had sprung 
 But from the slanderous charges made by a lying tongue ; 
 And now I ask thee pardon, if it be not too late. 
 Oh, take thy Zaida to thy heart, for she is desolate ! 
 For if thou pardon her, and make her thine again, I swear 
 Thou never wilt repent, dear love, thou thus hast humored 
 
 her! 
 It is the law of honor, which thou wilt never break, 
 That the secret of sweet hours of love thou mayst not com- 
 mon make. 
 That never shouldst thou fail in love, or into coldness fall, 
 Toward thy little Moorish maiden, who has given thee her 
 
 all." 
 
ZAIDE REBUKED 65 
 
 She spoke ; and Bencerraje, upon his gallant bay. 
 
 Was calling to her from the street, where he loitered blithe 
 
 and gay, 
 And quickly she came down to him, to give him, e'er they part, 
 Her rounded arms, her ivory neck, her bosom, and her heart ! 
 
 ZAIDE REBUKED 
 
 See, Zaide, let me tell you not to pass along my street. 
 Nor gossip with my maidens nor with my servants treat; 
 Nor ask them whom I'm waiting for, nor who a visit pays, 
 What balls I seek, what robe I think my beauty most dis- 
 plays. 
 'Tis quite enough that for thy sake so many face to face 
 Aver that I, a witless Moor, a witless lover chase. 
 I know that thou art a valiant man, that thou hast slaughtered 
 
 more. 
 Among thy Christian enemies, than thou hast drops of gore. 
 Thou art a gallant horseman, canst dance and sing and play 
 Better than can the best we meet upon a summer's day. 
 Thy brow is white, thy cheek is red, thy lineage is renowned, 
 And thou amid the reckless and the gay art foremost found. 
 I know how great would be my loss, in losing such as thee ; 
 I know, if I e'er won thee, how great my gain would be : 
 And wert thou dumb even from thy birth, and silent as the 
 
 grave. 
 Each woman might adore thee, and call herself thy slave. 
 But 'twere better for us both I turn away from thee. 
 Thy tongue is far too voluble, thy manners far too free; 
 Go find some other heart than mine that will thy ways endure. 
 Some woman who, thy constancy and silence to secure, 
 Can build within thy bosom her castle high and strong. 
 And put a jailer at thy lips, to lock thy recreant tongue. 
 Yet hast thou gifts that ladies love; thy bearing bold and 
 
 bright 
 Can break through every obstacle that bars them from delight. 
 And with such gifts, friend Zaide, thou spreadest thy banquet 
 
 board, 
 And bidst them eat the dish so sweet, and never say a word ! 
 s 
 
66 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 But that which thou hast done to me, Zaide, shall cost thee 
 
 dear; 
 And happy would thy lot have been hadst thou no change to 
 
 fear. 
 Happy if when thy snare availed to make the prize thine own, 
 Thou hadst secured the golden cage before the bird was flown. 
 For scarce thy hurrying footsteps from Tarfe's garden came. 
 Ere thou boastedst of thine hour of bliss, and of my lot ol 
 
 shame. 
 They tell me that the lock of hair I gave thee on that night. 
 Thou drewest from thy bosom, in all the people's sight. 
 And gav'st it to a base-born Moor, who took the tresses 
 
 curled. 
 And tied them in thy turban, before the laughing world. 
 I ask not that thou wilt return nor yet the relic keep. 
 But I tell thee, while thou wearest it, my shame is dire and 
 
 deep: 
 They say that thou hast challenged him, and swearest he shall 
 
 rue 
 For all the truths he spake of thee — would God they were not 
 
 true! 
 Who but can laugh to hear thee blame the whispers that re- 
 veal 
 Thy secret, though thy secret thyself couldst not conceal. 
 No words of thine can clear thy guilt nor pardon win from me. 
 For the last time my words, my glance, have been addressed 
 
 to thee." 
 Thus to the lofty warrior of Abencerraje's race 
 The lady spoke in anger, and turned away her face: 
 " 'Tis right," she said, " the Moor whose tongue has proved 
 
 to me unkind 
 Should in the sentence of my tongue fit retribution find." 
 
ZAIDA'S INCONSTANCY 67 
 
 EAIDA'S INCONSTANCY 
 
 O fairest Zaida, thou whose face brings rapture to mine eyes ! 
 O fairest Zaida, in whose smile my soul's existence lies ! 
 Fairest of Moorish maidens, yet in revengeful mood. 
 Above all Moorish maidens, stained by black ingratitude. 
 'Tis of thy golden locks that love has many a noose entwined. 
 And souls of free men at thy sight full oft are stricken blind ; 
 Yet tell me, proud one, tell me, what pleasure canst thou gain 
 From showing to the world a heart so fickle and so vain ? 
 And, since my adoration thou canst not fail to know. 
 How is it that thy tender heart can treat thy lover so ? 
 And art thou not content my fondest hopes to take away. 
 But thou must all my hope, my life, destroy, in utter ruin 
 
 lay? 
 My faithful love, sweet enemy ! how ill dost thou requite ! 
 And givest in exchange for it but coldness and despite ; 
 Thy promises, thy pledge of love, thou to the gale wouldst 
 
 fling; 
 Enough that they were thine, false girl, that they should all 
 
 take wing. 
 Remember how upon that day thou gavest many a sign 
 Of love and lavished'st the kiss which told me thou wert 
 
 mine. 
 Remember, lovely Zaida, though memory bring thee pain. 
 Thy bliss when 'neath thy window I sang my amorous strain. • 
 By day, before the window, I saw my darling move. 
 At night, upon the balcony, I told thee of my love. 
 If I were late or absence detained me from thy sight. 
 Then jealous rage distraught thy heart, thine eyes with tears 
 
 were bright. 
 But now that thou hast turned from me, I come thy face to 
 
 greet. 
 And thou biddest me begone, and pass no longer through thy 
 
 street. 
 Thou biddest me look on thee no more, nor even dare to write 
 The letter or the billet-doux, that caused thee once delight. 
 Yes, Zaida, all thy favors, thy love, thy vows, are shown 
 To be but false and faithless, since thou art faithless grown. 
 
68 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 But why ? thou art a woman, to fickle falseness bom ; 
 Thou prizest those who scorn thee— those who love thee thou 
 
 dost scorn. 
 I change not, thou art changed, whose heart once fondly 
 
 breathed my name; 
 But the more thy bosom turns to ice, the fiercer burns my 
 
 flame J 
 For all thy coldness I with love and longing would repay. 
 For passion founded on good faith can never die away. 
 
 ZAIDE'S DESOLATION 
 
 It was the hour when Titan from Aurora's couch awoke, 
 And on the world her radiant face in wonted beauty broke. 
 When a Moor came by in sad array, and Zaide was his name. 
 Disguised, because his heart was sad with love's consuming 
 
 flame; 
 No shield he bore, he couched no lance, he rode no warrior 
 
 steed ; 
 No plume nor mantle he assumed, motto or blazon screed ; 
 Still on the flank of his mantle blank one word was written 
 
 plain, 
 In the Moorish of the people, " I languish through disdain." 
 A flimsy cape his shoulders clad, for, when the garb is poor. 
 Nobility is honored most because 'tis most obscure. 
 If he in poverty appeared, 'twas love that made him so ; 
 Till love might give the wealth he sought thus mourning 
 
 would he go. 
 And still he journeys through the hills and shuns the haunts 
 
 of men; 
 None look upon his misery in field or lonely fen. 
 Fair Zaida ne'er forgets that he is prince of all the land. 
 And ruler of the castles that at Granada stand ; 
 But gold or silver or brocade can ne'er supply the lack 
 Of honor in a noble line whose crimes have stained it black ; 
 For sunlight never clears the sky when night has spread her 
 
 cloak. 
 But only when the glory of the morning has awoke. 
 He lives secure from jealous care, holding the priceless dower 
 
ZAIDA'S LAMENT 69 
 
 Which seldom falls to loving hearts or sons of wealth and 
 
 power. 
 Poor is his garb, yet at his side a costly blade appears, 
 'Tis through security of mind no other arms he bears. 
 
 'Tis love that from Granada's home has sent him thus to rove, 
 
 And for the lovely Zaida he languishes with love — 
 
 The loveliest face that by God's grace the sun e'er shone 
 above. 
 
 From court and mart he lives apart, such ,is the King's de- 
 sire; 
 
 Yet the King's friend Alfaqui is the fair maiden's sire. 
 
 Friend of the King, the throne's support, a monarch's son 
 is he. 
 
 And he has sworn that never Moor his daughter's spouse 
 shall be. 
 
 He has no ease till the monarch sees his daughter's loveliness. 
 
 But she has clasped brave Zaide's hand, and smiled to his 
 caress. 
 
 And said that to be his alone is her sole happiness. 
 
 And after many journeys wide, wearied of banishment. 
 
 He sees the lofty tower in which his Moorish maid is pent. 
 
 ZAIDA'S LAMENT 
 
 Now the hoarse trumpets of the morn were driving sleep 
 
 away ; 
 They sounded as the fleeting night gave truce unto the day. 
 The hubbub of the busy crowd ceased at that dulcet sound. 
 In which one moment high and low peace and refreshment 
 
 found. 
 The hoot of the nocturnal owl alone the silence broke, 
 While from the distance could be heard the din of waking 
 
 folk; 
 And, in the midst of silence, came the sound as Zaida wept. 
 For all night long in fear of death she waked while others 
 
 slept. 
 And as she sighed, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
7© MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 For evil tongues, who thought to win her favor with a lie, 
 Had told her that the bold Gazul ordained that she should die ; 
 And so she donned a Moor's attire, and put her own away, 
 And on the stroke of midnight from Xerez took her way. 
 
 And as she sighed, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
 She rode a nimble palfrey and scarce could great Gazul 
 Excel the ardent spirit with which her heart was full. 
 Yet at every step her palfrey took, she turned her head for 
 
 fear. 
 To see if following on her track some enemy were near. 
 
 And as she werit, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
 To shun suspicion's eye, at last she left the king's highway. 
 And took the journey toward Seville that thro' a bypath lay ; 
 With loosened rein her gallant steed right swiftly did she ride, 
 Yet to her fear he did appear like a rock on the rough way- 
 side. 
 And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
 So secretly would she proceed, her very breath she held, 
 Tho' with a rising storm of sighs her snowy bosom swelled. 
 And here and there she made a halt, and bent her head to 
 
 hear 
 If footsteps sounded ; then, assured, renewed her swift career. 
 And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
 Her fancy in the silent air could whispering voices hear ; 
 
 " I'll make of thee a sacrifice, to Albenzaide dear ; " 
 
 This fancy took her breath away, lifeless she sank at length, 
 
ZAIDA'S CURSE 
 
 71 
 
 And grasped the saddle-bow ; for fear had sapped her spirit's 
 strength. 
 And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
 She came in sight of proud Seville ; but the darkness bade her 
 
 wait 
 Till dawn; when she alighted before a kinsman's gate. 
 Swift flew the days, and when at last the joyful truth she 
 
 learned, 
 That she had been deceived ; in joy to Xerez she returned. 
 And as she went, she sang aloud a melancholy strain ; 
 " And who would wish to die," she said, " though death 
 be free from pain ? " 
 
 ZAIDA'S CURSE 
 
 And Zaida Cegri, desolate. 
 Whom by the cruel cast of fate. 
 Within one hour, the brandished blade 
 From wife had mourning widow made. 
 On Albenzaide's corse was bowed, 
 Shedding hot tears, with weeping loud. 
 Bright as the gold of Araby 
 
 Shone out her locks unbound ; 
 And while, as if to staunch the blood. 
 
 Her hand lay on the wound. 
 She fixed her glances on Gazul, 
 
 Still by his foes attacked. 
 " 'Twas cruel rage, not jealous love, 
 
 That urged this wicked act." 
 (Thus she began with trembling voice.) 
 
 " And I to God will pray 
 That for thy treacherous violence 
 
 Thy dastard life shall pay. 
 And midway, on thy journey down 
 To fair Sidonia's castled town, 
 Mayst thou alone, with no retreat, 
 The valiant Garci- Perez meet ; 
 And mayst thou, startled at the sight. 
 
ya MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Lose all the vigor of thy might ; 
 Thy reins with palsied fingers yield ; 
 And find no shelter in thy shield. 
 There sudden death or captive shame 
 Blot all thy valor but the name. 
 Thy warrior garb thou turnest 
 
 To the livery of the slave ; 
 Thy coat of steel is no cuirass, 
 
 No harness of the brave ; 
 When to Sidonia thou art come. 
 
 To meet thy amorous mate, 
 May foul suspicion turn her heart 
 
 From love to deadly hate. 
 Begone ! no more the course pursue 
 Of faithless love and vows untrue. 
 To remain true to such as thee 
 Were naught but blackest perjury. 
 I fear not, hound, thy sword of might ; 
 Turn, traitor, turn and leave my sight, 
 For thou wert born to change thy mind. 
 And fling all fealty to the wind. 
 Ignoble origin is thine. 
 For lovers of a noble line 
 Have no such rancorous hearts as thine. 
 And here I pray that God will bring 
 
 His curse upon thy soul, 
 That thou in war, in peace, in love; 
 
 May meet with failure foul. 
 And that Sanlucar's lady. 
 
 Whom thou wishest for a bride, 
 Thee from her castle entrance 
 
 May spurn thee in her pride. 
 A widowed wife with bleeding heart, 
 Hear me one moment ere we part ! 
 Thy knightly service I distrust, 
 I hear thy voice with deep disgust." 
 Cut to the heart by words so rude. 
 The Moor within the palace stood ; 
 Say what he could, 'twas but to find 
 His vain word wasted on the wind. 
 
THE TOURNAMENT OF ZAIDE 73 
 
 THE TOURNAMENT OF ZAIDE 
 
 By Zaide has a feast been pledged to all Granada's dames, 
 For in his absence there had been dire lack of festive games, 
 And, to fulfil the promise the noble man had made. 
 He called his friends to join him in dance and serenade. 
 There should be sport of every kind; the youths in white 
 
 arrayed 
 Were, to the ladies all unknown, to lead the camisade. 
 And ere the radiance of dawn could tint the valley-side, 
 The merry Moor had come abroad, his friends were at his 
 
 side. 
 He gathered round a company, they formed a joyous train ; 
 There were fifty gentlemen, the noblest names in Spain. 
 Before the dawn they sallied forth the ladies to surprise 
 And all that snowy gowns conceal to see with open eyes. 
 They bound their brows with garlands of flowerets sweet and 
 
 bright. 
 In one hand each a cane-stalk bore, in one a taper white, 
 And the clarions began to blow, and trump and Moorish horn. 
 And whoop and shout and loud huzzas adown the street were 
 
 borne. 
 From right to left the clamor spread along the esplanade. 
 And envious Abaicin a thousand echoes made. 
 The startled horses galloped by, amid the people's yells ; 
 The town to its foundation shook with the jingle of their bells. 
 Amid the crowd some run, some shout, " Stop, stop ! " the 
 
 elders say; 
 Then all take order and advance to Alcazaba's way ; 
 Others from Vavataubin to Alpujarra fare, 
 Down the street of the Gomelas or to Vivarrambla Square. 
 Now the whole town is on its feet, from wall to towering wall 
 They surge with shouts or flock around the tower and castle 
 
 tall. 
 The ladies who are tenderest and given most to sleep 
 Awaken at the hubbub and from their windows peep. 
 And there are seen dishevelled locks clasped by the lily hand ; 
 And snowy throat and bosom bare, revealed in public, stand ; 
 And in their drowsy disarray, and in their anxious fear, 
 
74 
 
 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Each Moorish lady is surprised with many a sudden tear ; 
 And many a heart was filled that night with feverish unrest, 
 As one tall maid looked through the pane with white and 
 
 heaving breast. 
 And many a Moorish girl was seen by revellers that night 
 Or running in confusion or halting from afifright ; 
 But no one saw fair Zaida, except by memory's sight; 
 And Zaide in the darkness, with Muza as his guide. 
 Hurried about the city ; what a crowd was at their side ! 
 What racket, and what riot, what shout and prank and play ! 
 It would have had no end unless the sun had brought the day. 
 And now the leading revellers mustered their ranks once 
 
 more; 
 To close the frolic with one word ; " Go home ; the game is 
 
 o'er." 
 
 ZAIDE'S COMPLAINT 
 
 Brave Zaide paces up and down impatiently the street 
 Where his lady from the balcony is wont her knight to greet. 
 And he anxiously awaits the hour when she her face will show 
 Before the open lattice and speak to him below. 
 The Moor is filled with desperate rage, for he sees the hour 
 
 is fled 
 When day by day the dazzling ray of sunlight gilds that head. 
 And he stops to brood in desperate mood, for her alone he 
 
 yearns 
 Can aught soothe the fire of fierce desire with which his bosom 
 
 burns. 
 At last he sees her moving with all her wonted grace. 
 He sees her and he hastens to their old trysting-place ; 
 For as the moon when night is dark and clouds of tempest fly 
 Rises behind the dim-lit wood and lights the midnight sky, 
 Or like the sun when tempests with inky clouds prevail, 
 He merges for one moment and shows his visage pale ; 
 So Zaida on her balcony in gleaming beauty stood. 
 And the knight for a moment gazed at her and checked his 
 
 angry mood. 
 Zaide beneath the balcony with trembling heart drew near; 
 He halted and with upward glance spoke to his lady dear: 
 
ZAIDE'S COMPLAINT 
 
 75 
 
 " Fair Moorish maiden, may thy Hfe, by Allah guarded still, 
 Bring thee the full fruition of that that thou dost will ; 
 And if the servants of thy house, the pages of my hall, 
 Have lied about thine honor, perdition seize them all; 
 For they come to me and murmur low and whisper in my ear 
 That thou wishest to disown me, thy faithful cavalier; 
 And they say that thou art pledged to one a Moor of wealth 
 
 and pride. 
 Who will take thee to his father's house and claim thee as his 
 
 bride. 
 For he has come to woo thee from the wide lands of his sire ; 
 And they say that his scimitar is keen and his heart a flame of 
 
 fire. 
 And if, fair Zaida, this is true, I kneel before thy feet 
 Imploring thou wilt tell me true, and fling away deceit ; 
 For all the town is talking, still talking of our love. 
 And the tongues of slander, to thy blame, to my derision 
 
 move." 
 The lady blushed, she bowed her head, then to the Moor re- 
 plied : 
 " Dear heart of mine, of all my friends the most undoubted 
 
 friend. 
 The time has come our friendship should have an early end ; 
 If all, indeed, these tidings know, as you yourself declare. 
 Pray tell me who of all the town first laid this secret bare. 
 For if the life that now I lead continue, I shall die. 
 'Tis cheered by love, but tortured by hopeless agony. 
 God only knows why I the sport of cruel fate should be. 
 God only knows the man who says that I am false to thee. 
 Thou knowest well that Zaida has loved thee long and true, 
 Tho' her ancient Hneage, Moorish knight, is more than is thy 
 
 due. 
 And thou knowest well the loud expostulations of my sire. 
 Thou knowest how my mother curses me with curses dire 
 Because I wait for thee by day, for thee by night I wait. 
 Tho' far thou comest in the eve, yet dost thou tarry late. 
 They say to hush the common talk 'tis time that I be wed. 
 And to his home by some fond Moor in bridal veil be led. 
 Ah ! many are the lovely dames, tall and of beauteous face, 
 Who are burning in Granada to take my envied place. 
 
76 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 They look at thee with loving eyes and from the window call; 
 
 And, Zaide, thou deservest well the brightest of them all. 
 
 For thou thyself thine amorous eyes have turned and yet will 
 
 turn 
 Upon the Moorish maidens who for thy embraces burn." 
 Then with dejected visage the Moor this answer made. 
 While a thousand thoughts of sorrow his valorous breast in- 
 vade: 
 " Ah, little did I think," he said, " and little did I know 
 That thou, my lovely Zaida, would ever treat me so ; 
 And little did I think thou wouldst have done this cruel deed 
 And by thy changeful heart would thus have made my heart 
 
 to bleed. 
 And this for one unworthy, a man who could not claim 
 That thou should sacrifice to him thy love, thy life, thy name. 
 And art thou she who long ago, when evening veiled the sky. 
 Didst say to me with tender smile from the lofty balcony, 
 ' Zaide, I am thine own, thine own, thine own I still shall 
 
 be. 
 And thou the darling of my soul art life itself to me ' ? " 
 
 GUHALA'S LOVE 
 
 The bravest youth that e'er drew rein 
 Upon Granada's flowery plain, 
 A courteous knight, of gentle heart. 
 Accomplished in the jouster's art ; 
 Well skilled to guide the flying steed, 
 And noted for each warlike deed ; 
 And while his heart like steel was set 
 When foeman in the battle met, 
 "Twas wax before his lady's eyes 
 And melted at her amorous sighs ; 
 And he was Hke a diamond bright 
 Amid the sword-thrusts of the fight. 
 And in the zambra's festive hour 
 Was gracious as the summer's flower. 
 In speech he showed the generous mind, 
 Where wit and wisdom were combined; 
 
GUHALA'S LOVE 
 
 And, while his words no envy woke, 
 
 He weighed each sentence that he spoke. 
 
 And yet his mantle was of blue, 
 
 And tinged with sorrow's violet hue; 
 
 For fair Guhala, Moorish maid, 
 
 Her spell upon his heart had laid; 
 
 And thus his cape of safifron bare 
 
 The color emblem of despair; 
 
 On turban and on tassel lie 
 
 The tints that yield an August sky ; 
 
 For anxious love was in his mind ; 
 
 And anxious love is ever blind. 
 
 With scarce a word did he forsake 
 
 The lady pining for his sake ; 
 
 For, when the festal robe he wore, 
 
 Her soul the pall of sorrow wore. 
 
 And now he journeyed on his way 
 
 To Jaen, for the jousting day, 
 
 And to Guhala, left alone. 
 
 All relic of delight was gone. 
 
 Tho' the proud maid of matchless face 
 
 A thousand hearts would fain embrace, 
 
 She loved but one, and swiftly ran 
 
 And spake her mind to Arbolan. 
 
 " O Arbolan, my Moor, my own. 
 
 Surely thy love is feeble grown ! 
 
 The least excuse can bid thee part. 
 
 And tear with pain this anxious heart. 
 
 Oh, that it once were granted me 
 
 To mount my steed and follow thee; 
 
 How wouldst thou marvel then to see 
 
 That courage of true love in me, 
 
 Whose pulse so feebly throbs in thee." 
 
 Thus to see Arbolan depart 
 
 So fills with grief Guhala's heart. 
 
 The Moorish maid, while on he sped, 
 
 Lies sickening on her mournful bed. 
 
 Her Moorish damsels strive to know 
 
 The secret of this sudden blow; 
 
 They ask the cause that lays her low ; 
 
 71 
 
j8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 They seek the sad disease to heal, 
 
 Whose cause her feigning words conceal. 
 
 And less, indeed, the doubling folds 
 
 The Moor within his turban holds. 
 
 Than are the wiles Guhala's mind 
 
 In search of secrecy can find. 
 
 To Zara only, whom she knows. 
 
 Sole friend amid a ring of foes, 
 
 The sister of her lover leal. 
 
 She will the secret cause reveal. 
 
 And seeking an occasion meet 
 
 To tell with truth and tongue discreet. 
 
 While from her eyes the tear-drops start. 
 
 She opens thus her bleeding heart: 
 
 " O Zara, Zara, to the end. 
 
 Thou wilt remain my faithful friend. 
 
 How cruel is the lot I bear. 
 
 Thy brother's peril makes me fear ! 
 
 'Tis for his absence that I mourn. 
 
 I sicken, waiting his return ! " 
 
 Such were the words Guhala said. 
 
 The love-lorn and afflicted maid 
 
 Nor further power and utterance found. 
 
 But, fainting, sank upon the ground; 
 
 For strength of love had never art 
 
 To fill with Ufe a pining heart. 
 
 AZARCO OF GRANADA 
 
 Azarco left his heart behind 
 
 When he from Seville passed, 
 And winsome Celindaja 
 
 As hostage held it fast. 
 The heart which followed with the Moo» 
 
 Was lent him by the maid. 
 And at their tearful parting, 
 
 " Now guard it well," she said. 
 " O Ught of my distracted eyes. 
 
 When thou hast reached the fight. 
 
AZARCO REBUKED 79 
 
 In coat of double-proof arrayed, 
 
 As fits a gallant knight. 
 Let loyal love and constancy 
 
 Be thy best suit of mail, 
 In lonely hours of absence, 
 
 When faith is like to fail. 
 The Moorish girls whom thou shalt meet 
 
 Are dazzling in their grace. 
 Of peerless wit and generous heart. 
 
 And beautiful of face. 
 These in the dance may lure thy heart 
 
 To think of me no more, 
 But none will e'er adore thee 
 
 As I, thy slave, adore. 
 For to live lonely without thee 
 
 Untouched by jealous fear. 
 Is more than my poor heart can brook, 
 
 Thou art to me so dear. 
 If e'er in festal halls thou meet 
 
 Some peril to my peace, 
 Azarco, turn thy look away. 
 
 And check thine eyes' caprice. 
 For 'tis by wandering eyes the foes 
 
 Of constancy increase. 
 May Allah and the prophet 
 
 Make thy pathway safe and clear; 
 And may one thought be thine abroad 
 
 And Celindaja's here." 
 
 AZARCO REBUKED 
 
 " Draw rein, draw rein one moment. 
 
 And calm thy hurrying steed. 
 Who bounds beneath the furious spur 
 
 That makes his flank to bleed. 
 Here would I, by my grief distraught, 
 
 Upon the very spot. 
 Remind thee of the happy hours 
 
 Thou, faithless, hast forgot. 
 
8o MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 When thou, upon thy prancing barb, 
 
 Adown this street would pace, 
 And only at my window pause 
 
 To gaze into my face. 
 At thought of all thy cruelty 
 
 A stricken slave I pine; 
 My heart is burning since it touched 
 
 That frozen breast of thine. 
 How many pledges didst thou give. 
 
 To win me for thine own! 
 Our oaths were mutual; I am true, 
 
 Whilst thou art recreant grown. 
 My eyes, they thrilled thee yesterday. 
 
 To-day thou hast no fears ; 
 For love is not ahke two days 
 
 Within a thousand years. 
 I thought thy name a pledge to me 
 
 Of fondest hope; no less 
 That thou wouldst take as pledges true 
 
 My kiss and soft caress. 
 What were thy glowing words btit lures 
 
 Thy victim's eyes to blind? 
 Now safe from treachery's hour I bear 
 
 No rancor in my mind. 
 But better had I known the truth, 
 
 When I desired to know. 
 And listened to thy pleading words. 
 
 And read thy written vow. 
 Nay, give me no excuses vain. 
 
 For none of them I ask, 
 Plead truth to her thou cozenest now — 
 
 They'll serve thee in the task. 
 And if my counsel thou wilt take, 
 
 Forget these eyes, this heart, 
 Forget my grief at thy neglect — 
 
 Forget me — and depart." 
 Thus to the Moor, Azarco, 
 
 The lovely Zaida cried, 
 And closed her lattice, overwhelmed 
 
 With sorrow's rising tide. 
 
ADELIFA'S FAREWELL 8i 
 
 He spurred his barb and rode away, 
 
 Scattering the dust behind, 
 And cursed the star that made his heart 
 
 Inconstant as the wind. 
 
 ADELIFA'S FAREWELL 
 
 Fair Adelifa tore her hair. 
 Her cheeks were furrowed o'er with care, 
 When brave Azarco she descried 
 Ascending the tall galley's side. 
 She flung the dust upon her head, 
 She wrung her lily hands and shed 
 Hot tears, and cursed the bitter day 
 That bore her heart's delight away. 
 " Thou, who my glory's captain art, 
 And general of my bleeding heart. 
 Guardian of every thought I know, 
 And sharer of my lot of woe ; 
 Light that illumes my happy face. 
 The bUss of my soul's dwelling-place; 
 Why must thou disappear from me. 
 Thou glass wherein myself I see? 
 Azarco, bid me understand 
 What is it thou dost command — 
 Must I remain and wait for thee? 
 Ah, tedious will that waiting be. 
 To war thou farest, but I fear 
 Another war awaits thee here. 
 Thou thinkest in some rural nest 
 Thou'lt set me to be safe at rest. 
 Ah, if my absence cause thee pain, 
 My love attend thee on yon plain. 
 Thy valiant arms' unaided might 
 Shall win thee victory in the fight. 
 My faith, Azarco, is thy shield ; 
 It will protect thee in the field. 
 Thou shalt return with victory. 
 For victory embarks with thee. 
 
 6 
 
gj MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 But thou wilt say, Azarco dear, 
 That women's lightness is to fear. 
 As with armed soldiers, so you find, 
 Each woman has a different mind. 
 And none shall ever, without thee. 
 Me in the dance or revel see; 
 Nor to the concert will I roam. 
 But stay in solitude at home. 
 The Moorish girls shall never say 
 I dress in robes of holiday; 
 'Twere vain to make the body fine 
 Whose soul is on the sea with thine." 
 With this Celinda came in sight, 
 Bahata's sister tall and bright; 
 This to an end her farewell brought, 
 But not her dark and anxious thought. 
 
 AZARCO'S FAREWELL 
 
 " Now saddle me the silver gray, 
 
 The steed of noble race. 
 And give to me the shield of Fez, 
 
 And my strong corslet lace; 
 Give me a double-headed lance. 
 
 With points of temper fine; 
 And, with the casque of stubborn steel. 
 
 That purple cap of mine. 
 Its plumes unite the saffron's tint 
 
 With heron's crest of snow. 
 And one long spray of fluttering gray. 
 
 Then give it e'er I go. 
 And I'll put on the hood of blue 
 
 That Celin's daughter fair, 
 My Adelifa, best-beloved, 
 
 Once gave to me to wear. 
 And the square boss of metal bring, 
 
 That circling boughs entwine 
 With laurels, in whose leaves of gold 
 
 The clustered emeralds shine. 
 
AZARCO'S FAREWELL 83 
 
 Adonis, hastening to the hunt, 
 
 His heavenly mistress shuns. 
 The mountain boars before him flee, 
 
 And, ' Die,' the motto runs." 
 'Twas thus the Moor Azarco spoke, 
 
 Just as the war begun, 
 To stout Almoralife 
 
 Of Baza, Zelma's son. 
 AlmoraHfe, brave and wise. 
 
 Full many a minstrel sings, 
 A knight who in Granada 
 
 Was counted with its kings. 
 And when they bring the boss of gold 
 
 He heaves a thousand sighs 
 O'er brave Adonis and his doom. 
 
 Who by the wild boar dies. 
 " O Adelifa, soul of mine, 
 
 Rejoice, and murmur not. 
 Up to the end be merry. 
 
 When worms shall be thy lot. 
 My day of life must needs be short, 
 
 Thy firmness must be long; 
 Although thou art a woman, 
 
 Unlike thy sex, be strong. 
 Be not like Venus, tho' in form 
 
 Thou art indeed her peer. 
 For she forgot in absence. 
 
 And did to death her dear. 
 And when alone, upon my face 
 
 And likeness fix thine eyes. 
 And none admit to do me wrong, 
 
 And thy soft heart surprise. 
 'Twixt sadness and repining 
 
 Love runs his changing way, 
 The gay he oft makes sorrowful, 
 
 The sorrowful makes gay. 
 Then, mark, love, in my portrait mark, 
 
 The wide eyes' mute appeal, 
 For this enchanted painting 
 
 Can speak and breathe and feel. 
 
84 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Think how those eyes shed many a tear, 
 
 When for thy face they yearn ; 
 And let those tears thy patience win 
 
 To tarry my return." 
 At this Galvano came to say 
 
 That ship and favoring gale 
 Awaited him, and all his host 
 
 Were eager to set sail. 
 The Moor went forth to victory, 
 
 He was not pleasure's slave; 
 His gallant heart was ever prompt 
 
 To keep the pledge he gave. 
 
 CELINDA'S COURTESY 
 
 Azarco on his balcony 
 
 With humble Cegri stood. 
 He talked, and Cegri listened 
 
 In a sad and listless mood; 
 For of his own exploits he read, 
 
 Writ in an open scroll, 
 But envious Cegri heard the tale 
 
 With rage and bitter dole. 
 And thro' Elvira's gate, where spreads 
 
 A prospect wide and free, 
 He marked how Phoebus shot his rays 
 
 Upon the Spanish sea; 
 And bending to the land his eye 
 
 To notice how the scene 
 Of summer had its color changed 
 
 To black from radiant green. 
 He saw that, thro' the gate there passed 
 
 A light that was not day's, 
 Whose splendor, like a dazzling cloud, 
 
 Eclipsed the solar rays. 
 That presence changed the tint of earth, 
 
 Drew off the dusky veil, 
 And turned to living verdure 
 
 The leafage of the dale. 
 
celinDa'S courtesy 8s 
 
 " Till now," Azarco said, " the scene 
 
 Has filled my heart with pain; 
 'Tis freshened by Celinda's face, 
 
 Or passion turns my brain. 
 Ah, well may men her beauty praise, 
 
 For its transcendent might 
 Elates the human spirit, 
 
 And fills it with delight." 
 And as he saw her coming in. 
 
 The Moor his bonnet doffed. 
 And bowed to do her honor. 
 
 And spoke in accents soft. 
 Celinda court'sied to the ground. 
 
 Such favor was not slight. 
 Her kindly greeting gratified 
 
 The fond hopes of the knight. 
 And glad and gloomy, each in turn. 
 
 For such a quick success. 
 He checked a thousand words of love, 
 
 That might his joy express. 
 And following her with eager eyes — 
 
 " I owe thee much," said he, 
 " Who dost reward with such a boon 
 
 My merest courtesy. 
 That favor, tho' unmerited. 
 
 Sweet lady, shall remain 
 Counted among those choicest gifts 
 
 Our reckoning cannot gain. 
 Its memory shall suffice to chase 
 
 The grinding pangs of care ; 
 And softening turn the ills of life 
 
 To glory's guerdon rare." 
 On this Celinda took her leave. 
 
 And vanished from his view. 
 And, thinking proudly of her smile, 
 
 Azarco straight withdrew. 
 
86 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 GAZUL'S DESPONDENCY 
 
 Scarce half a league from Gelva the knight dismounted stood, 
 Leaning upon his upright spear, and bitter was his mood. 
 He thought upon Celinda's curse, and Zaida's fickle mind, 
 " Ah, Fortune, thou to me," he cried, " hast ever proved un- 
 kind." 
 And from his valiant bosom burst a storm of angry sighs, 
 And acts and words of anguish before his memory rise. 
 " Celinda's loss I count as naught, nor fear her wicked will ; 
 I were a fool, thus cursed by her, to love the lady still." 
 In rage from out the sod he drew his spear-head, as he spoke, 
 And in three pieces shivered it against a knotted oak. 
 He tore away the housings that 'neath his saddle hang, 
 He rent his lady's favor as with a lion's fang — 
 The silken ribbon, bright with gold, which in his crest he bore, 
 By loved Celinda knotted there, now loved by him no more. 
 He drew, as rage to madness turned, her portrait from his 
 
 breast ; 
 He spat on it, and to that face derisive jeers addressed. 
 " Why should I dress in robes of joy, whose heart is wounded 
 
 sore. 
 By curses, that requite so ill the duteous love I bore ? 
 Stripped as I am of every hope, 'tis better I go bare, 
 For the black mantle of my soul is but tormenting care ; 
 I vengeance take on yonder oak, pierced by my lance's steel— 
 I dote, for, ah ! the trees I wound, cannot, like women, feel." 
 He took the bridle oflf his steed, " Roam as thou wilt," said he. 
 " As I gave Zaida her release, I give release to thee." 
 The swift horse galloped out of sight ; in melancholy mood. 
 The knight, unhorsed and helmetless, his lonely path pursued. 
 
 GAZUL IN LOVE 
 
 Not greater share did Mars acquire of trophies and renown, 
 Than great Gazul took with him from Gelva's castled town ; 
 And when he to Sanlucar came his lady welcomed him. 
 His cup of happiness at last was beaded to the brim. 
 
CELINDA'S INCONSTANCY 87 
 
 Alone the joyful lovers stood within a garden glade ; 
 Amid the flowers, those happy hours fled to the evening shajde. 
 With fingers deft Celinda wove a wreath, in which were set 
 The rose's rudy petals and the scented mignonette. 
 She plaited him a baldric, with violets circled round, 
 For violets are for lovers, and with this his waist she bound. 
 And then the flowery garland she tied upon his head, 
 " Thy face is delicate and fair as Ganymede's," she said ; 
 " And if great Jove beheld thee now, he'd send his eagle down, 
 To take thee to the palace halls that high Olympus crown." 
 The brave Gazul his lady took and kissed her with a smile ; 
 " She could not be so fair," said he, " the girl, who by her guile 
 Brought ruin on the Trojan realm, and set its towers afire. 
 As thou art, lady of my heart and queen of my desire." 
 " If I, indeed, seem fair to thee, then let the bridal rite 
 Me and the husband of my heart for evermore unite." 
 " Ah, mine will be the gain," he said, and kissed her with de- 
 light. 
 
 CELINDA'S INCONSTANCY 
 
 Gazul, like some brave bull that stands at bay to meet his fate. 
 Has fled from fair Celinda's frown and reached Sanlucar's gate. 
 The Moor bestrides a sorrel mare, her housings are of gray. 
 The desperate Moor is clad in weeds that shall his grief dis- 
 play. 
 The white and green that once he wore to sable folds give room, 
 Love's purple tints are now replaced by those of grief and 
 
 gloom. 
 His Moorish cloak is white and blue, the blue was strewn with 
 
 stars, 
 But now a covering like a cloud the starry radiance mars. 
 And from his head with stripes of black his silken streamers 
 
 flow. 
 His bonnet blue he dyes anew in tints of grief and woe. 
 Alone are seen the tints of green upon his sword-belt spread, 
 For by that blade the blood of foes in vengeance shall be shed. 
 The color of the mantle which on his arm he bore 
 Is like the dark arena's dust when it is drenched in gore. 
 
88 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Black as the buskins that he wears, and black his stirrup's steel, 
 And red with rust of many a year the rowels at his heel. 
 He bears not lance or headed spear, for that which once he bore 
 Was shivered into splinters beside CeHnda's door. 
 He bears a rounded target, whose quarterings display 
 The full moon darting through the clouds her ineffectual ray. 
 For though her orb be full the clouds eclipse her silver light ; 
 The motto : " Fair but cruel, black-hearted though so bright." 
 And as Celinda stripped the wings which on adventure brave 
 Sustained his flight — ^no more shall plume above his helmet 
 
 wave. 
 'Twas noon one Wednesday when Gazul to Gelva's portal 
 
 came. 
 And straight he sought the market-place to join the jousting 
 
 game; 
 The ruler of the city looked at him with surprise. 
 And never lady knew the knight, so dark was his disguise. 
 As they had been as soft as wax, he pierced the targets through 
 With javelins of the hollow cane that in the vega grew ; 
 Not one could stand before the Moor ; the tilters turned and 
 
 fled, 
 For by his exploits was revealed the warrior's name of dread. 
 The lists were in confusion, but calm was on his brow, 
 As, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he breathed a desperate vowj 
 " Would God the malediction of Celinda had come true ! 
 And the spears of my assailant had pierced my bosom through 1 
 And that the dames who pitied me had cursed me where I 
 
 stand ! 
 And bravely falling I became a hero of the land ! 
 That never succor came to me, for that were rapture high 
 To her the angry lioness who prays that I may die ! " 
 He spoke, he spurred his courser fleet, and started for the 
 
 plain, 
 And swore within Celinda's sight he'd ne'er return again. 
 
THE BULL-FIGHT 89 
 
 THE BULL-FIGHT 
 
 The zambra was but ended, and now Granada's King 
 Abdeli called his court to sit on Vivarrambla's ring ; 
 Of noble line the bride and groom whose nuptials bade pre- 
 pare, 
 The struggle between valiant knights and bulls within the 
 
 square. 
 And, when on the arena the mighty bull was freed, 
 Straight to the deadly conflict one warrior spurred his steed ; 
 His mantle was of emerald of texture damascene, 
 And hope was in his folded hood as in his mantle green ; 
 Six squires went with him to the ring beside their lord to stand ; 
 Their livery was brilliant green, so did their lord command. 
 Hope was the augury of his love ; hope's livery he wore ; 
 Yet at his side each squire of his a trenchant rapier bore. 
 Each rapier true was black in hue and sheathed in silver ore ; 
 At once the people knew the knight from his audacious mien— 
 Gazul the brave was recognized as soon as he was seen! 
 With graceful dignity he took his station on the sand, 
 And like a second Mars he seized his rapier in his hand ; 
 With courage strong he eyed the bull, who pawed the ground 
 
 till high 
 The dust of the arena was mingled with the sky. 
 All at the sight were terrified, and now with deadly speed, 
 His horns as keen as points of steel, he rushes at the steed. 
 The brave Gazul was on the watch, to ward the threatened 
 
 blow. 
 And save his steed, and with one stroke to lay the assailant low. 
 The valiant bull, with lowered head advancing to the strife, 
 Felt from skilled hand the tempered brand pierce to his very 
 
 life. 
 Deep wounded to the gory ground, where he had stoutly stood, 
 The horned warrior sank at last, bathed in his own heart's 
 
 blood. 
 Still, on his ruddy couch he lay, his courage quenched at last. 
 At this exploit the plaudits of the assembly filled the blast ; 
 They hailed the knight whose bravery and skill had done the 
 
 deed, 
 
90 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And slain the hero of the ring, and saved his goodly steed, 
 And done such pleasure to the King, and to Celinda fair, 
 To the Queen of Spain and all her train who sat assembled 
 there. 
 
 LOVERS RECONCILED 
 
 Soon as in rage Celinda had closed her lattice fast 
 And scorned the Moor ungrateful for his service in the past, 
 Her passion with reflection turns and in repentance ends ; 
 She longs to see the Moor again and make to him amends ; 
 For in the dance of woman's love through every mood they 
 
 range 
 And those whose hearts are truest are given most to change. 
 And when she saw the gallant knight before the people all 
 Shiver his lance to splinters against her palace wall, 
 And when she saw his cloak of green was changed to mourn- 
 ing gray, 
 She straightway took her mantle with silver buttons gay, 
 She took her hood of purple pleached with the gold brocade. 
 Whose fringes and whose borders were all in pearls arrayed, 
 She brought a cap with sapphires and emeralds bespread ; 
 The green was badge of hope, the blue of jealous rancor dead. 
 With waving plumes of green and white she decked a snowy 
 
 hood, 
 And armed with double heads of steel a lance of orange- 
 wood — 
 For colors of the outer man denote the inner mood. 
 A border too of brilliant green around a target set, 
 The motto this, " 'Tis folly a true lover to forget." 
 And first she learned where bold Gazul was entertained that 
 
 day. 
 And they told her how his coming had put oflF the tilters' play. 
 And at her pleasure-house she bade him meet her face to face ; 
 And they told him how Celinda longed for his loved embrace, 
 And thrice he asked the messenger if all were not a jest. 
 For oft 'tis dangerous to believe the news we love the best. 
 For lovers' hopes are often thorns of rancor and unrest. 
 They told him that the words were true ; and without further 
 speech 
 
LOVERS RECONCILED 91 
 
 The glory of his lady's eyes he sallied forth to reach. 
 
 He met her in a garden where sweet marjoram combined 
 
 With azure violets a scent that ravished every wind. 
 
 The musk and jasmine mingled in leaf and branch and flower, 
 
 Building about the lovers a cool and scented bower. 
 
 The white leaf matched her lily skin, the red his bounding 
 
 heart. 
 For she was beauty's spotless queen, he valor's counterpart. 
 For when the Moor approached her he scarcely raised his eye. 
 Dazed by the expectation that she had raised so high. 
 Celinda with a trembling blush came forth and grasped his 
 
 hand; 
 They talked of love like travellers lost in a foreign land. 
 Then said the Moor, " Why give me now love's sweetest paths 
 
 to trace, 
 Who in thy absence only live on memories of thy face? 
 If thou should speak of Xerez," he said with kindling eye, 
 " Now take my lance, like Zaida's spouse this moment let me 
 
 die, 
 And may I some day find thee in a rival's arms at rest. 
 And he by all thy arts of love be tenderly caressed; 
 Unless the Moor whose slander made me odious in thy eyes 
 In caitiff fraud and treachery abuse thine ear with lies." 
 The lady smiled, her heart was light, she felt a rapture new ; 
 And like each flower that filled their bower the love between 
 
 them grew. 
 For little takes it to revive the love that is but true ; 
 And aided by his lady's hand he hastes her gems to don. 
 And on his courser's back he flings a rich caparison, 
 A head-stall framed of purple web and studded o'er with gold ; 
 And purple plumes and ribbons and gems of price untold ; 
 He clasped the lady to his heart, he whispered words of cheer. 
 And then took horse to Gelva to join the tilting there. 
 
^a MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 CALL TO ARMS 
 
 What time the sun in ocean sank, with myriad colors fair, 
 And jewels of a thousand hues tinted the clouds of air, 
 Brave Gazul at Acala, with all his host, drew rein— 
 They were four hundred noblemen, the stoutest hearts in 
 
 Spain — 
 And scarcely had he reached the town when the command was 
 
 given : 
 " Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of 
 
 heaven ! 
 Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their strain ; 
 Zulema, Tunis' King, now lands upon the coast of Spain, 
 And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train." 
 
 And though at night he entered no torch or lamp he hath. 
 For glorious Celinda is the sun upon his path ; 
 And as he enters in the town at once the word is given : 
 " Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of 
 
 heaven ! 
 Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their 
 
 strain ; 
 Zulema, Tunis' King, now lands upon the coast of Spain, 
 And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train." 
 
 Gazul dismounted from his steed and hastened to his bride ; 
 She sat there mournful and alone and at his sight she sighed ; 
 He flung his arms about the girl ; she shrank from his embrace. 
 And while he looked in wonder, she hid her blushing face ; 
 He said, " And can it be that thou should'st shrink from my 
 
 embrace ? " 
 Before she answered with one voice the air around was riven — 
 " Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of 
 
 heaven ! 
 Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their 
 
 strain ; 
 Zulema, Tunis' King, now lands upon the coast of Spain, 
 And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train." 
 
GAZUL CALUMNIATED 
 
 93 
 
 " Ah, traitor," she repUed to him, " four months wert thou 
 
 away, 
 And I in vain expected some tidings day by day." 
 And humbly did the Moor reply, " Do I deserve the blame ? 
 Who drops the lance to take the pen, he does a deed of shame." 
 They sank into each other's arms just as the word was given : 
 " Now let your shots, your cross-bows, sound to the vault of 
 
 heaven ! 
 Let kettle-drums and trumpets and clarions blend their 
 
 strain ; 
 Zulema, Tunis' King, now lands upon the coast of Spain, 
 And with him ride, in arms allied, Marbello and his train." 
 
 GAZUL CALUMNIATED 
 
 Gazul, despairing, issues 
 
 From high Villalba's gate, 
 Cursing the evil fortune 
 
 That left him desolate. 
 Unmoved he in Granada saw 
 
 What feuds between the foes 
 The great Abencerrajes 
 
 And the Andallas rose. 
 He envied not the Moors who stood 
 
 In favor with the King! 
 He did not crave the honors 
 
 That rank and office bring. 
 He only cared that Zaida, 
 
 Her soft heart led astray 
 By lying words of slander. 
 
 Had flung his love away. 
 And thinking on her beauteous face, 
 
 Her bearing proud and high, 
 The bosom of the valiant Moor 
 
 Heaved with a mournful sigh. 
 " And who has brought me this disdain. 
 
 And who my hope betrayed. 
 And thee, the beauteous Zaida, 
 
 False to thy purpose made? 
 
94 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And who has caused my spoils of war. 
 
 The palm and laurel leaf, 
 To wither on my forehead, bowed 
 
 Beneath the load of grief? 
 'Tis that some hearts of treachery black 
 
 With lies have crossed thy way, 
 And changed thee to a lioness, 
 
 By hunters brought to bay. 
 O tongues of malediction! 
 
 O slanderers of my fame! 
 Thieves of my knightly honor I 
 
 Ye lay up naught but shame. 
 Ye are but citadels of fraud. 
 
 And castles of deceit; 
 When ye your sentence pass, ye tread 
 
 The law beneath your feet. 
 May Allah on your cruel plots 
 
 Send down the wrath divine. 
 That ye my sufferings may feel. 
 
 In the same plight as mine. 
 And may ye learn, ye pitiless. 
 
 How heavy is the rod 
 That brings on human cruelty 
 
 The chastisement of God. 
 Ye who profess in word and deed 
 
 The path of truth to hold 
 Are viler than the nightly wolves 
 
 That waste the quiet fold." 
 So forth he rode, that Moorish knight, 
 
 Consumed by passion's flame. 
 Scorned and repulsed by Zaida, 
 
 The lovely Moorish dame. 
 Then spake he to the dancing waves 
 
 Of Tagus' holy tide, 
 " Oh, that thou hadst a tongue, to speak 
 
 My story far and wide ! 
 That all might learn, who gaze on thee 
 
 At evening, night, or morn, 
 Westward to happy Portugal, 
 
 The sufferings I have borne." 
 
GAZUL'S DESPAIR 95 
 
 GAZUL'S DESPAIR 
 
 Upon Sanlucar's spacious square 
 
 The brave Gazul was seen. 
 Bedecked in brilliant array 
 
 Of purple, white, and green. 
 The Moor was starting for the joust. 
 
 Which many a warrior brings 
 To Gelva, there to celebrate 
 
 The truce between the kings. 
 A fair Moor maiden he adored, 
 
 A daughter of the brave. 
 Who struggled at Granada's siege; 
 
 Granada was their grave. 
 And eager to accost the maid. 
 
 He wandered round the square; 
 With piercing eyes he peered upon 
 
 The walls that held the fair. 
 And for an hour, which seemed like years, 
 
 -He watched impatient there; 
 But when he saw the lady mount 
 
 Her balcony, he thought, 
 That the long hour of waiting 
 
 That vision rendered short. 
 Dismounting from his patient steed. 
 
 In presence of his flame. 
 He fell upon his knees and kissed 
 
 The pavement in her name. 
 With trembling voice he spoke to her, 
 
 " I cannot, cannot meet, 
 In any joust where you are near. 
 
 Disaster and defeat. 
 Of yore I lived without a heart, 
 
 Kinsmen, or pedigree; 
 But all of these are mine, if thou 
 
 Hast any thought of me. 
 Give me some badge, if not that thou 
 
 Mayst recognize thy knight, 
 At least to deck him, give him strength. 
 
56 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And succor in the fight." 
 Celinda heard in jealous doubt ; 
 
 For some, with envious art, 
 Had told her that fair Zaida still 
 
 Ruled o'er the warrior's heart. 
 She answered him in stormy rage : 
 "If in the joust thou dost engage 
 With such success as I desire, 
 And all thy broken oaths require. 
 Thou wilt not reach Sanlucar's square 
 So proud as when thou last wert there. 
 But there shalt meet, disconsolate. 
 Eyes bright with love and dark with hate. 
 God grant that in the deadly joust 
 The enemies that thou hast roused. 
 May hurl at thee the unparried dart 
 And pierce thee, liar, to the heart. 
 Thy corpse within thy mantle bound 
 May horses trail along the ground. 
 Thou comest thy revenge to seek, 
 But small the vengeance thou shalt wreak. 
 Thy friends shall no assistance yield; 
 Thy foes shall tread thee in the field ; 
 For thou the woman-slayer, then. 
 Shall meet thy final fate from men. 
 Those damsels whom thou hast deceived 
 
 Shall feel no pang of grief; 
 Their aid was malediction, 
 
 Thy death is their relief. 
 The Moor was true in heart and soul, 
 
 He thought she spake in jest. 
 He stood up in his stirrups. 
 
 Her hand he would have pressed. 
 " Lady," he said, " remember well 
 That Moor of purpose fierce and fell 
 On whom my vengeance I did wreak 
 Hast felt the curse that now you speak. 
 And as for Zaida, I repent 
 That love of mine on her was spent. 
 Disdain of her and love of thee 
 
VENGEANCE OF GAZUL 97 
 
 Now rule my soul in company. 
 The flame in which for her I burned 
 To frost her cruelty has turned. 
 Three cursed years, to win her smile, 
 
 In knightly deeds I wrought. 
 And nothing bet her treachery 
 
 My faithful service brought. 
 She flung me ofif without a qualm. 
 
 Because my lot was poor, 
 And gave, because the wretch was rich. 
 
 Her favor to a Moor." 
 Celinda as these words she heard 
 Impatiently the lattice barred. 
 And to the lover's ardent sight 
 It seemed that heaven was quenched in night. 
 A page came riding up the street. 
 Bringing the knight his jennets fleet, 
 With plumes and harness all bedight 
 And saddled well with housings bright; 
 The lance which he on entering bore 
 Brandished the knight with spirit sore, 
 
 And dashed it to the wall. 
 And head and butt, at that proud door. 
 
 In myriad fragments fall. 
 He bade them change from green to gray 
 
 The plumes and harness borne that day 
 By all the coursers of his train. 
 
 In rage disconsolate. 
 He rode from Gelva, nor drew rein 
 
 Up to Sanlucar's gate. 
 
 VENGEANCE OF GAZUL 
 
 Not Rodamont the African, 
 
 The ruler of Argel, 
 And King of Zarza's southern coast, 
 
 Was filled with rage so fell, 
 When for his darling Doralice 
 
 He fought with Mandricard, 
 7 
 
98 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 As filled the heart of bold Gazul 
 
 When, past Sidonia's guard. 
 He sallied forth in arms arrayed, 
 
 With courage high prepared 
 To do a deed that mortal man 
 
 Never before had dared. 
 It was for this he bade them bring 
 
 His barb and coat of mail ; 
 A sword and dusky scabbard 
 
 'Neath his left shoulder trail; 
 In Fez a Christian captive 
 
 Had forged it, laboring 
 At arms of subtile temper 
 
 As bondsman of the King. 
 More precious 'twas to bold Gazul 
 
 Than all his realms could bring. 
 A tawny tinted alquizel 
 
 Beneath his arms he wore; 
 And, to conceal his thoughts of blood. 
 
 No towering spear he bore. 
 He started forth for Jerez, 
 
 And hastening on his course, 
 Trampled the vega far and wide 
 
 With hoof-prints of his horse. 
 And soon he crossed the splashing ford 
 
 Of Guadelate's tide. 
 Hard by the ancient haven 
 
 Upon the valley-side. 
 They gave the ford a famous name 
 
 The waters still retain, 
 Santa Maria was it called, 
 
 Since Christians conquered Spain. 
 The river crossed, he spurred his steed, 
 
 Lest he might reach the gate 
 Of Jarez at an hour unfit, 
 
 Too early or too late. 
 For Zaida, his own Zaida, 
 
 Had scorned her lover leal. 
 Wedding a rich and potent Moor 
 A native of Seville ; 
 
VENGEANCE OF GAZUL 
 
 The nephew of a castellan, 
 
 A Moorish prince of power, 
 Who in Seville was seneschal 
 
 Of castle and of tower. 
 By this accursed bridal 
 
 Life's treasure he had lost; 
 The Moor had gained the treasure, 
 
 And now must pay the cost. 
 The second hour of night had rung 
 
 When, on his gallant steed. 
 He passed thro' Jerez' gate resolved 
 
 Upon a desperate deed. 
 And lo! to Zaida's dwelling 
 
 With peaceful mien he came, 
 Pondering his bloody vengeance 
 
 Upon that house of shame. 
 For he will pass the portal, 
 
 And strike the bridegroom low; 
 But first must cross the wide, wide court. 
 
 Ere he can reach his foe. 
 And he must pass the crowd of men. 
 
 Who in the courtyard stand. 
 Lighting the palace of the Moor, 
 
 With torches in their hand. 
 And Zaida in the midst comes forth. 
 
 Her lover at her side ; 
 He has come, amid his groomsmen, 
 
 To take her for his bride. 
 And bold Gazul feels his heart bound 
 
 With fury at the sight ; 
 A lion's rage is in his soul. 
 
 His brow is black as night. 
 But now he checks his anger, 
 
 And gently on his steed 
 Draws near, with smile of greeting, 
 
 That none may balk the deed. 
 And when he reached the bridal. 
 
 Where all had taken their stand, 
 Upon his mighty sword-hilt 
 
 He sudden laid his hand ; 
 
 99 
 
100 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And in a voice that all could hear 
 
 " Base craven Moor," said he, 
 " The sweet, the lovely Zaida 
 
 Shall ne'er be bride to thee. 
 And count me not a traitor, I 
 
 Defy thee face to face, 
 Lay hand upon thy scimitar 
 
 If thou hast heart of grace." 
 And with these words he dealt one stroke, 
 
 A cruel stroke and true. 
 It reached the Moor, it struck his heart 
 
 And pierced it through and through. 
 Down fell the wretch, that single stroke 
 
 Had laid him with the dead — 
 " Now let him die for all his deeds," 
 
 The assembled people said. 
 Gazul made bravely his defence, 
 
 And none could check his flight; 
 He dashed his rowels in his steed. 
 
 And vanished in the night. 
 
 GAZUL AND ALBENZAIDE 
 
 " Tho' thou the lance can hurl as well 
 
 As one a reed might cast. 
 Talk not of courage for thy crimes 
 
 Thy house's honor blast. 
 Seek not the revel or the dance. 
 
 Loved by each Moorish dame. 
 The name of valor is not thine. 
 
 Thou hast a coward's name ; 
 And lay aside thy mantle fair 
 
 Thy veil and gaberdine. 
 And boast no more of gold and gems— 
 
 Thou hast disgraced thy line. 
 And see thine arms, for honor fit, 
 
 Are cheap and fashioned plain; 
 Yet such that he whose name is lost 
 
 May win it back again. 
 
GAZULS ARMS loi 
 
 And Albenzaide keep thy tastes 
 
 Proportioned to thy state; 
 For oft from unrestrained desires 
 
 Spring hopes infatuate. 
 Flee from thy thoughts, for they have wings, 
 
 Whose Hght ambition Hfts 
 Thy soul to empty altitudes. 
 
 Where purpose veers and drifts. 
 Fling not thyself into the sea. 
 
 From which the breezes blow 
 Now with abrupt disdain, and now 
 
 With flattering whispers low. 
 For liberty once forfeited 
 
 Is hard to be regained. 
 And hardest, when the forfeit falls 
 
 On heart and hand unstained." 
 Thus spake Gazul, the Moorish lord 
 
 Of fame and honor bright ; 
 Yet, as a craven beggar. 
 
 Fair Zaida scorned the knight. 
 
 GAZUL'S ARMS 
 
 " Now scour for me my coat of mail, 
 
 Without delay, my page. 
 For, so grief's fire consumes me. 
 
 Thy haste will be an age; 
 And take from out my bonnet 
 
 The verdant plumes of pride. 
 Which once Azarco gave me, 
 
 When he took to him his bride. 
 And in their place put feathers black, 
 
 And write this motto there : 
 ' Heavy as lead is now his heart, 
 
 Oppressed with a leaden care.' 
 And take away the diamonds. 
 
 And in their place insert 
 Black gems, that shall to all proclaim 
 
 The deed that does me hurt. 
 
I02 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 For if thou take away those gems 
 
 It will announce to all 
 The black and dismal lot that does 
 
 Unfortuned me befall. 
 And give to me the buskins plain, 
 
 Decked by no jewels' glow, 
 For he to whom the world is false 
 
 Had best in mourning go. 
 And give to me my lance of war, 
 
 Whose point is doubly steeled, 
 And, by the blood of Christians, 
 
 Was tempered in the field. 
 For well I wish my goodly blade 
 
 Once more may burnished glow; 
 And if I can to cleave in twain 
 
 The body of my foe. 
 And hang upon my baldric. 
 
 The best of my ten swords. 
 Black as the midnight is the sheath. 
 
 And with the rest accords. 
 Bring me the horse the Christian slave 
 
 Gave to me for his sire. 
 At Jaen; and no ransom 
 
 But that did I require. 
 And even though he be not shod, 
 
 Make haste to bring him here ; 
 Though treachery from men I dread. 
 
 From beasts I have no fear. 
 The straps with rich enamel decked 
 
 I bid you lay aside; 
 And bind the rowels to my heel 
 
 With thongs of dusky hide." 
 Thus spake aloud the brave Gazul, 
 
 One gloomy Tuesday night; 
 Gloomy the eve, as he prepared 
 
 For victory in the fight. 
 For on that day the news had come 
 
 That his fair Moorish maid 
 Had wedded with his bitterest foe, 
 
THE TOURNAMENT ,03 
 
 The hated Albenzaide. 
 The Moor was rich and powerful, 
 
 But not of lineage high, 
 His wealth outweighed with one light maid 
 
 Three years of constancy. 
 Touched to the heart, on hearing this. 
 
 He stood in arms arrayed, 
 Nor strange that he, disarmed by love, 
 
 'Gainst love should draw his blade. 
 And Venus, on the horizon. 
 
 Had shown her earliest ray 
 When he Sidonia left, and straight 
 
 To Jerez took his way. 
 
 THE TOURNAMENT 
 
 His temples glittered with the spoils and garlands of his love. 
 When stout Gazul to Gelvas came, the jouster's skill to prove. 
 He rode a fiery dappled gray, like wind he scoured the plain ; 
 Yet all her power and mettle could a slender bit restrain ; 
 The livery of his pages was purple, green, and red — 
 Tints gay as was the vernal joy within his bosom shed. 
 And all had lances tawny gray, and all on jennets rode. 
 Plumes twixt their ears ; adown their flanks the costly hous- 
 ings flowed. 
 Himself upon his gallant steed carries the circling shield. 
 And a new device is blazoned upon its ample field. 
 The phoenix there is figured, on flaming nest it dies. 
 And from its dust and ashes again it seems to rise. 
 And on the margin of the shield this motto is expressed : 
 " 'Tis hard to hide the flames of love once kindled in the 
 
 breast." 
 And now the ladies take their seats ; each jouster mounts his 
 
 steed ; 
 From footmen and from horsemen flies fast the loaded reed. 
 And there appears fair Zaida, whom in a luckless day 
 The Moor had loved, but since, that Iqvc in loathing passed 
 away, 
 
,o4 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Her treachery had grieved his heart, and she who did the 
 
 wrong 
 Mourned with repentant heart amid that gay and happy 
 
 throng. . 
 
 And with her was Zafira, to whom her husband brings 
 
 More bliss and happiness than reign amid Granada's kings. 
 
 And when she looked at brave Gazul his deeds her grief re- 
 new ; 
 
 The more she sees, the more her heart is ravished at the view. 
 
 And now she blushes with desire, now grows with envy pale ; 
 
 Her heart is Uke the changing beam that quivers in the scale. 
 
 Alminda sees the lovely dame with sudden anguish start. 
 
 And speaks with hope she may reveal the secret of her heart. 
 
 And troubled Zaida makes reply, " A sudden thought of ill 
 
 Has flashed across my mind and caused the anguish that I 
 feel.'' 
 
 " 'Twere better," said Alminda, " to check thy fancy's flight. 
 
 For thought can rob the happiest hours of all their deep de- 
 light." 
 
 Then said the maid of Xerez, " To me thou showest plain 
 
 Thou hast not felt black envy's tooth nor known what is dis- 
 dain. 
 
 To know it, would thy spirit move to pity my despair, 
 
 Who writhe and die from agony, in which thou hast no share." 
 
 Zafira seized the lady's hand, and silence fell around. 
 
 As mixed in loud confusion brushed the jousters to the 
 ground. 
 
 In came the Berber tribesmen, in varied cloaks arrayed; 
 
 They ranged themselves in companies against the palisade. 
 
 The sound of barbarous trumpets rang, the startled horses 
 reared. 
 
 And snort and neigh and tramp of hoofs on every side was 
 heard. 
 
 Then troop meets troop, and valiant hearts the mimic fight 
 pursue ; 
 
 They hurl their javelins o'er the sand and pierce the bucklers 
 
 through. 
 Long time the battling hosts contend, until that festive day. 
 
 The shout, the clash, the applauding cry, in silence die away. 
 
ABENUMEYA'S LAMENT 105 
 
 They fain had prayed that time himself would stop Apollo's 
 
 car. 
 They hate to see the sunset gloom, the rise of evening's star. 
 And even when the sun is set, he who a foe discerns. 
 With no less vigor to his targe the loaded javelin turns, 
 The onset joined, each lance discharged, the judge's voice is 
 
 heard ; 
 He bids the heralds sound a truce, and the wide lists are 
 
 cleared. 
 
 ABENUMEYA'S LAMENT 
 
 The young Abenumeya, Granada's royal heir. 
 
 Was brave in battle with his foe and gallant with the fair. 
 
 By lovely Felisarda his heart had been ensnared. 
 
 The daughter of brave Ferri, the captain of the guard. 
 
 He through the vega of Genii bestrode his sorrel steed, 
 
 Alone, on melancholy thoughts his anxious soul to feed. 
 
 The tints that clothed the landscape round were gloomy as 
 
 the scene 
 Of his past life, wherein his lot had naught but suffering been. 
 His mantle hue was of iron gray bestrewn with purple flowers, 
 Which bloomed amid distress and pain, like hope of happier 
 
 hours. 
 And on his cloak were columns worked, (his(cloak was saffron 
 
 hued,) 
 To show that dark suspicion's fears had tried his fortitude; 
 His shield was blazoned with the moon, a purple streak above, 
 To show that fears of fickleness are ever born with love. 
 He bore an azure pennant 'neath the iron of his spear, 
 To show that lovers oft go wrong deceived by jealous fear. 
 The hood he wore was wrought of gold and silk of crimson 
 
 clear ; 
 His bonnet crest was a heron plume with an emerald stone 
 
 beneath ; 
 And under all a motto ran, " Too long a hope is death." 
 He started forth in such array, but armed from head to heel 
 With tempered blade and dagger and coat of twisted steel. 
 And hangling low at his saddle-bow was the helmet for his 
 
 head; 
 
io6 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And as he journeyed on his way the warrior sighed and said : 
 " O FeHsarda, dearest maid, him in thy memory keep 
 Who in his soul has writ thy name in letters dark and deep. 
 Think that for thee in coat of mail he ever rides afield, 
 In his right hand the spear must stand, his left must grasp the 
 
 shield. 
 And he must skirmish in the plain and broil of battle brave. 
 And wounded be, for weapons ne'er from jealousy can save." 
 And as he spoke the lonely Moor from out his mantle's fold 
 With many a sigh, that scorched the air, a lettered page un- 
 rolled. 
 He tried in vain to read it but his eyes with tears were blind. 
 And mantling clouds of sorrow hid the letters from his mind. 
 The page was moistened by the tears that flowed in plenteous 
 
 tide, 
 But by the breath of sighs and sobs the softened page was 
 
 dried. 
 Fresh wounds he felt at sight of it, and when the cause he 
 
 sought. 
 His spirit to Granada flew upon the wings of thought. 
 He thought of Albaicin, the palace of the dame. 
 With its gayly gilded capitals and its walls of ancient fame. 
 And the garden that behind it lay in which the palm was seen 
 Swaying beneath the load of fruit its coronet of green. 
 " O mistress of my soul," he said, " who callest me thine own, 
 How easily all bars to bliss thy love might trample down! 
 But time, that shall my constancy, thy fickleness will show. 
 The world shall then my steadfast heart, thy tongue of 
 
 treachery know. 
 Woe worth the day when, for thy sake, I fair Granada sought. 
 These anxious doubts may cloud my brow, they cannot guard 
 
 thy thought. 
 My foes increase, thy cruelty makes absence bitterer still. 
 But naught can shake my constancy, and none can do me ill." 
 On this from Alpujarra the tocsin sounded high. 
 He rushed as one whose life is staked to save the maid or die. 
 
THE DESPONDENT LOVER 107 
 
 THE DESPONDENT LOVER 
 
 He leaned upon his sabre's hilt, 
 
 He trod upon his shield, 
 Upon the ground he threw the lance 
 
 That forced his foes to yield. 
 His bridle hung at saddle-bow, 
 
 And, with the reins close bound. 
 His mare the garden entered free 
 
 To feed and wander round. 
 Upon a flowering almond-tree 
 
 He fixed an ardent gaze; 
 Its leaves were withered with the wind 
 
 That flowers in ruin lays. 
 Thus in Toledo's garden park, 
 
 Did Abenamar wait. 
 Who for fair Galliana 
 
 Watched at the palace gate. 
 The birds that clustered on the towers 
 
 Spread out their wings to fly, 
 And from afar his lady's veil 
 
 He saw go floating by. 
 And at this vision of delight, 
 
 Which healed his spirit's pain, 
 The exiled Moor took courage. 
 
 And hope returned again. 
 " O Galliana, best beloved, 
 
 Whom art thou waiting now? 
 And what has treacherous rendered 
 
 My fortune and thy vow? 
 Thou swearedst I should be thine own, 
 
 Yet 'twas but yesterday 
 We met, and with no greeting 
 
 Thou wentest on thy way. 
 Then, in my silence of distress, 
 
 I wandered pondering — 
 If this is what to-day has brought, 
 
 What will to-morrow bring? 
 Happy the Moor from passion free, 
 
io8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 In peace or turmoil born, 
 Who without pang of hate or love, 
 
 Can slumber till the morn. 
 O almond-tree, thou provest 
 
 That the expected hours 
 Of bliss may often turn to bane. 
 
 As fade thy dazzling flowers. 
 A mournful image art thou 
 
 Of all that lays me low, 
 And on my shield I'll bear thee 
 
 As blazon of my woe. 
 For thou dost bloom in many a flower, 
 
 Till blasted by the wind. 
 And 'tis of thee this word is true — 
 
 ' The season was not kind.' " 
 He spoke and on his courser's head 
 
 He slipped the bridle rein. 
 And while he curbed his gentle steed 
 
 He could not curb his pain, 
 And to Ocana took his course. 
 
 O'er Tagus' verdant plain. 
 
 LOVE AND JEALOUSY 
 
 " Unless thou wishest in one hour 
 
 Thine April hope shouldst blighted be, 
 Oh, tell me, Tarfe, tell me true. 
 
 How I may Zaida chance to see. 
 I mean the foreigner, the wife 
 
 New wedded, her with golden hair, 
 And for each Ipck a charm besides 
 
 She counts — for she is passing fair. 
 Her, whom the Moorish nobles all 
 
 To heaven in their laudation raise. 
 Till the fine ladies of the land 
 
 Are left to languish in dispraise. 
 The mosque I visit every day, 
 
 And wait to see her come in sight ; 
 I wait to see her, where the rout 
 
 And revel lengthen out the night. 
 
LOVE AND JEALOUSY 109 
 
 However, cost me what it may, 
 
 I cannot meet the lovely dame. 
 Ah, now my eyes are veiled in teairs, 
 
 Sure witness of my jealous flame. 
 And tell me, Tarfe, that my rage 
 
 Has cause enough, for since I've been 
 Granada's guest (and would to God 
 
 Granada I had never seen !) 
 My lord forsakes me every night. 
 
 Nor till the morning comes again ; 
 He shuns as painful my caress. 
 
 My very presence brings him pain ; 
 Little indeed he recks of me. 
 
 If only he may elsewhere reign. 
 For if we in the garden meet. 
 
 Or if we in the chamber be. 
 His actions his estrangement prove. 
 
 He has not even words for me. 
 And if I say to him, ' My life ! ' 
 
 He answers me, ' My dearest dear,' 
 Yet with a coldness that congeals 
 
 My very heart with sudden fear. 
 And all the while I strive to make 
 
 His soul reveal a traitorous thought. 
 He turns his back on me, as if 
 
 To him my trembling fear was naught. 
 And when about his neck I clin^. 
 
 He drops his eyes and bows his face, 
 As if, from thought of other arms 
 
 He longed to slip from my embrace. 
 His bosom heaves with discontent, 
 
 Deep as from hell the sigh is wrenched ; 
 My heart with dark suspicion beats. 
 
 And all my happiness is quenched. 
 And if I ask of him the cause. 
 
 He says the cause in me is found; 
 That I am vain, the rover I, 
 
 And to another's bosom bound. 
 As if, since I have known his love, 
 
 I at the window show my face. 
 
no MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Or take another's hand in mine, 
 
 Or seek the bull-ring, joust, or race ; 
 Or if my footsteps have been found 
 
 To wander a suspected place, 
 The prophet's curse upon me fall, 
 
 Unless to keep the nuptial pact 
 And serve the pleasure of my lord. 
 
 I kept the Koran's law exact ! 
 But wherefore should I waste the time 
 
 These tedious questions to recall? 
 Thou knowest the chase on which he hies, 
 
 And yet in silence hidest all. 
 Nay, swear not — I will naught believe ; 
 
 Thine oaths are but a fowler's net, 
 And woe betide the dame who falls 
 
 Into the snare that thou hast set. 
 For men are traitors one and all ; 
 
 And all their promises betray; 
 Like letters on the water writ. 
 
 They vanish, when love's fires decay. 
 For to fulfil thy promise fair. 
 
 What hours thou hast the whole day long. 
 What chances on the open road. 
 
 Or in the house when bolts are strong. 
 O God ! but what a thought is this ? 
 
 I strangle, in the sudden thrall 
 Of this sharp pang of agony, 
 
 Oh, hold me, Tarfe, lest I fall." 
 Thus Adelifa weeping cried 
 
 At thought of Abenamar's quest: 
 In Moorish Tarfe's arms she fell. 
 
 And panting lay upon his breast. 
 
THE CAPTIVE OF TOLEDO m 
 
 THE CAPTIVE OF TOLEDO 
 
 Upon the loftiest mountain height 
 
 That rises in its pride, 
 And sees its summits mirrored 
 
 In Tagus' crystal tide, 
 The banished Abenamar, 
 
 Bound by a captive chain, 
 Looks on the high-road to Madrid 
 
 That seams the dusty plain. 
 He measures, with his pining eyes, 
 
 The stretching hills that stand 
 Between his place of banishment 
 
 And his sweet native land. 
 His sighs and tears of sorrow 
 
 No longer bear restraint. 
 And thus in words of anguish 
 
 He utters his complaint: 
 " Oh, dismal is the exile 
 
 That wrings the heart with woes 
 And locks the lips in silence, 
 
 Amid unfeeling foes. 
 
 O road of high adventure. 
 
 That leadest many a band 
 To yon ungrateful country where 
 
 My native turrets stand, 
 The country that my valor 
 
 Did oft with glory crown. 
 The land that lets me languish here, 
 
 Who won for her renown. 
 Thou who hast succored many a knight. 
 
 Hast thou no help for me. 
 Who languish on Toledo's height 
 
 In captive misery? 
 'Tis on thy world-wide chivalry 
 
 I base my word of blame, 
 'Tis that I love thee most of all. 
 
 Thy coldness brings me shame. 
 
112 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Oh, dismal is the exile, 
 
 That wrings my heart with woes, 
 
 And locks my lips in silence 
 Among unfeeling foes. 
 
 The warden of fierce Reduan 
 
 With cruelty more deep 
 That that of a hidalgo, 
 
 Has locked this prison keep; 
 And on this frontier set me. 
 
 To pine without repose. 
 To watch, from dawn to sunset. 
 
 Over his Christian foes. 
 Here like a watch-tower am I set 
 
 For Santiago's lord, 
 And for a royal mistress 
 
 Who breaks her plighted word. 
 And when I cry with anguish 
 
 And seek in song relief. 
 With threats my life is threatened, 
 
 Till silence cloak my grief. 
 Oh, dismal is the exile. 
 
 That wrings my heart with woes. 
 And locks my lips in silence 
 
 Among unfeeling foes. 
 
 And when I stand in silence. 
 
 Me dumb my jailers deem. 
 And if I speak, in gentle words. 
 
 They say that I blaspheme. 
 Thus grievously perverting 
 
 The sense of all I say. 
 Upon my lips the raging crowd 
 
 The gag of silence lay. 
 Thus heaping wrong on wrong my foes 
 
 Their prisoner impeach, 
 Until the outrage of my heart 
 
 Deprives my tongue of speech. 
 And while my word the passion 
 
 Of my sad heart betrays. 
 
THE BLAZON OF ABENAMAR 
 
 My foes are all unconscious 
 
 Of what my silence says. 
 Now God confound the evil judge 
 
 Who caused my misery, 
 And had no heart of pity 
 
 To soften his decree. 
 Oh, dismal is the exile. 
 
 That wrings my heart with woes. 
 And locks my lips in silence 
 
 Among unfeeling foes. 
 
 THE BLAZON OF ABENAMAR 
 
 By gloomy fortune overcast, 
 
 Vassal of one he held in scorn, 
 Complaining of the wintry world. 
 
 And by his lady left forlorn. 
 The wretched Abenamar mourned, 
 
 Because his country was unkind, 
 Had brought him to a lot of woe, 
 
 And to a foreign home resigned. 
 A stranger Moor had won the throne, 
 
 And in Granada sat in state. 
 Many the darlings of his soul 
 
 He claimed with love insatiate. 
 He, foul in face, of craven heart, 
 
 Had won the mistress of the knight; 
 Her blooming years of beauteous youth 
 
 Were Abenamar's own by right. 
 But royal favor had decreed 
 
 A foreign tyrant there should reign, 
 For many a galley owned him lord 
 
 And master, in the seas of Spain. 
 Oh, haply 'twas that Zaida's self. 
 
 Ungrateful like her changing sex. 
 Had chosen this emir, thus in scorn 
 
 Her Abenamar's soul to vex. 
 This was the thought that turned to tears 
 
 The eyes of the desponding knight, 
 
 113 
 
114 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 As on his sufferings past he thought, 
 
 His labors and his present pHght; 
 His hopes, to disappointment turned ; 
 
 His wealth, now held in alien hands, 
 His agony o'er love betrayed. 
 
 Lost honor, confiscated lands. 
 And as his loyalty had met 
 
 Such ill requital from the King, 
 He called his page and bade him straight 
 
 A limner deft before him bring. 
 For he would have him paint at large, 
 
 In color, many a new device 
 And write his sufferings on his shield. 
 
 No single blazon would suifice. 
 And first a green field parched and seared; 
 
 A coal, in myriad blazes burned. 
 And like his ardent hopes of yore. 
 
 At length to dust and ashes turned. 
 And then a miser, rich in gold. 
 
 Who locks away some jewel bright. 
 For fear the thief a gem may steal, 
 
 Which yet can yield him no delight. 
 A fair Adonis done to death 
 
 Beneath the wild boar's cruel tusk. 
 A wintry dawn on pallid skies, 
 
 A summer's day that turns to dusk. 
 A lovely garden green and fair 
 
 Ravaged and slashed by strokes of steel ; 
 Or wasted in its trim parterres 
 
 And trampled by the common heel. 
 So spake the brave heart-broken Moor ; 
 
 Until his tears and struggling sighs 
 Turned to fierce rage ; the painting then 
 
 He waited for with eager eyes. 
 He asks that one would fetch a steed. 
 
 Of his good mare no more he recks. 
 For womankind have done him wrong, 
 
 And she is woman in her sex. 
 The plumes of yellow, blue, and white 
 
 From off his bonnet brim he tears, 
 
WOMAN'S FICKLENESS 1,5 
 
 He will no longer carry them ; 
 
 They are the colors Zaida wears. 
 He recks no more of woman's love, 
 
 His city now he bids farewell, 
 And swears he will no more return 
 
 Nor in Granada seek to dwell. 
 
 WOMAN'S FICKLENESS 
 
 A stout and valorous gentleman, 
 
 Granada knew his worth, 
 And rich with many a spoil of love, 
 
 Went Abenamar forth. 
 Upon his bonnet, richly dyed. 
 
 He bore a lettered scroll. 
 It ran, " 'Tis only love that makes 
 
 The solace of my soul." 
 His bonnet and his brow were hid 
 
 Beneath a hood of green, 
 And plumes of violet and white 
 
 Above his head were seen. 
 And 'twixt the tassel and the crown 
 
 An emerald circlet shone. 
 The legend of the jewel said, 
 
 " Thou art my hope alone." 
 He rode upon a dappled steed 
 
 With housings richly dight, 
 And at his left side clanking hung 
 
 A scimitar of might. 
 And his right arm was sleeved in cloth 
 
 Of tawny lion's hue. 
 And at his lance-head, lifted high, 
 
 A Turkish pennon flew. 
 And when he reached Daraja's camp 
 
 He saw Daraja stand 
 Beside his own perfidious love, 
 
 And clasp her by the hand. 
 IHe made to her the wonted sign. 
 
 Then lingered for a while. 
 
1,6 M60RtSH LitERATURE 
 
 For jealous anguish filled his heart 
 
 To se? her tender smile. 
 He spurred his courser to the blood ; 
 
 One clattering bound he took. 
 The Moorish maiden turned to him. 
 
 Ah, love was in her lookl 
 Ah, well he saw his hopeless fate, 
 
 And in his jealous mood 
 The heart that nothing feared in fight 
 
 Was whelmed in sorrow's flood. 
 " O false and faithless one," he said, 
 
 "What is it that I view? 
 Thus the foreboding of my soul 
 
 I see at last come true ; 
 Shame that a janizary vile, 
 
 Of Christian creed and race, 
 A butt of bright Alhambra's feasts, 
 
 Has taken now my place. 
 Where is the love thou didst avow. 
 
 The pledge, the kiss, the tear, 
 And all the tender promises 
 
 Thou whisperedst in my ear? 
 Thou, frailer than the withered reed. 
 
 More changeful than the wind. 
 More thankless than the hardest heart 
 
 In all of womankind ; 
 I marvel not at what I see. 
 
 Nor yet for vengeance call ; 
 For thou art woman to the core. 
 
 And in that name is all." 
 The gallant Moor his courser checked. 
 
 His cheek with anger burned, 
 Men saw, that all his gallant mien 
 
 To gloom and rage was turned. 
 
KING JUAN 117 
 
 KING JUAN 
 
 " Abenamar, Abenamar," said the monarch to the knight, 
 " A Moor art thou of the Moors, I trow, and the ladies' fond 
 
 delight, 
 And on the day when first you lay upon your mother's breast, 
 On land and sea was a prodigy, to the Christians brought un- 
 rest; 
 The sea was still as a ruined mill and the winds were hushed 
 
 to rest. 
 And the broad, broad moon sank down at noon, red in the 
 
 stormy west. 
 If thus thou wert born thou well mayst scorn to ope those lips 
 
 of thine. 
 That out should fly a treacherous lie, to meet a word of mine." 
 " I have not lied," the Moor replied, and he bowed his haughty 
 
 head 
 Before the King whose wrath might fling his life among the 
 
 dead. 
 " I would not deign with falsehood's stain my lineage to betray ; 
 Tho' for the truth my life, in sooth, should be the price I pay. 
 I am son and squire of a Moorish sire, who with the Christians 
 
 strove. 
 And the captive dame of Christian name was his fair wedded 
 
 love; 
 And I a child from that mother mild, who taught me at her 
 
 knee 
 Was ever told to be true and bold with a tongue that was frank 
 
 and frecj 
 That the liar's art and the caitiff heart would lead to the house 
 
 of doom ; 
 And still I must hear my mother dear, for she speaks to me 
 
 from the tomb. 
 Then give me my task, O King, and ask what question thou 
 
 mayst choose; 
 I will give to you the word that is true, for why should I re- 
 fuse?" 
 " I give you grace for your open face, and the courteous words 
 
 you use. 
 
,,8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 What castles are those on the hill where grows the palm-tree 
 
 and the pine? 
 They are so high that they touch the sky, and with gold their 
 
 pinnacles shine." 
 " In the sunset's fire there glisten, sire, Alhambra's tinted tiles; 
 And somewhat lower Alij ire's tower upon the vega smiles, 
 And many a band of subtile hand has wrought its pillared 
 
 aisles. 
 The Moor whose thought and genius wrought those works for 
 
 many moons 
 Received each day a princely pay — ^five hundred gold doub- 
 loons — 
 Each day he left his labor deft, his guerdon was denied ; 
 Nor less he lost than his labor cost when he his hand applied. 
 And yonder I see the Generalife with its orchard green and 
 
 wide ; 
 There are growing there the apple and pear that are Granada's 
 
 pride. 
 There shadows fall from the soaring wall of high Bermeja's 
 
 tower ; 
 It has flourished long as a castle strong, the seat of the Soldan's 
 
 power." 
 The King had bent and his ear had lent to the words the war- 
 rior spoke. 
 And at last he said, as he raised his head before the crowd of 
 
 folk: 
 " I would take thee now with a faithful vow, Granada for my 
 
 bride. 
 King Juan's Queen would hold, I ween, a throne and crown of 
 
 pride ; 
 That very hour I would give thee dower that well would suit 
 
 thy will ; 
 Cordova's town should be thine own, and the mosque of proud 
 
 Seville. 
 Nay, ask not. King, for I wear the ring of a faithful wife and 
 
 true; 
 Some graceful maid or a widow arrayed in her weeds is the 
 
 wife for you. 
 And close I cling to the Moorish King who holds me to his 
 
 breast. 
 For well I ween it can be seen that of all he loves me best." 
 
ABENAMAR'S JEALOUSY ng 
 
 ABENAMAR'S JEALOUSY 
 
 Alhambra's bell had not yet pealed 
 Its morning note o'er tower and field; 
 Barmeja's bastions glittered bright, 
 O'ersilvered with the morning light ; 
 When rising from a pallet blest 
 With no refreshing dews of rest, 
 For slumber had relinquished there 
 His place to solitary care, 
 Brave Abenamar pondered deep 
 How lovers must surrender sleep. 
 And when he saw the morning rise. 
 While sleep still sealed Daraja's eyes, 
 Amid his tears, to soothe his pain. 
 He sang this melancholy strain : 
 " The morn is up, 
 
 The heavens alight. 
 
 My jealous soul 
 
 Still owns the sway of night. 
 Thro' all the night I wept forlorn, 
 Awaiting anxiously the morn; 
 And tho' no sunlight strikes on me, 
 My bosom burns with jealousy. 
 The twinkling starlets disappear ; 
 Their radiance made my sorrow clear ; 
 The sun has vanished from my sight, 
 Turned into water is his light; 
 What boots it that the glorious sun 
 From India his course has run, 
 To bring to Spain the gleam of day. 
 If from my sight he hides away? 
 
 The morn is up, 
 
 The heavens are bright, 
 
 My jealous soul 
 Still owns the sway of night." 
 
MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 ADELIFA'S JEALOUSY 
 
 Fair Adelifa sees in wrath, kindled by jealous flames, 
 Her Abenamar gazed upon by the kind Moorish dames. 
 And if they chance to speak to him, or take him by the hand. 
 She swoons to see her own beloved with other ladies stand. 
 When with companions of his own, the bravest of his race. 
 He meets the bull within the ring, and braves him to his face. 
 Or if he mount his horse of war, and sallying from his tent 
 Engages with his comrades in tilt or tournament, 
 She sits apart from all the rest, and when he wins the prize 
 She smiles in answer to his smile and devours him with her 
 
 eyes. 
 And in the joyous festival and in Alhambra's halls. 
 She follows as he treads the dance at merry Moorish balls. 
 And when the tide of battle is rising o'er the land. 
 And he leaves his home, obedient to his honored King's com- 
 mand. 
 With tears and lamentation she sees the warrior go 
 With arms heroic to subdue the proud presumptuous foe. 
 Though 'tis to save his country's towers he mounts his fiery 
 
 steed 
 She has no cheerful word for him, no blessing and godspeed ; 
 
 And were there some light pretext to keep him at her side, 
 
 In chains of love she'd bind him there, whate'er the land be- 
 tide. 
 
 Or, if 'twere fair that dames should dare the terrors of the 
 fight, 
 
 She'd mount her jennet in his train and follow with delight. 
 
 For soon as o'er the mountain ridge his bright plume dis- 
 appears. 
 
 She feels that in her heart the jealous smart that fills her eyes 
 with tears. 
 
 Yet when he stands beside her and smiles beneath her gaze. 
 
 Her cheek is pale with passion pure, though few the words 
 she says. 
 
 Her thoughts are ever with him, and they fly the mountain o'er 
 
 When in the shaggy forest he hunts the bristly boar. 
 
ADELIFA'S JEALOUSY 121 
 
 In vain she seeks the festal scene 'mid dance and merry song, 
 
 Her heart for Abenamar has left that giddy throng. 
 
 For jealous passion after all is no ignoble fire, 
 
 It is the child of glowing love, the shadow of desire. 
 
 Ah ! he who loves with ardent breast and constant spirit must 
 
 Feel in his inmost bosom lodged the arrows of distrust. 
 
 And as the faithful lover by his loved one's empty seat 
 
 Knows that the wind of love may change e'er once again they 
 
 meet, 
 So to this sad foreboding do fancied griefs appear 
 As he who has most cause to love has too most cause for fear. 
 And once, when placid evening was mellowing into night. 
 The lovely Adelif a sat with her darling knight ; 
 And then the pent-up feeling from out her spirit's deeps 
 Rose with a storm of heavy sighs and trembled on her lips : 
 " My valiant knight, who art, indeed, the whole wide world 
 
 to me. 
 Clear mirror of victorious arms and rose of chivalry. 
 Thou terror of thy valorous foe, to whom all champions yield. 
 The rampart and the castle of fair Granada's field, 
 In thee the armies of the land their bright example see. 
 And all their hopes of victory are founded upon thee; 
 And I, poor loving woman, have hope in thee no less. 
 For thou to me art life itself, a life of happiness. 
 Yet, in this anxious trembling heart strange pangs of fear arise. 
 Ah, wonder not if oft you see from out these faithful eyes 
 The tears in torrents o'er my cheek, e'en in thy presence flow. 
 Half prompted by my love for thee and half by fears of woe. 
 These eyes are like alembics, and when with tears they fill 
 It is the flame of passion that does that dew distil. 
 And what the source from which they flow, but the sorrow and 
 
 the care 
 That gather in my heart like mist, and forever linger there. 
 And when the flame is fiercest and love is at its height. 
 The waters rise to these fond eyes, and rob me of my sight. 
 For love is but a lasting pain and ever goes with grief. 
 And only at the spring of tears the heart can drink relief. 
 Thus fire and love and fear combined bring to my heart dis- 
 tress. 
 With jealous rage and dark distrust alarm and fitfulness. 
 
122 
 
 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 These rage within my bosom ; they torment me till I'd weep. 
 
 By day and night without delight a lonely watch I keep. 
 
 By Allah, I beseech thee, if thou art true to me. 
 
 That when the Moorish ladies turn round and gaze on thee, 
 
 Thou wilt not glance again at them nor meet their smiling eye. 
 
 Or else, my Abenamar, I shall lay me down and die. 
 
 For thou art gallant, fair, and good; oh, soothe my heart's 
 
 alarms, 
 And be as tender in thy love as thou art brave in arms. 
 And as they yield to thee the prize for valor in the field 
 Oh, show that thou wilt pity to thy loving lady yield." 
 Then Abenamar, with a smile, a kiss of passion gave. 
 " If it be needful," he replied, " to give the pledge you crave, 
 To tell thee, Adelifa, that thou art my soul's delight 
 And lay my inmost bosom bare before thy anxious sight. 
 The bosom on whose mirror shines thy face in lines of light, 
 Here let me ope the secret cell that thou thyself may see. 
 The altar and the blazing lamp that always burn for thee. 
 And if perchance thou art not thus released from torturing 
 
 care. 
 Oh, see the faith, the blameless love that wait upon thee there. 
 And if thou dost imagine I am a perjured knight, 
 I pray that Allah on my head may call down bane and blight, 
 And when into the battle with the Christian I go 
 I pray that I may perish by the lances of the foe ; 
 And when I don my armor for the toils of the campaign. 
 That I may never wear the palm of victory again. 
 But as a captive, on a shore far from Granada, pine. 
 While the freedom that I long to have may never more be 
 
 mine. 
 Yes, may my foes torment me in that sad hour of need ; 
 My very friends, for their own ends^ prove worthless as a reed. 
 My kin deny, my fortune fly, and, on my dying day. 
 My very hopes of Paradise in darkness pass away. 
 Or if I live in freedom to see my love once more. 
 May I meet the fate which most I hate, and at my palace door 
 Find that some caitiff lover has won thee for his own, 
 And turn to die, of mad despair, distracted and alone. 
 Wherefore, my life, my darling wife, let all thy pain be cufed ; 
 Thy trust in my fidelity be from this hour assured. 
 
FUNERAL OF ABENAMAR 123 
 
 No more those pearly tears of thine fall useless in the dust 
 
 No more the jealous fear distract thy bosom with mistrust. 
 
 Believe me by the oath I swear my heart I here resign, 
 
 And all I have of love and care are, Adelifa, thine. 
 
 Believe that Abenamar would his own life betray 
 
 If he had courage thus to throw life's choicest gem away." 
 
 Then Adelifa smiled on him and at the words he said. 
 
 Upon his heaving bosom her blushing cheek she laid. 
 
 And from that hour each jealous thought far from her mind 
 
 she thrust 
 And confidence returned again in place of dark distrust. 
 
 FUNERAL OF ABENAMAR 
 
 The Moors of haughty Gelves have changed their gay attire. 
 The caftan and the braided cloak, the brooch of twisted wire, 
 The gaudy robes, the mantles of texture rich and rare. 
 The fluttering veils and tunic bright the Moors no longer wear. 
 And wearied is their valorous strength, their sinewy arms 
 
 hang down ; 
 No longer in their lady's sight they struggle for the crown. 
 Whether their loves are absent or glowing in their eyes. 
 They think no more of jealous feud nor smile nor favor prize ; 
 For love himself seems dead to-day amid that gallant train 
 And the dirge beside the bier is heard and each one joins the 
 
 strain, 
 And silently they stand in line arrayed in mourning black 
 For the dismal pall of Portugal is hung on every back. 
 And their faces turned toward the bier where Abenamar Hes, 
 The men his kinsmen silent stand, amid the ladies' cries 
 And thousand thousands ask and look upon the Moorish 
 
 knight. 
 By his coat of steel they weeping kneel, then turn them from 
 
 the sight. 
 And some proclaim his deeds of fame, his spirit high and brave, 
 And the courage of adventure that had brought him to the 
 
 grave. 
 Some say that his heroic soul pined with a jealous smart, 
 That disappointment and neglect had broke that mighty heart ; 
 That all his ancient hopes gave way beneath the cloud of grief, 
 
IJ4 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Until his green and youthful years were withered like a leaf ; 
 And he is wept by those he loved, by every faithful friend, 
 And those who slandered him in life speak evil to the end. 
 They found within his chamber where his arms of battle hung 
 A parting message written all in the Moorish tongue: 
 " Dear friends of mine, if ever in Gelves I should die, 
 I would not that in foreign soil my buried ashes lie. 
 But carry me, and dig my grave upon mine own estate, 
 And raise no monument to me my life to celebrate, 
 For banishment is not more dire where evil men abound, 
 Than where home smiles upon you, but the good are never 
 found." 
 
 BALLAD OF ALBAYALDOS 
 
 Three mortal wounds, three currents red. 
 
 The Christian spear 
 Has oped in head and thigh and head — 
 
 Brave Albayaldos feels that death is near. 
 
 The master's hand had dealt the blow. 
 
 And long had been 
 And hard the fight ; now in his heart's blood low 
 
 He wallows, and the pain, the pain is keen. 
 
 He raised to heaven his streaming face 
 
 And low he said : 
 " Sweet Jesus, grant me by thy grace. 
 
 Unharmed to make this passage to the dead. 
 
 " Oh, let me now my sins recount. 
 
 And grant at last 
 Into thy presence I may mount. 
 
 And thou, dear mother, think not of my past. 
 
 " Let not the fiend with fears affright 
 
 My trembling soul ; 
 Though bitter, bitter is the night 
 
 Whose darkling clouds this moment round me roll. 
 
THE NIGHT ^AlD Of REDUAN lij 
 
 " Had I but listened to your plea, 
 
 I ne'er had met 
 Disaster ; though this life be lost to me, 
 
 Let not your ban upon my soul be set. 
 
 " In him, in him alone I trust. 
 
 To him I pray, 
 Who formed this wretched body from the dust. 
 
 He will redeem me in the Judgment Day. 
 
 " And Muza, one last service will I ask. 
 
 Dear friend of mine : 
 Here, where I died, be it thy pious task 
 
 To bury me beneath the tall green pine. 
 
 " And o'er my head a scroll indite, to tell 
 
 How, on this sod, 
 Fighting amid my valiant Moors, I fell. 
 
 And tell King Chico how I turned to God, 
 
 " And longed to be a Christian at the last, 
 
 And sought the light. 
 So that the accursed Koran could not cast 
 
 My soul to suffer in eternal night." 
 
 THE NIGHT RAID OF REDUAN 
 
 Two thousand are the Moorish knights that 'neath the banner 
 
 stand 
 Of mighty Reduan, as he starts in ravage thro' the land. 
 With pillage and with fire he wastes the fields and fruitful 
 
 farms, 
 And thro' the startled border-land is heard the call to arms; 
 By Jaen's towers his host advance and, like a lightning flash, 
 Ubeda and Andujar can see his horsemen dash, 
 While in Baeza every bell 
 
 Does the appalling tidings tell, 
 
 "Arm! Arm!" 
 
 Rings on the night the loud alarm. 
 
126 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 So silently they gallop, that gallant cavalcade, 
 
 The very trumpet's muffled tone has no disturbance made. 
 
 It seems to blend with the whispering sound of breezes on 
 
 their way. 
 The rattle of their harness and the charger's joyous neigh. 
 But now from hill and turret high the flaming cressets stream 
 And watch-fires blaze on every hill and helm and hauberk 
 
 gleam. 
 From post to post the signal along the border flies 
 And the tocsin sounds its summons and the startled burghers 
 rise, 
 
 While in Baeza every bell 
 
 Does the appalling tidings tell, 
 
 " Arm ! Arm ! " 
 
 Rings on the night the loud alarm. 
 
 Ah, suddenly that deadly foe has fallen upon the prey, 
 Yet stoutly rise the Christians and arm them for the foe. 
 And doughty knights their lances seize and scour their coats 
 
 of mail, 
 The soldier with his cross-bow comes and the peasant with his 
 
 flail. 
 And Jaen's proud hidalgos, Andujar's yeomen true, 
 And the lords of towered Ubeda the pagan foes pursue ; 
 And valiantly they meet the foe nor turn their backs in flight, 
 And worthy do they show themselves of their fathers' deeds 
 of might, 
 
 While in Baeza every bell 
 
 Does the appalling tidings tell, 
 
 " Arm ! Arm ! " 
 
 Rings on the night the loud alarm. 
 
 The gates of dawn are opened and sunlight fills the land, 
 The Christians issuing from the gates in martial order stand, 
 They close in fight, and paynim host and Christian knights of 
 
 Spain, 
 Not half a league from the city gate, are struggling on the 
 
 plain. 
 The din of battle rises like thunder to the sky. 
 From many a crag and forest the thundering echoes fly, 
 
SIEGE OF JAEN 127 
 
 And there is sound of clashing arms, of sword and rattling 
 steel, 
 
 Moorish horns, the fife and drum, as the scattering squadrons 
 
 reel. 
 And the dying moan and the wounded shriek for the hurt that 
 none can heal. 
 
 While in Baeza every bell 
 
 Does the appalling tidings tell, 
 
 " Arm ! Arm ! " 
 
 Rings on the night the loud alarm. 
 
 SIEGE OF JAEN 
 
 Now Reduan gazes from afar on Jaen's ramparts high, 
 And tho' he smiles in triumph yet fear is in his eye, 
 And vowed has he, whose courage none charged with a de- 
 fault. 
 That he would climb the ramparts and take it by assault. 
 Yet round the town the towers and walls the city's streets Im- 
 pale, 
 And who of all his squadrons that bastion can scale ? 
 He pauses until one by one his hopes have died away. 
 And his soul is filled with anguish and his face with deep dis- 
 may. -' 
 He marks the tall escarpment, he measures with his eye 
 The soaring towers above them that seem to touch the sky. 
 Height upon height they mount to heaven, while glittering 
 
 from afar 
 Each cresset on the watch-towers bums like to a baleful star. 
 His eyes and heart are fixed upon the rich and royal town. 
 And from his eye the tear of grief, a manly tear, flows down. 
 His bosom heaves with sighs of grief and heavy discontent, 
 As to the royal city he makes his sad lament : 
 " Ah, many a champion have I lost, fair Jaen, at thy gate. 
 Yet lightly did I speak of thee with victory elate. 
 The prowess of my tongue was more than all that I could do. 
 And my word outstripped the lance and sword of my squadron 
 
 strong and true. 
 And yet I vowed with courage rash thy turrets I would bring 
 To ruin and thy subjects make the captives of my King. 
 
128 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 That in one night my sword of might, before the morrow's sun, 
 Would do for thy great citadel what centuries have not done. 
 I pledged my life to that attempt, and vowed that thou shouldest 
 
 fall, 
 Yet now I stand in impotence before thy castle tall. 
 For well I see, before my might shall win thee for my King, 
 That thou, impregnable, on me wilt rout and ruin bring, 
 Ah, fatal is the hasty tongue that gives such quick consent, 
 And he who makes the hasty vow in leisure must repent. 
 Ah ! now too late I mourn the word that sent me on this quest. 
 For I see that death awaits me here whilst thou livest on at rest, 
 For I must enter Jaen's gates a conqueror or be sent 
 Far from Granada's happy hills in hopeless banishment; 
 But sorest is the thought that I to Lindaraja swore : 
 If Jaen should repulse me I'd return to her no more ; 
 No more a happy lover would I linger at her side, 
 Until Granada's warrior host had humbled Jaen's pride." 
 Then turning to his warriors, the Moorish cavalier 
 Asks for their counsel and awaits their answer while with fear. 
 Five thousand warriors tried and true the Moors were stand- 
 ing near. 
 All armed with leathern buckler, all armed with sword and 
 
 spear. 
 " The place," they answer, " is too strong, by walls too high 
 
 'tis bound. 
 Too many are the watch-towers that circle it around. 
 The knights and proud hidalgos who on the wall are seen, 
 Their hearts are bold, their arms are strong, their swords and 
 
 spears are keen. 
 Disaster will be certain as the rising of the day, 
 And victory and booty are a slippery prize," they say, 
 " It would be wise in this emprise the conflict to forego ; 
 Not all the Moors Granada boasts could lay proud Jaen low." 
 
THE DEATH OF REDUAN 139 
 
 THE DEATH OF REDUAN 
 
 He shrank not from his promise, did Reduan the brave, 
 The promise to Granada's King with daring high he gave ; 
 And when the morning rose and lit the hills with ruddy glow, 
 He marshalled forth his warriors to strike a final blow. 
 With shouts they hurry to the walls, ten thousand fighting 
 
 men — 
 Resolved to plant the crescent on the bulwarks of Jaen. 
 The bugle blast upon the air with clarion tone is heard, 
 The burghers on the city wall reply with scoffing word ; 
 And like the noise of thunder the clattering squadrons haste, 
 And on his charger fleet he leads his army o'er the waste. 
 In front of his attendants his march the hero made. 
 He tarried not for retinue or clattering cavalcade. 
 And they who blamed the rash assault with weak and coward 
 
 minds 
 Deserted him their leader bold or loitered far behind. 
 And now he stands beneath the wall and sees before him rise 
 The object of the great campaign, his valor's priceless prize ; 
 He dreams one moment that he holds her subject to his arms. 
 He dreams that to Granada he flies from war's alarms, 
 Each battlement he fondly eyes, each bastion grim and tall. 
 And in fancy sees the crescents rise above the Christian wall. 
 But suddenly an archer has drawn his bow of might. 
 And suddenly the bolt descends in its unerring flight. 
 Straight to the heart of Reduan the fatal arrow flies. 
 The gallant hero struck to death upon the vega lies. 
 And as he lies, from his couch of blood, in melancholy tone. 
 Thus to the heavens the hero stout, though fainting, makes his 
 
 moan. 
 And ere his lofty soul in death forth from its prison breaks, 
 Brave Reduan a last farewell of Lindaraja takes: 
 " Ah, greater were the glory had it been mine to die. 
 Not thus among the Christians and hear their joyful cry. 
 But in that happy city, reclining at thy feet. 
 Where thou with kind and tender hands hast wove my wind- 
 ing-sheet. 
 Ah I had it been my fate once more to gaze upon thy face, 
 9 
 
I30 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And love and pity in those eyes with dying glance to trace, 
 Altho' a thousand times had death dissolved this mortal frame, 
 Soon as thy form before me in radiant beauty came, 
 A thousand times one look of thine had given me back my 
 
 breath, 
 And called thy lover to thy side even from the gate of death. 
 What boots it, Lindaraja, that I, at Jaen's gate, 
 That unsurrendered city, have met my final fate? 
 What boots it, that this city proud will ne'er the Soldan own. 
 For thee and not for Jaen this hour I make my moan ; 
 I weep for Lindaraja, I weep to think that she 
 May mourn a hostage and a slave in long captivity. 
 But worse than this that some proud Moor will take thee to 
 
 his heart. 
 And all thy thoughts of Reduan new love may bid depart. 
 And dwelling on thy beauty he will deem it better far, 
 To win fair Lindaraja than all the spoils of war, 
 Yet would I pray if Mahomet, whose servant I have been. 
 Should ever from the throne of God look on this bloody scene. 
 And deem it right to all my vows requital fit to make. 
 And for my valor who attacked the town I could not take. 
 That he would make thy constancy as steadfast as the tower 
 Of Jaen's mighty fortress, that withstood the Moorish power ; 
 Now as my life be ebbing fast, my spirit is oppressed, 
 And Reduan the warrior bold is sinking to his rest. 
 Oh, may my prayers be answered, if so kind heaven allow. 
 And may the King forgive me for the failure of my vow. 
 And, Lindaraja, may my soul, when it has taken its flight. 
 And for the sweet Elysian fields exchange these realms of 
 
 night. 
 Contented in the joys and peace of that celestial seat. 
 Await the happy moment when we once more shall meet." 
 
THE AGED LOVER 
 
 131 
 
 THE AGED LOVER 
 
 'Twas from a lofty balcony Arselia looked down 
 On golden Tagus' crystal stream that hemmed Toledo's town ; 
 And now she watched the eddies that dimpled in the flood 
 And now she landward turned her eye to gaze on waste and 
 
 wood, 
 But in all that lay around her she sought for rest in vain, 
 For her heart, her heart was aching, and she could not heal the 
 
 pain. 
 'Tis of no courtly gallant the Moorish damsel dreams. 
 No lordly emir who commands the fort by Tagus' streams, 
 'Twas on the banks of Tornes stood the haughty towers of 
 
 note 
 Where the young alcayde loved by the maid from cities dwelt 
 
 remote. 
 And never at Almanzor's court had he for honor sought, 
 Though he dwelt in high Toledo in faii: Arselia's thought ; 
 And now she dreams of love's great gift, of passion's deep de- 
 light. 
 When far away from her palace walls a stranger came in sight. 
 It was no gallant lovelorn youth she saw approaching fast. 
 It was the hero Reduan whose vernal years were past. 
 He rode upon a sorrel horse and swiftly he came nigh. 
 And stood where the dazzling sun beat down upon her balcony ; 
 And with a thoughtful air upon the maiden turned his eye. 
 For suddenly the aged knight feels all his heart on fire. 
 And all the frost of his broken frame is kindling with desire. 
 And while he fain would hide his pain he paces up and down 
 Before the palace turrets that Toledo's rampart crown. 
 With anger glows the maiden's mind, " Now get thee gone," 
 
 she cries, 
 " For can it be that love of me in blood like thine can rise ? 
 I sicken at the very thought ; thy locks, old man, are gray, 
 Thy baldness and thy trembling hand a doting age betray. 
 Ah, little must thou count my years of beauty and of bloom, 
 If thou wouldst wed them with a life thus tottering to the tomb, 
 Decrepitude is now thy lot, and wherefore canst thou dare 
 To ask that youthful charms these vile infirmities should 
 
 share?" 
 
132 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And Moorish Reduan heard her words, and saw the meaning 
 
 plain. 
 Advancing to the balcony he answered her again: 
 " The sun is king of everything, o'er all he holds his sway. 
 And thou art like the sun — thy charms I own and I obey ; 
 Thy beauty warms my veins again, and in its rays, forsooth, 
 I feel the blithe, courageous mood of long-forgotten youth ; 
 Sure love of mine can harm thee not, as sunlight is not lost 
 When its kind radiance dissolves the fetters of the frost." 
 Then turning round, a parchment did Reduan unfold, 
 And on it was a writing in characters of gold ; 
 The meaning of the posy at once the maiden caught: 
 " Since I can venture, I can have ; as yet, I am not naught." 
 He shows upon his shield a sun, circled with burning rays ; 
 And on the rim was written a little verse which says, 
 " Two suns, one on my shield, and one in beauty's eyes, I 
 
 trace." 
 Then at the cold disdain he saw upon her lovely face. 
 He covered with a gauzy veil the blazon of his shield, 
 " The sun upon my targe," he cried, " before thy light must 
 
 yield." 
 But as the maid still pouted and eyed him with disdain, 
 " The mimic sun," continued he, " which here is blazoned plain, 
 Is overcast and hides itself from the true orb of day. 
 And I by beauty's radiance eclipsed must ride away." 
 And as he spoke the Moor struck deep the rowels in his steed. 
 And rode away from Tagus' side across the grassy mead. 
 The Moorish maiden recked not if he were far or near. 
 Her thoughts returned to fancies sweet of her absent cavalier. 
 
 FICKLENESS REBUKED 
 
 While in the foeman's ruddy gore 
 
 I waded to the breast, 
 And for mine own, my native shore 
 
 Fought braver than the best. 
 While the light cloak I laid aside. 
 
 And doflFed the damask fold, 
 And donned my shirt of mail, the spoil 
 
 Of foeman brave and bold, 
 
FICKLENESS REBUKED 
 
 Thou, fickle Mooress, puttest on 
 
 Thine odorous brocade, 
 And hand in hand with thy false love 
 
 Wert sitting in the shade. 
 Thus on the scutcheon of thy sires 
 
 Thou plantest many a stain; 
 The pillars of thine ancient house 
 
 Will ne'er be firm again. 
 But, oh, may Allah vengeance take 
 
 For thine unkind deceit. 
 And sorely weeping mayst thou pay 
 
 The vengeance that is meet. 
 Thus shalt thou pay — thy lover's bhss 
 
 Thou shalt not, canst not share, 
 But feel the bitter mockery 
 
 Thy day-long shame must bear. 
 And what revenge 'twill be to note 
 
 When thou dost kiss his brow. 
 How thy gold tresses, soft and light. 
 
 Blend with his locks of snow ; 
 And what revenge to hear him 
 
 To thee his loves recount. 
 Praising some Moorish lass, or mark 
 
 His sons thy staircase mount. 
 Yes, thou shalt pay the penalty. 
 
 When, from sweet Genii's side. 
 Thou passest to the stormy waves 
 
 Of Tagus' rushing tide ; 
 Abencerrajes are not there. 
 
 And from thy balcony 
 Thou shalt not hear the horsemen 
 
 With loud hoof rushing by. 
 Thoughts of lost days shall haunt thee then 
 
 And lay thy spirit waste, 
 When thy past glories thou shalt see 
 
 All faded and effaced; 
 All gone, those sweet, seductive wiles — 
 
 The love note's scented scroll — 
 The words, and blushing vows, that brought 
 
 Damnation to thy soul. 
 
 133 
 
134 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Thus the bright moments of the past 
 
 Shall rise to memory's eye, 
 Like vengeance-bearing ministers 
 
 To mock thy misery. 
 For time is father of distress ; 
 
 And he whose life is long 
 Experiences a thousand cares, 
 
 A thousand shapes of wrong. 
 Thou shalt be hated in the court, 
 
 And hated in the stall. 
 Hated in merry gathering, 
 
 In dance and festival. 
 Thou shalt be hated far and wide; 
 
 And, thinking on this hate. 
 Wilt lay it to the black offence 
 
 That thou . didst perpetrate. 
 Then thou wilt make some weak defence. 
 
 And plead a father's will, 
 That forced thee shuddering to consent 
 
 To do the act of ill. 
 Enjoy then him whom thus constrained 
 
 Thou choosest for thine own ; 
 But know, when love would have his way. 
 
 He scorns a father's frown. 
 
 THE GALLEY-SLAVE OF DRAGUT 
 
 Ah, fortune's targe and butt was he, 
 
 On whom were rained the strokes from hate 
 From love that had not found its goal. 
 
 From strange vicissitudes of fate. 
 A galley-slave of Dragut he, 
 
 Who once had pulled the laboring oar. 
 Now, 'mid a garden's leafy boughs, 
 
 He worked and wept in anguish sore. 
 " O Mother Spain ! for thy blest shore 
 
 Mine eyes impatient yearn ; 
 For thy choicest gem is bride of mine. 
 
 And she longs for my return. 
 
THE GALLEY-SLAVE OF DRAGUT 
 
 They took me from the galley bench ; 
 
 A gardener's slave they set me here, 
 That I might tend the fruit and flowers 
 
 Through all the changes of the year; 
 Wise choice, indeed, they made of me! 
 
 For when the drought has parched the field, 
 The clouds that overcast my heart 
 
 Shall rain in every season yield. 
 O mother Spain ! for thy blest shore 
 
 Mine eyes impatient yearn; 
 For thy choicest gem is bride of mine. 
 
 And she longs for my return. 
 
 They took me from the galley's hold; 
 
 It was by heaven's all-pitying grace, 
 Yet, even in this garden glade, 
 
 Has fortune turned away her face. 
 Though lighter now my lot of toil. 
 
 Yet is it heavier, since no more 
 My tear-dimmed eyes, my heart discern, 
 
 Across the sea, my native shore. 
 O mother Spain ! for thy blest shore 
 
 Mine eyes impatient yearn; 
 For thy choicest gem is bride of mine. 
 
 And she longs for my return. 
 
 And you, ye exiles, who afar 
 
 In many a foreign land have strayed ; 
 And from strange cities o'er the sea 
 
 A second fatherland have made — 
 Degenerate sons of glorious Spain! 
 
 One thing ye lacked to keep you true. 
 The love no stranger land could share ; 
 
 The courage that could fate subdue. 
 O mother Spain I for thy blest shore 
 
 Mine eyes impatient yearn; 
 For thy choicest gem is bride of mine, 
 
 And she longs for my return." 
 
 ^SS 
 
136 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE CAPTIVE'S LAMENT 
 
 Where Andalusia's plains at length end in the rocky shore, 
 And the billows of the Spanish sea against her boundaries roar, 
 A thousand ruined castles, that were once the haughty pride 
 Of high Cadiz, in days long past, looked down upon the tide. 
 And on the loftiest of them all, in melancholy mood, 
 A solitary captive that stormy evening stood. 
 For he had left the battered skiff that near the land wash lay, 
 And here he sought to rest his soul, and while his grief away. 
 
 While now, like furies, from the east the gale began to 
 blow. 
 
 And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
 Ah, yes, beneath the fierce levant, the wild white horses 
 
 pranced ; 
 With rising rage the billows against those walls advanced; 
 But stormier were the thoughts that filled his heart with bitter 
 
 pain. 
 As he turned his tearful eyes once more to gaze upon the main. 
 " O hostile sea," these words at last burst from his heaving 
 
 breast ; 
 " I know that I return to die, but death at least is rest. 
 Then let me on my native shore again in freedom roam, 
 For here alone is shelter, for here at last is home." 
 
 And now, like furies, from the east the gale began to 
 
 blow. 
 And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
 'Twas Tagus' banks to me a child my home and nurture gave ; 
 
 Ungrateful land, that lets me pine unransomed as a slave. 
 
 For now to-day, a dying man, am I come back again, 
 
 And I must lay my bones on this, the farthest shore of Spain. 
 
 It is not only exile's sword that cuts me to the heart ; 
 
 It is not only love for her from whom they bade me part ; 
 
 Nor only that I suffer, forgot by every friend. 
 
 But, ah ! it is the triple blow that brings me to my end." 
 
 And now, like furies, from the east the gale began to 
 blow. 
 
 And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
THE CAPTIVE'S LAMENT 
 
 137 
 
 " The fire with which my bosom burns, alas ! thy coolest breeze 
 Can never slake, nor can its rage thy coolest wave appease ; 
 The earth can bring no solace to the ardor of my pain, 
 And the whole ocean waters were poured on it in vain. 
 For it is like the blazing sun that sinks in ocean's bed. 
 And yet, with ardor all unquenched, next morning rears its 
 
 head. 
 Thus from the sea my suffering's flame has driven me once 
 
 more. 
 And here I land, without a hope, upon this arid shore." 
 
 And now, like furies, from the east the gale began to 
 
 blow. 
 And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
 Oh, call me not, oh, call me not, thou voice of other years, 
 The fire that flames within my heart has dried the spring of 
 
 tears. 
 And, while my eyes might well pour forth those bitter drops 
 
 of pain, 
 The drought of self-consuming grief has quenched the healing 
 
 rain. 
 Here, let me cry aloud for her, whom once I called mine own. 
 For well I wot that loving maid for me has made her moan. 
 'Tis for her sake my flight I urge across the sea and land. 
 And now 'twixt shore and ocean's roar I take my final stand." 
 And now, like furies, from the east the gale began to 
 
 blow, 
 And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
 Then stooping to the earth he grasped the soil with eager 
 
 hand, 
 He kissed it, and with water he mixed the thirsty sand. 
 " O thou," he said, " poor soil and stream, in the Creator's 
 
 plan 
 Art the end and the beginning of all that makes us man ! 
 From thee rise myriad passions, that stir the human breast, 
 To thee at last, when all is o'er, they sink to find their rest. 
 Thou, Earth, hast been my mother, and when these pangs are 
 
 o'er, 
 
138 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Thou $halt become my prison-hoyse whence I can pass no 
 more." 
 
 And now, Hke furies, from the east the gale began to 
 blow, 
 ' And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
 And now he saw the warring winds that swept across the bay 
 
 Had struck the battered shallop and carried it away. 
 
 " O piteous heaven," he cried aloud, " my hopes are like yon 
 
 bark : 
 Scattered upon the storm they lie and never reach their mark." 
 And suddenly from cloudy heavens came down the darkling 
 
 night 
 And in his melancholy mood the captive left the height. 
 He gained his boat, with trembling hand he seized the laboring 
 
 oar 
 And turning to the foaming wave he left his native shore. 
 " Ah, well I wot on ocean's breast when loud the tempest blows 
 Will rest be found when solid ground denies the heart repose. 
 Now let the hostile sea perceive no power of hers I dread, 
 But rather ask her vengeance may fall upon my head." 
 Into the night the shallop turned, while floated, far behind 
 The captive's lamentation like a streamer on the wind. 
 
 And now, like furies, from the east the gale began to 
 
 blow. 
 And with the crash of thunder the billows broke below. 
 
 STRIKE SAIL! 
 
 A Turkish bark was on the sea, the sunny sea of Spain, 
 In sight of cliffs that Hercules made boundaries of the main ; 
 And one, Celimo's captive slave, as fierce the billows grew, 
 Was listening as the ship-master this order gave the crew : 
 " Strike sail ! Strike sail ! The furious gale 
 Is rising fast ! Strike sail ! " 
 
 Fierce fell on them the opposing winds, the ship was helpless 
 
 driven ; 
 And with the ocean's flood were blent the thunder-drops of 
 
 heaven. 
 
THE CAPTIVE'S ESCAPE 139 
 
 And as the inky clouds were rent, the fiery lightning flared, 
 And 'mid the terror-stricken crew one voice alone was heard : 
 " Strike sail ! Strike sail ! The furious gale 
 Is rising fast ! Strike sail ! " 
 
 And one there sat upon the deck, in captive misery, 
 
 Whose tears ran mingling with the flood, the flood of sky and 
 
 sea. 
 Lost in the tempest of his thoughts, he fondly breathed a pjayer. 
 Whose mournful words were echoed by the mount of his de- 
 spair : 
 
 " Strike sail ! Strike sail ! The furious gale 
 Is rising fast ! Strike sail ! " 
 
 " If I am captive and a slave, the time shall come when God 
 Will bring me freed, to tread once more my own, my native 
 
 sod! 
 Then all my ancient glory shall return to me for aye. 
 Till then, my soul, be patient and wait that happy day ! " 
 " Strike sail ! Strike sail ! The furious gale 
 Is rising fast ! Strike sail ! " 
 
 THE CAPTIVE'S ESCAPE 
 
 The fair Florida sat at ease, upon a summer's day. 
 Within a garden green and fair that by the river lay, 
 And gayly asked that he her spouse would tell his darling 
 
 wife 
 The cause of his captivity, the history of his life. 
 "Now tell me, dearest husband, I pray thee tell me true. 
 Who were thy parents, and what land thy birth and nurture 
 
 knew ? 
 And wherefore did they take thee a captive from that place. 
 And who has given thee liberty, thy homeward path to trace ? " 
 " Yes, I will tell thee, gentle wife, and I will tell thee true, 
 For tender is the light I see within thine eyes of blue. 
 In Ronda did my father raise his castle on the height ; 
 And 'twas in Antequera first my mother saw the light. 
 Me, to this dark captivity, the dastard Moors ensnared, 
 Just as the peace had ended and war was not declared. 
 
140 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 They took me off in fetters, to barter me for gold, 
 Velez-de-la-Gomera was the town where I was sold. 
 Seven weary days, and for each day a long and weary night, 
 They set me on the auction-block, before the people's sight. 
 Yet not a Moorish gentleman and not a Moorish wife 
 A maravedi offered for the mournful captive's life. 
 At last there came a Moorish dog, in rich attire, and gave 
 A thousand golden pieces to have me for his slave. 
 He led me to his lofty house, and bade me there remain. 
 Mocked by his lowest underlings, and loaded with a chain. 
 Ah ! vile the life he led me, and deep revenge I swore ; 
 Ah ! black the life he gave me, and hard the toils I bore ! 
 By day I beat the piled-up hemp cut from the vega plain ; 
 By night, within the darkened mill, I ground for him the grain. 
 And though the very corn I ground, I longed to take for meat, 
 He placed a bridle on my mouth that I should nothing eat ! 
 Therefore, it pleased the God who rules the heavens, the land, 
 
 the sea. 
 That the mistress of that mighty house looked tenderly on me. 
 And when the Moor a-hunting went, one happy autumn day. 
 She came into my prison-house and took my chains away ; 
 She bade me sit upon her lap, I answered with delight ; 
 Ah, many a gallant present she made to me that night! 
 She bathed me and she washed my wounds, and garments 
 
 fresh she gave. 
 Far brighter than were fit to deck the body of a slave ; 
 And love's delight we shared that night, for I grew gay and 
 
 bold! 
 And in the morn she gave to me a hundred crowns of gold. 
 She oped the gates, she bade me, with smiles, once more be 
 
 free; 
 We fled, for fear that Moorish hound would slay both her and 
 
 me. 
 And so it pleased the God who rules the earth and heavens 
 
 above, 
 To prove his deep compassion and the greatness of his love ; 
 And thus my sad captivity, my days of wandering, o'er, 
 Florida, in thy loving arms I nestle as of yore ! 
 
THE SPANIARD OF ORAN 141 
 
 THE SPANIARD OF ORAN 
 
 Right gallant was that gentleman, the warlike knight of Spain, 
 Who served the King in Oran, with sword and lances twain ; 
 But, with his heart's devotion and passion's ardent fire, 
 He served a gentle Afric maid of high and noble sire. 
 And she was fair as noble, and well could she requite 
 The devotion of a lover and the courage of a knight. 
 And when one summer evening they paid their vows again. 
 They heard the alarum ring to arms across the darkling plain ; 
 For the foes' approach had roused the watch and caused the 
 
 war-like sound. 
 The silver moon had shed its ray upon their targes round. 
 The targes shot the message to the silent watch-towers by. 
 And watch-towers sent their tidings by flames that lit the sky ; 
 And the fires had called the bells on high to ring their clear 
 
 alarms — 
 That tocsin roused the lover locked iij the lady's arms. 
 Ah, sorely felt he in his heart the spur of honor prick. 
 But love's appeal that held him, it pierced him to the quick. 
 'Twas cowardice to dally and shrink that foe to face, 
 But, ah, it was ingratitude to leave her in that case. 
 And hanging round her lover's neck, she saw that he turned 
 
 pale. 
 And seized his sword and cast one glance upon his coat of 
 
 mail; 
 And, with a burst of sighs and tears she bowed her beauteous 
 
 head; 
 " Oh, rise, my lord, gird on thy arms, and join the fray," she 
 
 said; 
 Oh, let my tears this couch bedew ; this couch of joy shall be 
 As dolorous as the dreary field of battle, without thee ! 
 Arm, arm thyself and go to war! Hark, hark! the foes ap- 
 proach. 
 Thy general waits ; oh, let him not thy knightliness reproach ! 
 Oh, direly will he visit thee for cowardice to-day. 
 For dire the crime in any clime of soldiers who betray. 
 Well canst thou glide unnoticed to the camp, without thy 
 
 sword ; 
 
142 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Wilt thou not heed my tears, my sighs — begone without a 
 
 word! 
 Thy bosom is not made of flesh, for, ah ! thou canst not feel, 
 Thou hast no need of arms in fight, for it is hard as steel." 
 The Spaniard gazed upon her, his heart was full of pride ; 
 She held him fast and even her words retained him at her side. 
 " Lady," he said, and kissed her, " spite of thy words unwise, 
 Thou art as sweet as ever in thy lover's faithful eyes. 
 And since to love and honor this night thou hast appealed, 
 I take my arms and go, for right it is to thee I yield ; 
 I go into the battle and my body seeks the fight. 
 But my soul behind me lingers in thy bosom of delight ; 
 Oh, grant me, Lord and Master, to seek the camp below, 
 Oh, let me take the name to-night and I will cheerful go, 
 Bearing the sword, the lance, and coat of mail against the 
 
 foe I" 
 
MOORISH ROMANCES 
 
 [Metrical Translation by J. Lockhart] 
 
MOORISH ROMANCES 
 
 THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL 
 
 [Gazul is the name of one of the Moorish heroes who figure in the " His-' 
 toria de las Guerras Civiles de Granada." The following ballad is 
 one of very many in which the dexterity of the Moorish cavaliers 
 in the bull-fight is described. The reader will observe that the shape, 
 activity, and resolution of the unhappy animal destined to furnish the 
 amusement of the spectators, are enlarged upon, just as the qualities 
 of a modem race-horse might be among ourselves : nor is the bull 
 without his name. The day of the Baptist is a festival among the 
 Mussulmans, as well as among Christians.] 
 
 KING ALMANZOR of Granada, he hath bid the trumpet 
 sound, 
 He h^'th summonded all the Moorish lords, from the 
 hills and plains around ; 
 From vega and sierra, from Betis and Xenil, 
 They have come with helm and cuirass of gold and twisted 
 steel. 
 
 'Tis the holy Baptist's feast they hold in royalty and state. 
 And they have closed the spacious lists beside the Alhambra's 
 
 gate; 
 In gowns of black and silver laced, within the tented ring, 
 Eight Moors to fight the bull are placed in presence of the King. 
 
 Eight Moorish lords of valor tried, with stalwart arm and true, 
 The onset of the beasts abide, as they come rushing through ; 
 The deeds they've done, the spoils they've won, fill all with 
 
 hope and trust. 
 Yet ere high in heaven appears the sun they all have bit the 
 
 dust. 
 
 10 145 
 
146 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Then sounds the trumpet clearly, then clangs the loud tambour, 
 Make room, make room for Gazul— throw wide, throw wide 
 
 the door ; 
 Blow, blow the trumpet clearer still, more loudly strike the 
 
 drum. 
 The Alcayde of Algava to fight the bull doth come. 
 
 And first before the King he passed, with reverence stooping 
 
 low. 
 And next he bowed him to the Queen, and the Infantas all 
 
 a-row ; 
 Then to his lady's grace he turned, and she to him did throw 
 A scarf from out her balcony was whiter than the snow. 
 
 With the life-blood of the slaughtered lords all slippery is the 
 
 sand. 
 Yet proudly in the centre hath Gazul ta'en his stand ; 
 And ladies look with heaving breast, and lords with anxious 
 
 eye, 
 But firmly he extends his arm — ^his look is calm and high. 
 
 Three bulls against the knight are loosed, and two come roaring 
 
 on. 
 He rises high in stirrup, forth stretching his rejon; 
 Each furious beast upon the breast he deals him such a blow 
 He blindly totters and gives back, across the sand to go. 
 
 " Turn, Gazul, turn," the people cry — the third comes up be- 
 hind. 
 
 Low to the sand his head holds he, his nostrils snuff the wind ; 
 
 The mountaineers that lead the steers, without stand whispering 
 low, 
 
 " Now thinks this proud alcayde to stun Harpado so? " 
 
 From Guadiana comes he not, he comes not from Xenil, 
 From Gaudalarif of the plain, or Barves of the hill ; 
 But where from out the forest burst Xarama's waters clear. 
 Beneath the oak-trees was he nursed, this proud and stately 
 steer. 
 
THE BULL-FIGHT OF GAZUL 147 
 
 Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil, 
 And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil. 
 His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow ; 
 But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe. 
 
 Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near, 
 From out the broad and wrinkled skull, like daggers they ap- 
 pear; 
 His neck is massy, like the trunk of some old knotted tree. 
 Whereon the monster's shaggy mane, like billows curled, ye 
 see. 
 
 His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as 
 
 night, 
 Like a, strong flail he holds his tail in fierceness of his might; 
 Like something molten out of iron, or hewn from forth the rock, 
 Harpado of Xarama stands, to bide the alcayde's shock. 
 
 Now stops the drum — close, close they come-^thrice meet, and 
 
 thrice give back ; 
 The white foam of Harpado lies on the charger's breast of 
 
 black — 
 The white foam of the charger on Harpado's front of dun — 
 Once more advance upon his lance — once more, thou fearless 
 
 one! 
 
 Once more, once more; — in dust and gore to ruin must thou 
 
 reel — 
 In vain, in vain thou tearest the sand with furious heel — 
 In vain, in vain, thou noble beast, I see, I see thee stagger. 
 Now keen and cold thy neck must hold the stern alcayde's 
 
 dagger! 
 
 They have slipped a noose around his feet, six horses are 
 
 brought in, 
 And away they drag Harpado with a loud and joyful din. 
 Now stoop thee, lady, from thy stand, and the ring of price 
 
 bestow 
 Upon Gazul of Algava, that hath laid Harpado low. 
 
148 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE ZEGRI'S BRIDE 
 
 [The reader cannot need to be reminded of the fatal effects which were 
 produced by the feuds subsisting between the two great families, or 
 rather races, of the Zegris and the Abencerrages of Granada. The 
 following ballad is also from the " Guerras Civiles. "] 
 
 Of all the blood of Zegri, the chief is Lisaro, 
 To wield rejon like him is none, or javelin to throw ; 
 From the place of his dominion, he ere the dawn doth go, 
 From Alcala de Henares, he rides in weed of woe. 
 
 He rides not now as he was wont, when ye have seen him speed 
 
 To the field of gay Toledo, to fling his lusty reed ; 
 
 No gambeson of silk is on, nor rich embroidery 
 
 Of gold-wrought robe or turban — ^nor jewelled tahali. 
 
 No amethyst nor garnet is shining on his brow. 
 
 No crimson sleeve, which damsels weave at Timis, decks him 
 
 now; 
 The belt is black, the hilt is dim, but the sheathed blade is 
 
 bright ; 
 They have housened his barb in a murky garb, but yet her hoofs 
 
 are light. 
 
 Four horsemen good, of the Zegri blood, with Lisaro go out; 
 No flashing spear may tell them near, but yet their shafts are 
 
 stout ; 
 In darkness and in swiftness rides every armed knight — 
 The foam on the rein ye may see it plain, but nothing else is 
 
 white. 
 
 Young Lisaro, as on they go, his bonnet doffeth he, 
 Between its folds a sprig it holds of a dark and glossy tree; 
 That sprig of bay, were it away, right heavy heart had he- 
 Fair Zayda to her Zegri gave that token privily. 
 
 And ever as they rode, he looked upon his lady's boon. 
 " God knows," quoth he, " what fate may be — I may be 
 slaughtered soon ; 
 
THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA 149 
 
 Thou still art mine, though scarce the sign of hope that 
 
 bloomed whilere, 
 But in my grave I yet shall have my Zayda's token dear." 
 
 Young Lisaro was musing so, when onward on the path, 
 He well could see them riding slow; then pricked he in his 
 
 wrath. 
 The raging sire, the kinsmen of Zayda's hateful house. 
 Fought well that day, yet in the fray the Zegri won his spouse. 
 
 THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA 
 
 [The following ballad has been often imitated by modern poets, both in 
 Spain and in Germany : 
 
 " Pon tea las rejas azuiesy dexa la manga que labrast 
 MelanchoUca Xarifa, veras algalan Andalla" eic.'\ 
 
 " Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; 
 Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. 
 From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing. 
 And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly 
 
 blowing. 
 And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere, 
 And the tall, tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats 
 
 proudly in the air: 
 Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; 
 Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. 
 
 "Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Andalla's face. 
 He bjends him to the people with a calm and princely grace, 
 Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquivir 
 Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely 
 
 never. 
 Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow of purple mixed with 
 
 white, 
 I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed to-night ; 
 
 Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; 
 
 Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. 
 
 " What aileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thine eyes look down ? 
 Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the town? 
 
ISO 
 
 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 I've heard you say on many a day, and sure you said the truth, 
 Andalla rides without a peer, among all Granada's youth. 
 Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse doth go 
 Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and slow ; 
 
 Then rise, oh, rise, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; 
 
 Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all 
 the town." 
 
 The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down. 
 
 Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town ; 
 
 But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers 
 
 strove. 
 And though her needle pressed the silk, no flower Xarifa 
 
 wove; 
 One bonny rose-bud she had traced, before the noise drew 
 
 nigh— 
 That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow drooping from her eye. 
 
 " No — ^no," she sighs — " bid me not rise, nor lay my 
 cushion down. 
 
 To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing town." 
 
 " Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down ? 
 Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing town ? 
 Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry! 
 He stops at Zara's palace gate — why sit ye still — oh, why?" 
 " At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate ; in him shall I discover 
 The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was 
 my lover? 
 
 I will not rise, with dreary eyes, nor lay my cushion down, 
 To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing town ! " 
 
 ZARA'S EAR-RINGS 
 
 " My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! they've dropped into the well, 
 And what to say to Muga, I cannot, cannot tell." 
 'Twas thus, Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter, 
 " The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold blue 
 
 water — 
 To me did Muqa give them, when he spake his sad farewell, 
 And what to say when he comes back, alas ! I cannot tell. 
 
ZARA'S EAR-RINGS 
 
 »Si 
 
 " My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! they were pearls in silver set, 
 That when my Moor was far away, I ne'er should him forget. 
 That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor smile on other's 
 
 tale. 
 But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings 
 
 pale — 
 When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in 
 
 the well, 
 Oh, what will Muga think of me, I cannot, cannot tell. 
 
 " My ear-rings ! my ear-rings ! he'll say they should have been. 
 Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen. 
 Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear, 
 Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere — 
 That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting well — 
 Thus will he think — ^and what to say, alas ! I cannot tell. 
 
 " He'll think when I to market went, I loitered by the way ; 
 He'll think a willing ear I lent to all the lads might say ; 
 He'll think some other lover's hand, among my tresses noosed, 
 From the ears where he had placed them, my rings of pearl un- 
 loosed ; 
 He'll think, when I was sporting so beside this marble well. 
 My pearls fell in, — ^and what to say, alas ! I cannot tell. 
 
 " He'll say, I am a woman, and we are all the same ; 
 He'll say I loved when he was here to whisper of his flame — 
 But when he went to Tunis my virgin troth had broken. 
 And thought no more of Muqa, and cared not for his token. 
 My ear-rings! my ear-rings! O luckless, luckless well. 
 For what to say to Muga, alas ! I cannot tell. 
 
 " I'll tell the truth to Muqa, and I hope he will believe — 
 That I thought of him at morning, and thought of him at eve ; 
 That, musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone. 
 His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain all alone ; 
 And that my mind was o'er the sea, when from my hand they 
 
 fell. 
 And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the well." 
 
,52 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE LAMENTATION FOR CELIN 
 
 At the gate of old Granada, when all its bolts are barred. 
 At twilight at the Vega gate there is a trampling heard ; 
 There is a trampling heard, as of horses treading slow, 
 And a weeping voice of women, and a heavy sound of woe. 
 " What tower is fallen, what star is set, what chief come these 
 
 bewailing ? " 
 " A tower is fallen, a star is set. Alas ! alas for Celin ! " 
 
 Three times they knock, three times they cry, and wide the 
 
 doors they throw ; 
 Dejectedly they enter, and mournfully they go ; 
 In gloomy lines they mustering stand beneath the hollow porch, 
 Each horseman grasping in his hand a black and flaming torch ; 
 Wet is each eye as they go by, and all around is wailing, 
 For all have heard the misery. " Alas ! alas for Celin ! "-^ 
 
 Him yesterday a Moor did slay, of Bencerraje's blood, 
 'Twas at the solemn jousting, around the nobles stood ; 
 The nobles of the land were by, and ladies bright and fair 
 Looked from their latticed windows, the haughty sight to share ; 
 But now the nobles all lament, the ladies are bewailing, 
 For he was Granada's darling knight. " Alas ! alas for Celin I " 
 
 Before him ride his vassals, in order two by two, 
 With ashes on their turbans spread, most pitiful to view ; 
 Behind him his four sisters, each wrapped in sable veil. 
 Between the tambour's dismal strokes take up their doleful 
 
 tale; 
 When stops the muffled drum, ye hear their brotherless be- 
 wailing, 
 And all the people, far and near, cry — " Alas ! alas for Celin ! " 
 
 Oh! lovely lies he on the bier, above the purple pall. 
 The flower of all Granada's youth, the loveliest of them all ; 
 His dark, dark eyes are closed, his rosy lip is pale, 
 The crust of blood lies black and dim upon his burnished mail. 
 And evermore the hoarse tambour breaks in upon their wailing, 
 Its sound is like no earthly sound — " Alas ! alas for Celin ! " 
 
THE LAMENTATION FOR CELIN 
 
 153 
 
 The Moorish maid at the lattice stands, the Moor stands at his 
 
 door. 
 One maid is wringing of her hands, and one is weeping sore — 
 Down to the dust men bow their heads, and ashes black they 
 
 strew 
 Upon their broidered garments of crimson, green, and blue — 
 Before each gate the bier stands still, then bursts the loud be- 
 wailing. 
 From door and lattice, high and low — " Alas ! alas for Celin ! " 
 
 An old, old woman cometh forth, when she hears the people 
 
 cry; 
 Her hair is white as silver, like horn her glazed eye. 
 'Twas she that nursed him at her breast, that nursed him long 
 
 ago; 
 She knows not whom they all lament, but soon she well shall 
 
 know. 
 With one deep shriek she thro' doth break, when her ears receive 
 
 their wailing — 
 " Let me kiss my Celin ere I die — Alas ! alas for Celin ! " 
 
THE STORY OF SIDI BRAHIM 
 OF MASSAT 
 
 [Translated by Rene Basset and Chauncey C. Starkweather] 
 
THE STORY OF SIDl BRAHIM OF MASSAT 
 
 THE Taleb Sidi Brahim, son of Amhammed of Massat, 
 in the province of Sous, tells the following story about 
 himself : When he was still a child at his father's house 
 he went to the mosque to read with a taleb. He studied with 
 him for twelve and a half years. His father gave him bread 
 and kouskous, and he ate eight deniers' worth a day. I will 
 make known the country of Massat. It contains seventeen 
 towns. In the middle of these is a market. The Jews have a 
 refuge in the village of the chief named Mobarek-ben-Mahomet. 
 He lives with a sheik called Brahim-Mahomet-Abon-Djemaa. 
 These two chiefs levy a tax on the Jews. They receive from 
 them four ounces per family at the beginning of each month. 
 If the festival of the Mussulmans coincides with the Sabbath of 
 the Jews, the latter pay to each of the chiefs one ounce for a 
 Jew or a Jewess, boy or girl, little or big. The following are 
 the details of the population of Massat. It includes 1,700 men. 
 As to the women, little boys or girls, only the Lord knows 
 their number. There are 1,250 houses. The horses amount 
 to 180. They ride them and make them work like oxen and 
 mules. They also fight on horseback. The country has trees, 
 vines, figs, cacti, dates, oranges, lemons, apples, apricots, 
 melons, and olives. There is a river which flows from there 
 to the sea. The commerce is considerable. There are Jews 
 and Mussulmans. The number of books in the mosque is un- 
 known, unless it be by God. The teachers are numerous as well 
 as the pilgrims, the descendants of Mahomet, and the saints. 
 May God aid us with his blessing ! 
 
 We will now speak of the tribute which the people of Massat 
 pay yearly to Prince Mouley-Abd-Er-Rahman. Up to our 
 days they had, for fifty-one years, given him S,ooo livres of 
 silver. The prince said to them, " You must pay 1,000 livres 
 
 157 
 
158 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 more." They answered, " By the Lord, we will only give you 
 as before, S,ooo livres, a slave, a servant, and a horse." The 
 kaid Abd-el-Cadik, who was caliph of the King of Taroundant, 
 hastened to send against them forty-five horsemen, and said 
 to them : " You must give me six thousand livres of silver, 
 and a slave, a servant, and a horse in addition." They re- 
 fused and drove away the cavalry, saying, " Return to the kaid 
 who sent you against us, and say to him that we will not in- 
 crease our tribute as he demands." The horsemen returned 
 and arrived at Taroundant. The kaid asked him, " Tell me 
 what happened to you with the people of Massat." They 
 answered him, " They read in their assembly the letter that 
 you sent them, and told us to go back, and that they would 
 pay no larger sum." The kaid called a council and asked what 
 had better be done with the people of Massat. The sheiks of 
 the Achtouks answered, " Make complaints to the Sultan at 
 Morocco." He wrote to the Sultan, asking him to send an 
 army to destroy the rebels of Massat. The Sultan sent a force 
 of 3,500 horsemen, to whom he gave for chief, Ettaib Eddin, 
 who rejoined them near the khalifah of the King at Taroundant. 
 When the royal troops arrived, the fourth night, he started 
 and led them to the taleb Mahomet of the Aggars, in the midst 
 of the country of the Achtouks. The taleb said to him: 
 " Return to Taroundant. Let your lieutenant go with them 
 and we will talk about it." The kaid answered, " Very well." 
 The chiefs of the Achtouks mounted their horses and led the 
 army toward the country of Hama, in the mountain which is 
 between the Achtouks and Ida-Oultit. The troops hastened 
 toward the foot of the mountain, near the river Alras, in the 
 country of Takourt. The mountaineers marched against them 
 and fought for three days until the holy men and the sherifs 
 arrived and quieted them. The mountaineers came down 
 toward the army. The kaid betrayed them. He seized four- 
 teen of their leaders and sent them to the kaid at Taroundant. 
 He cut off their heads and hung them up at the gate. As to 
 the army that was above the river Alras, it attacked the people 
 of Massat on account of the tribute demanded by the kaid. It 
 made the onset with cavalry, and destroyed the country. The 
 natives received them with powder, and they fought half a 
 day. The natives gained the advantage in the fight. The 
 
THE STORY OF SIDI BRAHIM OF MASSAT 159 
 
 enemy abandoned their cannons. The natives slew them until 
 the Sultan's troops retreated. They captured 700 horses. The 
 troops of the Sultan abandoned their baggage except six chests 
 of silver. Many guns were broken on that day, until the flying 
 invaders reached the country of the Achtouks. The people of 
 Massat had for allies the tribes of Aglou and Tizpit, who 
 equalled them in number. As for the cannons abandoned 
 the day of the battle, the conquerors took two of them to their 
 country. They kept them until they were repaid the 6,500 
 livres of silver, which had been taken from them. Then they 
 gave back the cannons. Such is the complete story of that 
 which happened between the tribe of Massat, the Khalifah 
 of the King, and the neighboring tribes. 
 
 II 
 
 Information about the country of Tazroualt. The Taleb 
 Sidi Brahim, son of Mahomet, of Massat in Sous, tells the 
 following: jHe started for the zaouiah of Tazroualt, to study 
 there during seven months with the taleb Sidi Mahomet Adjeli, 
 one of the greatest lights. The number of students was 
 seventy-four. Forty-two of these studied the law. The others 
 read the Koran. None of the students paid for his living. It 
 was furnished by the chief of the country, Hecham. He gave 
 to the zaouiah mentioned, six servants and six slaves to cook 
 the food of the students. The number of the villages of this 
 country is nine. The Kashlah of Hecham is situated in the 
 middle of the country. The Jewish quarter is at the left. The 
 market is held every day at the entrance to the fort. This latter 
 is built of stone, lime, and pine planks and beams. Riches 
 abound. Caravans go from there to Timbuctoo, the Soudan, 
 Sahara, and Agadir-Ndouma. They go to these countries to 
 buy ivory, ostrich feathers, slaves, gold and silver. If it hurries, 
 a caravan consumes a whole year in visiting these places. The 
 people of the different countries buy from them and give in 
 exchange other merchandise, such as linen, cotton, silks, iron, 
 steel, incense, corals, cloves, spikenard, haberdashery, pottery, 
 glass, and everything that comes, as they say, from the country 
 of Christians. When these goods enumerated above have ar- 
 rived, the merchants, both Jews and Mussulmans, come forward 
 
i6o MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 and buy them according to the needs of their business. I will 
 add here, with more details, some words about Hecham. He 
 has twelve sons, all horsemen, who have thirty-six horses. As 
 for oxen, sheep, and camels, God alone could tell the figure. 
 The number of the wives that Hecham has married is four white 
 and six slaves — the latter black. His only son has as many 
 white wives as his father, but more black ones. The men of 
 Tizeroualt are of the number of 1,400. But for the women, 
 boys, and girls, God alone knows the figure. They possess 200 
 horses, beside those of Hecham. There are 750 houses ; the 
 number of books in the mosque is 130 — ^in the Chelha language. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The sheik Sidi Hammad, son of Mahomet Mouley Ben- 
 Nacer, has written his book in Amazir. It is entitled the 
 " Kitab-amazir." This work treats of obligations and tra- 
 ditions of things permitted and forbidden. 
 
 IV 
 
 There are 3,500 men in the Aglou country. They have 
 2,200 houses and 960 horses. This district is on the sea-coast 
 and possesses a stone-harbor. There are barks which are used 
 in fishing. The inhabitants were living in tranquillity when 
 one day, as they were starting out to fish, a ship arrived off 
 shore. They fled in fear and left it in the sea. The ship 
 waited till midnight. Then it entered the port and ran up a 
 red flag. It remained at anchor for fifteen days. The people 
 of Aglou assembled day and night, big and little, even the 
 horsemen before it. No one was missing. The chiefs of the 
 town wrote letters which they sent to all the villages. They 
 sent one to Sidi Hecham couched in these words : " Come at 
 once. The Christians have made an expedition against us, and 
 have taken this port." Sidi Hecham sent messengers to all the 
 provinces over which he ruled and said in his letters : " You 
 must accompany me to the country of Aglou, for the Christians 
 have made an expedition against us." All the neighboring 
 tribes assembled to march against the Christians. When Sidi 
 
THE STORY OF SIDI BRAHIM OF MASSAT i6i 
 
 Hecham had joined them he said, " You must raise a red flag 
 like theirs." 
 
 They raised it. When it was seen by those on the ship, a 
 sailor came ashore in a small boat and approached the Mussul- 
 mans there assembled. 
 
 " Let no one insult the Christian," said Sidi Hecham, " until 
 we learn his purpose in landing here." 
 
 They asked him, " What do you want? " 
 
 The Christian replied, " We wish to receive, in the name of 
 God, pledges of security." 
 
 All who were present said, " God grants to you security 
 with us." 
 
 The Christian then continued, " My object is to trade with 
 you." 
 
 " That is quite agreeable to us," answered Hecham. Then 
 Hecham asked the Christian what he wanted to purchase." 
 
 " Oil, butter, wheat, oxen, sheep, and chickens," said he. 
 
 When the Mussulmans heard this they gathered together 
 wheat, oil, oxen, and everything he had mentioned. He made 
 his purchases, and was well supplied. The master of the ship 
 then said : 
 
 " Our business is finished. We must go back home. But 
 we shall return to you." Hecham answered : 
 
 " That which I have done for you is not pleasing to the peo- 
 ple of Aglou. It is only on account of the pledge of security 
 that I have been able to restrain them. I have given you all 
 you asked. Next time you come, bring us fifty cannons and 
 ten howitzers." 
 
 " Very well," answered the Christian, " I shall return this 
 time next year." 
 
 " Do as you promise," replied Hecham, " and I will give you 
 whatever you want in the country of the Mussulmans." 
 
 II 
 
,6, MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 V 
 A Story about the Country of Ait-Bamouran 
 
 There arrived in this country at the beginning of the year 
 another ship which stopped at a place called Ifni, in the tribe 
 of Ait-Bamouran, and stayed there three days. Then one of 
 the sailors got into a small boat, came ashore, and said to the 
 inhabitants, " I will buy bread, meat, and water from you." 
 
 The Mussulmans brought him bread, figs, and water, saying: 
 " You must send two of your men ashore while we go on board 
 the ship with you." 
 
 " It is well," replied the Christian. Then he went to get 
 two of his men whom he brought ashore and said to the Mus- 
 sulmans : " You must give me one of your men." 
 
 They gave him a hostage to remain on board the Christian 
 ship. Then they filled a boat, and boarded the ship them- 
 selves to deliver what they had sold. They ran all over the 
 ship looking at everything. Then they said, " Come with us 
 to the spring and we will draw water." The Christians ac- 
 companied them to the fountain to fill their water-casks. The 
 other natives, to the number of fifteen, got into a boat and went 
 to the ship. With the water-party and the hostages ashore 
 there were only four Christians on the ship when the Mussul- 
 mans boarded it. 
 
 " Don't come aboard till our men have come back," said the 
 Christians. 
 
 " We will come aboard by force," he was answered, and the 
 attack began. One of the Christians killed a native with a 
 gun. Then they fought until the Christians were overcome. 
 Two Christians were killed and the rest captured and taken 
 ashore and imprisoned with the others of the water-party. 
 The ship was sold for i8o mithkals. The Christians were all 
 sold and dispersed among the tribes. The news of this spread 
 to Taccourt. The merchants there sent to Ait-Bamouran and 
 bought all the Christians at any price. They secured seven. 
 Three were missing, of whom two were in the country of Ait- 
 bou-Bekr with the chief of that tribe named Abd-AUah, son 
 of Bou-Bekr. The third, who was a boy, was with the sheik 
 of Aglou, who said : 
 
THE STORY OF SIDI BRAHIM OF MASSAT 163 
 
 " I will not sell this one, for he has become as dear to me 
 as a son." Then addressing the young boy he said, " I wish 
 to convert you; be a Mussulman." The boy acquiesced and 
 embraced Islamism. The day of his abjuration the sheik killed 
 in his honor an ox for a festival, and gave to the convert the 
 name of Mahomet. Then he sent to say to all his tribe: 
 
 " Come to my house. I have prepared a repast." The 
 Mussulmans came and diverted themselves with their horses 
 and gunpowder. The chief told them, " I have given a fourth 
 of my possessions, a slave, and a servant to this young man." 
 He added, " He shall live with my son." They both occupied 
 the same room, and the master taught the young convert the 
 whole Koran. The Mussulmans called him Sidi Mahomet, 
 son of AH. Seven Christians were ransomed and sent back 
 to their own country. 
 
 VI 
 
 Information about the country Tiznit : This place is a kind 
 of a city surrounded on all sides by a wall, and having only two 
 gates. The water is in the centre, in a fountain. The fortress 
 is built above the fountain, in the middle of the city. It is en- 
 tirely constructed of mortar, cut stone, marble, and beams, all 
 from Christian countries. It was the residence of the khalifah 
 of the King in the time of Mouley-Soliman. When this prince 
 died, the people of Tiznit revolted, drove away the Ueutenant, 
 and made a concerted attack upon the citadel, which they com- 
 pletely destroyed. They took the stones and beams and built 
 a mosque on the spot, near the fountain of which we have 
 spoken. But when Mouley-Abd-Er-Rahman came to the throne 
 he sent a caliph to Tiznit. He gave him 300 horsemen. 
 When the caliph arrived near the town he waited three days 
 and they gave him food and barley. At the end of this time 
 he made a proclamation summoning all the people to him. 
 When they came he read them the royal edict and said : 
 " I must enter your city to occupy the fortress of the King ! " 
 They said : " No ; go back whence you came and say to 
 your master: 'You shall not rule over us. Your fortress 
 is totally destroyed, and with the material we have built a big 
 mosque in the middle of our city.' " 
 
,64 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Prince Mouley-Abd-Er-Rahman sent at once against them 
 his son Sidi-Mahomet with the khalifah and 6,000 horsemen. 
 The people of Tiznit were informed of the approach of the 
 army under the Sultan's son, and that the advancing guard 
 was near. The soldiers arrived in the middle of the country 
 of the Achtouks and camped in the city of Tebouhonaikt near 
 the river Alras. There was a day's march between them and 
 Tiznit. The inhabitants, frightened, sent deputies to the other 
 districts, saying: 
 
 " Come and help us, for the Sultan's son has come and 
 ordered us to build him a fort in the space of one month or 
 he will fall upon us, cut a passage, and destroy our city." The 
 tribes around Tiznit assembled and marched against the royal 
 army. The Sultan's son stayed twenty-two days at Tebou- 
 honaikt, then he crossed the river Alras and marched against 
 the rebels. He surrounded Tiznit on all sides. The inhabi- 
 tants made a sortie, engaged in battle, and fought till the morn- 
 ing star. At the fall of day the battle recommenced. The 
 royal army was defeated and driven across the river Alras. 
 The son of the Sultan killed eight rebels and thirty-five horses, 
 but many of his soldiers fell. He retreated to Morocco. 
 
 VII 
 
 Information about the country of Taragoust: This is a 
 unique district situated near the source of the Ourd-Sous. It 
 is distant from Taroundant about a day and a half's march. 
 When a young man becomes of age his father buys him a gun 
 and a sabre. The market is in the middle of the country. But 
 no man goes there without his weapons. The sheiks judge 
 each one in the market for four months in the year in turn and 
 during their period of office. They decided who was guilty 
 and demanded price of blood for those killed in the market. 
 One of them said : 
 
 " I will give nothing. Find the murderer. He will give you 
 the price of blood." 
 
 The sheik replied : " Pay attention. Give us part of your 
 goods." 
 
 " I will give you nothing," he answered. 
 
 In this way they quarrelled, until they began fighting with 
 
THE STORY OF SIDI BRAHIM OF MASSAT 165 
 
 guns. Each tried to steal the other's horses and oxen in the 
 night and kill the owner. They kept acting this way toward 
 each other until Ben-Nacer came to examine the villages 
 where so many crimes were committed, and he reestablished 
 peace and order. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Concerning guns and sabres : They were all brought into 
 the city of Adjadir in the government of Sidi Mahomet-ben- 
 Abd-Alla. They introduced guns, poniards, sabres, English 
 powder, and everything one can mention from the country 
 of the Christians. Sidi Mahomet-ben-Abd-AUah sent there 
 his khalifah, called Ettaleb Calih. He busied himself dur- 
 ing his administration in amassing a great fortune. The guns 
 imported into the provinces were called merchandise of the 
 taleb Calih. This officer revolted against the Sultan, sent 
 him no more money, and consulted him no longer in the ad- 
 ministration of affairs. When the prince ordered him to do 
 such and such a thing with the Christians, Mussulmans, or 
 others, he replied: 
 
 " I shall do as I please, for all the people of Sous are under 
 my hand. I leave the rest to you." The Sultan sent much 
 money to Sidi Mahomet-ben- Abd- Allah, and ordered him with 
 troops against the rebel. The latter fought against the divan 
 until he was captured and put in fetters and chains. The par- 
 tisans of the Emperor said to him : 
 
 " We have captured your khalifah Ettaleb Calih and his ac- 
 complices." 
 
 The prince responded : " Make him a bonnet of iron and a 
 shirt of iron, and give him but a loaf of bread a day." In a 
 letter that he sent he said also : 
 
 " Collect all the goods you can find and let the Christian 
 ships take them all to Taccourt, leaving nothing whatever." 
 Guns, sabres, powder, sulphur, linens, cottons, everything was 
 transported. 
 
 During the reign of Sidi Mouley Soliman he built the city 
 as it is at present. He increased it, and said to the Chris- 
 tians: 
 
 " You must bring me cannons, mortars, and powder, and I 
 
i66 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 will give you in exchange wheat, oil, wool, and whatever yon 
 desire." 
 
 The Christians answered : " Most willingly, we shall return 
 with our products." They brought him cannons, mortars, and 
 powder. In return he supplied them with woollens, wheat, 
 oil, and whatever they desired. 
 
 The Ulmas reproached him, saying : " You are not fulfilling 
 the law in giving to the Christians wheat, oil, and woollens. 
 You are weakening the Mussulmans." 
 
 He answered them : " We must make sacrifices of these 
 goods for two or three years, until the Christians have stocked 
 us with cannons, powder, and so forth. These I will place in 
 the coast towns to drive off the infidels when they arrive." 
 
 IX 
 
 More words about guns: They only make them in three 
 cities in the interior of Sous. The workmen are very numer- 
 ous. They make also gun-barrels, pistols, gun-locks, and all 
 such things. As for sabres and poniards, they are made by 
 Arab armorers. They make powder in every province, but 
 only in small quantities. 
 
FIVE BERBER STORIES 
 
 [Translated by G. Mercier and Chauncey C. Starkweather] 
 
 :\ 
 
FIVE BERBER STORIES 
 
 DJOKHRANE AND THE JAYS 
 
 THE ancestor of the grandfather of Mahomet Amokrane 
 was named Djokhrane. He was a Roman of old times, 
 who lived at T'kout at the period of the Romans. One 
 of his countrymen rose against them, and they fought. This 
 Roman had the advantage, until a bird of the kind called jays 
 came to the assistance of Djokhrane, and pecked the Roman 
 in the eyes until he saved his adversary. From that time forth 
 he remained a friend to Djokhrane. The latter said to his chil- 
 dren: 
 
 " As long as you live, never eat this bird. If you meet any- 
 one who brings one of these birds to eat, buy it and set it 
 free." To this day when anyone brings a jay to one of his 
 descendants, he buys it for silver and gives it liberty. This 
 story is true, and is not a lie. 
 
 THE OGRE AND THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN 
 
 Some hunters set out with their camels. When they came 
 to the hunting-ground they loosed their camels to let them 
 graze, and hunted until the setting of the sun, and then came 
 back to their camp. One day while one of them was going 
 along he saw the marks of an ogre, each one three feet wide, 
 and began to follow them. He proceeded and found the place 
 where the ogre had lately made his lair. He returned and 
 said to his companions: 
 
 " I've found the traces of an ogre. Come, let us seek him." 
 
 " No," they answered, " we will not go to seek him, be- 
 cause we are not stronger than he is." 
 
 " Grant me fourteen days," said the huntsman. " If I re- 
 
 169 
 
I70 
 
 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 turn, you shall see. If not, take back my camel with the 
 game." 
 
 The next day he set out and began to follow the traces of 
 the ogre. He walked for four days, when he discovered a 
 cave, into which he entered. Within he found a beautiful 
 woman, who said to him : 
 
 "What brings thee here, where thou wilt be devoured by 
 this ogre ? " 
 
 " But thou," answered the hunter, " what is thy story and 
 how did the ogre bring thee here ? " 
 
 "Three days ago he stole me," she replied. "I was 
 betrothed to the son of my uncle, then the ogre took me. I 
 have stayed in the cavern. He often brings me food. I stay 
 here, and he does not kill me." 
 
 " Where does he enter," asked the hunter, " when he comes 
 back here ? " 
 
 " This is the way," she answered. The hunter went in to 
 the middle of the cave, loaded his gun, and waited. At sunset 
 the ogre arrived. The hunter took aim and fired, hitting the 
 ogre between the eyes as he was sitting down. Approaching 
 him he saw that he had brought with him two men to cook 
 and eat them. In the morning he employed the day in col- 
 lecting the hidden silver, took what he could, and set out on 
 the return. On the fourteenth day he arrived at the place 
 where he had left his comrades, and found them there. 
 
 " Leave the game you have secured and return with me to 
 the cave," he said to them. When they arrived they took all 
 the arms and clothing, loaded it upon their camels, and set 
 out to return to their village. Half way home they fought to 
 see which one should marry the woman. The powder spoke 
 between them. Our man killed four, and took the woman 
 home and married her. 
 
 THE FALSE VEZIR 
 
 A king had a wife who said to him : " I would like to go and 
 visit my father." 
 
 " Very well," said he ; " wait to-day, and to-morrow thou 
 shalt go with my vezir." The next day they set out, taking 
 .the children with them, and an escort lest they should be at- 
 
THE FALSE VEZIR 171 
 
 tacked on the way. They stopped at sunset, and passed the 
 night on the road. The vezir said to the guards, " Watch that 
 we be not taken, if the robbers should come to seize us." 
 They guarded the tent. The vezir asked the King's wife to 
 marry him, and killed one of her sons because she refused. 
 The next day they set out again. The next night he again 
 asked the King's wife to marry him, threatening to kill a sec- 
 ond child should she refuse. She did refuse, so he killed the 
 second son. The next morning they set out, and when they 
 stopped at night again he asked the King's wife to marry him. 
 
 " I'll kill you if you refuse." 
 
 She asked for delay, time to say her prayers. She prayed 
 to God, the Master of all worlds, and said : " O God, save me 
 from the vezir." The Master of the worlds heard her prayer. 
 He gave her the wings of a bird, and she flew up in the sky. 
 
 At dawn she alighted in a great city, and met a man upon 
 the roadside. She said : " By the face of God, give me your 
 raiment and I'll give thee mine." 
 
 " Take it, and may God honor you," he said. Then she was 
 handsome. This city had no king. The members of the 
 council said : 
 
 "This creature is handsome; we'll make him our king." 
 The cannon spoke in his honor and the drums beat. 
 
 ■When she flew up into the sky, the vezir said to the guards : 
 " You will be my witnesses that she has gone to the sky, so 
 that when I shall see the King he cannot say, 'Where is 
 she? ' " But when the vezir told this story, the King said: 
 
 " I shall go to seek my wife. Thou hast lied. Thou shalt 
 accompany me." They set out, and went from village to vil- 
 lage. They inquired, and said : " Has a woman been found 
 here recently? We have lost her." And the village people 
 said, " We have not found her." They went then to another 
 village and inquired. At this village the Sultan's wife recog- 
 nized them, called her servant, and said to him, " Go, bring to 
 me this man." She said to the King, " From what motive 
 hast thou come hither? " 
 
 He said, " I have lost my wife." 
 
 She answered: "Stay here, and pass the night. We will 
 give thee a dinner and will question thee." 
 
tja MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 When the sun had set she said to the servant, " Go, bring 
 the dinner, that the guests may eat." When they had eaten 
 she said to the King, " Tell me your story." 
 
 He answered : " My story is long. My wife went away in 
 the company of a trusted vezir. He returned and said : ' By 
 God, your wife has gone to heaven.' 
 , " I replied : ' No, you have lied. I'll go and look for her.' " 
 
 She said to him, " I am your wife." 
 
 " How came you here ? " he asked. 
 
 She replied : " After having started, your vezir came to 
 me and asked me to marry him or he would kill my son. 
 ' Kill him,' I said, and he killed them both." 
 
 Addressing the vezir, she said : " And your story ? Let us 
 hear it." 
 
 " I will return in a moment," said the vezir, for he feared 
 her. But the King cut off his head. 
 
 The next day he assembled the council of the village, and 
 his wife said, " Forgive me and let me go, for I am a woman." 
 
 THE SOUFI AND THE TARGUI 
 
 Two Souafa were brothers. Separating one day one said 
 to the other : " O my brother, let us marry thy son wit. ■< my 
 daughter." So the young cousins were married, and the 
 young man's father gave them a separate house. It happened 
 that a man among the Touareg heard tell of her as a re- 
 markable woman. He mounted his swiftest camel, ten years 
 old, and went to her house. Arrived near her residence, he 
 found some shepherds. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said. 
 
 " We are Souafa." 
 
 He confided in one of them, and said to him : " By the face 
 of the Master of the worlds, O favorite of fair women, man 
 of remarkable appearance, tell me if the lady so and so, daugh- 
 ter of so and so, is here." 
 
 " She is here." 
 
 " Well, if you have the sentiments of most men, I desire 
 you to bring her here, I want to see her." 
 
 " I will do what you ask. If she'll come, I'll bring her. If 
 not, I will return and tell you." 
 
THE SOUFl AND THE TARGUl 173 
 
 He set out, and, arriving at the house of the lady, he saw 
 some people, and said " Good-evening " to them. 
 
 " Come dine with us," they said to him. 
 
 " I have but just now eaten and am not hungry." He pre- 
 tended to amuse himself with them to shorten the night, in 
 reality to put to sleep their vigilance. These people went 
 away to amuse themselves while he met the lady. 
 
 " A man sends me to you," he said, " a Targui, who wants 
 to marry you. He is as handsome as you are, his eyes are 
 fine, his nose is fine, his mouth is fine." 
 
 " Well, I will marry him." She went to him and married 
 him, and they set out on a camel together. When the first 
 husband returned, he found that she had gone. He said to 
 himself: "She is at my father's or perhaps my uncle's." 
 When day dawned he said to his sister, " Go see if she is in 
 thy father's house or thy uncle's." She went, and did not find 
 her there. He went out to look for her, and perceived the 
 camel's traces. Then he saddled his own camel. 
 
 The women came out and said : " Stay ! Do not go ; we 
 will give thee our own daughters to marry." 
 
 " No," he replied, " I want to find my wife." He goes out, 
 he follows the tracks of the camel, here, here, here, until the 
 sun goes down. He spends the night upon the trail. His 
 camel is a runner of five years. When the sun rises he starts 
 and follows the trail again. 
 
 About four o'clock he arrives at an encampment of the 
 Touareg, and finds some shepherds with their flocks. He 
 confides in one of these men, and says to him : " A word, 
 brave man, brother of beautiful women, I would say a word 
 to thee which thou wilt not repeat." 
 
 " Speak." 
 
 "Did a woman arrive at this place night before last?" 
 
 "She did." 
 
 " Hast thou the sentiments of a man of heart? " 
 
 "Truly." 
 
 " I desire to talk to her." 
 
 " I will take thee to her. Go, hide thy camel; tie him up. 
 Change thy clothing. Thou wilt not then be recognized 
 among the sheep. Bring thy sabre and come. Thou shalt 
 walk as the sheep walk." 
 
174 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " I will walk toward you, taking the appearance of a sheep, 
 so as not to be perceived." 
 
 " The wedding-festival is set for to-night, and everybody 
 will be out of their houses. When I arrive at the tent of this 
 lady I will strike a stake with my stick. Where I shall sfrike, 
 that is where she lives." 
 
 He waits and conceals himself among the flocks, and the 
 women come out to milk. He looks among the groups of 
 tents. He finds his wife and bids her come with him. 
 
 " I will not go with thee, but if thou art hungry, I will give 
 thee food." 
 
 " Thou'lt come with me or I will kill thee ! " 
 
 She goes with him. He finds his camel, unfastens him, 
 dons his ordinary clothing, takes his wife upon the camel's 
 back with him, and departs. The day dawns. She says : 
 
 " O thou who art the son of my paternal uncle, I am 
 thirsty." Now she planned a treachery. 
 
 He said to her : " Is there any water here ? " 
 
 " The day the Targui took me off we found some in that 
 pass." They arrived at the well. 
 
 " Go down into the well," said the Soufi. 
 
 " I'm only a woman. I'm afraid. Go down thyself." He 
 goes down. He draws the water. She drinks. He draws 
 more water for the camel, which is drinking, when she pours 
 the water on the ground. 
 
 " Why dost thou turn out the water? " 
 
 " I did not turn it out ; thy camel drank it." And neverthe- 
 less she casts her glances and sees a dust in the distance. The 
 Targui is coming. The woman says : 
 
 " Now I have trapped him for thee." 
 
 " Brava ! " he cries, and addressing the Soufi : " Draw me 
 some water that I may drink." He draws the water, and the 
 Targui drinks. The woman says to him: " Kill him in the 
 well. He is a good shot. Thou art not stronger than he is." 
 
 " No," he answered, " I do not want to soil a well of the 
 tribes. I'll make him come up." The Soufi comes up till 
 his shoulders appear. They seize him, hoist and bind him, 
 and tie his feet together. Then they seize and kill his camel. 
 
 " Bring wood," says the Targui to the woman ; " we'll roast 
 some meat." She brings him some wood. He cooked the 
 
THE SOUFI AND THE TARGUI 
 
 175 
 
 meat and ate it, while she roasted pieces of fat till they dripped 
 upon her cousin. 
 
 " Don't do that," says the Targui. 
 
 She says, " He drew his sword on me, crying, ' Come with 
 me or I will kill thee.' " 
 
 " In that case do as you like." She dropped the grease 
 upon his breast, face, and neck until his skin was burnt. While 
 she was doing this, the Targui felt sleep coming upon him, 
 and said to the woman, " Watch over him, lest he should slip 
 out of our hands." 
 
 While he slept the Soufi speaks : " Word of goodness, O 
 excellent woman, bend over me that I may kiss thy mouth or 
 else thy cheek. She says : " God make thy tent empty. 
 Thou'lt die soon, and thou thinkest of kisses ? " 
 
 " Truly I am going to die, and I die for thee. I love thee 
 more than the whole world. Let me kiss thee once. I'll have 
 a moment of joy, and then I'll die." She bends over him, and 
 he kisses her. 
 
 She says, " What dost thou want? " 
 
 " That thou shalt untie me." She unties him. He says to 
 her: "Keep silent. Do not speak a word." Then he un- 
 fastens the shackles that bind his feet, puts on his cloak, takes 
 his gun, draws out the old charge and loads it anew, examines 
 the flint-lock and sees that it works well. Then he says to the 
 woman, " Lift up the Targui." The latter awakes. 
 
 " Why," says he, " didst thou not kill me in my sleep? " 
 
 " Because thou didst not kill me when I was in the well. 
 Get up. Stand down there, while I stand here." 
 
 The Targui obeys, and says to the Soufi : " Fire first." 
 
 " No, I'll let thee fire first." 
 
 The woman speaks: "Strike, strike, O Targui, thou art 
 not as strong as the Soufi." 
 
 The Targui rises, fires, and now the woman gives voice to 
 a long " you — you." It strikes the chechias that fly above his 
 head. At his turn the Soufi prepares himself and says : 
 
 " Stand up straight now, as I did for thee." He fires, and 
 hits him on the forehead. His enemy dead, he flies at him and 
 cuts his throat. 
 
 He then goes to the camel, cuts some meat, and says to the 
 woman : " Go, find me some wood. I want to cook and eat." 
 
176 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " I will not go," she says. He approaches, threatening her, 
 and strikes her. She gets up then and brings him some wood. 
 He cooks the meat and eats his fill. He thinks then of killing 
 the woman, but he fears that the people of his tribe will say, 
 "Thou didst not bring her back." So he takes her on the 
 camel and starts homeward. His cousins are pasturing their 
 flocks on a hill. When he had nearly arrived a dust arose. 
 He draws near, and they see that it is he. His brother speaks, 
 " What have they done to thee ? " 
 He answers, " The daughter of my uncle did all this." 
 Then they killed the woman and cut her flesh in strips and 
 threw it on a jujube-tree. And the jackals and bird's of prey 
 came and passed the whole day eating it, until there was none 
 left. 
 
 AHMED EL HILALIEU AND EL REDAH 
 
 Ahmed el Hilalieu was not loved by people in general. His 
 enemies went and found an old sorceress, and spoke to her 
 as follows : " O sorceress, we want you to drive this man out 
 of our country. Ask what you will, we will give it to you ! " 
 
 She said to them : " May God gladden your faces. Call 
 aloud. Our man will come out and I will see him." They 
 obeyed her, crying out that a camel had escaped. Straightway 
 Ahmed goes to find his father, and tells him his intention of 
 going to join in the search. He starts forth mounted on his 
 courser, and on the way meets some people, who tell him, 
 " It is nothing." He makes a half turn, not forgetting to water 
 his horse, and meets at the fountain the sorceress, who was 
 drawing water. 
 
 " Let me pass," he said to her, " and take your buckskin 
 out of my way." 
 
 "You may pass," she answered. He started his horse, 
 which stepped on the buckskin and tore it. 
 
 "You who are so brave with a poor woman," she said, 
 " would you be able to bring back Redah Oum Zaid? " 
 
 " By the religion of Him whom I adore, you shall show me 
 where this Redah lives or I'll cut off your head." 
 
 " Know, then, that she lives far from here, and that there is 
 between her and you no less than forty days' journey." 
 
AHMED EL HILALIEU AND EL REDAH 
 
 177 
 
 Ahmed went home, and took as provisions for the journey 
 forty dates of the deglet-nour variety, putting them into his 
 pocket. He mounted his steed and departed. 
 
 He goes and goes without stopping, until he comes to the 
 country of the sand. The charger throws his feet forward 
 and buries himself in the sand up to his breast, but soon stops, 
 conquered and worn out by fatigue. Ahmed el Hilalieu then 
 addresses him: 
 
 " My good gray horse, of noble mien, the sand, 
 The cruel sand would eat your very eyes. 
 The air no longer thy loud whinnies bears, 
 No strength is left thee in thy head or heart. 
 The prairies of Khafour I'll give to thee. 
 With Nouna's eyes I'll quench thy thirst, by God. 
 A mule's whole pack of barley shalt thou have 
 That Ben Haddjouna shall bring here for thee.'' 
 
 In his turn the steed spoke and said : " Dismount, unfasten 
 the breast-strap, tighten the girth, for some women are coming 
 to show themselves to us in this country." Ahmed unfastened 
 the breast-strap, then remounts and departs. While he pro- 
 ceeds he sees before him the encampment of a tribe, and per- 
 ceives a horseman coming, mounted on a white mare, en- 
 gaged in herding camels. 
 
 " Blessings upon you ! " cried Ahmed ; " you behind the 
 camels ! " The horseman kept silence, and would not return 
 his salutations. 
 
 " Greetings to you," cried Ahmed again, " you who are in 
 the middle of the camels." The same obstinate silence. 
 
 " Greetings to you, you who are before the camels." The 
 horseman still was silent. Ahmed then said : " Greetings to 
 you, you who own the white mare." 
 
 " Greetings to you ! " replied the horseman. 
 
 " How comes it that you would not answer my greetings 
 for so long ? " 
 
 The horseman answered : " You cried to me, ' Greetings to 
 you, you who are behind the camels.' Now, behind them are 
 their tails. Then you said, ' Greetings to you, you who are 
 in the middle of the camels.' In the middle of them are their 
 bellies. You said, again, ' Greetings to you, you who are be- 
 lt 
 
1 78 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 fore the camels.' Before them are their heads. You said, 
 ' Greetings to you, O master of the white mare.' And then I 
 answered to you, ' Greetings to you also.' " 
 
 Ahmed el Hilalieu asked of the shepherd, " What is your 
 name ? " 
 
 " I am called Chira." 
 
 " Well, Chira, tell me where Redah lives. Is it at the city 
 of the stones or in the garden of the palms ? " 
 
 " Redah dwells in the city. Her father is the Sultan. Seven 
 kings have fought for her, and one of them has refreshed his 
 heart. He is named Chalau. Go, seek the large house. You 
 will be with Redah when I see you again." 
 
 Ahmed sets out, and soon meets the wife of the shepherd, 
 who comes before him and says, " Enter, be welcome, and 
 may good luck attend you ! " She ties his horse, gives him to 
 drink, and goes to find dates for Ahmed. She takes care to 
 count them before serving him with them. He takes out a 
 pit, closes the date again, puts them all together, and puts 
 down the pit. He ate nothing, and he said to the woman: 
 " Take away these dates, for I have eaten my fill." She looks, 
 takes up the tray, counts the dates again, and perceives that 
 none of them has been eaten. Nevertheless, there is a pit, and 
 not a date missing. She cries out : 
 
 " Alas ! my heart for love of this young man , 
 
 Is void of life as is this date of pit." 
 
 Then she heaved a sigh and her soul flew away. 
 
 Ahmed remained there as if in a dream until the shepherd 
 came back. " Your wife is dead," he said to him, " and if you 
 wish, I'll give you her weight in gold and silver." 
 
 But the shepherd answers : " I, too, am the son of a sultan. 
 I have come to pay this woman a visit and desire to see her. 
 Calm yourself. I will take neither your gold nor silver. This 
 is the road to follow; go, till you arrive at the castle where 
 she is." 
 
 Ahmed starts, and when he arrives at the castle, he stands 
 up in his stirrups and throws the shadow of his spear upon the 
 window. 
 
AHMED EL HILALIEU AND EL REDAH 179 
 
 Redah, addressing her negress, said to her : " See now what 
 casts that shadow. Is it a cloud, or an Arab's spear ? " 
 
 The negress goes to see, comes back to her mistress, and 
 says to her, " It is a horseman, such as I have never seen the 
 like of before in all my life." 
 
 " Return," said Redah, " and ask him who he is." Redah 
 goes to see, and says : 
 
 " O horseman, who dost come before our eyes, 
 Why seekest thou thy death ? Tell me upon 
 Thine honor true, what is thine origin? 
 
 He answers: 
 
 " Oh, I am Ahmed el Hilalieu called. Well known 
 'Mongst all the tribes of daughters of Hilal. 
 I bear in hand a spear that loves to kill, 
 Who'er attacks me counts on flight and dies." 
 
 She says to him : 
 
 " Thou'rt Ahmed el Hilalieu ? Never prowls 
 A noble bird about the Zeriba ; 
 The generous falcon turns not near the nests, 
 O madman ! Why take so much care 
 About a tree that bears not any dates ? " 
 
 He answers: 
 
 " I will demand of our great Lord of all 
 To give us rain to cover all the land 
 With pasturage and flowers. And we shall eat 
 Of every sort of fruit that grows on earth." 
 
 Redah: 
 
 " We women are like silk. And only those 
 Who are true merchants know to handle us." 
 
 Ahmed el Hilalieu then says : 
 
 " I've those worth more than thou amid the girls 
 Of Hilal, clad in daintiest of silk 
 Of richest dye, O Redah, O fifth rite." 
 
i8o MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And, turning his horse's head, he goes away. But she re- 
 calls him: 
 
 " I am an orange, thou the gardener ; 
 I am a palm and thou dost cut my fruit ; 
 I am a beast and thou dost slaughter me. 
 I am — upon thine honor — O gray steed, 
 Turn back thy head. For we are friends henceforth." 
 
 She says to the negress, " Go open wide the door that he 
 may come." 
 
 The negress admits him, and ties up his horse. On the third 
 day he sees the negress laughing. 
 
 " Why do you laugh, negress ? " 
 
 " You have not said your prayers for three days." 
 
f>ut ..lie tt 
 CHOICE EXAMPLES OF PALEOGRAPHY. 
 
 Fac-similes from Rare and Curious Manuscripts of 
 Oriental Countries. 
 
 PAGE FROM A SYR/AC BIBLE. 
 
 Manuscript written at St. Thomas, East Indies, about 1600. 
 
 This plate affords an excellent example of Syriac script at the time when the 
 art was in its zenith. It was the custom with all Christians of that era who spoke 
 Syriac to transcribe the Sacred Writings into that tongue in order to protect them 
 from the followers of Mahomet. The script here reproduced is not only very regu- 
 lar in character, but is more open and agreeable to the eye than the generality of. 
 Syriac manuscripts. 
 
POEMS OF THE MAGHREB 
 
 [Translated by M. C. Sonneck and Chauncey C. Starkweather] 
 
POEMS OF THE MAGHREB 
 
 ALI'S ANSWER 
 
 [Argument. — It is related that a young man named Aly ben Bou Fayd, 
 falling in love with a young woman, begged his father to ask her in 
 marriage for him. His father refused. Angered, Aly procured a 
 gun, engraved his name upon it, and betook himself to the chase. 
 His father having claimed this gun he answered :] 
 
 Y 
 
 OU ask the gun I have that bears my name. 
 I will not give it, save against my will. 
 
 How comes it, father, that you treat me thus? 
 You say, " Bring back the gun to put in pledge." 
 Now, may God pardon you for acting thus! 
 I leave you in your land, and, all for you, 
 I swear by God I never shall return. 
 
 Your conduct is unwise. Our enemies 
 Insult me, O my father. And I think 
 That you will give up your ancestral home 
 And garden too. And can I after that 
 Recover my good gun? 
 
 I shall not be 
 Enfeebled that I am no more with you. 
 No longer are you father unto me, 
 And I shall be no more your cherished son. 
 I think, my sire, that you are growing old. 
 Your teeth are falling out from day to day. 
 They whom you visit will not serve you more. 
 
 Your friends won't serve you longer, and your sire. 
 He who begot you, will not help you now. 
 In your adversity no help will come 
 
 183 
 
1 84 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 From all your kindred's high nobility. 
 
 May God make easy all the paths you tread! 
 
 His uncle having threatened him with death, he answered; 
 
 Keep far away from him who has not come 
 
 To thee in his misfortune. Leave him free. 
 
 My uncle writes to me this very day 
 
 That if he held in his own hands the leaf 
 
 Of my life's destiny he'd blot it out. 
 
 If he had in his hands this leaf, O say to him: 
 
 Let him efface it openly, nor hide 
 
 You'll not be able, save with God's own help 
 
 To bear the separation. As for those 
 
 Who are so evil, we will spare them now. 
 
 The barrel of this gun is rusted red. 
 
 The lock is forceless, 'twill no longer act. 
 
 Misfortune overtake the man who leaves 
 
 His child to perish! For the least of things 
 
 He says to me, " Come, give me up this gun," 
 
 I go to seek the desert. I will go 
 Among the tribe they call Oulad Azyz, 
 And live by force. But, pray you say to her, 
 The fair one with the deftly braided hair, 
 I leave the tribe, but shall return for her. 
 
 I disappear, but shall come back for her. 
 And while I live, I never shall forget. 
 I swear it by the head of that sweet one 
 Who for the sake of Ali was accused. 
 The cup of passion which I offered her 
 O'ercame her lovely spirit's tenderness. 
 
 The cup of love intoxicated her. 
 
 O God, Creator of us all, give her 
 
 The strength to bear my absence! Sad for me 
 
 The hour I dream of her I love so well. 
 
 Her love is in my heart and burns it up. 
 
IN HONOR OF LALLA AYCHA-EL-MANNOUBYYA 185 
 
 My heart is sad. 'Tis love that crushes it. 
 It leaves my heart reduced to naught but dust. 
 So that I am consumed by vigils long, 
 And never taste refreshing sleep at all. 
 So that I'm like a bird with broken wings, 
 
 Just like a bird who tries to lift its wings ! 
 
 And so my spirit is not healed. There comes 
 
 To me no comfort nor relief. The eyes 
 
 Of my beloved are as bright as day. 
 
 One word from her would send the friends to death. 
 
 IN HONOR OF LALLA AYCHA-EL-MANNOUBYYA 
 
 A fire burns at the bottom of my heart. 
 For love has conquered me, and I am now 
 His hostage and his prisoner. My soul 
 Is torn out from my body, and sweet sleep 
 Keeps far aloof from my tired eyelids' need. 
 'Tis Aycha causes this, the pretty one. 
 With blackest eyes, Aycha the pure, from whom 
 I'm parted now, whose name is finest gold. 
 Why? why? Oh, tell me. El Mannoubyya. 
 
 Why all this coldness, O my best beloved ? 
 
 For thy dear love I have drunk deep of scorn. 
 
 For thy love, maiden with the darksome looks, 
 
 I wither while thou bear'st a port of oak. 
 
 The fire that burns me eats my very soul. 
 
 My spirit is distracted by these proofs. 
 
 O thou, rebellious to my warm desires. 
 
 My black-eyed beauty, if thou'rt vexed with me 
 
 I'll make apology before the world, 
 
 I'll bring an offering to thee at once, 
 
 The symbol of my homage. May it please! 
 
 Instruct me, sympathetic with my pain 
 
 Have you not said: " I'll bring thee soon good news "? 
 
 O come ! That in my sleep my eyes may see 
 
 Thee coming toward me, my black-pupilled one! 
 
i86 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Awaiting thy fair image I'm consumed, 
 I am exhausted. Why, El Mannoubyya? 
 
 I long have hoped to see thee, O my sweet. 
 And ever farther off appears the end 
 Of my awaiting. All my nights are passed 
 In cries for thee, as some poor mariner 
 Cries to the angry floods that dash aloft. 
 For thee I'm mad with love, my pretty one, 
 Struck with thy mien so full of nobleness. 
 And I alone must wither, 'mongst my friends. 
 
 unpersuadable, with teasing eyes, 
 
 1 am in a most pitiable state. 
 
 Since thou repell'st me and declin'st to keep 
 Thy promise to me, I'll not hesitate 
 To call thee before God. 
 
 Unless thou deign'st 
 To cast thy looks on me the coming day, 
 I shall, all clad in vestments rich, make plaint 
 Unto the envoy of our God, the last 
 Of all the prophets. For thou said'st to me, 
 " I'll draw thee from the sea of thy despair." 
 I worship at thy sanctuary, sweet. 
 My beauty, with large eyes of darkest night. 
 Why? why? El Mannoubyya, tell me why. 
 
 Let thyself bend and call thy servitor, 
 
 Inhabitant of Tunis — city green. 
 
 I will apologize and come to thee, 
 
 O cruel one, with heavy frontlets dark. 
 
 We've heard the story of thy deeds so fine. 
 
 From common brass whene'er thou walk'st abroad. 
 
 Thou drawest silver pure, queen of thy time, 
 
 'Mongst men illumined by thy piety. 
 
 The wretch, led on by love, accosted thee. 
 
 Receiving grace, despite his base design 
 
 He was, nathless, forgiven and saved from sin ; 
 
 So was it from eternity decreed. 
 
 They all consulted thee, queen of thy day. 
 
SAYD AND HYZYYA 187 
 
 And thou didst answer : " This man truly loved. 
 Pour him a cup of wine." By thee he came 
 Unto perfection's acme, step by step. 
 Our Lord, all-powerful, gave to thee this power. 
 
 These are thy merits, fairest citizen! 
 To whom God gave strength irresistible. 
 O beauty with enchanting eyes, Aycha, 
 Our queen. 
 
 Si Alimed Khoudja, greatest bard 
 Of all that time, has said : " I wrote these words 
 The year one thousand one hundred just. 
 But thou who read'st these lines, where'er it be, 
 Add to these numbers, after ninety-eight." 
 Now I salute all those united here 
 And him who hates me here I steep in scorn. 
 Why? why? El Mannoubyya! Why? 
 
 SAYD AND HYZYYA 
 
 Give me your consolation, noble friends; 
 The queen of beauties sleeps within the tomb. 
 A burning fire consumes my aching breast; 
 I am undone. Alas! O cruel fate! 
 My heart's with slim Hyzyya in the grave. 
 
 Alas ! we were so happy a short while 
 Ago, just like the prairie flow'rs in spring; 
 How sweet to us was life in those dear days! 
 Now like a phantom's shadow she has gone. 
 That young gazelle, of utter loveliness. 
 Removed by stern, inevitable fate. 
 
 When she walked forth, not looking right or left, 
 
 My beauteous loved one rendered fools the wise. 
 
 Impressed thus was the great bey of the camp. 
 
 A gleaming poniard rested in his belt. 
 
 He went hemmed in by soldiers and a horde 
 
 Of horsemen, glad to follow where he led. 
 
1 88 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 All haste to bring him costly gifts. He bore 
 A sabre of the Ind, and with one stroke 
 He cleaved a bar of iron, split a rock. 
 How many rebels fell beneath his blow! 
 Haughty and proud, he challenged all who canie. 
 Enough now we have glorified the bey. 
 Speak, singer, in a song that's sweet and new. 
 The praises of the dainty girl I loved, 
 The daughter of good Ahmed ben el Bey. 
 
 Give me your consolation, noble friends; 
 The queen of beauties sleeps within the tomb. 
 A burning fire consumes my aching breast; 
 I am undone ! Alas ! O cruel fate ! 
 
 She lets her tresses flow in all the breeze. 
 
 Exhaling sweet perfume. Thy brows are arched 
 
 In beauty's curve. Thy glance is like a ball 
 
 Shot from a Christian's gun, which hits the mark. 
 
 Thy cheek is lovely as the morning rose 
 
 Or bright carnation, and thy ruby blood 
 
 Gives it the shining brightness of the sun. 
 
 Thy teeth are ivory-white, and thy warm kiss 
 
 Is sweet as milk or honey loved by all. 
 
 Oh, see that neck, more white than palm-tree's heart, 
 
 That sheath of crystal, bound with bands of gold. 
 
 Thy chest is marble, and thy tender breasts 
 
 Are apples whose sweet scent makes well the ill. 
 
 Thy body is, like paper, shining, white. 
 
 Or cotton or fine linen, or, again. 
 
 Just like the snow that falls in a dark night. 
 
 Hyzyya lets her sash hang gracefully, 
 
 Down-falling to the earth, in fold on fold. 
 
 Her fine limbs jingle with gems she wears. 
 
 Her slippers clink with coupled rings of gold. 
 
 We were encamped at Bazer. Every day 
 At dawn I saw the beauty, and we were 
 So glad together ! Every dawn I brought 
 My wishes to my love and followed fate 
 More happy than if I alone possessed 
 
SAYD AND HYZYYA 189 
 
 All riches and all treasures of the earth. 
 Wealth equals not the tinkle of her gems. 
 When I had crossed the mountain there I met 
 Hyzyya, and she walked amid the fields 
 With every grace, and made her bracelets ring. 
 My reason wandered, heart and head were vexed. 
 
 After a happy summer passed at Tell, 
 
 We came, my dearest one and I, Sahara-ward. 
 
 The litters now are closed, the powder sounds. 
 
 My gray horse to Hyzyya bears me swift. 
 
 The palanquin of my coquette's on route. 
 
 At Azal when night comes we pitch our tents. 
 
 Sydy-1-Ahsen is before us now; 
 
 Ez-Zerga, too. Then faring on we go 
 
 To Sydy Sayd, and Elmetkeouk, 
 
 And Medoukal-of-palms, where we arrive 
 
 At eventide. We saddle up at dawn, 
 
 Just when the breeze begins. Our halting-place, 
 
 Sydy Mehammed, decks this peaceful earth. 
 
 From there the litters seek El Mekheraf. 
 
 My charger gray straight as an eagle goes. 
 
 I wend to Ben Seryer with my love. 
 
 Of tattooed arms. When we had crossed Djedy 
 
 We passed the wide plain, and we spent the night 
 
 At Rous-et-toual, near the gleaming sands. 
 
 Ben Djellal was our next day's resting-place ; 
 
 And, leaving there, I camped at El Besbas, 
 
 And last at El-Herymek, with my love. 
 
 How many festivals beheld us then! 
 In the arena my good steed of gray 
 Fled like a ghost. And sweet Hyzyya there, 
 Tall as a flagstaff, bent her gaze on me, 
 Her smile disclosing teeth of purest pearl. 
 She spoke but in allusions, causing thus 
 That I should understand whate'er she meant. 
 Hamyda's daughter then might be compared 
 Unto the morning-star or a tall palm, 
 Alone, erect among the other trees. 
 
igo MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The wind uprooted it, and dashed it down. 
 I did not look to see it fall, this tree 
 I hoped forever to protect. I thought 
 That God, divinely good, would let it live. 
 But God, the Master, dashed it to the earth. 
 
 I take up now my song. We made but one 
 
 Encampment, at Oned Itel. 'Twas there 
 
 My friend, the queen of damsels, said farewell. 
 
 'Twas in the night she paid the debt of death. 
 
 'Twas there my dark-eyed beauty passed away. 
 
 She pressed her heart to mine and, sighing, died. 
 
 My cheeks were flooded with a sea of tears. 
 
 I thought to lose my reason. I went forth 
 
 And wandered through the fields, ravines, and hills. 
 
 She bore my soul away, my black-eyed love. 
 
 The daughter of a noble race. Alas! 
 
 She still increased the burnings of my heart. 
 
 They wrapped her in a shroud, my noble love. 
 
 The fever took me, burning up my brain. 
 
 They placed her on a bier, all decked with gems. 
 
 And I was in a stupor, dull to see 
 
 All that was passing on that dreadful day. 
 
 They bore my beauty in a palanquin — 
 
 Her pretty palanquin — this lovely girl. 
 
 Cause of my sorrows, tall as a straight staff. 
 
 Her litter is adorned with odd designs. 
 
 Shining as brilliant as the morning-star. 
 
 And like the rainbow glowing 'midst the clouds. 
 
 All hung with silk and figured damask-cloth. 
 
 And I, like any child, was in despair. 
 
 Mourning Hyzyya. Oh, what pangs I felt 
 
 For her whose profile was so pure! She nevermore 
 
 Will reappear upon this earth again. 
 
 She died the death of martyrs, my sweet love. 
 
 My fair'st one, with Koheul-tinted lids! 
 
 They took her to a country that is called 
 
 Sydy Kaled, and buried her at night. 
 
 My tattooed beauty. And her lovely eyes, 
 
SAYD AND HYZYYA 
 
 Like a gazelle's, have never left my sight. 
 
 sexton, care now for my sweet gazelle. 
 And let no stones fall on Hyzyya's grave. 
 
 1 do adjure thee by the Holy Book 
 
 And by the letters which make up the name 
 
 Of God, the Giver of all good, let no 
 
 Earth fall upon the dame with mirror decked. 
 
 Were it to claim her from a rival's arms 
 I would attack three troops of warriors. 
 I'd take her from a hostile tribe by force. 
 Could I but swear by her dear head, my love. 
 My black-eyed beauty — I would never count 
 My enemies, 'though they a hundred were. 
 Were she unto the strongest to belong 
 I swear she never would be swept from me. 
 
 In the sweet name Hyzyya I'd attack 
 And fight with cavaliers innumerable. 
 Were she to be the spoil of conquerorj 
 You'd hear abroad the tale of my exploits. 
 I'd take her by main strength from all who vied. 
 Were she the meed of furious encounters 
 I'd fight for years for her, and win at last! 
 For I am brave. But since it is the will 
 Of God, the mighty and compassionate, 
 I cannot ward away from me this blow. 
 I'll wait in patience for the happy day 
 When I shall join thee. For I only think 
 Of thee, my dearest love, of thee alone ! 
 
 My gray steed fell dead as he leaped. O friends. 
 After my love, he's gone and left me, too. 
 My charger, 'mid these hills, was of all steeds 
 The fleetest, and in fiercest war's attack 
 All saw him at the head of the platoon. 
 What prodigies he wrought in war's red field! 
 He showed himself ahead of all his peers. 
 A blood-mare was his mother. He excelled 
 fei all the contests 'twixt the wandering camps ; 
 I tourneyed with him careless of my fate. 
 
 191 
 
192 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 When just a month had passed I lost the steed. 
 Hyzyya first, and then this noble horse. 
 He did not long survive my well-beloved. 
 They both are gone, leaving their last farewells. 
 
 grief! my charger's reins have fallen down. 
 God made my life a death, in leaving me 
 Behind. For them I die. Oh, cruel hurt! 
 
 1 weep for this just as a lover weeps. 
 
 Each day my heart burns fiercer, and my joy 
 Has fled away. Now tell me, O my eyes, 
 Why shed so many tears? Beyond a doubt 
 The pleasures of the world will capture you. 
 And will you grant no mercy? My sad soul 
 But sees its torments grow. My pretty one. 
 With lashes black, who was my heart's delight, 
 Now sleeps beneath the sod. I do but weep 
 And my head whitens for the beauteous one. 
 With pearly teeth. My eyes no longer can 
 Endure the separation from their friend. 
 
 The sun that lights us to the zenith climbs, 
 Then gains the west. It disappears from sight 
 When it has gained the summit of the vault 
 Celestial. And the moon, which comes and shines 
 At Ramadan, beholds the hour approach 
 Of sleep, and says farewell to all the world. 
 To these would I compare the lovely queen 
 Of all this age, the daughter of Ahmed, 
 Descendant of a race illustrious, 
 The daughter of Donaonda. 
 
 Such IS 
 The will of God, all-powerful Lord of men. 
 The Lord hath shown his will and borne away 
 Hyzyya. Grant me patience, O my Lord! 
 My heart dies of its hurt. Hyzyya's love 
 Did tear it from me when she left the earth. 
 
 She's worth a hundred steeds of noble race, 
 A thousand camels, and a grove of palms 
 
SAYD AND HYZYYA 193 
 
 In Zyban. Yes, all Djryd is she worth, 
 
 From near to far. The country of the blacks, 
 
 Haoussa and its people is she worth, 
 
 Arabians of Tell and dry Sahara, 
 
 And the encampments of the tribes, as far 
 
 As caravans can reach by all the ways. 
 
 All nomads and all travellers, she's worth, 
 
 And those who settle down as citizens. 
 
 The treasurer of all riches is she worth. 
 
 My black-eyed beauty. And if thou dost think 
 
 This all too small, add all the cities' folk. 
 
 She's worth all flocks and nicely chisel'd gold. 
 
 She's worth the palms of Dra and Chaouyya; 
 
 All that the sea contains, my love is worth, 
 
 The fields and cities from beyond Djebel 
 
 Amour, as far as Ghardaya. She is worth 
 
 All Mzab, the plains of Zab. She pleases, too. 
 
 The people of the Goubba, holy folk. 
 
 And friends of God. She's worth all noble steeds 
 
 However richly housed — or evening's star 
 
 When twilight comes. Too small — 'tis all too small 
 
 For my sweet love, sole cure of all my woes. 
 
 O God majestic, pardon this poor wretch ! 
 
 Pardon, O Lord and Master, him who grieves! 
 
 Just three-and-twenty years! That was the age 
 Of her who wore the silken sash. My love 
 Has followed her, ne'er to revive within 
 My widowed heart. Console me, Mussulmans, 
 My brothers, for the loss of my sweet one, 
 Gazelle of all gazelles, who dwelleth now 
 In her cold, dark, eternal home. 
 Console me, O young friends, for having- lost 
 Her whom you'd call a falcon on its nest. 
 Naught but a name she left behind which I 
 Gave to the camp wherein she passed away. 
 Console me, men, for I have lost my fair, 
 Dear one, that silver khelkals wore. 
 Now is she covered with a veil of stone. 
 On strong foundation laid. Console me, friends, 
 13 
 
194 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 For all this loss, for she loved none but me. 
 
 With my own hands my love's chest I tattooed, 
 
 Likewise her wrists, with checkered patterns odd. 
 
 Blue as the collar of the gentle dove. 
 
 Their outlines did not clash, so deftly drawn. 
 
 Although without galam — my handiwork. 
 
 I drew them 'twixt her breasts, and on her wrists 
 
 I marked my name. Such is the sport of fate ! 
 
 Now Sa'yd, always deep in love with thee. 
 Shall never see thee more! The memory 
 Of thy dear name fills all his heart, my sweet. 
 
 Oh, pardon, God compassionate, forgive 
 Us all. Sa'yd is sad, he weeps for one 
 Dear as his soul. Forgive this love, Lord! 
 Hyzyya — ^join them in his sleep, O God most high. 
 Forgive the author of these verses here! 
 It is Mahomet that recites this tale. 
 
 Thou who hast the future in thy hand. 
 Give resignation to one mad with love! 
 
 Like one exiled from home, I weep and mourn. 
 My enemies might give me pity now. 
 All food is tasteless, and I cannot sleep. 
 
 1 write this with my love but three days dead. 
 She left me, said farewell, and came not back. 
 
 This song, O ye who listen, was composed 
 
 Within the year twelve hundred finished now, 
 
 The date by adding ninety-five years more. [1295.] 
 
 This song of Ould-es-Serge we have sung 
 In Ayd-el-Rebye, in the singing month, 
 At Sydy-Khaled-ben Sinan. A man, 
 Mahomet ben Guytoun, this song has sung 
 Of her you'll never see again alive. 
 My heart lies there in slim Hyzyya's tomb. 
 
THE AISSAOUA IN PARIS 195 
 
 THE AISSAOUA IN PARIS* 
 
 Come, see what's happened in this evil year. 
 The earthquake tumbled all the houses down. 
 Locusts and crickets have left naught behind. 
 
 Hear what has happened to those negro scamps, 
 Musicians — rogues, and Aissaoua. 
 They spoke of nothing but their project great. 
 Bad luck to him who lacks sincerity! 
 
 On learning of the tour of Rayyato 
 
 They all began to cry and run about. 
 
 Half with bare feet, although the rest were shod. 
 
 The Lord afflicts them much in this our world. 
 
 'Twas only negroes, poor house-colorers. 
 
 Who did not follow them about in crowds. 
 
 The Christian Salvador put them on ship. 
 
 One felt his breast turn and exclaimed, " I'm sick." 
 
 A wench poured aromatics on the fire. 
 
 And thus perfumed the air. For Paris now 
 
 They're off, to see the great Abd-el-Azyz. 
 
 The Christians packed them like a cricket-swarm. 
 Between the sea and church, upon the wharf 
 He drew them, wonders promising, and led 
 Them but to beggary. 
 
 He takes them to 
 His land to show them to the chief of all 
 His masters, to the Emperor. He hopes 
 To get a present and thus pay them back. 
 Retaining all the money he advanced. 
 
 * Former student of the Medersa ot This lively poem was composed by him 
 
 Algiers, bookbinder, lutemaker, and on the occasion ot the departure for 
 
 copier of manuscripts, Qaddour ben Paris of a band of musicians, singers, 
 
 Omar ben Beuyna, best known among and Aissaoua, who figured at the tx- 
 
 his coreligionists as Qaddour el Hadby position of 1867, under the direction of 
 
 (the hunchback), Who died during the a professor of music named Salvador 
 
 winter of 1897-1898, has sung for thirty Daniel. The original is in couplets of 
 
 years about all the notables of his city. six hemistichs. 
 
196 MOOR,ISH LITERATURE 
 
 Perhaps they'll show themselves upon some stage 
 Or elsewhere as his fancy leads. The blacks 
 Begin to dance to sound of castanets. 
 The Christians bet on what will happen next. 
 
 They say a letter has arrived which says 
 
 That they've suppressed ablutions and their prayers. 
 
 One has been very ill — " I do not know 
 
 What is the matter with me " — ^but the cause 
 
 Of all his illness was because he fell 
 
 On the perfuming-pans that they had brought 
 
 For Imam they have ta'en the dancing-girl 
 Who leads the dances. With her boxes small 
 In basket made of grass, a picture fine ! 
 Come, see it now ; you'd think it was a ghost. 
 
 The Christian works them all, and most are seized 
 
 With folly. Would you know the first of all? 
 
 Well, sirs, 'tis Et-Try, and he is the son 
 
 Of one Et-Germezlyya. Never has 
 
 He thought of doing well, he lives for crime. 
 
 The shrew^d " Merkanty " made a profit on them. 
 
 Et-Try served them as an interpreter. 
 
 The Christian ought to make them this year gain 
 
 A thousand d'oros. But I pray to God 
 
 To send those two men to the fires of hell. 
 
 Now Aly Et-Try is their manager ; 
 He runs about all day, with naught achieved. 
 The Christian kept them in a stable shut, 
 And like a squad of soldiers took them out. 
 He herded them like oxen there, and naught 
 Was lacking but the drover's lusty cries. 
 
 Consider now the plight of Ould Sayyd, 
 The big-jawed one. He gained ten thousand francs, 
 And lost them all at gambling. Naught remains 
 Except the benches and some coffee-grounds. 
 
THE AiSSAOUA IN PARIS ig; 
 
 The leader of musicians, wholly daft, 
 Whose beard is whiter than the whitest wool, 
 Has gone to Paris gay to see the sights. 
 (I hope he'll bring up in the fires of hell!) 
 If he comes back deceived, at least he'll say 
 He's been abroad, and dazzle all his friends. 
 
 The oboe-player, Sydy Ali, was 
 
 Barber and cafekeeper, eager for 
 
 A change, and crazy to get gold. " This trip," 
 
 He told his friends, " is but a pilgrimage." 
 
 There's nothing lacking but the telbyya. 
 
 " I've taken trips before and with good luck. 
 
 I was the master, with my art acclaimed. 
 
 I was director of the Nouba, at 
 
 The court, when Turkey held the reins of power. 
 
 I was a court buifoon and broke my heart. 
 
 Lord, why send'st thou not thy servant death? 
 
 " I left a workman in my shop so that 
 
 1 might not lose my trade. I went to show 
 My oboe, for someone might ask for it. 
 
 I used to travel with musicians once." 
 
 God bless him ! — ^what a workman. He conversed 
 With all the customers who passed that way. 
 He took them in the shop and told his case — 
 " I'm here for a short while." Then he began 
 To praise his patron, who, he said, would have 
 A gift for him. 
 
 And his lieutenant, named 
 Oulyd-el-Hadj Oualy, is a fool 
 Who thinks his word superior to all. 
 And that there's no one like him in this world. 
 When he has gone there and come back again. 
 He will be perfect. All he contradicts 
 Who speak to him, and will not let them lift 
 A finger. Little love he hath for those 
 
198 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Who speak with candor, but he's very fond 
 Of liars, and always bids them come to him. 
 
 " My childhood was so pampered 1 " he remarks. 
 
 And flies into a passion if one doubts. 
 
 He only lives on semolina coarse. 
 
 And empty is his paunch, all slack and limp. 
 
 Yet every day he tells you how he's dined. 
 
 " I have discovered," he is wont to say 
 "A certain semolina lately brought 
 By a Maltese, who lives some distance off. 
 You never saw the like. I'm going to have 
 Some fine cakes made of it, and some meqrout." 
 
 And El-Hadj Mostefa was dragged along 
 
 By all these lies and by the love of gain. 
 
 If God had not abandoned him, he'd be 
 
 Still making lasts. But 'twas the crowd that led 
 
 Him on, and that is how it came to pass. 
 
 With them is donkey-faced Ham^da, who 
 Sold flowers in the market-place. He left 
 His family no coins to live upon. 
 But told them only : " Moderate your pace. 
 I'll buy a house for you when I get back, 
 And we shall live in plenty evermore." 
 
 Sydy Ahmed et Tsoqba timbals had 
 As big as goat-skin bottles. He desired 
 To play in unison, but the musicians all 
 Abhorred him, for he could not keep in time. 
 
 The heart of Sydy Ahmed glows with love 
 For Ayn-bou-Sellouf, who is very fair. 
 I hope that cares and fainting-fits may swell 
 Him out, and yellow he will straight become 
 As yellow as a carrot in a field. 
 
 I love Sydy-t-Tayyeb when he sings 
 And plays the tambourine. Such ugliness 
 
THE AISSAOUA IN PARIS 199 
 
 My eyes have never seen. You'd think he was 
 A clown. He says : " No one could vanquish me 
 Were I not just a trifle ill to-day." 
 
 Qaddour, the little cock, the drummer-boy, 
 Who hangs on walls and colors houses here 
 Or tars roofs with his mates, exclaims : " I took 
 This voyage just to get a bit of air." 
 
 Koutchouk stayed here, he did not go away. 
 Fresh apricots he sells down in the square. 
 " Repose," he murmurs, " is the best of foods, 
 And here my little heart shall stay in peace." 
 
 When Abd-el-Quader, undertaker's son. 
 Falls in his fits of folly, he binds round 
 His figure with a cord and does not lie 
 Inert and stiff. But still they scorpions see 
 In AUal's hand, Chaouch of Aissaoua. 
 
 Farad jy — fop — eats fire and fig-leaves now ; 
 The while Hasan the Rat excites him on 
 To doughty deeds with his loud tambourine, 
 Playing with all his might and all his soul. 
 They dragged the hedge-rows green of El Qettar 
 To pay this tribute to the Emperor. 
 
 That fop, Ben Zerfa, who chopped hashish seeds 
 Among us here, said : " We have had good luck 
 This summer, and I'm going to pay my debts. 
 I'll execute my drill with stick and sword 
 And serve my sheik the very best I can." 
 
 If you had seen Ben Zerfa as he ran. 
 
 So lightly, bearing on his sturdy back 
 
 A basket filled with, heaven alone knows what I 
 
 It looked like cactus-pears, the basket closed. 
 
 El Hadj Batata — see his silly trance ! 
 With shirt unbuttoned and with collar off, 
 And cap on eyes, at beating of the drums, 
 He shows his tuft denuded all of hair. 
 
900 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Even Mostafa ben el Meddah desired 
 
 To go to Paris and his fortune make. 
 
 " On my return," he said, " I'll buy a lamp, 
 
 A coffee-tray, and goodly sugar-bowl ; 
 
 A big and little mattress, too, I'll buy, 
 
 A carpet and a rug so soft and fine." 
 
 Es Snybla, bellows-faced, who used to work 
 
 For our good mayor, off to Paris went 
 
 To make the soldiers' coffee. When he comes 
 
 Back home again, so much he will have earned. 
 
 He will be richer than a merchant great. 
 
 Oh, welcome, Sydy Omar! All of Paris 
 Is charmed to see you, O my Snybla dear ! 
 If he would only go to Mexico, 
 And stay there it would be a riddance good. 
 
 He is a cafekeeper, and his son 
 
 A baker. For associate he has 
 
 Sydy Aly Mehraz, who does his work 
 
 Astride a thorn; he surely doth deserve 
 
 Our compliments. All three you see are dressed 
 
 In duck, in fashion of the Christian men. 
 
 There's de Merzong ; the people say he's good. 
 
 But still they fear him, he is so uncouth. 
 
 Good God ! When he begins aloud to cry 
 
 In Soudanese, it is enough to make 
 
 You fly to the antipodes away. 
 
 Oulyd ben Zamoum saw his cares increase — 
 
 Since he is a musician, as he thinks, 
 
 The world is rid of him. And when he starts 
 
 To play the first string of the violin, 
 
 The while the Jewess doth begin to sing! 
 
 With him two Jews departed, and the like 
 
 You never saw on earth. A porcupine 
 
 The first resembled, and the other one 
 
 Was one-eyed. You should hear them play the lute! 
 
 Some persons heard my story from afar, 
 Oulyd Sydy Sa^d, among them, and 
 
THE AISSAOUA IN PARIS 201 
 
 Brymat, who laughed abundantly. And with 
 
 Them was the chief of Miliana. All 
 
 Were seated on an iron bench, within 
 
 The right-hand shop. They called me to their booth 
 
 Where I had coffee and some sweets. But when 
 
 They said, " Come take a smoke," I was confused. 
 
 " Impossible," I answered, " for I have 
 
 With Sydy Hasan Sydy Khelyl studied, 
 
 And the Senousyya. So I cannot." 
 
 Ben Aysa came to me, with angry air, 
 
 " The Antichrist," he said, " shall spring from thee. 
 
 I saw within that book you have at home 
 
 His story truly told." " You're right," said I, 
 
 " Much thanks ! " And then I laughed to see 
 
 Him turn his eyes in wrath. 
 
 He said to me 
 'Tis not an action worthy of a man ; 
 He glared at me with eyes as big as cups 
 And face an egg-plant blue. He wanted to 
 Get at me, in his rage, and do me harm. 
 
 With him my uncle was, Mahomet-ben- 
 EI-Haffaf , who remains at prayer all day. 
 He heard this prelude and he said to them, 
 " It is not an affair." " Fear not," they said, 
 " For they will put you also in the song." 
 
 He's tickled by the urchins' eulogies. 
 
 Who praise him as the master of chicane. 
 
 " 'Tis finished now for thee to climb up masts." 
 
 They add : " You're but a laughing-stock for all. 
 
 You've stayed here long enough. You'd better go 
 
 And teach Sahary oxen how to read ! " 
 
 When I recited all these lines to Sy 
 Mahomet Oulyd el-Isnam, who has 
 To the supreme degree the gift of being 
 A bore he said to me, " Now this is song 
 Most flat." The mice in droves within his shop 
 Have eaten an ounce of wool. 
 
MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 He is installed 
 Within the chamber of El Boukhary. 
 In posture of a student, in his hands 
 Some sky-blue wool. " It is," he says, " to make 
 Some socks for little children, for I have 
 But little wool." 
 
 When I had finished quite 
 This dittyramb, and El-Hadj-ben-er-Rebha 
 Became acquainted with it, he began 
 To laugh, telling his beads the while, and then 
 His decoration from his wallet took. 
 Which had been there enclosed. 
 
 My song spread wide. 
 They found it savory. Respected sirs. 
 It is the latest Friday in the month 
 Of El Mouloud and in the year we call 
 Twelve hundred ninety-four, that I complete 
 This tale fantastic. 
 
 Would you know my name ? 
 I am Qaddour, well known to all the world. 
 Binder to Sydy Bou Gdour, and attired 
 In gechchabyya-blouse. And if my back 
 Were not deformed, none could compete with me. 
 
 They told me, " When those folk come back again 
 Thou'd better hide thyself for fear of harm. 
 They'll break thy hump and send thee home to heaven." 
 " Oh, I'll protect myself," I said, " or else complain 
 To the police." 
 
 If I were not so busy 
 I'd still have many other things to say. 
 Those who have heard my prattle say it's good; 
 So say the singers and musicians, too, 
 Ez Zohra ben-el-Foul among them, who 
 Pays compliments to me, from window-seat. 
 
 He who hath nothing found that's useful here 
 Will find in this my song what suits him best. 
 
SONG OF FATIMA joj 
 
 But if he wants to see here something more, 
 
 Then stretch him 'neath the stick and give him straight 
 
 A thousand blows upon the belly ; then 
 
 Take him away to the physician, who 
 
 Will bleed him well. 
 
 And now may hearts not be 
 Made sad by what I have so lightly said. 
 I've placed myself among you, so that I 
 May not incur your blame, O brothers mine. 
 I've told you my deformity, and all 
 My miseries unveiled before your gaze. 
 
 SONG OF FATIMA* 
 
 My spirit is in pain, for it cannot 
 
 Forget my sweet gazelle, with eyes so black. 
 
 A fire burns in my heart, and all my frame 
 
 But wastes and withers. Where's thy cure, O Taleb? 
 
 I find no medicine that cureth love, 
 In vain I search. Sweet Fatima's the cause 
 Of all my woes, with khelkal tinted blue. 
 My heart endureth passion's pangs, my grief 
 Continues. Where's thy remedy, O Taleb ? 
 Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb. 
 
 Pray God for me, O Taleb, I implore. 
 
 But how to cure the malady of love? 
 
 There is no remedy, and all is lost. 
 
 I die for lack of strength to bear my trials. 
 
 It is to thee that I intrust myself, 
 
 The healer who must bring rest to my heart ; 
 
 For now a living brand burns in my breast. 
 
 If thou art skilful, find a cure for me. 
 
 * This elegy is the work of a cele- a son, Ben Medien, a poet, too, and his 
 
 brated sheik of Tlemcen, Mahomet- descendants still live, near Tlemcen, in 
 
 Ben-Sahla, whose period was the first a village called Feddan-es-Seba. 
 half of the eighteenth century. He left 
 
204 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Look in thy book and calculate for me 
 If thou canst quench the burning brand within. 
 I will become thy slave, and thou may'st keep 
 Me or at auction sell. Where is thy cure! 
 Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb. 
 
 The Taleb looked at rae and said : " Take heart, 
 O lover, courage! Thou hast sipped, I see, 
 The cup of death already, and thou hast 
 Not long to live. But hear my counsel now. 
 Have patience! 'Tis the only thing that will 
 Sustain thee. Thou shalt thus obtain the gifts 
 Of Him who only knows thy future days. 
 Thy fate shall be unrolled according to 
 The will of God, the sovereign Lord most high. 
 
 " Turn to thy God. Beseech him constantly. 
 
 He hears with mercy and he knows all souls. 
 
 He turns away no one who comes to him. 
 
 He sees the bottom of their hearts, and lists. 
 
 Bear his decrees with patience camels show. 
 
 They walk from land to land and hope to lose 
 
 At last their burdens." Where's thy cure, O Taleb ? 
 
 Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb. 
 
 Taleb, search within thy book and find 
 The letters that give birth to friendship sweet. 
 Write them for me, and skilful be, I pray, 
 
 So God may give me happiness by them. 
 And cause my dear gazelle to pardon me. 
 And drive my bitter sorrows all away. 
 My punishment too long has lasted. I 
 Am tired of waiting. Never was adventure 
 More strange than mine. 
 
 My cares continue, and 
 
 1 am fatigued with efforts obstinate. 
 The trouble that I've taken to deserve 
 That pretty one, has been for me like that 
 Of daring merchant who doth undertake 
 A venture and gets nothing back but loss 
 
SONG OF FATIMA 205 
 
 And weariness. Where is thy cure, O Taleb? 
 Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb. 
 
 The Taleb answered unto me and said: 
 
 " Support her rigors. Listen now to me. 
 
 And I will give thee counsel sound and good. 
 
 Turn thy true heart aside from memory. 
 
 Forget thy love as she's forgotten thee. 
 
 Courage ! Her loss now wastes and makes thee pale. 
 
 For her thou hast neglected everything, 
 
 And sacrificed a good part of thy days. * 
 
 " My counsels heed and turn me not aside. 
 Hear what sages in their proverbs say: 
 ' That which is bitter never can turn sweet.' 
 ' Leave him whose intercourse is troublesome, 
 And cleave to one who hath an easy way.' 
 ' Endure the pangs of love until they pass,' " 
 Where is thy cure, O Taleb? Tell me where. 
 Thy remedy is lost, O good Lord Taleb. 
 
 If thou art powerful, Taleb, my excuse 
 Accept, and give assistance to my cause. 
 Thy words are all in vain, they but increase 
 My woes. For ne'er can I forget my love, 
 My dear accomplished beauty. While I live, 
 I love her, queen of beauties, and she is 
 Soul of my soul, light of my eyes, my sweet. 
 
 And, oh, how grows my love ! A slave I'd be. 
 Obedient to a man despised. Perhaps 
 That which is far removed, the nearest comes. 
 And if the moment comes, thou know'st it well 
 Who knoweth all the proverbs ! He that's well 
 Shall perish, and the invalid be cured. 
 Where is thy cure, O Taleb ? Tell me where. 
 Thy remedy is lost, my good Lord Taleb. 
 
 And then the Taleb answered him and said : 
 
 " Thou'rt taken in the snares of Qeys — thou know'st. 
 
 He laid strong siege to Leyla's heart and then 
 
2o6 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Awaited trerabling at the trysting-place. 
 Thou now hast wooed thy love for two long years 
 And she will not relent, nor speak to thee. 
 God bless us both I " 
 
 The Lord is generous. 
 He sees. If trouble comes, he'll make it pass. 
 My lot is sad and I am full of fear. 
 The mountains tall would melt and turn to sand 
 If I to them my sorrows should relate. 
 Where is thy cure, O Taleb ? Tell me where. 
 Thy remedy is lost, O good Lord Taleb. 
 
 Taleb, should I tell my tale of grief 
 Unto a sabre of the Ind, 'twould melt 
 On hearing my laments. My heart cannot 
 Endure these tortures, and my breast's on fire. 
 
 My tale is finished, here I end my song, 
 And publish forth my name along with it ; 
 It is Ben Sahla. I do not conceal 
 How I am called, and in my black despair 
 
 1 do not cease my lamentations loud. 
 
 O ye who have experienced the stings 
 Of love, excuse me now and blame me not 
 In this affair. I know that I shall die, 
 O'ercome by woe. The doctor of my heart 
 Protracts my suffering. He cures me not, 
 Nor yet cuts short the thread of my sad life. 
 Where is thy cure, O Taleb ? Tell me where. 
 Thy remedy is lost, O good Lord Taleb. 
 
THE CITY GIRL AND THE COUNTRY GIRL 207 
 
 THE CITY GIRL AND THE COUNTRY GIRL 
 
 thou who hearest me, I will recite 
 One of these stories I am master of — 
 
 A tale that's true. By these I move the hearts 
 Of lovers like to thee, and I divert 
 Their minds with pleasant stories. As I hear, 
 So I relate them, and they please my friends. 
 By flow of wit and eloquence of thought. 
 
 1 tell of beauties' battle. And my song 
 
 Is written in perfection, straight and clear. 
 
 Thinking of naught I walked along one day 
 
 When I had gone to see some beauties fair 
 
 Whose like I ne'er have seen in city nor 
 
 In country yet. I should have said 
 
 That they were sun and moon, and that the girls 
 
 Of that time were bright stars surpassing far 
 
 The Pleiades. The stars are envious 
 
 In their far firmaments, each of 
 
 The other. That's the reason why we see 
 
 Eclipses of the sun and moon. 
 
 My tale 
 Is true. The women, like unto the stars. 
 Are jealous also. Two young virgins met 
 The day I saw them, a sad day for them, 
 For one was jealous of the other one. 
 
 The citizeness said to the Bedouine: 
 " Look at thy similars and thou shalt see 
 In them but rustics, true dogs of the camp. 
 Now what art thou beside a city girl ? 
 Thou art a Bedouine. Dost thou not dream 
 Of goat-skin bottles to be filled at dawn? 
 And loads of wood that thou must daily cut ? 
 And how thou'rt doomed to turn the mill all night. 
 Fatigued, harassed ? Thy feet, unshod, are chapped 
 And full of cracks. Thy head can never feel 
 The solace of uncovering, and thou, 
 
2o8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 All broken with fatigue, must go to sleep 
 
 Upon the ground, in soot and dust to lie, 
 
 Just like a serpent coiled upon himself. 
 
 Thy covering is the tatters of old tents, 
 
 Thy pillow is the stones upon the hearth. 
 
 All clad in rags thou hast a heavy sleep 
 
 Awaking to another stupid day. 
 
 Such is the life of all you country folk. 
 
 What art thou then compared to those who live 
 
 In shade of walls, who have their mosques for prayer 
 
 Where questions are discussed and deeds are drawn ? " 
 
 The Arab woman to the city girl 
 
 :^eplied : " Get out ! Thou'rt like a caverned owl. 
 
 And who art thou beside the Arab girls. 
 
 The daughters of those tribes whose standards wave 
 
 Above brave bands of horsemen as they speed ? 
 
 Look at thy similars. The doctor ne'er 
 
 Can leave their side. Without an illness known 
 
 They're faded, pale, and sallow. The harsh lime 
 
 Hath filled thy blood with poison. Thou art dead, 
 
 Although thou seem'st alive. Thou ne'er hast seen 
 
 Our noble Arabs and their feats of strength. 
 
 Who to the deserts bring prosperity 
 
 By their sharp swords ! If thou could'st see our tribe 
 
 When all the horsemen charge a hostile band. 
 
 Armed with bright lances and with shields to break 
 
 The enemy's strong blow ! Those who are like 
 
 To them are famed afar and glorified. 
 
 They're generous hosts and men of nature free. 
 
 Within the mosques they've built and lodgings made 
 
 For tolba and for guests. All those who come 
 
 To visit them, bear gifts away, and give 
 
 Them praises. Why should they reside in town 
 
 Where everything's with price of silver bought? 
 
 The city girl replied : " Oh, Bedouine, 
 Thou dost forget all that thou hast to do. 
 Thoii go'st from house to house, with artichokes 
 And mallows, oyster-plants, and such. 
 
THE CITY GIRL AND THE COUNTRY GIRL 
 
 209 
 
 Thy garments soaked all through and through with grease. 
 
 This is thy daily life. I do not speak 
 
 Of what is hid from view. Thy slanders cease ! 
 
 What canst thou say of me ? Better than thee 
 
 I follow all the precepts of the Sonna 
 
 And note more faithfully the sacred hours. 
 
 Hid by my veil no eye hath seen my face : 
 
 I'm not like thee, forever in the field. 
 
 I've streets to go on when I walk abroad. 
 
 What art thou, then, beside me? I heard not 
 
 The cows and follow them about all day. 
 
 Thou eatest sorrel wild and heart of dwarf 
 
 Palm-tree. Thy feet are tired with walking far. 
 
 And thy rough hands with digging in the earth." 
 
 " Now what impels you, and what leads you on," 
 
 The country girl of city girl inquired, 
 
 " To outrage us like this and say such words 
 
 Against us, you who are the very worst 
 
 Of creatures, in whom all the vices are 
 
 Assembled? You are wicked sinners all. 
 
 And Satan would not dare to tell your deeds. 
 
 You are all witches. And you would betray 
 
 Your brother, not to speak of husbands. You 
 
 Walk all unguarded in the street alone. 
 
 Against your husband's will. And you deny 
 
 Your holy faith. The curse of heav'n will weigh 
 
 Upon you when you go to meet your God. 
 
 Not one of you is honest. O ye blind 
 
 Who do not wish to see, whence comes your blindness? 
 
 You violate the law divine, and few 
 
 Among you fear the Lord. 'Tis in the country, 
 
 Amid the fields, that women worship God. 
 
 Why say'st thou that the city women sole 
 
 Are pious? Canst thou say my prayers for me? " 
 
 " What pleasure have the country girls ? " replied 
 The city girl. " They've no amusements there. 
 There's nothing to divert the eyes. Their hands 
 They do not stain with henna, setting ofif 
 14 
 
210 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 A rounded arm. Rich costumes they wear not, 
 Which cost some hundred silver pieces each. 
 Nor numerous garments decked with precious stones. 
 They are not coifed with kerchiefs of foulard 
 With flowers brocaded. Neither have they veils 
 Nor handkerchiefs of silk and broidered gold. 
 They never have a negress nurse to bring 
 Their children up and run on services 
 Throughout the house. And yet they boast as loud 
 As any braggart. Why bring'st thou the charge 
 That I a blameful life do lead, whilst thine 
 Deserves reproof? Dirt in the country holds 
 Supreme control. The water's scarce enough 
 To drink, with none left for the bath. The ground 
 Serves you as bed, and millet is your food, 
 Or rotten wheat and barley." 
 
 Then took up 
 The word, and spoke the Arab woman dark : 
 "Who are thy ancestors? Which is thy tribe 
 Among all those that fill the mighty world ? 
 You're only Beny Leqj^, and the scum 
 Of people of all sorts. Thou call'st thyself 
 A city woman. What are city men ? 
 Thy lords don't slander folk. 'Tis only those 
 Who come whence no one knows who have so rude 
 A tongue. Thou wouldst insult me, thou, of stock 
 Like thine, with such a name abroad ! And thou 
 Wouldst taunt a Qorechyte, a Hachemite 
 Of glorious ancestors who earned their fame. 
 'Tis proper for a woman bom of such 
 A stock illustrious to vaunt herself 
 Upon her origin. But thou, a vile 
 Descendant of a conquered race ! 
 
 " Thou call'st 
 Thyself a Sunnite, yet thou knowest not 
 The three great things their Author gave to us : 
 (He knows all secrets.) First is Paradise, 
 Then the Koran, and then our Prophet great, 
 
THE CITY GIRL AND THE COUNTRY GIRL an 
 
 Destroyer of false faiths and for all men 
 The interceder. Whosoe'er loves him 
 Doth love the Arabs, too, and cleaves to them. 
 And whosoe'er hates them hates, too, in truth, 
 The chosen one of God. Thou hatest him. 
 For thou revil'st my ancestors, and seek'st 
 To lower their rank and vilify their fame. 
 Think on thine evil deeds, against the day 
 When in thy grave thou'lt lie, and that one, too, 
 When thou shalt rise again, insulter of 
 The Arabs, king of peoples on the earth." 
 
 " The Arabs I do not at all despise," 
 
 The city woman said, " nor yet decry 
 
 Their honor, and 'tis only on account 
 
 Of thee I spoke against them. But 'tis thou 
 
 Who hast insulted all my family, and placed 
 
 Thy race above. He who begins is e'er 
 
 At fault, and not the one who follows. Thou 
 
 The quarrel didst commence. Pray God, our Lord, 
 
 To pardon me, as I will pray him, too. 
 
 And I the Arabs will no more attack. 
 
 If they oflfend me I will pardon them 
 
 And like them for our holy prophet's sake. 
 
 I shall awake in Paradise some day. 
 
 From them 'tis given, far beyond all price. 
 
 Frankly, I love them more than I do love 
 
 Myself. I love them from my very heart. 
 
 He who a people loveth shall arise 
 
 With them. And here's an end to all our words 
 
 Of bickering and mutual abuse." 
 
 I told them that it was my duty plain 
 To reconcile them. I accorded both 
 Of them most pure intentions. Then I sent 
 Them home, and made agreeable the way. 
 Their cares I drove away with honeyed words. 
 I have composed the verses of this piece, 
 With sense more delicate than rare perfume 
 Of orange-flower or than sugar sweet, 
 
I MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 For those kind hearts who know how to forgive. 
 As for the evil-minded, they should feel 
 The zeqqoum. With the flowers of rhetoric 
 My song is ornamented: like the breast 
 Of some fair virgin all bedecked with stones 
 Which shine like bright stars in the firmament. 
 Some of its words will seem severe to those 
 Who criticise. I culled them like unto 
 A nosegay in the garden of allusions. 
 May men of lion hearts and spirit keen — 
 Beloved by God and objects of his care — 
 Receive my salutations while they live. 
 My countless salutations. 
 
 I should let 
 My name be known to him who's subject to 
 The Cherfa and obeys their mighty power. 
 The mym precedes, then comes the written ha. 
 The mym and dal complete the round and make 
 It comprehensible to him who reads 
 Mahomet. May God pardon me this work 
 So frivolous, and also all my faults 
 And errors. I place confidence in him, 
 Creator of all men, with pardon free 
 For all our sins, and in his mercy trust, 
 Because he giveth it to him who seeks. 
 
 The country girl and city girl appeared 
 Before the judge, demanding sentence just. 
 In fierce invectives for a while they joined. 
 But after all I left them reconciled. 
 
POPULAR TALESOF THE BERBERS 
 
 [Translated by Rene Basset and Chauncey C. Starkweather] 
 
POPULAR TALES OF THE BERBERS 
 
 STORIES OF ANIMALS 
 The Turtle, the Frog, and the Serpent 
 
 ONCE upon a time the turtle married a frog. One day 
 they quarrelled. The frog escaped and withdrew into 
 a hole. The turtle was troubled and stood in front 
 of his door very much worried. In those days the animals 
 spoke. The griffin came by that way and said : " What is 
 the matter with you? You look worried this morning." 
 
 " Nothing ails me," answered the turtle, " except that the 
 frog has left me." 
 
 The griffin replied, " I'll bring him back." 
 " You will do me a great favor." 
 
 The griffin took up his journey and arrived at the hole of 
 the frog. He scratched at the door. 
 
 The frog heard him and asked, " Who dares to rap at the 
 door of a king's daughter?" 
 
 " It is I, the griffin, son of a griffin, who lets no carrion 
 escape him." 
 
 " Get out of here, among your corpses. I, a daughter of 
 the King, will not go with you." 
 
 He departed immediately. 
 
 The next day the vulture came along by the turtle and found 
 it worrying before its door, and asked what was the" trouble. 
 It answered: "The frog has gone away." 
 
 " I'll bring her back," said the vulture. 
 
 " You will do me a great favor." 
 
 The vulture started, and reaching the frog's house began 
 to beat its wings. 
 
 The frog said : " Who comes to the east to make a noise 
 at the house of the daughter of kings, and will not let her 
 sleep at her ease ? " 
 
 "5 
 
2i6 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " It is I, the vulture, son of a vulture, who steafe chicks 
 from under her mother." 
 
 The frog replied : " Get away from here, father of the dung- 
 hill. You are not the one to conduct the daughter of a king." 
 
 The vulture was angry and went away much disturbed. He 
 returned to the turtle and said : " The frog refuses to come 
 back with me. Seek someone else who can enter her hole 
 and make her come out. Then I will bring her back even if 
 she won't walk." 
 
 The turtle went to seek the serpent, and when he had found 
 him he began to weep. " I'm the one to make her come out," 
 said the serpent. He quickly went before the hole of the 
 frog and scratched at the door. 
 
 " What is the name of this other one ? " asked the frog. 
 
 " It is I, the serpent, son of the serpent. Come out or I'll 
 enter." 
 
 " Wait awhile until I put on my best clothes, gird my girdle, 
 rub my lips with nut-shells, put some koheul in my eyes ; then 
 I will go with you." 
 
 " Hurry up," said the serpent. Then he waited a little 
 while. Finally he got angry, entered her house, and swal- 
 lowed her. Ever since that time the serpent has been at war 
 with the frog. Whenever he sees one he chases her and eats 
 her. 
 
 The HedgehoGj the Jackal, and the Lion 
 
 Once upon a time the jackal went in search of the hedge- 
 hog and said to it : " Come along. I know a garden of 
 onions. We will fill our bellies." 
 
 " How many tricks have you ? " asked the hedgehog. 
 
 " I have a hundred and one." 
 
 " And I," said the other, " have one and a half." 
 
 They entered the garden and ate a good deal. The hedge- 
 hog ate a little and then went to see if he could get out of the 
 entrance or not. When he had eaten enough so that he could 
 just barely slip out, he stopped eating. As for the jackal, he 
 never stopped eating until he was swollen very much. 
 
 As these things were going on, the owner of the garden 
 arrived. The hedgehog saw him and said to his companion : 
 
THE HEDGEHOG, THE JACKAL. AND THE LION 217 
 
 " Escape ! the master is coming." He himself took flight. 
 But in spite of his exhortations the jackal couldn't get through 
 the opening. " It is impossible," he said. 
 
 " Where are those one hundred and one tricks ? They don't 
 serve you now." 
 
 " May God have mercy on your parents, my uncle, lend me 
 your half a trick." " Lie down on the ground," answered the 
 hedgehog. " Play dead, shut your mouth, stretch out your 
 paws as if you were dead, until the master of the garden shall 
 see it and cast you into the street, and then you can run away." 
 
 On that the hedgehog departed. The jackal lay down as 
 he had told him until the owner of the garden came with his 
 son and saw him lying as if dead. The child said to his father : 
 
 " Here is a dead jackal. He filled his belly with onions 
 until he died." 
 
 Said the man, " Go, drag him outside." 
 
 " Yes," said the child, and he took him and stuck a thorn 
 into him. 
 
 " Hold on, enough ! " said the jackal. " They play with 
 reeds, but this is not sport." 
 
 The child ran to his father and said, " The jackal cried out, 
 'A reed! a reed!'" 
 
 The father went and looked at the animal, which feigned 
 death. " Why do you tell me that it still lives? " 
 
 " It surely does." 
 
 " Come away and leave that carrion." The child stuck 
 another thorn into the jackal, which cried, " What, again ? " 
 The child went to his father. " He has just said, ' What, 
 again ? ' " 
 
 " Come now," said the man, and he sent away his son. The 
 latter took the jackal by the motionless tail and cast him into 
 the street. Immediately the animal jumped up and started to 
 run away. The child threw after him his slippers. The jackal 
 took them, put them on, and departed. 
 
 On the way he met the lion, who said, " What is that foot- 
 wear, my dear ? " 
 
 "You don't know, my uncle? I am a shoemaker. My 
 father, my uncle, my mother, my brother, my sister, and the 
 little girl who was born at our house last night are all shoe- 
 makers." 
 
,i8 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Won't you make me a pair of shoes ? " replied the lion. 
 
 " I will make you a pair. Bring me two fat camels. I will 
 skin them and make you some good shoes." 
 
 The lion went away and brought the two fat camels. " They 
 are thin," said the jackal. " Go change them for others." 
 
 He brought two thin ones. 
 
 " They are fat," said the jackal. He skinned them, cut some 
 thorns from a palm-tree, rolled the leather around the lion's 
 paws and fastened it there with the thorns. 
 
 " Ouch ! " screamed the lion. 
 
 " He who wants to look finely ought not to say, ' Ouch.' " 
 
 " Enough, my dear." 
 
 " My uncle, I will give you the rest of the slippers and boots." 
 He covered the lion's skin with the leather and stuck in the 
 thorns. When he reached the knees, " Enough, my dear," 
 said the lion. " What kind of shoes are those ? " 
 
 " Keep still, my uncle, these are slippers, boots, breeches, 
 and clothes." 
 
 When he came to the girdle the lion said, " What kind of 
 shoes are those ? " 
 
 " My uncle, they are slippers, boots, breeches, and clothing." 
 In this way he reached the lion's neck. " Stay here," he said, 
 " until the leather dries. When the sun rises look it in the 
 face. When the moon rises, too, look it in the face." 
 
 " It is good," said the lion, and the jackal went away. 
 
 The lion remained and did as his companion had told him. 
 But his feet began to swell, the leather became hard, and he 
 could not get up. When the jackal came back he asked him, 
 " How are you, my uncle ? " 
 
 " How am I ? Wretch, son of a wretch, you have deceived 
 me. Go, go ; I will recommend you to my children." 
 
 The jackal came near and the lion seized him by the tail. 
 The jackal fled, leaving his tail in the lion's mouth. 
 
 " Now," said the lion, " you have no tail. When my feet 
 get well I will catch you and eat you up." 
 
 The jackal called his cousins and said to them, " Let us go 
 and fill our bellies with onions in a garden that I know." They 
 went with him. Arriving he tied their tails to the branches 
 of a young palm-tree, and twisted them well. " Who has 
 tied our tails like this ? " they asked. " No one will come be- 
 
THE HEDGEHOG, THE JACKAL, AND THE LION 219 
 
 fore you have filled your bellies. If you see the master of the 
 garden approach, struggle and fly. You see that I, too, am 
 bound as you are." But he had tied an onion-stalk on him- 
 self. When the owner of the garden arrived, the jackal saw 
 him coming. They struggled, their tails were all torn out, 
 and stayed behind with the branches to which they were fast- 
 ened. When the jackal saw the man, he cut the onion stem 
 and escaped the first of all. 
 
 As for the lion, when his feet were cured, he went to take a 
 walk and met his friend the jackal. He seized him and said, 
 " Now I've got you, son of a wretch." 
 
 The other answered, " What have I done, my uncle ? " 
 
 " You stuck thorns in my flesh. You said to me, ' I will 
 make you some shoes.* Now what shall I do to you ? " 
 
 " It was not I," said the jackal. 
 
 " It was you, and the proof is that you have your tail cut 
 off." 
 
 " But all my cousins are without tails, like me." 
 
 " You lie, joker." 
 
 " Let me call them and you will see." 
 
 " Call them." 
 
 At his call the jackals ran up, all without tails. 
 
 " Which of you is a shoemaker ? " asked the lion. 
 
 " All of us," they answered. 
 
 He said to them : " I am going to bring you some red 
 pepper. You shall eat of it, and the one who says, ' Ouch ! ' 
 that will be the one I'm looking for." 
 
 " Go and get it." 
 
 He brought them some red pepper, and they were going to 
 eat it when the first jackal made a noise with his shoes, but he 
 said to the lion, " My uncle, I did not say, ' Ouch ! ' " The 
 lion sent them away, and they went about their business. 
 
2 20 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The Stolen Woman 
 
 It is related that a man of the Onlad Draabad married his 
 cousin, whom he loved greatly. He possessed a single slave 
 and some camels. Fearing lest someone should carry off his 
 wife on account of her beauty, he resolved to take her to a 
 place where no one should see her. He started, therefore, 
 with his slave, his camels, and his wife, and proceeded night 
 and day until he arrived at the shore of the great salt sea, 
 knowing that nobody would come there. 
 
 One day when he had gone out to see his camels and his 
 slave, leaving his wife alone in the tent, she saw a ship that 
 had just then arrived. It had been sent by a sultan of a far 
 country, to seek in the islands of the salt sea a more beautiful 
 wife for him than the women of his land. The woman in the 
 tent, seeing that the ship would not come first to her^ went 
 out first in front. The people said to her, " Come on board 
 in order to see the whole ship." She went aboard. Finding 
 her to be just the one for whom they were seeking, they seized 
 her and took her to their Sultan. On his return, the husband, 
 not finding his wife, realized that she had been stolen. He 
 started to find the son of Keij, the Christian. Between them 
 there existed a friendship. The son of Keij said to him: 
 " Bring a ship and seven men, whose guide I will be on the 
 sea. They need not go astray nor be frightened. The city 
 is three or four months' journey from here." They set sail in 
 a ship to find the city, and were on the way the time that he 
 had said. 
 
 Arriving they cast their anchor near the city, which was at 
 the top of a high mountain. Their chief went ashore and saw 
 a fire lighted by someone. He went in that direction. It was 
 an old woman, to whom he told his story. She gave him news 
 of his wife. They agreed to keep silence between themselves. 
 Then the old woman added : " In this place there are two 
 birds that devour people. At their side are two lions like to 
 them, and two men. All of these keep guard over your wife." 
 
 He bought a sheep, which he killed; then he went to the 
 two birds and threw them a part of it. While they were quar- 
 relling over it he passed by them and came near to the two 
 
THE KING, THE ARAB, AND THE MONSTER 221 
 
 lions, to which he did the same. Approaching the two men, 
 he found them asleep. He went as far as the place where his 
 wife was in prison, and attracted her attention by scratching 
 her foot. He was disguised and said to her, " I have sought 
 you to tell you something." He took her by the hand. They 
 both went out, and he swore that if she made the slightest 
 noise he would kill her. He also asked her which was the 
 swiftest boat for the journey. She pointed out the best boat 
 there, and they embarked in it. There were some stones on 
 board, and when he threw one at a ship it was crushed from 
 stem to stern, and all on board perished. 
 
 He started to find the son of Keij. While they were at sea 
 a marine monster swallowed them and the ship on which they 
 were sailing. The chief took some pitch and had it boiled in 
 a kettle. The monster cast up the ship on the shore of the 
 sea. They continued their journey, proceeding by the sea- 
 side. 
 
 Behold one day they came to a deserted city. They desired 
 to take what it contained of riches, silver, and gold. All of a 
 sudden the image of an armed man appeared to them. They 
 could not resist or kill him at first, but finally they destroyed 
 him and took all the riches of the houses. When they arrived 
 near the son of Keij he said to them : " I want only the ship." 
 So the other man took the treasures and returned home with 
 his wife. 
 
 The King, the Arab, and the Monster 
 
 In former times there was a king of the At Taberchant (the 
 son of a negress), whose city was situated at the foot of a 
 mountain. An enormous beast came against them, entered 
 the city, and devoured all the people. The beast established 
 itself in the city and stayed there a century. One day it was 
 hungry. It came out into the plain, found some Arabs with 
 their tents, their sheep, their oxen, their mares, and their 
 camels. The beast fell upon them in the night and ate them 
 all up, leaving the earth all white with their bones; then it 
 went back to the city. 
 
 A single man escaped, thanks to his good mare. He ar- 
 rived at a city of the At Taberchant and, starving, began to 
 
222 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 beg. The King of the Jews said to him : " Whence do you 
 come into our country — you who invoke the lord of men 
 [Mahomet] ? You don't know where you are. We are Jews. 
 If you will embrace our religion, we will give you food." 
 
 " Give me some food," said the Arab, " and I will give you 
 some good advice." 
 
 The King took him to his house and gave him some supper, 
 and then asked him what he had to say. 
 
 " An enormous monster has fallen upon us," said the Arab. 
 " It ate up everybody. I will show you its city. It has two 
 gates, one at the north and the other at the south." 
 
 " To-morrow," said the King. 
 
 When he awoke the next day, they mounted horses and fol- 
 lowed the way to the gate of the monster's city. They looked 
 at it and went away. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " said the King. 
 
 " Let us make a great trap of the size of the entrance to the 
 city, at the southern gate. At the northern gate we will place 
 a forty-mule load of yellow sulphur. We will set it on fire, 
 and then escape and see what will happen." 
 
 " Your advice is good," said the King. 
 
 They returned to the city of the Jews, ordered the smiths 
 to make a big trap and commanded the citizens to furnish the 
 sulphur. When all was ready, they loaded the mules, went 
 to the monster's city, set the trap at the southern gate, and 
 at the northern they placed the sulphur, which they set on fire, 
 and then fled. The monster came out by the southern gate. 
 Half of his body was caught in the trap that the two men had 
 set. He was cut in two, filling the river with blood. The 
 King and the Arab entered the city and found a considerable 
 treasure, which they removed in eighty loads to thf city of 
 the Jews. When they had got back to the palace the King 
 said to his companion : " Be my caliph. My fortune and 
 thine shall be the same." 
 
 They sat down and had supper. The prince put in the stew 
 some poison and turned it to the Arab. The latter observed 
 what he had done and said, " Where did that bird come from ? " 
 When the King of the Jews raised his head to look, the Arab 
 turned the dish around, placing the poison side of it in front 
 of the King. He did not perceive the trick, and died on the 
 
THE LION, THE JACKAL. AND THE MAN 
 
 223 
 
 spot. The Arab went to the gate of the city and said to the 
 inhabitants : " I am your King. You are in my power. He 
 who will not accept my rehgion, I will cut ofif his head." They 
 all embraced Islamism and practised fasting and prayer. 
 
 The Lion, the Jackal, and the Man 
 
 In times past, when the animals spoke, there existed, they 
 say, a laborer who owned a pair of oxen, with which he worked. 
 It was his custom to start out with them early in the morning, 
 and in the evening he returned with one ox. The next day 
 he bought another and went to the fallow land, but the lion 
 came and took one ox from him and left him only one. He 
 was in despair, seeking someone to advise him, when he met 
 the jackal and told him what had taken place between him and 
 the lion. The jackal demanded: 
 " What will you give me if I deliver you from the lion ? " 
 " Whatever you wish I will give it to you." 
 " Give me a fat lamb," answered the jackal. " You will fol- 
 low my advice. To-morrow when the lion comes, I will be 
 there. I will arrive on that hill on the other side. You will 
 bring your axe very well sharpened and when I say to you, 
 ' What is that which I see with you now ? ' you must answer, 
 ' It is an ass which I have taken with me to carry barley.' I 
 will say to you, ' I am looking for the lion, and not for an ass.' 
 Then he will ask you, ' Who is speaking to you ? ' Answer 
 him, ' It is the nems ! ' He will say to you, ' Hide me, for I 
 am afraid of him.' When I ask you, ' Who is that stretched 
 there before you ? ' answer, ' It is a beaver.' I will say, ' Take 
 your axe and strike, to know if it be not the lion.' You will 
 take your axe and you will strike the lion hard between the 
 eyes. Then I will continue : ' I have not heard very well. 
 Strike him again once more until he shall really be dead.' " 
 The next day he came to him as before to eat an ox. When 
 the jackal saw him he called his friend and said, " Who is that 
 with you?" 
 " It is a beaver which is before me." 
 
 The jackal answered : " Where is the Hon ? I am looking 
 for him." 
 
2 24 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Who is talking to you? " asked the lion, of the laborer. 
 
 " The ' nems.' " 
 
 " Hide me," cried the lion, " for I fear him." 
 
 The laborer said to him, " Stretch yourself out before me, 
 shut your eyes, and don't move." The lion stretched out be- 
 fore him, shut his eyes, and held his breath. 
 
 The peasant said to the jackal, " I have not seen the lion 
 pass to-day." 
 
 " What is that stretched before you ? " 
 
 " It is a beaver." 
 
 " Take your axe," said the jackal, " and strike that beaver." 
 The laborer obeyed and struck the lion violently between the 
 eyes. 
 
 " Strike hard," said the jackal again ; " I did not hear very 
 well." 
 
 He struck him three or four times more, until he had killed 
 him. Then he called the jackal : " See, I have killed him. 
 Come, let me embrace you for your good advice. To-morrow 
 you must come here to get the lamb which I will give you." 
 They separated and each went his way. As for the peasant, 
 the next day, as soon as dawn, he took a lamb, put it into a 
 sack, tied it up, went into the court-yard and hung it up. Then 
 while he went to get his oxen to till his fields, at that moment, 
 his wife opened the sack, set the lamb free, and replaced it by 
 a dog. The peasant took the sack and went to his work. He 
 attached his oxen and set to work^ till the arrival of the jackal. 
 The jackal said to him, " Where is that promise you made 
 me?" 
 
 " It is in the sack. Open it and you'll find the lamb which 
 I give you." 
 
 He followed his advice, opened the sack, and saw two eyes 
 which shone more brightly than those of a lamb, and said to 
 the laborer, " My friend, you have deceived me." 
 
 "How have I deceived you?" asked the other. "As for 
 the lamb, I put him in the sack. Open it well ; I do not lie." 
 
 The jackal followed his advice, he opened the sack, a dog 
 jumped fiercely out. When the jackal saw the dog he ran 
 away, but the dog caught him and ate him up. 
 
SALOMON AND THE GRIFFIN 225 
 
 Salomon and the Griffin 
 
 Our Lord Salomon was talking one day with the genii. He 
 said to them : " There is born a girl at Dabersa and a boy at 
 Djaberka. This boy and this girl shall meet," he added. The 
 griffin said to the genii : " In spite of the will of the divine 
 power, I shall- never let them meet each other." The son of 
 the King of Djaberka came to Salomon's house, but hardly 
 had he arrived when he fell ill ; then the griffin carried away the 
 daughter of the King of Djaberka and put her upon a big 
 tree at the shore of the sea. The wind impelled the prince, 
 who had embarked. He said to his companions, " Put me 
 ashore." He went under the big tree and fell asleep. The 
 young girl threw leaves at him. He opened his eyes, and she 
 said to him : " Beside the griffin, I am alone here with my 
 mother. Where do you come from ? " 
 
 " From Djaberka." 
 
 " Why," she continued, " has God created any human be- 
 ings except myself, my mother, and our Lord Salomon ? " 
 
 He answered her, " God has created all kinds of human 
 beings and countries." 
 
 " Go," she said, " bring a horse and kill it. Bring also some 
 camphor to dry the skin, which you will hang on the top of the 
 mast." The griffin came, and she began to cry, saying, " Why 
 don't you conduct me to the house of our Lord Salomon ? " 
 
 " To-morrow I will take you." 
 
 She said to the son of the King, " Go hide inside the horse." 
 He hid there. 
 
 The next day the griffin took away the carcass of the horse, 
 and the young girl departed also. When they arrived at the 
 house of our Lord Salomon, the latter said to the griffin, " I 
 told you that the young girl and the young man should be 
 united." 
 
 Full of shame the griffin immediately fled and took refuge 
 in an island. 
 
 15 
 
336 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Adventure of Sidi Mahomet 
 
 One day Mouley Mahomet summoned Sidi Adjille to come 
 to Morocco, or he would put him in prison. The saint refused 
 to go to the city until the prince had sent him his chaplit and 
 his " dalil " as pledges of safety. Then he started on the way 
 and arrived at Morocco, where he neither ate nor drank until 
 three days had passed. The Sultan said to him : 
 
 " What do you want at my palace ? I will give it to you, 
 whatever it may be." 
 
 Sidi Adjille answered, " I ask of you only one thing, that 
 is, to fill with wheat the feed-bag of my mule." 
 
 The prince called the guardian, and said to him, " Fill the 
 feed-bag of his mule." The guardian went and opened the 
 door of the first granary and put wheat in the feed-bag until 
 the first granary was entirely empty. He opened another 
 granary, which was soon equally exhausted, then a third, and 
 so on in this fashion until all the granaries of the King were 
 emptied. Then he wanted to open the silos, but their guard- 
 ian went and spoke to the Sultan, together with the guardian 
 of the granaries. 
 
 " Lord," they said, " the royal granaries are all empty, and 
 yet we have not been able to fill the feed-bag of the saint's 
 mule." 
 
 The donkey-drivers came from Fas and from all countries, 
 bringing wheat on mules and camels. The people asked them, 
 
 " Why do you bring this wheat ? " 
 
 " It is the wheat of Sidi Mahomet Adjille that we are 
 taking." The news came to the King, who said to the saint, 
 "Why do you act so, now that the royal granaries are 
 empty ? " Then he called together the members of his coun- 
 cil and wanted to have Sidi Mahomet's head cut off. " Go 
 out," he said to him. 
 
 "Wait till I make my ablutions" [for prayer], answered 
 the saint. 
 
 The people of the makhzen who surrounded him watched 
 him among them, waiting until he had finished his ablutions, 
 to take him to the council of the King and cut off his head. 
 When Sidi Mahomet had finished washing, he lifted his eyes 
 
THE WOMAN AND THE FAIRY 237 
 
 to heaven, got into the tub where was washing, and 
 vanished completely from sight. When the guardians saw 
 that he was no longer there, they went vainly to continue the 
 search at his house at Tagountaft. 
 
 The Haunted Garden 
 
 A man who possessed much money had two daughters. 
 The son of the caliph of the King asked for one of them, and 
 the son of the cadi asked for the other, but their father would 
 not let them marry, although they desired it. He had a gar- 
 den near his house. When it was night, the young girls 
 went there, the young men came to meet them, and they 
 passed the night in conversation. One night their father saw 
 them. The next morning he killed his daughters, buried them 
 in his garden, and went on a pilgrimage. 
 
 That lasted so until one night the son of the cadi and the 
 son of the caliph went to a young man who knew how to play 
 on the flute and the rebab. " Come with us," they said to him, 
 " into the garden of the man who will not give us his daugh- 
 ters in marriage. You shall play for us on your instruments." 
 They agreed to meet there that night. The musician went 
 to the garden, but the two young men did not go. The mu- 
 sician remained and played his music alone. In the middle 
 of the night two lamps appeared, and the two young girls 
 came out of the ground under the lamps. They said to the 
 musician : " We are two sisters, daughters of the owner of 
 the garden. Our father killed us and buried us here. You, 
 you are our brother for this night. We will give you the 
 money which our father has hidden in three pots. Dig here," 
 they added. He obeyed, found the three pots, took them 
 away, and became rich, while the two girls returned to their 
 graves. 
 
 The Woman and the Fairy 
 
 A woman who was named Omm Halima went one day to 
 the stream to wash at the old spring. Alone, in the middle 
 of the day, she began her work, when a woman appeared to 
 her and said : " Let us be friends, you and I, and let us make 
 
228 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 a promise. When you come to this spring, bring me some 
 herma and perfumes. Cast them into the fountain which faces 
 the qsar. I will come forth and I will give you money." And 
 so the wife of Ben Sernghown returned every day and found 
 the other woman, who gave her pieces of money. Omm 
 Khalifah was poor. When she " became friends " with the 
 fairy she grew rich all of a sudden. The people were curious 
 to know how she had so quickly acquired a fortune. There 
 was a rich man, the possessor of much property. He was 
 called Mouley Ismail. They said to Omm Khalifah: 
 
 " You are the mistress of Mouley Ismail, and he gives you 
 pieces of money." 
 
 She answered, " Never have I been his mistress." One day, 
 when she went to the spring to bathe, the people followed her 
 until she arrived. The fairy came to meet her as usual, and gave 
 her money. The people surprised them together. But the 
 fairy never came out of the fountain again. 
 
 Hamed-ben-Ceggad 
 
 There was in a city a man named Hamed-ben-Ceggad. He 
 lived alone with his mother. He lived upon nothing but the 
 chase. One day the inhabitants of the city said to the King: 
 
 " Hamed-ben-Ceggad is getting the better of you." 
 
 He said to them, " Tell me why you talk thus to me, or I 
 will cut ofif your heads." 
 
 " As he only eats the flesh of birds, he takes advantage of 
 you for his food." 
 
 The King summoned Hamed and said to him, " You shall 
 hunt for me, and I will supply your food and your mother's, 
 too." Every day Hamed brought game to the prince, and the 
 prince grew very proud of him. 
 
 The inhabitants of the city were jealous of him, and went 
 to the Sultan and said : " Hamed-ben-Ceggad is brave. He 
 could bring you the tree of coral-wood and the palm-tree of 
 the wild beasts." 
 
 The King said to him, " If you are not afraid, bring me the 
 tree of coral-wood and the palm-tree of the wild beasts." 
 
 " It is well," said Hamed. And the next day he took away 
 all the people of the city. When he came to the tree, he killed 
 
HAMED-BEN-CEGGAD 
 
 229 
 
 all the wild beasts, cut down the palm-tree, loaded it upon the 
 shoulders of the people, and the Sultan built a house of coral- 
 wood. 
 
 Seeing how he succeeded in everything, they said to the 
 King, " Since he achieves all that he attempts, tell him to 
 bring you the woman with the set of silver ornaments." 
 
 The prince repeated these words to Hamed, who said : 
 
 " The task you give me is harsh, nevertheless I will bring 
 her to you." He set out on the way, and came to a place where 
 he found a man pasturing a flock of sheep, carrying a mill- 
 stone hanging to his neck and playing the flute. Hamed said 
 to him : " By the Lord, I cannot lift a small rock, and this 
 man hangs a millstone to his neck." The shepherd said : 
 " You are Hamed-ben-Ceggad, who built the house of coral- 
 wood?" 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " A bird that flew into the sky." He added, " I will go with 
 you." 
 
 " Come," said Hamed. The shepherd took the millstone 
 from his neck, and the sheep were changed into stones. 
 
 On the way they met a naked man, who was rolling in the 
 snow. They said [to themselves] , " The cold stings us, and 
 yet that man rolls in the snow without the cold killing him." 
 
 The man said to them, " You are Hamed-ben-Ceggad, who 
 built the house of coral-wood ? " 
 
 "Who told you that?" 
 
 " A bird that passed flying in the sky told me. I will ac- 
 company you." 
 
 " Come," said Hamed. After they had pursued their way 
 some time, they met a man with long ears. 
 
 " By the Lord," they said, " we have only small ears, and 
 this man has immense ones." 
 
 " It is the Lord who created them thus, but if it pleases God 
 I will accompany you, for you are Hamed-ben-Ceggad." 
 
 They arrived at the house of the woman with the silver or- 
 naments, and Hamed said to the inhabitants, " Give us this 
 woman, that we may take her away." 
 
 "Very well," said her brother, the ogre. They killed an 
 ox, placed it upon a hurdle, which they liffed up and put down 
 with the aid of ninety-nine men. 
 
jjo MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Give us one of your men who can lift this hurdle." 
 
 He who wore millstones hanging from his neck said, " I 
 can lift it." When he had placed it on the ground, they served 
 a couscous with this ox. The ogre said, " Eat all that we give 
 you." They ate a little, and the man with the long ears hid 
 the rest of the food. The brother continued : " You give us 
 one of you who will go to gather a branch of a tree that stands 
 all alone on the top of a mountain two days' march in the 
 snow." The one who had rolled in the snow departed, and 
 brought back the branch. 
 
 " There remains one more proof," said the ogre. " A part- 
 ridge is flying in the sky ; let one of you strike it." Hamed- 
 ben-Ceggad killed it. 
 
 They gave him the woman, but before her departure her 
 brother gave her a feather and said to her, " When anyone 
 shall try to do anything to you against your will, cast this 
 feather on the hearth and we will come to you." 
 
 People told the woman, " The old Sultan is going to marry 
 you." 
 
 She replied, " An old man shall never marry me," and cast 
 the feather into the fire. Her brother appeared, and killed all 
 the inhabitants of the city, as well as the King, and gave the 
 woman to Hamed-ben-Ceggad. 
 
 The Magic Napkin 
 
 A taleb made a proclamation in these terms : " Is there 
 anyone who will sell himself for loo mitquals?" A man 
 agreed to sell himself. The stranger took him to the cadi, who 
 wrote out the bill of sale. He took the lOO mitquals and gave 
 them to his mother and departed with the taleb. They went 
 to a place where the latter began to repeat certain formulas. 
 The earth opened and the man entered it. The other said 
 to him, " Bring me the candlestick of reed and the box." He 
 took this and came out keeping it in his pocket. 
 
 " Where is the box? " asked the taleb. 
 
 " I did not find it." 
 
 " By the Lord, let us go." He took him to the mountains, 
 cast a stone at him, and went away. He lay on the ground 
 for three days. Then he came to himself, went back to his 
 
THE CHILD AND THE KING OF THE GENH 231 
 
 own country, and rented a house. He opened the box, found 
 inside a silk napkin, which he opened, and in which he found 
 seven folds. ■ He unfolded one. Genii came around the cham- 
 ber, and a young girl danced until the day dawned. The man 
 stayed there all that day until night. The King came out that 
 night, and, hearing the noise of the dance, he knocked at the 
 door, with his vezir. They received him with a red h'aik. 
 He amused himself until the day dawned. Then he went home 
 with his vezir. The latter sent for the man and said, "Give 
 me the box which you have at home." He brought it to the 
 King, who said to him : " Give me the box which you have 
 so that I may amuse myself with it, and I will marry you to 
 my daughter." The man obeyed and married the Sultan's 
 daughter. The Sultan amused himself with the box, and after 
 his death his son-in-law succeeded him. 
 
 The Child and the King of the Genii 
 
 There was a sheik who gave instruction to two talebs. One 
 day they brought to one of them a dish of couscous with meat. 
 The genius stole him and bore him away. When thej had 
 ^rrived down there he taught him. One day the child was 
 crying. The King of the genii asked him, " Why do you 
 cry?" 
 
 " I am crying for my father and my mother. I don't want 
 to stay here any longer." 
 The King asked his sons, " Who will take him back ? " 
 " I," said one of them ; " but how shall I take him back ? " 
 " Carry him back after you have stuffed his ears with wool 
 so that he shall not hear the angels worshipping the Lord." 
 
 They had arrived at a certain place, the child heard the 
 angels worshipping the Lord, and did as they did. His guide 
 released him and he remained three days without awaking. 
 When he came to himself, he took up his journey and found a 
 mother-dog which slept while her little ones barked, although 
 yet unborn. He proceeded and met next an ass attacked by 
 a swarm of flies. Further on he saw two trees, on one perched 
 a blue bird. Afterward it flew upon the other tree and began 
 to sing. He found next a fountain of which the bottom was 
 of silver, the vault of gold, and the waters white. He went 
 
232 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 on and met a man who had been standing for three days with- 
 out saying a word. Finally he arrived at a village protected 
 by God, but which no one entered. He met a wise man and 
 said to him : 
 
 " I want to ask you some questions." 
 
 " What do you wish to ask me? " 
 
 " I found a mother-dog which was asleep while her little 
 ones were barking, although yet unborn." 
 
 The sage answered, " It is the good of the world that the 
 old man should keep silence because he is ashamed to speak." 
 
 " I saw an ass attacked by a swarm of flies." 
 
 " It is Pjoudj and Madjoudj of God (Gog and Magog) and 
 the Antichrist." 
 
 " I met two trees, a blue bird perched on one, then flew 
 upon the other and began to sing." 
 
 " It is the picture of the man who has two wives. When 
 he speaks to one the other gets angry." 
 
 " I saw a fountain of which the bottom was of silver, the 
 vault of gold, and the waters white." 
 
 " It is the fountain of life ; he who drinks of it shall not die." 
 
 " I found a, man who was praying. I stayed three days and 
 he did not speak." 
 
 " It is he who never prayed upon the earth and is now mak- 
 ing amends." 
 
 " Send me to my parents," concluded the child. 
 
 The old man saw a light cloud and said to it, " Take this 
 human creature to Egypt." And the cloud bore him to his 
 parents. 
 
 The Seven Brothers 
 
 Here is a story that happened once upon a time. A man 
 had seven sons who owned seven horses, seven guns, and 
 seven pistols for hunting. Their mother was about to increase 
 the family. They said to their father : " If we have a little 
 sister we shall remain. If we have a little brother we shall go." 
 The woman had a little boy. They asked, " Which is it? " 
 
 " A boy." 
 
 They mounted their horses and departed, taking provisions 
 with them. They arrived at a tree, divided their bread, and 
 ate it. The next day they started and travelled as far as a 
 
THE SEVEN BROTHERS 233 
 
 place where they found a well, from which they drew water. 
 The older one said, " Come, let us put the young one in the 
 well." They united against him, put him in, and departed, 
 leaving him there. They came to a city. 
 
 The young man remained some time in the well where they 
 had put him, until one day a caravan passing that way stopped 
 to draw water. While the people were drinking they heard 
 something moving at the bottom of the well. " Wait a 
 moment," they said; they let down a rope, the young man 
 caught it and climbed up. He was as black as a negro. The 
 people took him away and sold him to a man who conducted 
 him to his house. He stayed there a month and became white 
 as snow. The wife of the man said: 
 
 " Come, let us go away together." 
 
 " Never ! " he answered. 
 
 At evening the man returned and asked, " What is the negro 
 doing?" 
 
 " Sell him," said the woman. 
 
 He said, " You are free. Go where you please." 
 
 The young man went away and came to a city where there 
 was a fountain inhabited by a serpent. They couldn't draw 
 water from this fountain without his eating a woman. This 
 day it was the turn of the King's daughter to be eaten. The 
 young man asked her: 
 
 " Why do you weep ? " 
 
 " Because it is my turn to be devoured to-day." 
 
 The stranger answered, " Courage, I will kill the serpent, if 
 it please God." 
 
 The young girl entered the fountain. The serpent darted 
 toward her, but as soon as he showed his head the young man 
 struck it with his stick and made it fly away. He did the same 
 to the next head until the serpent was dead. All the people 
 of the city came to draw water. The King said : 
 
 "Who has done this?" 
 
 " It is he," they cried, " the stranger who arrived yesterday." 
 The King gave him his daughter and named him his lieutenant. 
 The wedding-feast lasted seven days. My story is finished 
 before my resources are exhausted. 
 
a34 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Half-A-Cock 
 
 In times past there was a man who had two wives, and one 
 was wise and one was foolish. They owned a cock in com- 
 mon. One day they quarrelled about the cock, cut it in two, 
 and each took half. The foolish wife cooked her part. The 
 wise one let her part live, and it walked on one foot and had 
 only one wing. Some days passed thus. Then the half-a- 
 cock got up early, and started on his pilgrimage. At the 
 middle of the day he was tired and went toward a brook to 
 rest. A jackal came there to drink. Half-a-Cock jumped on 
 his back, stole one of his hairs, which it put under its wing and 
 resumed its journey. It proceeded until evening and stopped 
 under a tree to pass the night there. It had not rested long 
 when it saw a lion pass near the tree where it was lying. As 
 soon as it perceived the lion it jumped on its back and stole 
 one of its hairs, which it put with that of the jackal. The next 
 morning it got up early and took up its journey again. Ar- 
 rived at the middle of a forest, it met a boar and said : 
 
 " Give me a hair from your back, as the king of the animals 
 and the trickiest of them have done — the jackal and the lion." 
 
 The boar answered, " As these two personages so important 
 among the animals have done this, I will also give you what 
 you request." He plucked a hair from his back and gave it 
 to Half-a-Cock. The latter went on his way and arrived at the 
 palace of a king. It began to crow and to say : 
 
 " To-morrow the King will die, and I will take his wife." 
 
 Hearing these words the King gave to his negroes the com- 
 mand to seize Half-a-Cock, and cast him into the middle of 
 the sheep and goat-pen to be trampled upon and killed by 
 them, so that the King might get rid of his crowing. The 
 negroes seized him and cast him into the pen to perish. When 
 he got there Half-a-Cock took from under his wing the jackal's 
 hair and burnt it in the fire. As soon as it was near the fire 
 the jackal came and said : 
 
 " Why are you burning my hair ? As soon as I smelled it, I 
 came running." 
 
 Half-a-Cock replied, " You see what situation I am in. Get 
 me out of it." 
 
 " That is an easy thing," said the jackal, and immediately 
 
HALF-A-COCK 
 
 335 
 
 blowed in order to summon his brothers. They gathered 
 around him, and he gave them this command : " My brothers, 
 save me from Half-a-Cock, for it has a hair from my back 
 which it has put in the fire. I don't want to burn. Take Half- 
 a-Cock out of the sheep-pen, and you will be able to take my 
 hair from its hands." At once the jackals rushed to the pen, 
 strangled everything that was there, and rescued Half-a-Cock. 
 The next day the King found his stables deserted and his ani- 
 mals killed. He sought for Half-a-Cock, but in vain. The 
 latter, the next day at the supper hour, began to crow as it 
 did the first time. The prince called his negroes and said to 
 them: 
 
 " Seize Half-a-Cock and cast him into the cattle-yard so 
 that it may be crushed under their feet." 
 
 The negroes caught Half-a-Cock and threw him into the 
 middle of the cow-pen. As soon as it reached there, it took 
 the lion's hair and put it into the fire. The lion came, roar- 
 ing, and said: 
 
 " Why do you burn my hair ? I smelled from my cave the 
 odor of burning hair, and came running to learn the motive 
 of your action." 
 
 Half-a-Cock answered : " You see my situation. Help me 
 out of it." 
 
 The lion went out and roared to call his brothers. They 
 came in great haste and said to him, " Why do you call us 
 now ? " 
 
 "Take the Half-a-Cock from the ox-yard, for it has one 
 of my hairs, which it can put into the fire. If you don't rescue 
 Half-a-Cock, it will burn the hair, and I don't want to smell 
 the odor of burning hair while I am alive." 
 
 His brothers obeyed. They at once killed all the cattle in 
 the pen. The King saw that his animals were all dead, and he 
 fell into such a rage that he nearly strangled. He looked for 
 Half-a-Cock to kill it with his own hands. He searched a 
 long time without finding it, and finally went home to rest. 
 At sunset Half-a-Cock came to his usual place and crowed 
 as on the former occasions. The King called his negroes and 
 said to them : 
 
 " This time when you have caught Half-a-Cock, put it in a 
 house and shut all the doors till morning. I will kill it my- 
 self." 
 
336 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The negroes seized him immediately and put him in the 
 treasure-room. When it got there, it saw money under its 
 feet. It waited till it had nothing to fear from the masters 
 of the house, who were all sound asleep, took from under its 
 wing the hair of the boar, started a fire, and placed the hair 
 in it. At once the boar came running and shaking the earth. 
 It thrust its head against the wall. The wall shook and half 
 of it fell down, and going to Half-a-Cock the boar said : 
 
 " Why are you burning my hair at this moment ? " 
 
 " Pardon me, you see the situation in which I am, without 
 counting what awaits me in the morning, for the King is go- 
 ing to kill me with his own hands if you don't get me out of 
 this prison." 
 
 The boar replied : " The thing is easy ; fear not, I will open 
 the door so that you may go out. In fact, you have stayed 
 here long enough. Get up, go and take money enough for 
 you and your children." 
 
 Half-a-Cock obeyed. It rolled in the gold, took all that 
 stuck to its wing and its foot, and swallowed as much as it 
 could hold. It took the road it had followed the first day and 
 when it had arrived near the house it called the mistress and 
 said : " Strike now, be not afraid to kill me." His mistress 
 began to strike until Half-a-Cock called from beneath the mat : 
 
 " Enough now. Roll the mat." 
 
 She obeyed and saw the earth all shining with gold. 
 
 At the time when Half-a-Cock returned from his pilgrimage 
 the two women owned a dog in common. The foolish one 
 seeing that her companion had received much money said to 
 her: 
 
 " We will divide the dog between us." 
 
 The wise woman answered : "We can't do anything with 
 it. Let it live, I will give you my half. Keep it for yourself. 
 I have no need of it." 
 
 The foolish one said to the dog, " Go on a pilgrimage as 
 Half-a-Cock did and bring me some gold." 
 
 The dog started to carry out the commands of his mistress. 
 She began her journey in the morning and came to a fountain. 
 As she was thirsty she started to drink. As she stopped she 
 saw in the middle of the fountain a yellow stone. She took 
 
STRANGE MEETINGS 33^ 
 
 it ill her mouth and ran back home. When she reached the 
 house she called her mistress and said to her : 
 
 " Get ready the mats and the rods, you see that I have come 
 back from the pilgrimage." 
 
 The fooUsh one prepared the mats under which the dog ran 
 as soon as she heard the voice of her mistress and said, " Strike 
 gently." The woman seized the rods and struck with all the 
 force possible. The dog cried out to her a long while for her 
 to stop the blows. Her mistress refused to stop until the ani- 
 mal was cold. She lighted up the mats and found the dog 
 dead with the yellow stone in its mouth. 
 
 Stiiange Meetings 
 
 Once upon a time a man was on a journey and he met a 
 mare who grazed in the meadow. She was thin, lean, and had 
 only skin and bone. He went on until he came to a place 
 where he found a mare which was fat, although she did not 
 eat. He went on further until he met a sheep which kicked 
 against a rock till evening to pass the night there. Advancing 
 he met a serpent which hung in a hole from which it could 
 not get out. Farther on, he saw a man who played with a 
 ball, and his children were old men. He came to an old man 
 who said to him : 
 
 " I will explain all that to you. The lean mare which you 
 saw represents the rich man whose brothers are poor. The 
 fat mare represents the poor man whose brothers are rich. 
 The serpent which swings unable to enter nor to leave the 
 hole is the picture of the word which once spoken and heard 
 can never go back. The sheep which kicks against the rock 
 to pass the night there, is the man who has an evil house. 
 The one whose children you saw aged while he was playing 
 ball, what does he represent ? That is the man who has taken 
 a pretty wife and does not grow old. His children have taken 
 bad ones. 
 
838 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The King and His Family 
 
 In times gone by a king reigned over Maghreb. He had 
 four sons. He started, he, his wife, and his children, for the 
 Orient. They set sail, but their ship sank with them. The 
 waves bore them all in separated directions. One wave took 
 the wife ; another bore the father alone to the middle of the 
 sea on an island where he found a mine of silver. He dug out 
 enough silver until he had a great quantity and he established 
 himself in the country. His people after heard tell of him and 
 learned that he dwelt in the midst of the sea. They built 
 houses until there was a great city. He was king of that 
 country. Whoever came poor to him he gave him pieces of 
 money. A poor man married his wife. As for his sons, they 
 applied themselves to a study, each in a different country. 
 They all became learned men and feared God. The King had 
 a search made for tolbas who should worship God. The first 
 of the brothers was recommended to him. He sent for him. 
 He sought also a khodja. The second brother was designated. 
 He summoned him to the court. The prince also especially 
 wanted an adel. Another brother was pointed to him. He 
 made him come to him as, indeed, he also did the imam, who 
 was none other than the fourth brother. They arrived at their 
 father's without knowing him or being known by him. The 
 wife and the man who had espoused her also came to the King 
 to make complaint. When they arrived the wife went alone 
 that night to the palace. The prince sent for the four tolba 
 to pass the night with him until morning. During the 
 night he spied upon them to see who they were. One of them 
 said to the others, " Since sleep comes not upon us, let each 
 one make known who he is." 
 
 One said : " My father was a king. He had much money 
 and four sons whose names were like yours." 
 
 Another said : " My father was a king. My case is like 
 yours." 
 
 Another said : " My father was a king. My case is like 
 yours." 
 
 The fourth said in his turn : " My father, too, was a king. 
 My case is like that of your three. You are my brothers." 
 
BEDDOU 239 
 
 Their mother overheard them and took to weeping until 
 day. 
 They took her to the prince, who said, " Why do you weep ? " 
 She answered : " I was formerly the wife of a king and we 
 had four sons. We set sail, he, our children, and I. The ship 
 which bore us was wrecked. Each one was borne away alone, 
 until yesterday when they spoke before me during the night 
 and showed me what had happened to them, to their father, 
 and to their mother." 
 The King said, " Let me know your adventure." 
 They told him all that had happened. Then the prince 
 arose, weeping, and said, " You are my children," and to the 
 woman, " You are my wife." God reunited them. 
 
 Beddou 
 
 Two men, one of whom was named Beddou and the other 
 Amkammel, went to market bearing a basket of figs. They 
 met a man who was working, and said to him : 
 
 " God assist you ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " he answered. One of them wanted to wash him- 
 self, but there was no water. The laborer, him who was with 
 him (sic), said, " What is your name ? " 
 
 " Beddou." 
 
 " By the Lord, Beddou, watch my oxen while I go to 
 drink." 
 
 " Go ! " 
 
 When he had gone, he took away one of the oxen. On his 
 return the laborer saw that one was missing. He went to the 
 other traveller and asked him : 
 
 " By my father, what is your name? " 
 
 "Amkammel Ouennidhui " ("The Finisher"), he an- 
 swered., 
 
 " By the Lord, Amkammel Ouennidhui, watch this ox for 
 me while I go look for the one that is gone." 
 
 " Go ! " 
 
 He stole the other one. When the laborer returned he 
 didn't even find the second. 
 
 The two thieves went away, taking the oxen. They killed 
 them to roast them. One drank all the water of the sea, the 
 
240 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 other all the fresh water, to wash it down. When they had 
 finished, one stayed there to sleep, the other covered him with 
 ashes. The former got up to get a drink and the ashes fell 
 on the road. When he came back, the second covered him- 
 self with the ox-head. His brother, who had gone to get a 
 drink, was afraid, and ran away. They divided the other ox 
 to eat it. The one who had drunk the sea-water now drank 
 fresh water, and the one who had drunk fresh water now 
 drank sea-water. When they had finished their repast they 
 took up their journey. They found an old woman who had 
 some money, upon which she was sitting. When they arrived 
 they fought. She arose to separate them. One of them took 
 her place to pass the night, and pretended that he was dead. 
 The old woman said to him : 
 
 " Get up, my son." 
 
 He refused. In the evening one of them stole the money, 
 and said to his brother : 
 
 " Arise ! Let us go ! " 
 
 They went away to a place where was sleeping the one who 
 had taken the money. The other took away the dirkhems and 
 departed, leaving the first asleep. When he awaked he found 
 nothing. He started in pursuit of the other, and when he 
 arrived he found him dying of illness. The latter had said to 
 his wife, " Bury me." She buried him. He who had first stolen 
 the money went away. He said, " It is an ox." 
 
 " It is I, my friend," he cried. " Praise be to God, my 
 friend ! May your days pass in happiness ! " Beddou said to 
 him : " Let us go for a hunt." 
 
 They went away alone. Beddou added : " I will shave you." 
 
 He shaved him, and when he came to the throat he killed 
 him and buried his head. A pomegranate-tree sprang up at 
 this place. One day Beddou found a fruit, which he took to 
 the King. When he arrived he felt that it was heavy. It was 
 a head. The King asked him : 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " A pomegranate." 
 
 " We know what you have been doing," said the King, and 
 had his head cut off. My story is finished. 
 
THE LANGUAGE OF THE BEASTS 241 
 
 The Language of the Beasts 
 
 Once upon a time there was a man who had much goods. 
 One day he went to market. There came a greyhound, which 
 ate some meat. The butcher gave it a blow, which made it 
 yelp. Seeing this, the heart of the man was touched with 
 compassion. He bought of the butcher half a piece of meat 
 and flung it to the greyhound. The dog took it and went 
 away. It was the son of a king of the nether world. 
 
 Fortune changed with the man. He lost all his possessions, 
 and began to wash for people. One day, he had gone to wash 
 something, he stretched it on the sand to dry. A jerboa ap- 
 peared with a ring in its ear. The man ran after it, killed it, 
 hid the ring, made a fire, cooked the jerboa and ate it. A 
 woman came out of the earth, seized him, and demanded, 
 " Haven't you seen my son, with an ear-ring ? " 
 
 " I haven't seen anybody," he answered ; " but I saw a jer- 
 boa which had a ring in its ear." 
 
 " It is my son." She drew him under the earth and told 
 him : " You have eaten my son, you have separated me from 
 him. Now I will separate you from your children, and you 
 shall work in the place of my son." He who was changed 
 into a greyhound saw this man that day, and said to him : " It 
 is you who bought some meat for a greyhound and threw it to 
 him?" 
 
 " It is I." 
 
 " I am that greyhound. Who brought you here ? " 
 
 "A woman," answered the man, and he recounted all his 
 adventure. 
 
 " Go and make a complaint to the King," answered the 
 other. " I am his son. I'll tell him : ' This man did me a good 
 service.' When he asks you to go to the treasure and take 
 as much money as you wish, answer him : ' I don't want any. 
 I only want you to spit a benediction into my mouth.' If he 
 asks you, ' Who told you that ? ' answer, ' Nobody.' " 
 
 The man went and found the KJng and complained of the 
 woman. The King called her and asked her : " Why have 
 you taken this man captive ? " 
 
 " He ate my son." 
 
 " Why was your son metamorphosed into a jerboa? When 
 x6 
 
242 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 men see one of those they kill him and eat him." Then ad- 
 dressing the man : " Give her back the ear-ring." He gave it 
 to her. 
 
 " Go," said the King, " take this man to the place from 
 which you brought him." 
 
 The son of the King then said to his father : " This man did 
 me a favor ; you ought to reward him." 
 
 The King said to him : " Go to the treasure, take as much 
 money as you can." 
 
 " I don't want money," he answered ; " I want you to spit 
 into my mouth a benediction." 
 
 "Who told you that?" 
 
 " Nobody." 
 
 " You will not be able to bear it." 
 
 " I will be able." 
 
 " When I have spat into your mouth, you will understand the 
 language of beasts and birds; you will know what they say 
 when they speak ; but if you reveal it to the people you will 
 die." 
 
 " I will not reveal it." So the King spat into his mouth 
 and sent him away, saying to the woman, " Go and take him 
 back where you found him." She departed, and took him 
 back there. 
 
 He mounted his ass and came back to his house. He ar- 
 ranged the load and took back to the people the linen he had 
 washed. Then he remounted the beast to go and seek some 
 earth. He was going to dig when he heard a crow say in the 
 air: 
 
 " Dig beneath ; you will sing when God has made you rich." 
 
 He understood what the crow said, dug beneath, and found 
 a treasure. He filled a basket with it. On the top he put a 
 little earth and went home, but often returned to the spot. On 
 one of these occasions his ass met a mule, which said : 
 
 " Are you working still ? " 
 
 The ass replied : " My master has found a treasure and he 
 is taking it away." 
 
 The mule answered : " When you are in a crowd balk and 
 throw the basket to the ground. People will see it, all will be 
 discovered, and your master will leave you in peace." 
 
 The man had heard every word of this. He filled his basket 
 
THE LANGUAGE OF THE BEASTS 
 
 243 
 
 with earth only. When they arrived at a crowd of people the 
 ass kicked and threw the load to the ground. Her master beat 
 her till she had enough. He applied himself to gathering the 
 treasure, and became a rich merchant. 
 
 He had at home some chickens and a dog. One day he 
 went into the granary, and a hen followed him and ate the 
 grain. A cock said to her : 
 
 " Bring me a Uttle." 
 
 She answered, " Eat for yourself." 
 
 The master began to laugh. His wife asked him : 
 
 " What are you laughing at ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " You are laughing at me." 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 " You must tell me what you are laughing at." 
 
 " If I tell you I shall die." 
 
 " You shall tell me, and you shall die." 
 
 " To-night." He brought out some grain and said to his 
 wife, " Give alms." He invited the people, bade them to eat, 
 and when they had gone he brought food to the dog, but he 
 would not eat. The neighbor's dog came, as it did every day, 
 to eat with his dog. To-day it found the food intact. 
 
 " Come and eat," it said. 
 
 " No," the dog answered. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Then the dog told the other : " My master, hearing the 
 chickens talk, began to laugh. His wife asked him: 'Why 
 are you laughing? ' ' If I tell you, I shall die.' ' Tell me and 
 die.' That is why," continued the dog, " he has given alms, 
 for when he reveals his secret he will die, and I shall never 
 find anyone to act as he has." 
 
 The other dog replied: "As he knows our language, let 
 him take a stick and give it to his wife until she has had 
 enough. As he beats her let him say : ' This is what I was 
 laughing at. This is what I was laughing at. This is what I 
 was laughing at,' until she says to him, ' Reveal to me noth- 
 mg. 
 
 The man heard the conversation of the dogs, and went 
 and got a stick. When his wife and he went to bed she said 
 to him, " Tell me that now." 
 
244 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 Then he took the stick and beat her, saying: " This is what 
 I was laughing at. This is what I was laughing at. This is 
 what I was laughing at," until she cried put: 
 
 " Don't tell it to me. Don't tell it to me. Don't tell it to 
 me." 
 
 He left her alone. When the dogs heard that, they rejoiced, 
 ran out on the terrace, played, and ate their food. From that 
 day the wife never again said to her husband, " Tell me that ! " 
 They lived happy ever after. If I have omitted anything, 
 may God forgive me for it. 
 
 The Apple of Youth 
 
 There once lived a king who had five daughters and no 
 sons. They grew up. He wanted them to marry, but they 
 would not have any of the young men of the city. A youth 
 came from a far country and stood under the castle, beneath 
 the window of the youngest daughter. She saw him, and told 
 her father she would marry him. 
 
 " Bring him in," said the King. 
 
 " He will come to-morrow." 
 
 " God be praised," said the King, " that you are pleased 
 with us." 
 
 The young man answered, " Give me your daughter for a 
 wife." 
 
 " Advise me," said the King. 
 
 The stranger said, " Go and wait till to-morrow." 
 
 The next day the young man said to the King: " Make all 
 the inhabitants of the city come out. You will stand with the 
 clerks at the entrance to the gate. Dress your daughters and 
 let them choose their husbands themselves." 
 
 The people began to come out. The eldest daughter struck 
 one of them on the chest with an apple, and they said : " That 
 daughter has chosen a husband. Bravo ! " Each one of the 
 daughters thus selected a husband, and the youngest kept 
 hers. A little while afterward, the King received a visit from 
 one of his sons-in-law, who said to him, " What do you want 
 us to give you ? " 
 
 " I'll see what my daughters want," he answered. " Come 
 back in six days." 
 
THE APPLE OF YOUTH 245 
 
 When they went to see their wives the King said to them, 
 " I will ask of you a thing about which they have spoken to 
 me. 
 
 " What is it ? We are anxious to know." 
 
 " It is an apple, the odor of which gives to the one who 
 breathes it youth, no matter what his age may be." 
 
 " It is difficult," they answered. " We know not where it 
 can be found." 
 
 " If you do not bring it to me, you cannot marry my daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 They kept silent, and then consulted with each other. The 
 youngest said to them, " Seek the means to satisfy the King." 
 
 " Give us your advice " 
 
 " Father-in-law, to-morrow we shall bring you the apple." 
 His brothers-in-law added : " Go out. To-morrow we will 
 meet you outside the city." 
 
 The next day they all five met together. Four of them said 
 to the other, " Advise us or we will kill you." 
 
 " Cut off your fingers," he said. 
 
 The first one began, and the three others did the same. 
 The youngest one took them and put them into his game-bag, 
 and then he added, " Wait near the city till I come back." 
 
 He went out into the desert and came to the city of the 
 ogress. He entered, and found her ready to grind some 
 wheat. He said to the ogress, " Show me the apple whose 
 color gives eternal youth to the old man who smells it." 
 
 " You are in the family of ogres," she said. " Cut a hair 
 from the horse of their King. When you go into the garden 
 cast this hair into the fire. You will find a tree, from which 
 you must pick five fruits. When plucking them do not speak 
 a word, and keep silence on your return. It is the smallest 
 fruit that possesses the magic power." 
 
 He took the apple and went back to the city, where he found 
 his companions. He concealed in his breast the wonderful 
 fruit, and gave the others to his brothers-in-law, one to each. 
 They entered the palace of the King, who was overjoyed to 
 see them, gave them seats, and asked them, "Have you 
 brought it or not ? " 
 
 " We have brought it," they answered. 
 
 He said to the eldest, " Give me your apple firsL" 
 
246 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 He took a mirror in his left hand, and the fruit in the right 
 hand, bent down, and inhaled the odor of the apple, but with- 
 out results. He threw it down upon the ground. The others 
 gave him their apples, with no more success. 
 
 " You have deceived me," he said to them. " The apples 
 do not produce the effect that I sought." 
 
 Addressing, then, the stranger, he said, " Give me your 
 apple." 
 
 The other son-in-law replied : " I am not of this country. I 
 will not give you my fruit." 
 
 " Give it to me to look at," said the King. The young man 
 gave it to him, saying, " Take a mirror in your right hand and 
 the apple in your left hand." 
 
 The King put the apple to his nose, and, looking at his 
 beard, saw that it became black. His teeth became white. 
 He grew young again. " You are my son," he said to the 
 young man. And he made a proclamation to his subjects, 
 " When I am dead he shall succeed me on the throne." His 
 son-in-law stayed some time with him, and after the death of 
 the King he reigned in his place and did not marry the other 
 daughters of the King to his companions. 
 
POPULAR TALES OF THE KABYLES 
 
 [Translated by J. Riviere and Chauncey C. Starkweather] 
 
POPULAR TALES OF THE KABYLES 
 
 ALI AND OU ALI 
 
 A LI and Ou Ali were two friends. One day they met at 
 the market. One of them bore ashes and the other 
 carried dust. The first one had covered his goods with 
 a little flour. The other had concealed his merchandise under 
 some black figs. " Come, I will sell you some flour," said Ali. 
 
 " Come, I will sell you some black figs," answered Ou Ali. 
 
 Each regained his own horse. AU, who thought he was 
 carrying flour, found, on opening his sack, that it was only 
 ashes. Ou Ali, who thought he was bearing black figs, found 
 on opening his sack that it was nothing but dust. Another 
 day they again greeted each other in the market. Ali smiled. 
 Ou Ali smiled, and said to his friend : 
 
 " For the love of God, what is your name ? " 
 
 " Ali ; and yours ? " 
 
 " Ou Ali." 
 
 Another time they were walking together, and said to each 
 other : 
 
 " Let us go and steal." 
 
 One of them stole a mule and the other stole a rug. They 
 passed the night in the forest. Now, as the snow was falling, 
 Ali said to Ou Ali : 
 
 " Give me a little of your rug to cover me." 
 
 Ou Ali refused. " You remember," he added, " that I asked 
 you to put my rug on your mule, and you would not do it." 
 An instant afterward Ali cut off a piece of the rug, for he was 
 dying of cold. Ou Ali got up and cut the lips of the mule. 
 The next morning, when they awaked, Ou Ali said to AU : 
 
 " O my dear friend, your mule is grinning." 
 
 " O my dear friend," replied Ali, " the rats have gnawed 
 your rug." 
 
 849 
 
3SO MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 And they separated. Some time afterward they met anew. 
 Ali said to Ou Ali : 
 
 " Let us go and steal." 
 
 They saw a peasant, who was working. One of them went 
 to the brook to wash his cloak there, and found it dry. He 
 laid the blade of his sabre so that it would reflect the rays of 
 the sun, and began to beat his cloak with his hands as if to 
 wash it. The laborer came to the brook also, and found the 
 man who was washing his cloak without water. 
 
 " May God exterminate you," said he, " who wash without 
 water." 
 
 " May God exterminate you," answered the washer, " who 
 work without a single ox." 
 
 The other robber watched the laborer, and had already 
 stolen one of his oxen. The laborer went back to his plough, 
 and said to the washer, " Keep this ox for me while I go and 
 hunt for the other." As soon as he was out of sight the 
 robber took away the ox left in his charge. The laborer re- 
 turned, and seizing the goad by one end he gave a great blow 
 on the plough-handle, crying: 
 
 " Break, now. It matters little." 
 
 The robbers met in a wood and killed the oxen. As they 
 lacked salt, they went to purchase it. They salted the meat, 
 roasted it, and ate it. Ali discovered a spring. Ou Ali not 
 being able to find water, was dying of thirst. 
 
 " Show me your spring," he said to Ali, " and I will drink." 
 
 " Eat some salt, my dear friend," answered Ali. What could 
 he do? Some days afterward Ou Ali put ashes on the shoes 
 of Ali. The next day he followed the traces of the ashes, found 
 the spring, and discovered thus the water that his friend was 
 drinking. He took the skin of one of the oxen and carried it 
 to the fountain. He planted two sticks above the water, hung 
 the skin on the sticks, and placed the horns of the ox opposite 
 the road. During the night his friend went to the spring. At 
 the sight of the skin thus stretched out, fear seized him, and 
 he fled. 
 
 " I am thirsty," said Ou Ali. 
 
 " Eat some salt, my dear friend," answered Ali, " for salt 
 removes thirst." 
 
 Ali retired, and, after having eaten, ran to examine the skin 
 
ALI AND OU ALI 251 
 
 that he had stretched out. Ou Ali ate the salt, and was dying 
 of thirst. 
 
 " For the love of God," he said finally, " show me where 
 you drink." 
 
 Ali was avenged. " Come, Jew-face, and I will show you 
 the water." He made him drink at the spring, and said to 
 him : " See what you were afraid of." The meat being 
 finished, they started away. Ou Ali went to the house of Ali, 
 and said to him : 
 
 " Come, we will marry you to the daughter of an old 
 woman." 
 
 Now, the old woman had a herd of oxen. She said to Ali : 
 " Take this drove to the fields and mount one of the animals." 
 Ali mounted one of the oxen. He fell to the ground ; the oxen 
 began to run and trample on him. Ou Ali, who was at the 
 house, said to the old woman : 
 
 " O my old woman, give me your daughter in marriage." 
 
 She called her daughter. " Take a club," she said to her, 
 " and we will give it to him until he cries for mercy." 
 
 The daughter brought a club and gave Ou Ali a good beat- 
 ing. Ali, who was watching the herd, came at nightfall and 
 met his friend. 
 
 " Did the old woman accept you ? " he asked him. 
 
 " She accepted me," answered Ali. " And is the herd easy 
 to watch?" 
 
 " From morning till night I have nothing to do but to re- 
 pose. Take my place to-morrow, and mount one of the 
 oxen." 
 
 The next day Ou Ali said to the old woman, " To-day I will 
 take care of the herd." And, on starting, he recommended Ali 
 to ask the old woman for her daughter's hand. 
 
 " It is well," answered Ali. Ou Ali arrived in the fields ; 
 one of the oxen seized him with his horns and tossed him into 
 the air. All the others did the same thing. He regained the 
 horse half dead. Ali, who had remained at the house, asked 
 the old woman for her daughter's hand. "You ask me 
 again ? " said she. She took a club and gave it to him till he 
 had had enough. Ou AU said to Ali : " You have played me 
 a trick." Ali answered him : " Without doubt they gave me 
 the stick so hard that I did not hear the last blow." 
 
2^2 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " It is well, my dear friend. Ali owes nothing to Ou Ali." 
 They went away. The old woman possessed a treasure. 
 Ou Ali therefore said to Ali : " I will put you in a basket, for 
 you know that we saw that treasure in a hole." They re- 
 turned to the old woman's house. Ali goes down into the 
 hole, takes the treasure, and puts it into the basket. Ou Ali 
 draws up the basket, takes it, abandons his friend, now a pris- 
 oner, and runs to hide the treasure in the forest. Ali was in 
 trouble, for he knew not how to get out. What could he do ? 
 He climbed up the sides of the hole. When he found himself 
 in the house, he opened the door and fled. Arriving at the 
 edge of the forest he began to bleat. Ou Ali, thinking it was 
 a ewe, ran up. It was his friend. 
 
 " O my dear," cried Ali, " I have found you at last." 
 " God be praised. Now, let us carry our treasure." 
 They started on the way. Ou Ali, who had a sister, said to 
 Ali : " Let ua go to my sister's house." They arrived at night- 
 fall. She received them with joy. Her brother said to her : 
 " Prepare some pancakes and some eggs for us." 
 She prepared the pancakes and the eggs and served them 
 with the food." 
 
 " O my sister," cried Ou Ali, " my friend does not like 
 eggs ; bring us some water." She went to get the water. As 
 soon as she had gone, Ali took an egg and put it into his 
 mouth. When the woman returned, he made such efforts to 
 give it up that he was all out of breath. The repast was 
 finished, and Ali had not eaten anything. Ou Ali said to his 
 sister : " O my sister, my friend is ill ; bring me a skewer." 
 She brought him a skewer, which he put into the fire. When 
 the skewer was red with the heat, Ou Ali seized it and applied 
 it to the cheek of Ali. The latter uttered a cry, and rejected 
 the egg. " Truly," said the woman, " you do not like eggs." 
 The two friends started and arrived at a village. 
 " Let us go to my sister's house," said Ali to his friend. She 
 received them with open arms. 
 
 Ali said to her : " O my sister, prepare a good stew for us." 
 They placed themselves at the table at nightfall, and she 
 served them with food. 
 
 " O my sister," cried Ali, " my friend does not like stew." 
 Ali ate alone. When he was satisfied, the two friends 
 
THE INFIDEL JEW 253 
 
 started, without forgetting the treasure. On the way Ali said 
 to Ou Ali : " Give it to me to-day and I will deposit it in my 
 house." He took it and gave it to his wife. " Bury me," he 
 said to her. " And if Ou Ali comes tell him that his old friend 
 is dead, and receive him with tears." Ou Ali arrived, and 
 asked the woman in tears to see the tomb of his dead friend. 
 He took an ox-horn and began to dig in the earth that cov- 
 ered the body. 
 
 " Behind ! behind ! " cried the pretended dead man. 
 
 " Get up, there, you liar," answered Ali. 
 
 They went away together. " Give me the treasure," asked 
 Ou Ali ; " to-day I will take it to my hoiise." He took it to 
 his house, and said to his wife : " Take this treasure. I am 
 going to stretch myself out as if I were dead. When Ali comes 
 receive him weeping, and say to him : ' Your friend is dead. 
 He is stretched out in the bedroom.' " 
 
 Ali went and said to the woman : " Get me some boiling 
 water, for your husband told me to wash him when he should 
 die." When the water was ready the woman brought it. Ali 
 seized the kettle and poured it on the stomach of Ou Ali, who 
 sprang up with a bound. Thus he got even for the trick of 
 his friend. The two friends divided the treasure then, and Ali 
 went home. 
 
 THE INFIDEL JEW 
 
 A man went on a journey. At the moment of departure he 
 placed with a Jew, his friend, a jar filled with gold. He cov- 
 ered the gold with butter and said to the Jew : " I trust to 
 your care this jar of butter, as I am going on a journey." On 
 his return he hastened to the house of his friend. " Give me 
 the jar of butter that I left with you," he said. The Jew gave 
 it to him. But the poor traveller found nothing but butter, 
 for the Jew had taken the gold. Nevertheless, he did not tell 
 anybody of the misfortune that had happened to him. But 
 his countenance bore traces of a secret sorrow. His brother 
 perceived it, and said to him : 
 
 " What is the matter with you ? " 
 
 " I intrusted a jar filled with gold to a Jew," he answered, 
 
254 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " and he only returned a jar of butter to me. I don't know 
 what to do to recover my property." 
 
 His brother replied : " The thing is easy. Prepare a feast 
 and invite your friend the Jew." 
 
 The next day the traveller prepared a feast and invited the 
 Jew. During this time the brother of the traveller ran to a 
 neighboring mountain, where he captured a monkey. During 
 the night he entered the house of the Jew and found a child in 
 the cradle. He took the child away and put the monkey in its 
 place. When day had come the mother perceived the monkey 
 tied in the cradle. She called her husband with loud cries, and 
 said to him : 
 
 " See how God has punished us for having stolen your 
 friend's gold. Our child is changed into a monkey. Give 
 back the stolen property." 
 
 They immediately had the traveller summoned, and re- 
 turned his gold to him. The next night the child was taken 
 back to the cradle and the monkey was set free. As I can go 
 no further, may God exterminate the jackal and pardon all 
 our sins ! 
 
 THE SHEIK'S HEAD 
 
 A man died, leaving a son. The child spent day and night 
 with his mother. The sheik chanted a prayer every morning 
 and waked him up. The child went to find the sheik, and 
 said: 
 
 " Ali Sheik, do not sing so loudly, you wake us up every 
 morning — my mother and me." 
 
 But the sheik kept on singing. The child went to the 
 mosque armed with a club. At the moment when the sheik 
 bowed to pray he struck him a blow and killed him. He ran 
 to his mother, and said to her : 
 
 " I have killed that sheik ; come, let us bury him." 
 
 They cut off his head and buried his body. The child went 
 to the Thadjeinath, where the men of the village were assem- 
 bled. In his absence his mother killed a sheep. She took the 
 head and buried it in place of the sheik's head. The child ar- 
 rived at the Thadjeinath and said to those present : 
 
 " I have killed the sheik who waked us up every morning." 
 
THE FLUTE-PLAYER 
 
 2SS 
 
 " It is a lie," said they. 
 
 " Come to my mother's house and we will show you where 
 we buried his head." They went to the house, and the mother 
 said to them : 
 
 " Ali Sidi, this child is mad. It is a sheep that we have 
 killed. Come and see where we buried its head." They went 
 to the spot, dug, and found a sheep's head. 
 
 THE WAGTAIL AND THE JACKAL 
 
 At the time when all the animals spoke, a wagtail laid her 
 eggs on the ground. The little ones grew up. A jackal and 
 a fox came to them. The jackal said to the fox : 
 
 " Swear to me that the wagtail owes me a pound of butter." 
 
 The fox swore to it. The bird began to weep. A grey- 
 hound carhe to her and asked her what was the matter. She 
 answered him : 
 
 " The fox has calumniated me." 
 
 " Well," said the hound, " put me in this sack of skin." 
 
 She put him in the sack. " Tie up the top well," said the 
 hound. When the jackal returned she said to him : 
 
 " Come and measure out the butter." 
 
 The jackal advanced and unfastened the sack. He saw the 
 hound, who stretched out his paws and said to the fox : 
 
 " I am ill ; come and measure, fox." 
 
 The fox approached. The hound seized him. The jackal 
 said, " Remember your false testimony." 
 
 THE FLUTE-PLAYER 
 
 A servant tended the sheep of his master. Arrived in the 
 meadow, he played the flute. The sheep heard him, and would 
 not browse. One day the master perceived that his sheep did 
 not graze. He followed the servant to the fields and hid him- 
 self in the bush. The shepherd took his flute and began to 
 play. His master began to dance so that the bushes brought 
 blood upon him. He returned home. 
 
 " Who scratched you so ? " asked his wife. 
 
 " The servant played on the flute, and I began to dance." 
 
3S6 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " That is a lie," said she ; " people don't dance against their 
 will." 
 
 " Well," answered the husband, " tie me to this post and 
 make the servant play." 
 
 She tied him to the post and the servant took the flute. 
 Our man began to dance. He struck his head against a nail 
 in the post and died. The son of the dead man said to the 
 servant : 
 
 " Pay me for the loss of my father." 
 
 They went before the cadi. On the way they met a laborer, 
 who asked them where they were going. 
 
 " Before the cadi." 
 
 " Could you tell me why ? " 
 
 " This man killed my father," answered the son of the dead 
 man. 
 
 " It was not I that killed him," answered the shepherd ; " I 
 played on the flute, he danced and died." 
 
 " That is a lie 1 " cried the laborer. " I will not dance 
 against my will. Take your flute and we shall see if I dance." 
 
 The shepherd took his flute. He began to play, and the 
 laborer started dancing with such activity that his oxen left 
 to themselves fell into the ravine. 
 
 " Pay me for my oxen," he cried to the shepherd. 
 
 " Come before the cadi," he answered. They presented 
 themselves before the cadi, who received them on the second 
 floor of the house. They all sat down. Then the cadi said to 
 the servant : 
 
 " Take your flute and play before me. I will see how you 
 play." The servant took his flute and all began to dance. 
 The cadi danced with the others, and they all fell down to the 
 ground floor and were killed. The servant stayed in the house 
 of the cadi and inherited the property of all. 
 
THE CHILD 
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 257 
 
 A child had a thorn in his foot. He went to an old woman 
 and said to her : 
 
 " Take out this thorn for me." 
 
 The old woman took out the thorn and threw it away. 
 
 " Give me my thorn," and he began to cry. 
 
 " Take an egg." 
 
 He went to another old woman, " Hide me this egg." 
 
 " Put it in the hen's nest." 
 
 In the night he took his egg and ate it. The next day he 
 said to the old woman : " Give me my egg." 
 
 " Take the hen," she answered. 
 
 He went to another old woman, " Hide my hen for me." 
 
 " Put her on the stake to which I tie my he-goat." 
 
 At night he took away the hen. The next morning he de- 
 manded his hen. 
 
 " Look for her where you hid her." 
 
 " Give me my hen." 
 
 " Take the he-goat." 
 
 He went to another old woman, " O old woman, hide this 
 goat for me." 
 
 " Tie him to the sheep's crib." 
 
 During the night he took away the buck. The next day he 
 claimed the buck. 
 
 " Take the sheep." 
 
 He went to another old woman, " O old woman, keep my 
 sheep for me." 
 
 " Tie him to the foot of the calf." 
 
 During the night he took away the sheep. Next morning 
 he demanded his sheep. 
 
 " Take the calf." 
 
 He went to another old woman, " Keep my calf for me." 
 
 " Tie him to the cow's manger." 
 
 In the night he took away the calf. The next morning he 
 asked for his calf. 
 
 " Take the cow." 
 
 He went to another old woman, " Keep my cow for me." 
 
 " Tie her to the foot of the old woman's bed." 
 17 
 
258 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 In the night he took away the cow. The next morning he 
 demanded his cow. 
 
 " Take the old woman." 
 
 He went to another old woman and left the old dame, whom 
 he killed during the night. The next morning he demanded 
 his old woman. 
 
 " There she is by the young girl." 
 
 He found her dead. 
 
 " Give me my old woman." 
 
 " Take the young girl." 
 
 He said to her : " From the thorn to the egg, from the egg 
 to the hen, from the hen to the buck, from the buck to the 
 sheep, from the sheep to the calf, from the calf to the cow, 
 from the cow to the old woman, from the old woman to the 
 young girl, and now come and marry me." 
 
 THE MONKEY AND THE FISHERMAN 
 
 A fisherman went one day to the sea to catch some fish. 
 In the evening he sold his catch, and bought a little loaf of 
 bread, on which he made his supper. The next day he re- 
 turned to his fishing and found a chest. He took it to his 
 house and opened it. Out jumped a monkey and said to him : 
 " Bad luck to you. I am not the only one to conquer. You 
 may bewail your sad lot." 
 
 " My lot is unbearable," he answered. The next day he 
 returned to his fishing. The monkey climbed to the roof of 
 the house and sat there. A moment afterward he cut all the 
 roses of the garden. The daughter of the King saw him, and 
 said to him : 
 
 " O Sidi Mahomet, what are you doing there ? Come here, 
 I need you." 
 
 He took a rose and approached. 
 
 " Where do you live ? " asked the princess. 
 
 "With the son of the Sultan of India," answered the 
 monkey. 
 
 " Tell him to buy me." 
 
 " I will tell him, provided he will accept." 
 
 The next day he stayed in the house and tore his face. The 
 princess called him again. The monkey brought her a rose. 
 
THE MONKEY AND THE FISHERMAN 259 
 
 " Who put you in that condition? " she cried. 
 
 " It was the son of the Sultan of India," answered the mon- 
 key. " When I told him to buy you he gave me a blow." 
 
 The princess gave him 100 ecus, and he went away. The 
 next day he scratched his face worse and climbed on the house. 
 The daughter of the King called him : 
 
 "Sidi Mahomet!" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Come here. What did you say to him ? " 
 
 " I told him to buy you, and he gave me another blow." 
 
 " Since this is so, come and find me to-morrow." 
 
 The next day the monkey took the fisherman to a shop and 
 bought him some clothes. He took him to the baths and 
 made him bathe. Then he went along the road and cried : 
 
 " Flee, flee, here is the son of the Sultan of India ! " 
 
 They went into a cofifee-house, and Si Mahomet ordered 
 two coffees. They drank their coffees, gave an ecu to the 
 proprietor, and went out. While going toward the palace Si 
 Mahomet said to the fisherman : 
 
 " Here we are at the house of your father-in-law. When 
 he serves us to eat, eat little. When he offers us coffee, drink 
 only a little of it. You will find silken rugs stretched on the 
 floor; keep on your sandals." 
 
 When they arrived the fisherman took off his sandals. The 
 King offered them something to eat; the fisherman ate a 
 great deal. He offered them some coffee, and the fisherman 
 did not leave a drop of it. They went out. When they were 
 outside the palace Si Mahomet said to the fisherman : 
 
 "Jew of a fisherman, you are lucky that I do not scratch 
 your face." 
 
 They returned to their house. Si Mahomet climbed upon 
 the roof. The daughter of the King perceived him, and said : 
 
 " Come here." 
 
 The monkey approached. 
 
 "Truly you have lied. Why did you tell me that the son 
 of the Sultan of India was a distinguished person ? " 
 
 " Is he a worthless fellow ? " 
 
 " We furnished the room with silken rugs, he took off his 
 sandals. We gave him food, and he ate like a servant. We 
 offered him some coffee, and he licked his fingers." 
 
26o MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The monkey answered : " We had just come out of the cof- 
 fee-house. He had taken too much wine and was drunken, 
 and not master of himself. That is why he ate so much." 
 
 "Well," replied the princess, "come to the palace again 
 to-morrow, but do not take him to the coffee-house first." 
 
 The next day they set out. On the way the monkey said 
 to the fisherman : " Jew of a fisherman, if to-day you take off 
 your sandals or eat too much or drink all your coffee, look 
 out for yourself. Drink a little only, or I will scratch your 
 eyes out." 
 
 They arrived at the palace. The fisherman walked on the 
 silken rugs with his sandals. They gave him something to eat, 
 and he ate little. They brought him some coffee, and he 
 hardly tasted it. The King gave him his daughter. Si Ma- 
 homet said to the King: 
 
 " The son of the Sultan of India has quarrelled with his 
 father, so he only brought one chest of silver." 
 
 In the evening the monkey and the fisherman went out for 
 a walk. The fisherman said to Si Mahomet : 
 
 " Is it here that we are going to find the son of the Sultan 
 of India?" 
 
 " I can show him to you easily," answered the monkey. 
 " To-morrow I will find you seated. I will approach, weep- 
 ing, with a paper in my hands ; I will give you the paper, and 
 you must read it and burst into tears. Your father-in-law 
 will ask you why you weep so. Answer him : ' My father is 
 dead. Here is the letter I hav? just received. If you have 
 finally determined to give me your daughter, I will take her 
 away and we will go to pay the last duties to my father.' " 
 
 "Take her," said the King. He gave him an escort of 
 horsemen and soldiers. Arriving at the place, Si Mahomet 
 s^id to the soldiers : 
 
 " You may return to the palace, for our country is far from 
 here." 
 
 The escort went back to the palace, and the travellers con- 
 tinued on their journey. Soon Si Mahomet said to the fisher- 
 man : " Stay here till I go and look at the country of your 
 father." He started, and arrived at the gates of a city he 
 found closed he mounted upon the ramparts. An ogress per- 
 ceived him, " I salute you, Si Mahomet." 
 
THE TWO FRIENDS 261 
 
 " May God curse you, sorceress ! Come, I am going to 
 your house." 
 
 " What do you want of me. Si Mahomet ? " 
 
 " They are seeking to kill you." 
 
 " Where can I hide ? " He put her in the powder-house of 
 the city, shut the door on her, and set the powder on fire. 
 The ogress died. He came back to the fisherman. 
 
 " Forward," he said. They entered the city and established 
 themselves there. One day Si Mahomet fell ill and died. 
 The two spouses put him in a coffin lined with silk and buried 
 him. My story is told. 
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS 
 
 Sidi El-Marouf and Sidi Abd-el-Tadu were travelling in 
 company. Toward evening they separated to find a resting- 
 place. Sidi Abd-el-Tadu said to his friend: 
 
 " Let us say a prayer, that God may preserve us from the 
 evil which we have never committed." 
 
 Sidi El-Marouf answered, " Yes, may God preserve us from 
 the evil that we have not done ! " 
 
 They went toward the houses, each his own way. Sidi El- 
 Marouf presented himself at a door. " Can you entertain a 
 traveller?" 
 
 " You are welcome," said a woman to him. " Enter, you 
 may remain for the night." 
 
 Night came. He took his supper. The woman spread a 
 mat on the floor and he went to sleep. The woman and her 
 husband slept also. When all was quiet, the woman got up, 
 took a knife, and killed her husband. The next day at dawn 
 she began to cry : 
 
 " He has killed my husband ! " 
 
 The whole village ran up to the house and seized the 
 stranger. They bound him, and everyone brought wood to 
 burn the guilty man. 
 
 Sidi Abd-el-Tadu came also, and saw his friend in tears. 
 " What have you done ? " he asked. 
 
 " I have done no evil," answered Sidi El-Marouf. 
 
 "Did I not tell you yesterday," said Sidi Abd-el-Tadu, 
 
262 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " that we would say the prayer that God should preserve us 
 from the evil we had never committed? And now you will 
 be burned for a crime of which you are innocent ! " 
 
 Sidi El-Marouf answered him, " Bring the woman here." 
 
 " Did he really kill your husband ? " asked Sidi Abd-el- 
 Tadu. 
 
 " He killed him," she replied. 
 
 There was a bird on a tree nearby. Sidi Abd-el-Tadu asked 
 the bird. The bird answered : 
 
 " It was the woman who killed her husband. Feel in her 
 hair and you will find the knife she used." 
 
 They searched her hair and found the knife still covered 
 with blood, which gave evidence of the crime. The truth was 
 known and innocence was defended. God avenged the 
 injustice. 
 
 THE ROBBER AND THE TWO PILGRIMS 
 
 Two robbers spent their time in robbing. One of them got 
 married, and the other continued his trade. They were a long 
 time without seeing each other. Finally the one who was not 
 married went to visit his friend, and said to him : 
 
 " If your wife has a daughter, you must give her to me." 
 
 " I will give her to you seven days after her birth." 
 
 The daughter was born, and the robber took her to bring 
 up in the country. He built a house, bought flocks, and 
 tended them himself. One day some pilgrims came to the 
 house. He killed a cow for them and entertained them. The 
 next day he accompanied them on their pilgrimage. The pil- 
 grims said to him : 
 
 " If you come with us, two birds will remain with your 
 wife." 
 
 The woman stayed in the country. One day the son of the 
 Sultan came that way to hunt. One of the birds saw him and 
 said to the woman, " Don't open the door." The prince heard 
 the bird speak, and returned to the palace without saying a 
 word. An old woman was called to cast spells over him, and 
 said to the King : 
 
 " He could not see a woman he has never seen." 
 
THE ROBBER AND THE TWO PILGRIMS 263 
 
 The prince spoke and said to her : " If you will come with 
 me, I will bring her here." They arrived. 
 
 The old dame called the young woman, " Come out, that 
 we may see you." 
 
 She said to the bird, " I am going to open the door." 
 
 The bird answered : " If you open the door you will meet 
 the same fate as Si El-Ahcen. He was reading with many 
 others in the mosque. One day he found an amulet. His 
 betrothed went no longer to school, and as she was old enough 
 he married her. Some days after he said to his father, ' Watch 
 over my wife.' ' Fear nothing,' answered the father. 
 
 " He started, and came back. ' Watch over my wife,' he 
 said to his father again. ' Fear nothing,' repeated his father. 
 The latter went to the market. On his return he said to his 
 daughter-in-law, ' There were very beautiful women in the 
 market.' ' I surpass them all in beauty,' said the woman ; 
 ' take me to the market.' 
 
 " A man ofifered 1,000 francs for her. The father-in-law re- 
 fused, and said to her : ' Sit down on the mat. The one that 
 covers you with silver may have you.' A man advanced. 
 ' If you want to marry her,' said her father-in-law, ' cover her 
 with silver, and she will be your wife.' 
 
 " Soon Si El-Ahcen returned from his journey and asked 
 if his wife were still living. ' Your wife is dead,' said his 
 father ; ' she fell from her mule.' Si El-Ahcen threw himself 
 on the ground. They tried to lift him up. It was useless 
 trouble. He remained stretched on the earth. 
 
 " One day a merchant came to the village and said to him, 
 'The Sultan married your wife.' She had said to the mer- 
 chant, ' The day that you leave I will give you a message.' 
 She wrote a letter to her husband, and promised the bearer a 
 flock of sheep if he would deliver it. 
 
 " Si El-Ahcen received the letter, read it, was cured, ran 
 to the house, and said to his father : ' My wife has married 
 again in my absence ; she is not dead. I brought home much 
 money. I will take it again.' 
 
 " He took his money and went to the city where his wife 
 lived. He stopped at the gates. To the first passer-by he 
 gave five francs, to the second five more. 
 
 "'What do you want, O stranger?' they asked. 'If you 
 
,64 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 want to see the Sultan we will take you to him.' They pre- 
 sented him to the Sultan. 
 
 "'Render justice to this man.' 'What does he want?' 
 ' My lord/ answered Sidi El-Ahcen, ' the woman you married 
 is my wife.' ' Kill him ! ' cried the Sultan. ' No,' said the 
 witnesses, ' let him have justice.' 
 
 " ' Let him tell me if she carries an object.' Si El-Ahcen 
 answered: 'This woman was betrothed to me before her 
 birth. An amulet is hidden in her hair.' He took away his 
 wife, returned to the village, and gave a feast. 
 
 " If you open the door," continued the bird, " you will have 
 the same fate as Fatima-ou-Lmelh. Hamed-ou-Lmelh mar- 
 ried her. Fatima said to her father-in-law, ' Take me to my 
 uncle's house.' Arriving there she married another husband. 
 Hamed-ou-Lmelh was told of this, and ran to find her. At 
 the moment he arrived he found the wedding over and the 
 bride about to depart for the house of her new husband. Then 
 Hamed burst into the room and cast himself out of the win- 
 dow. Fatima did the same, and they were both killed. 
 
 " The intended father-in-law and his family returned to their 
 house, and were asked the cause of the misfortune. ' The 
 woman was the cause,' they answered. 
 
 " Nevertheless, the father of Hamed-ou-Lmelh went to the 
 parents of Fatima and said : ' Pay us for the loss of our son. 
 Pay us for the loss of Fatima.' 
 
 " They could not agree, and went before the justice. Pass- 
 ing by the village where the two spouses had died they met 
 an old man, and said, ' Settle our dispute.' ' I cannot,' an- 
 swered the old man. Farther on they met a sheep, which 
 was butting a rock. ' Settle our dispute,' they said to the 
 sheep. ' I cannot,' answered the sheep. Farther on they met 
 a serpent. ' Settle our dispute,' they said to him. ' I cannot,' 
 answered the serpent. They met a river. ' Settle our dispute,' 
 they said to it. ' I cannot,' answered the river. They met a 
 jackal. ' Settle our dispute,' they said to him. * Go to the 
 village where your children died,' answered the jackal. They 
 went back to the village, and applied to the Sultan, who had 
 them all killed." 
 
 The bird stopped speaking, the pilgrims returned. The old 
 woman saw them and fled. The robber prepared a feast for 
 the pilgrims. 
 
THE LITTLE CHILD 265 
 
 THE LITTLE CHILD! 
 
 " Come, little child, eat your dinner." 
 
 " I won't eat it." 
 
 " Come, stick, beat the child." 
 
 " I won't beat him." 
 
 " Come, fire, burn the stick." 
 
 " I won't burn it." 
 
 " Come, water, quench the fire." 
 
 " I won't quench it." 
 
 " Come, ox, drink the water." 
 
 " I won't drink it." 
 
 " Come, knife, kill the ox." 
 
 " I won't kill him." 
 
 " Come, blacksmith, break the knife." 
 
 " I won't break it." 
 
 " Come, strap, bind the blacksmith." 
 
 " I won't bind him." 
 
 " Come, rat, gnaw the strap." 
 
 " I won't gnaw it." 
 
 " Come, cat, eat the rat." 
 
 " Bring it here." 
 
 " Why eat me ? " said the rat ; " bring the strap and I'll 
 gnaw it." 
 
 " Why gnaw me ? " said the strap ; " bring the blacksmith 
 and I'll bind him." 
 
 " Why bind me ? " said the blacksmith ; " bring the knife 
 and I'll break it." 
 
 "Why break me?" said the knife; "bring the ox and I'll 
 kill him." 
 
 "Why kill me?" said the ox; "bring the water and I'll 
 drink it." 
 
 " Why drink me ? " said the water ; " bring the fire and I'll 
 quench it." 
 
 " Why quench me ? " said the fire ; " bring the stick and I'll 
 burn it." 
 
 " Why burn me ? " said the stick ; " bring the child and 
 I'll strike him." 
 
 " Why strike me ? " said the child ; " bring me my dinner 
 and I'll eat it." 
 
266 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 THE WREN 
 
 A wren had built its nest on the side of a road. When the 
 eggs were hatched, a camel passed that way. The little wrens 
 saw it, and said to their father when he returned from the 
 fields : 
 
 " O papa, a gigantic animal passed by." 
 
 The wren stretched out his foot. " As big as this, my chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 " O papa, much bigger." 
 
 He stretched out his foot and his wing. " As big as this ? " 
 
 "O papa, much bigger." 
 
 Finally he stretched out fully his feet and legs. " As big as 
 this, then?" 
 
 " Much bigger." 
 
 " That is a lie ; there is no animal bigger than I am." 
 
 " Well, wait," said the little ones, " and you will see." The 
 camel came back while browsing the grass of the roadside. 
 The wren stretched himself out near the nest. The camel 
 seized the bird, which passed through its teeth safe and sound. 
 
 " Truly," he said to them, " the camel is a gigantic animal, 
 but I am not ashamed of myself." 
 
 On the earth it generally happens that the vain are as if they 
 did not exist. But sooner or later a rock falls and crushes 
 them. 
 
 THE MULE, THE JACKAL, AND THE LION 
 
 The mule, the jackal, and the lion went in company. " We 
 will eat the one whose race is bad," they said to each other. 
 
 " Lion, who is your father? " 
 
 " My father is a lion and my mother is a lioness." 
 
 " And you, jackal, what is your father ? " 
 
 " My father is a jackal and my mother, too." 
 
 " And you, mule, what is your father ? " 
 
 " My father is an ass, and my mother is a mare." 
 
 " Your race is bad ; we will eat you." 
 
 He answered them : " I will consult an old man. If he says 
 that rny race is bad, you may devour me." 
 
THADHELLALA 267 
 
 He went to a farrier, and said to him, " Shoe my hind feet, 
 and make the nails stick out well." 
 
 He went back home. He called the camel and showed him 
 his feet, saying : " See what is written on this tablet." 
 
 " The writing is difficult to decipher," answered the camel. 
 " I do not understand it, for I only know three words — outini, 
 ousatini, ouazakin." He called a lion, and said to him : " I 
 do not understand these letters; I only know three words — 
 outini, ouzatini, ouazakin." 
 
 " Show it to me," said the Hon. He approached. The mule 
 struck him between the eyes and stretched him out stiff. 
 
 He who goes with a knave is betrayed by him. 
 
 THADHELLALA 
 
 A woman had seven daughters and no son. She went to 
 the city, and there saw a rich shop. A little farther on she 
 perceived at the door of a house a young girl of great beauty. 
 She called her parents, and said : 
 
 " I have my son to marry ; let me have your daughter for 
 him." 
 
 They let her take the girl away. She came back to the shop 
 and said to the man in charge of it : 
 
 " I will gladly "give you my daughter ; but go first and con- 
 sult your father." 
 
 The young man left a servant in his place and departed. 
 Thadhellala (that was her name) sent the servant to buy some 
 bread in another part of the city. Along came a caravan of 
 mules. Thadhellala packed all the contents of the shop on 
 their backs and said to the muleteer : 
 
 " I will go on ahead ; my son will come in a moment. Wait 
 for him — he will pay you." 
 
 She went off with the mules and the treasures which she 
 had packed upon them. The servant came back soon. 
 
 " Where is your mother ? " cried the muleteer ; " hurry and 
 pay me." 
 
 " You tell me where she is and I will make her give me back 
 what she has stolen." And they went before the justice. 
 
 Thadhellala pursued her way, and met seven young stu- 
 
268 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 dents. She said to one of them, " A hundred francs and I will 
 marry you." The student gave them to her. She made the 
 same offer to the others, and each one took her word. 
 
 Arriving at a fork in the road, the first one said, " I will take 
 you," the second one said, " I will take you," and so on to the 
 last. 
 
 Thadhellala answered : " You shall have a race as far as that 
 ridge over there, and the one that gets there first shall marry 
 me." 
 
 The young men started. Just then a horseman came pass- 
 ing by. " Lend me your horse," she said to him. The horse- 
 man jumped off. Thadhellala mounted the horse and said: 
 
 " You see that ridge ? I will rejoin you there." 
 
 The scholars perceived the man. " Have you not seen a 
 woman ? " they asked him. " She has stolen 700 francs from 
 us." 
 
 " Haven't you others seen her ? She has stolen my horse ? " 
 
 They went to complain to the Sultan, who gave the com- 
 mand to arrest Thadhellala. A man promised to seize her. 
 He secured a comrade, and they both pursued Thadhellala, 
 who had taken flight. Nearly overtaken by the man, she met 
 a negro who pulled teeth, and said to him : 
 
 " You see my son coming down there ; pull out his teeth." 
 When the other passed the negro pulled out his teeth. The 
 poor toothless one seized the negro and led him before the 
 Sultan to have him punished. The negro said to the Sultan: 
 " It was his mother that told me to pull them out for 
 hm." 
 
 " Sidi," said the accuser, " I was pursuing Thadhellala." 
 
 The Sultan then sent soldiers in pursuit of the woman, who 
 seized her and hung her up at the gates of the city. Seeing 
 herself arrested, she sent a messenger to her relatives. 
 
 Then there came by a man who led a mule. Seeing her he 
 said, " How has this woman deserved to be hanged in this 
 way?" 
 
 " Take pity on me," said Thadhellala ; " give me your mule 
 and I will show you a treasure." She sent him to a certain 
 place where the pretended treasure was supposed to be hid- 
 den. At this the brother-in-law of Thadhellala had arrived. 
 
 " Take away this mule," she said to him. The searcher for 
 
THE GOOD MAN AND THE BAD ONE 269 
 
 treasures dug in the earth at many places and found nothing. 
 He came back to Thadhellala and demanded his mule. 
 
 She began to weep and cry. The sentinel ran up, and Thad- 
 hellala brought complaint against this man. She was released, 
 and he was hanged in, her place. 
 
 She fled to a far city, of which the Sultan had just then died. 
 Now, according to the custom of that country, they took as 
 king the person who happened to be at the gates of the city 
 when the King died. Fate took Thadhellala there at the right 
 time. They conducted her to the palace, and she was pro- 
 claimed Queen. 
 
 THE GOOD MAN AND THE BAD ONE 
 
 Two men, one good and the other bad, started out together 
 to do business, and took provisions with them. Soon the bad 
 one said to the good one : " I am hungry ; give me some of 
 your food." He gave him some, and they both ate. 
 
 They went on again till they were hungry. " Give me some 
 of your food," said the bad one. He gave him some of it, and 
 they ate. 
 
 They went on until they were hungry. " Give me some of 
 your food," said the bad one. He gave him some, and they 
 ate. 
 
 They went on until they were hungry. The good man said 
 to his companion : " Give me some of your food." 
 
 " Oh, no, my dear," said the bad one. 
 
 " I beg you to give me some of your food," said the good 
 one. 
 
 " Let me pluck out one of your eyes," answered the bad one. 
 He consented. The bad one took his pincers and took out one 
 of his eyes. 
 
 They went on until they came to a certain place. Hunger 
 pressed them. " Give me some of your food," said the good 
 man. 
 
 "Let me pluck out your other eye," answered his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " O my dear," replied the good man, " leave it to me, I beg 
 of you." 
 
2 7© MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 "No ! " responded the bad one ; " no eye, no food." 
 
 But finally he said, " Pluck it out." 
 
 They proceeded until they came to a certain place. When 
 hunger pressed them anew the bad one abandoned his com- 
 panion. 
 
 A bird came passing by, and said to him : " Take a leaf of 
 this tree and apply it to your eyes." He took a leaf of the tree, 
 applied it to his eyes, and was healed. He arose, continued 
 on his way, and arrived at a city where he found the one who 
 had plucked out his eyes. 
 
 "Who cured you?" 
 
 " A bird passed near me," said the good man. " He said to 
 me, ' Take a leaf of this tree.' I took it, appUed it to my eyes, 
 and was cured. 
 
 The good man found the King of the city blind. 
 
 " Give me back my sight and I will give you my daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 He restored his sight to him, and the King gave him his 
 daughter. The good man took his wife to his house. Every 
 morning he went to present his respects to the King, and 
 kissed his head. One day he fell ill. He met the bad one, who 
 said to him : 
 
 " Eat an onion and you will be cured ; but when you kiss the 
 King's head, turn your head aside or the King will notice 
 your breath and will kill you." 
 
 After these words he ran to the King and said : " O King, 
 your son-in-law disdains you." 
 
 " O my dear," answered the King, " my son-in-law does not 
 disdain me." 
 
 " Watch him," answered the bad one ; " when he comes to 
 kiss your head he will turn away from you." 
 
 The King remarked that his son-in-law did turn away on 
 kissing his head. 
 
 " Wait a moment," he said to him. Immediately he wrote 
 a letter to the Sultan, and gave it to his son-in-law, command- 
 ing him to carry it to the Sultan. Going out of the house he 
 met the bad one, who wanted to carry the letter himself. The 
 good man gave it to him. The Sultan read the letter, and had 
 the bad one's head cut off. The good man returned to the 
 King. 
 
THE CROW AND THE CHILD 271 
 
 " What did he say ? " asked the King. 
 
 " Ah, Sidi, I met a man who wanted to carry the letter. I 
 intrusted it to him and he took it to the Sultan, who con- 
 demned him to death in the city." 
 
 THE CROW AND THE CHILD 
 
 A man had two wives. He was a rich merchant. One of 
 them had a son whose forehead was curved with a forelock. 
 Her husband said to her : 
 
 " Don't work any more, but only take care of the child. 
 The other wife will do all the work." 
 
 One day he went to market. The childless wife said to the 
 other, " Go, get some water." 
 
 " No," she answered, " our husband does not want me to 
 work." 
 
 " Go, get some water, I tell you." And the woman went 
 to the fountain. On the way she met a crow half dead with 
 fatigue. A merchant who was passing took it up and carried 
 it away. He arrived before the house of the woman who had 
 gone to the fountain, and there found the second woman. 
 
 " Give something to this crow," demanded the merchant. 
 
 " Give it to me," she answered, " and I will make you rich." 
 
 " What will you give me ? " asked the merchant. 
 
 " A child," replied the woman. 
 
 The merchant refused, and said to her, " Where did you steal 
 it?" 
 
 " From whom did I steal it?" she cried. " It is my own 
 son." 
 
 " Bring him." 
 
 She brought the child to him, and the merchant left her the 
 crow and took the boy to his home and soon became very, 
 rich. The mother came back from the fountain. The other 
 woman said : 
 
 "Where is your son? Listen, he is crying, that son of 
 yours." 
 
 " He is not crying," she answered. 
 
 "You don't know how to amuse him. I'll go and take 
 him." 
 
2^2 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " Leave him alone," said the mother. " He is asleep." 
 
 They ground some wheat, and the child did not appear to 
 wake up. 
 
 At this the husband returned from the market and said to 
 the mother, " Why don't you busy yourself looking after your 
 son ? " Then she arose to take him, and found a crow in the 
 cradle. The other woman cried: 
 
 " This is the mother of a crow ! Take it into the other 
 house; sprinkle it with hot water." She went to the otfier 
 house and poured hot water on the crow. 
 
 Meanwhile, the child called the merchant his father and the 
 merchant's wife his mother. One day the merchant set off 
 on a journey. His mother brought some food to him in the 
 room where he was confined. 
 
 " My son," she said, " will you promise not to betray me ? " 
 
 " You are my mother," answered the child ; " I will not be- 
 tray you." 
 
 " Only promise me." 
 
 " I promise not to betray you." 
 
 " Well, know that I am not your mother and my husband is 
 not your father." 
 
 The merchant came home from his journey and took the 
 child some food, but he would not eat it. 
 
 " Why won't you eat ? " asked the merchant. " Could your 
 mother have been here ? " 
 
 " No," answered the child, " she has not been here." 
 
 The merchant went to his wife and said to her, " Could you 
 have gone up to the child's chamber ? " 
 
 The woman answered, " I did not go up to the room." 
 
 The merchant carried food to the child, who said : " For 
 the love of God, I adjure you to tell me if you are my father 
 and if your wife is my mother." 
 
 The merchant answered : " My son, I am not your father 
 and my wife is not your mother." 
 
 The child said to her, " Prepare us some food." 
 
 When she had prepared the food the child mounted a horse 
 and the merchant a mule. They proceeded a long way, and 
 arrived at the village of which the real father of the child was 
 the chief. They entered his house. They gave food to the 
 child, and said, " Eat." 
 
H'AB SLIMAN 273 
 
 " I will not eat until the other woman comes up here." 
 
 " Eat. She is a bad woman." 
 
 " No, let her come up." They called her. The merchant 
 ran to the child. 
 
 " Why do you act thus toward her ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried those present, " she had a child that was 
 changed into a crow." 
 
 "No doubt," said the merchant; "but the child had a 
 mark." 
 
 " Yes, he had one." 
 
 " Well, if we find it, we shall recognize the child. Put out 
 the lamp." They put it out. The child threw off its hood. 
 They lighted the lamp again. 
 
 " Rejoice," cried the child, " I am your son ! " 
 
 H'AB SLIMAN 
 
 A man had a boy and a girl. Their mother died and he 
 took another wife. The little boy stayed at school until 
 evening. The school-master asked them : 
 
 " What do your sisters do ? " 
 
 One answered, " She makes bread." 
 
 A second, " She goes to fetch water." 
 
 A third, " She prepares the couscous." 
 
 When he questioned H'ab Sliman, the child played deaf, 
 the master struck him. One day his sister said to him: 
 " What is the matter, O my brother ? You seem to be sad." 
 
 " Our schoolmaster punishes us," answered the child. 
 
 " And why does he punish you ? " inquired the young girl. 
 
 The child replied : " After we have studied until evening 
 he asks each of us what our sisters do. They answer him : 
 she kneads bread, she goes to get water. But when he ques- 
 tions me I have nothing to say, and he beats me." 
 
 " Is it nothing but for that? " 
 
 " That is all." 
 
 " Well," added the young girl, " the next time he asks you, 
 answer him : ' This is what my sister does : When she laughs 
 the sun shines; when she weeps it rains; when she combs 
 her hair, legs of mutton fall ; when she goes from one place 
 to another, roses drop.'" 
 
274 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The child gave that answer. 
 
 "Truly," said the schoolmaster, "that is a rich match." 
 A few days after he bought her, and they made preparations 
 for her departure for the house of her husband. The step- 
 mother of the young girl made her a little loaf of salt bread. 
 She ate it and asked some drink from her sister, the daughter 
 of her stepmother. 
 
 " Let me pluck out one of your eyes," said the sister. 
 
 " Pluck it out," said the promised bride, " for our people 
 are already on the way." 
 
 The stepmother gave her to drink and plucked out one of 
 her eyes. 
 
 "A little more," she said. 
 
 " Let me take out your other eye," answered the cruel 
 woman. 
 
 The young girl drank and let her pluck out the other eye. 
 Scarcely had she left the house than the stepmother thrust 
 her out on the road. She dressed her own daughter and put 
 her in the place of the blind one. They arrive. 
 
 "Comb yourself," they told her, and there fell dust. 
 
 "Walk," and nothing happened. 
 
 " Laugh," and her front teeth fell out. 
 
 All cried, "Hang H'ab Sliman!" 
 
 Meanwhile some crows came flying near the young blind 
 girl, and one said to her : " Some merchants are on the point 
 of passing this way. Ask them for a little wool, and I will 
 restore your sight." 
 
 The merchants came up and the blind girl asked them for 
 a little wool, and each one of them threw her a bit. The crow 
 descended near her and restored her sight. 
 
 " Into what shall we change you ? " they asked. 
 
 " Change me into a pigeon," she answered. 
 
 The crows stuck a needle into her head and she was changed 
 into a pigeon. She took her flight to the house of the school- 
 master and perched upon a tree near by. The people went 
 to sow wheat. 
 
 " O master of the field," she said, " is H'ab Sliman yet 
 hanged ? " 
 
 She began to weep, and the rain fell until the end of the 
 day's work. 
 
H'AB SLIMAN 275 
 
 One day the people of the village went to find a venerable 
 old man and said to him : 
 
 " O old man, a bird is perched on one of our trees. When 
 we go to work the sky is covered with clouds and it rains. 
 When the day's wprk is done the sun shines." 
 
 " Go," said the old man, " put glue on the branch where 
 it perches." 
 
 They put glue on its branch and caught the bird. The 
 daughter of the stepmother said to her mother: 
 
 " Let us kill it." 
 
 " No," said a slave, " we will amuse ourselves with it." 
 
 " No ; kill it." And they killed it. Its blood spurted upon 
 a rose-tree. The rose-tree became so large that it overspread 
 all the village. The people worked to cut it down until even- 
 ing, and yet it remained the size of a thread. 
 
 " To-morrow," they said, " we will finish it." The next 
 morning they found it as big as it was the day before. They 
 returned to the old man and said to him : 
 
 " O old man, we caught the bird and killed it. Its blood 
 gushed upon a rose-tree, which became so large that it over- 
 spreads the whole village. Yesterday we worked all day to 
 cut it down. We left it the size of a thread. This morning 
 we find it as big as ever." 
 
 " O my children," said the old man, " you are not yet pun- 
 ished enough. Take H'ab Sliman, perhaps he will have an 
 expedient. Make him sleep at your house." H'ab Sliman 
 said to them, " Give me a sickle." Someone said to him : 
 "We who are strong have cut all day without being able to 
 accomplish it, and do you think you will be capable of it? 
 Let us see if you will find a new way to do it." 
 
 At the moment when he gave the first blow a voice said 
 to him : 
 
 " Take care of me, O my brother ! " 
 
 The voice wept, the child began to weep, and it rained. 
 H'ab Sliman recognized his sister. 
 
 " Laugh," he said. She laughed and the sun shone, and 
 the people got dried. 
 
 " Comb yourself," and legs of mutton fell. All those who 
 were present regaled themselves on them. " Walk," and 
 roses fell. " But what is the matter with you, my sister ? " 
 
276 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 " What has happened to me." 
 
 " What revenge does your heart desire ? " 
 
 " Attach the daughter of my stepmother to the tail of a 
 horse that she may be dragged in the bushes." 
 
 When the young girl was dead, they took her to the house, 
 cooked her, and sent her to her mother and sister. 
 
 " O my mother," cried the latter, " this eye is that of my 
 sister Aftelis." 
 
 " Eat, unhappy one," said the mother, " your sister Aftelis 
 has become the slave of slaves." 
 
 " But look at it," insisted the young girl. " You have not 
 even looked at it. I will give this piece to the one who will 
 weep a little." 
 
 " Well," said the cat, " if you give me that piece I will weep 
 with one eye." 
 
 THE KING AND HIS SON 
 
 He had a son whom he brought up well. The child grew 
 and said one day to the King, " I am going out for a walk." 
 
 " It is well," answered the King. At a certain place he 
 found an olive-tree on fire. 
 
 " O God," he cried, " help me to put out this fire ! " 
 
 Suddenly God sent the rain, the fire was extinguished, and 
 the young man was able to pass. He came to the city and 
 said to the governor: 
 
 " Give me a chance to speak in my turn." 
 
 " It is well," said he ; " speak." 
 
 " I ask the hand of your daughter," replied the young man. 
 
 " I give her to you," answered the governor, " for if you had 
 not put out that fire the city would have been devoured by 
 the flames." 
 
 He departed with his wife. After a long march the wife 
 made to God this prayer : 
 
 " O God, place this city here." 
 
 The city appeared at the very spot. Toward evening the 
 Marabout of the city of which the father of the young bride- 
 groom was King went to the mosque to say his prayers. 
 
 "O marvel!" he cried, "what do I see down there?" 
 
 The King called his wife and sent her to see what was this 
 
THE KING AND HIS SON 
 
 277 
 
 new city. The woman departed, and, addressing the wife of 
 the young prince, asked alms of him. He gave her alms. 
 The messenger returned and said to the King: 
 
 " It is your son who commands in that city." 
 
 The King, pricked by jealousy, said to the woman : " Go, 
 tell him to come and find me. I must speak with him." 
 
 The woman went away and returned with the King's son. 
 His father said to him : 
 
 " If you are the son of the King, go and see your mother 
 in the other world." 
 
 He regained his palace in tears. 
 
 " What is the matter with you," asked his wife, " you whom 
 destiny has given me ? " 
 
 He answered her : " My father told me, ' Go and see your 
 mother in the other world.' " 
 
 " Return to your father," she replied, " and ask him for the 
 book of the grandmother of your grandmother." 
 
 He returned to his father, who gave him the book. He 
 brought it to his wife, who said to him, " Lay it on the grave 
 of your mother." He placed it there and the grave opened. 
 He descended and found a man who was licking the earth. 
 He saw another who was eating mildew. And he saw a third 
 who was eating meat. 
 
 " Why do you eat meat ? " he asked him. ' 
 
 " Because I did good on earth," responded the shade. 
 
 " Where shall I find my mother ? " asked the prince. 
 
 The shade said, " She is down there." 
 
 He went to his mother, who asked him why he came to 
 seek her. 
 
 He replied, " My father sent me." 
 
 " Return," said the mother, " and say to your father to lift 
 up the beam which is on the hearth." The prince went to 
 his father. " My mother bids you take up the beam 
 which is above the hearth." The King raised it and found a 
 treasure. 
 
 " If you are the son of the King," he added, " bring me 
 someone a foot high whose beard measures two feet." The 
 prince began to weep. 
 
 " Why do you weep," asked his wife, " you whom destiny 
 has given me ? " 
 
2 78 MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The prince answered her, " My father said to me, ' Bring 
 me someone a foot high whose beard measures two feet.' " 
 
 " Return to your father," she repHed, " and ask him for the 
 book of the grandfather of your grandfather." 
 
 His father gave him the book and the prince brought it to 
 his wife. 
 
 " Take it to him again and let him put it in the assembly 
 place, and call a public meeting." A man a foot high ap- 
 peared, took up the book, went around the city, and ate up 
 all the inhabitants. 
 
 MAHOMET-BEN-SOLTAN 
 
 A certain sultan had a son who rode his horse through the 
 city where his father reigned, and killed everyone he met. 
 The inhabitants united and promised a flock to him who 
 should make him leave the city. An old woman took it upon 
 herself to realize the wishes of her fellow-citizens. She pro- 
 cured some bladders and went to the fountain to fill them 
 with the cup of an acorn. The old man came to water his 
 horse and said to the old woman: 
 
 " Get out of my way." 
 
 She would not move. The young man rode his horse over 
 the bladders and burst them. 
 
 " If you had married Thithbirth, a cavalier," cried the old 
 woman, " you would not have done this damage. But I pre- 
 dict that you will never marry her, for already seventy cava- 
 liers have met death on her account." 
 
 The young man, pricked to the quick, regained his horse, 
 took provisions, and set out for the place where he should 
 find the young girl. On the way he met a man. They jour- 
 neyed together. Soon they perceived an ogress with a dead 
 man at her side. 
 
 " Place him in the earth," said the ogress to them ; " it is 
 my son ; the Sultan hanged him and cut oflF his foot with a 
 sword." 
 
 They took one of the rings of the dead man and went on 
 their way. Soon they entered a village and offered the ring 
 to the governor, who asked them for another like it. They 
 went away from there, returned through the country which 
 
MAHOMET-BEN-SOLTAN 279 
 
 th?y had traversed, and met a pilgrim who had made the tour 
 of the world. They had visited every place except the sea. 
 They turned toward the sea. At the moment of embarking, 
 a whale barred their passage. They retraced their steps, and 
 met the ogress, took a second ring from the dead man, and 
 departed. At a place they found sixty corpses. A singing 
 bird was guarding them. The travellers stopped and heard 
 the bird say: 
 
 " He who shall speak here shall be changed into a rock and 
 shall die. Mahomet-ben-Soltan, you shall never wed the 
 young girl. Ninety-nine cavaliers have already met death 
 on her account." 
 
 Mahomet stayed till morning without saying one word. 
 Then he departed with his companion for the city where 
 Thithbirth dwelt. When they arrived they were pressed with 
 hunger. Mahomet's companion said to him: 
 
 " Sing that which you heard the bird sing." He began to 
 sing. The young girl, whom they meant to buy, heard him 
 and asked him from whom he had got that song. 
 
 " From my head," he answered. 
 
 Mahomet's companion said : " We learned it in the fields 
 from a singing bird." 
 
 " Bring me that bird," she said, " or I'll have your head 
 cut off." 
 
 Mahomet took a lantern and a cage which he placed upon 
 the branch of the tree where the bird was perching. 
 
 " Do you think to catch me ? " cried the bird. The next 
 day it entered the cage and the young man took it away. 
 When they were in the presence of the young girl the bird 
 said to her : 
 
 " We have come to buy you." 
 
 The father of the young girl said to Mahomet : " If you 
 find her you may have her. But if not, I will kill you. Ninety- 
 nine cavaliers have already met death thus. You will be the 
 hundredth." 
 
 The bird flew toward the woman. 
 
 "Where shall I find you?" it asked her. 
 
 She answered : " You see that door at which I am sitting ; 
 it is the usual place of my father. I shall be hidden under- 
 neath." 
 
28o MOORISH LITERATURE 
 
 The next day Mahomet presented himself before the Sultan : 
 " Arise," he said, " your daughter is hidden there." 
 
 The Sultan imposed this new condition : " My daughter 
 resembles ninety-nine others of her age. She is the hun- 
 dredth. If you recognize her in the group I will give her to 
 you. But if not, I will kill you." 
 
 The young girl said to Mahomet, " I will ride a lame horse." 
 Mahomet recognized her, and the Sultan gave her to him, 
 with a serving-maid, a female slave, and another woman. 
 
 Mahomet and his companion departed. Arriving at a cer- 
 tain road they separated. Mahomet retained for himself his 
 wife and the slave woman, and gave to his companion the 
 two other women. He gained the desert and left for a 
 moment his wife and the slave woman. In his absence an 
 ogre took away his wife. He ran in search of her and met 
 some shepherds. 
 
 " O shepherds," he said, " can you tell me where the ogre 
 lives?" 
 
 They pointed out the place. Arriving, he saw his wife. 
 Soon the ogre appeared, and Mahomet asked where he should 
 find his destiny. 
 
 " My destiny is far from here," answered the ogre. " My 
 destiny is in an egg, the egg in a pigeon, the pigeon in a camel, 
 the camel in the sea." 
 
 Mahomet arose, ran to dig a hole at the shore of the sea, 
 stretched a mat over the hole ; a camel sprang from the water 
 and fell into the hole. He killed it and took out an egg, 
 crushed the egg in his hands, and the ogre died. Mahomet 
 took his wife and came to his father's city, where he built him- 
 self a palace. The father promised a flock to him »vho should 
 kill his son. As no one offered, he sent an army of soldiers 
 to besiege him. He called one of them in particular and said 
 to him : 
 
 " Kill Mahomet and I will enrich you." 
 
 The soldiers managed to get near the young prince, put 
 out his eyes, and left him in the field. An eagle passed and 
 said to Mahomet : " Don't do any good to your parents, but 
 since your father has made you blind take the bark of this 
 tree, apply it to your eyes, and you will be cured." 
 
 The young man was healed. 
 
MAHOMET-BEN-SOLTAN 281 
 
 A short time after his father said to him, " I will wed your 
 wife." 
 
 " You cannot," he answered. The Sultan convoked the 
 Marabout, who refused him the dispensation he demanded. 
 Soon Mahomet killed his father and celebrated his wedding- 
 feast for seven days and seven nights. 
 
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 X. 
 
CHOICE EXAMPLES GF BOOK ILLUMINATION. ' 
 
 Fac-siniifes from Illuminated Manuscripts and Illustrated Books 
 of Early Date. 
 
 A PAGE FROM A TOULOUSE BREVIARY. 
 
 ,, This is a fine example from a breviary with a miniature of St. George, written in 
 -Southern France about 1400. It is written on vellum, and is generally considered 
 ■ to represent the perfection of French art. In delicacy and oeauty it is not surpassed ■ 
 by any other illustration in Biblical and liturgical manuscripts. 
 
ROMANTIC TALES, EPIC POETRY 
 
 AND 
 
 ROYAL CHRONICLES 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FOR THE FIRST TIME 
 
 WITH A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY 
 CHAUNCEY C. STARKWEATHER, A.B., LL.B 
 
 REVISED EDITION 
 
 THE 
 
 I 
 
 • LONDON-^ nnccc V &NEWYORK'Jr 
 
Copyright, 1901, 
 Bv THE COLONIAL PRESS. 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 EASILY the most charming poem of Malayan Literature 
 is the Epic of Bidasari. It has all the absorbing 
 fascination of a fairy tale. We are led into the dreamy 
 atmosphere of haunted palace and beauteous plaisance: we 
 glide in the picturesque imaginings of the oriental poet from 
 the charm of all that is languorously seductive in nature into 
 the shadowy realms of the supernatural. At one moment the 
 sturdy bowman or lithe and agile lancer is before us in hurry- 
 ing column, and at another we are told of mystic sentinels from 
 another world, of Djinns and demons and spirit-princes. All 
 seems shadowy, vague, mysterious, entrancing. 
 
 In this tale there is a wealth of imagery, a luxury of pictur- 
 esqueness, together with that straightforward simpHcity so al- 
 luring in the story-teller. Not only is our attention so capti- 
 vated that we seem under a spell, but our sympathy is invoked 
 and retained. We actually wince before the cruel blows of 
 the wicked queen. And the hot tears of Bidasari move us to 
 living pity. In the poetic justice that punishes the queen and 
 rewards the heroine we take a childish delight. In other words, 
 the oriental poet is simple, sensuous, passionate, thus achieving 
 Milton's ideal of poetic excellence. We hope that no philoso- 
 pher, philologist, or ethnologist will persist in demonstrating 
 the sun-myth or any other allegory from this beautiful poem. 
 It is a story, a charming tale, to while away an idle hour, and 
 nothing more. All lovers of the simple, the beautiful, the pict- 
 uresque should say to such learned peepers and botanizers, 
 " Hands ofif ! " Let no learned theories rule here. Leave this 
 beautiful tale for artists and lovers of the story pure and simple. 
 Seek no more moral here than you would in a rose or a lily 
 or a graceful palm. Light, love, color, beauty, sympathy, en- 
 gaging fascination — these may be found alike by philosopher 
 
iv SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 and winsome youth. The story is no more immoral than a 
 drop of dew or a lotus bloom; and, as to interest, in the land of 
 the improviser and the story-teller one is obliged to be inter- 
 esting. For there the audience is either spellbound, or quickly 
 fades away and leaves the poet to realize that he must attempt 
 better things. 
 
 We think that these folk-stories have, indeed, a common 
 origin, but that it is in the human heart. We do not look for 
 a Sigurd or Siegfried on every page. Imagine a nation spring- 
 ing from an ignorant couple on a sea-girt isle, in a few 
 generations they would have evolved their Sleeping Beauty and 
 their Prince Charming, their enchanted castles, and their 
 Djinns and fairies. These are as indigenous to the human 
 heart as the cradle-song or the battle-cry. We do not find our- 
 selves siding with those who would trace everything to a first 
 exemplar. Children have played, and men have loved, and 
 poets have sung from the beginning, and we need not run to 
 Asia for the source of everything. Universal human nature 
 has a certain spontaneity. 
 
 The translator has tried to reproduce the faithfulness and, in 
 some measure, to indicate the graceful phrases of the original 
 poem. The author of Bidasari is unknown, and the date of 
 the poem is a matter of the utmost uncertainty. Some have 
 attributed to it a Javanese origin, but upon very slight evidence. 
 The best authorities place its scene in the country of Palem- 
 bang, and its time after the arrival of the Europeans in the 
 Indian archipelago, but suggest that the legend must be much 
 older than the poem. 
 
 The " Makota Radja-Radja " is one of the most remarkable 
 books of oriental literature. According to M. Aristide Marre, 
 who translated it into French, its date is 1603. Its author was 
 Bokhari, and he lived at Djohore. It contains extracts from 
 more than fifty Arab and Persian authors. It treats of the 
 duties of man to God, to himself and to society, and of the obli- 
 gations of sovereigns, subjects, ministers, and officers. Ex- 
 amples are taken from the lives of kings in Asia. The author 
 has not the worst opinion of his work, saying distinctly that 
 it is a complete guide to happiness in this world and the next. 
 He is particularly copious in his warnings to copyists and trans- 
 lators, cautioning them against the slightest negligence or in- 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION v 
 
 accuracy, and promising them for faithfulness a passport to the 
 glories of heaven. This shows that the author at least took 
 the work seriously. That there is not a trace of humor in the 
 , book would doubtless recommend it to the dignified and lethar- 
 gic orientals for whom it was written. Bokhari seemed to 
 consider himself prophet, priest, and poet-laureate in one. The 
 work has a high position in the Malayan Peninsula, where it 
 is read by young and old. The " Crown of Kiiigs " is written 
 in the court language of Djohore. The author was a Moham- 
 medan mendicant monk. He called the book the Crown of 
 Kings because " every king who read and followed its precepts 
 would be a perfect king, and thus only would his crown sit 
 well on his head, and the book itself will be for him a true 
 crown." 
 
 La Fontaine and Lamartine loved stories. The schoolmates 
 of the latter called the latter " story-lover." They would have 
 loved the story of the Princess Djouher Manikam, which is 
 written in a simple and natural style and is celebrated in the 
 East, or, as the Malays say, in the " country between windward 
 and leeward." 
 
 From the " Sedjaret Malayou," worthless as it is as history, 
 one may obtain side lights upon oriental life. Manners are 
 portrayed in vivid colors, so that one may come to have a very 
 accurate knowledge of them. Customs are depicted from 
 which one may learn of the formality and regard for precedents 
 which is a perspicuous trait of oriental character. The rigid 
 etiquette of court and home may be remarked. From the 
 view of morals here described, one may appreciate how far we 
 I have progressed in ethical culture from that prevailing in 
 ', former times among the children of these winterless lands. 
 ; The readers of this series are to be congratulated in that they 
 ■are here placed in possession of a unique and invaluable source 
 of information concerning the life and literature of the far-away 
 people of the Indian archipelago. To these pages an added 
 interest accrues from the fact that the Philippines are now pro- 
 tected by our flag. 
 
 The name Malay signifies a wanderer. As a people they are 
 passionate, vain, susceptible, and endowed with a reckless 
 bravery and contempt of death. The Malays have considerable 
 originality in versification. The pantoum is particularly theirs 
 
vi SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 — a form arising from their habits of improvisation and compet- 
 itive versifying. They have also the epic or sjair, generally a 
 pure romance, with much naive simplicity and natural feeling. 
 And finally, they have the popular song, enigma, and fable. 
 
 And so we leave the reader to his pleasant journey to the 
 lands of Djinns and Mantris and spells and mystic talismans. 
 He will be entertained by the chrestomathy of Bokhari ; he will 
 be entranced by the story of the winsome and dainty Bidasari. 
 
 (p ^jOjajvuRjl^ v>, Jy£A-Uii**^<j*Jiijt/^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 BiDASARI : PAG6 
 
 Song I 3 
 
 Song II 7 
 
 Song III 33 
 
 Song IV 55 
 
 Song V 68 
 
 Song VI 72 
 
 Sedjaret Malayou 91 
 
 Thk Princess Djouher-Manikam 123 
 
 Makota Kadja-Radja 157 
 
ILLUSTRATION 
 
 A Page from a Toulouse Breviary . . Frontispiece 
 Fac-simile illumination of the Fourteenth Century 
 
ILLUSTRATION 
 
 A Page from a Toulouse Breviary . . Frontispiece 
 Fac-simile illumination of the Fourteenth Century 
 
THE EPIC OF BIDASARI 
 
 [^Metrical Translation by Chauncey C. Starkweather, A.B., LL.B."] 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 SONG I 
 
 HEAR now the song I sing about a king 
 Of Kembajat. A fakir has completed 
 The story, that a poem he may make. 
 There was a king, a suhan, and he was 
 Handsome and wise and perfect in all ways. 
 Proud scion of a race of mighty kings. 
 He filled the land with merchants bringing wealth 
 And travellers. And from that day's report. 
 He was a prince most valorous and strong. 
 Who never vexing obstacles had met. 
 But ever is the morrow all unknown. 
 After the Sultan, all accomplished man. 
 Had married been a year, or little more. 
 He saw that very soon he'd have an heir. 
 At this his heart rejoiced, and he was glad 
 As though a mine of diamonds were his. 
 Some days the joy continued without clouds. 
 But soon there came the moment when the prince 
 Knew sorrow's blighting force, and had to yield 
 His country's capital. A savage bird, 
 Garouda called, a very, frightful bird. 
 Soared in the air, and ravaged all the land. 
 It flew with wings and talons wide outstretched. 
 With cries to terrify the stoutest heart. 
 All people, great and small, were seized with dread. 
 And all the country feared and was oppressed, 
 And people ran now this way and now that. 
 The folk approached the King. He heard the noise 
 As of a fray, and, angry, asked the guard, 
 " Whence comes this noise ? " As soon as this he said 
 
 3 
 
MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 One of his body-guard replied with awe, 
 
 " Illustrious lord, most merciful of kings, 
 
 A fell garouda follows us about." 
 
 The King's face paled when these dread words he heard, 
 
 The ofiScers arose and beat their breasts. 
 
 The sorrow of the King was greater still 
 
 Because the Queen was ill. He took her hand 
 
 And started without food or anything. 
 
 He trusted all to God, who watches o'er 
 
 The safety of the world. The suff'ring Queen 
 
 Spoke not a word and walked along in tears. 
 
 They went by far campongs and dreary fields 
 
 Beneath a burning sun which overwhelmed 
 
 Their strength. And so the lovely Queen's fair face 
 
 From palest yellow grew quite black. The prince 
 
 Approached the desert with his body torn 
 
 By thorns and brambles. All his care and grief 
 
 Were doubled when he saw his lovely wife 
 
 Who scarce could drag herself along and whom 
 
 He had to lead. Most desolate was he. 
 
 Turning his mind on the good Queen's sad lot. 
 
 Upon the way he gave up all to her. 
 
 Two months they journeyed and one day they came 
 
 Unto a campong of a merchant, where 
 
 They looked for rest because the Queen was weak. 
 
 The path was rugged and the way was hard. 
 
 The prince made halt before the palisades. 
 
 For God had made him stop and rest awhile. 
 
 The Sultan said : " What is this campong here ? 
 
 I fain would enter, but I do not dare." 
 
 The good Queen wept and said : " O my beloved. 
 
 What shall I say ? I am so tired and weak 
 
 I cannot journey more." The King was quite 
 
 Beside himself and fainted where he sat. 
 
 But on they journeyed to the riverside. 
 
 Stopping at every step. 
 
 And when the King 
 Had gained the bank he saw a little boat 
 With roof of bent bamboos and kadjang screen. 
 Then to the Queen, " Rest here, my precious one." 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 The silver moon was at the full, but veiled 
 
 With clouds, like to a maid who hides her face 
 
 And glances toward her lover timidly. 
 
 Then there was born a daughter, like a flower, 
 
 More beautiful than statue of pure gold. 
 
 Just like the tulips that the princess plucked. 
 
 The mother's heart was broken at the thought 
 
 That she must leave the babe, the child beloved 
 
 They both adored, such beauty it presaged. 
 
 The King with tears exclaimed,, " How can we take 
 
 The infant with us o'er this stony road 
 
 Beset with thorns, and burned with dreadful heat ? 
 
 Pearl of my palace, said he to the Queen, 
 
 " Weep not so bitterly about the child. 
 
 An offering let us make of her to God. 
 
 God grant she may be found by loving hearts 
 
 Who'll care for her and raise her in their home." 
 
 As soon as they had quite determined there 
 
 To leave the infant princess, their great grief 
 
 No limit knew. But ere they went away 
 
 The King took up the infant in his arms 
 
 And rocked her on his knees until she slept. 
 
 " Sleep on, heart's love, my soul, my little one, 
 
 Weep not for thy dear mother's lot. She fain 
 
 Would take thee with her, but the way is hard. 
 
 Sleep on, dear child, the apple of my eye. 
 
 The image of thy sire. Stay here, fear not. 
 
 For unto God we trust thee. Lord of all. 
 
 Sleep on, my child, chief jewel of my crown, 
 
 And let thy father gO. To look at thee 
 
 Doth pierce my heart as by a poniard's blow. 
 
 Ah, sweet my child, dear, tender little one. 
 
 Thy father loves yet leaves thee. Happy be. 
 
 And may no harm come nigh thee. Fare thee well." 
 
 The little princess slept, lulled by his voice. 
 
 He put her from his knees and placed her on 
 
 A finely woven cloth of Ind, and covered her 
 
 With satin webbed with gold. With flowing tears 
 
 The mother wrapped her in a tissue fine 
 
 Adorned with jewels like to sculptured flowers. 
 
MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 She seized the child and weeping murmured low : 
 
 " O dearest child, my pretty little girl ! 
 
 I leave thee to the Master of the world. 
 
 Live happily, although thy mother goes 
 
 And leaves thee here. Ah, sad thy mother's lot ! 
 
 Thy father forces her to quit thee now. 
 
 She would prefer with thee to stay, but, no! 
 
 Thy father bids her go. And that is why 
 
 Thy mother's fond heart breaks, she loves thee so, 
 
 And yet must leave thee. Oh, how can I live ? " 
 
 The mother fainted, and the grieving King 
 
 Was fain to kill himself, so was he moved. 
 
 He took the Queen's head on his knees. And soon 
 
 By God's decree and ever-sheltering grace 
 
 She to her senses came and stood erect. 
 
 Again she wept on looking at the child. 
 
 " If I should never see thee more, sweet soul. 
 
 Oh, may thy mother share thy fate I Her life 
 
 Is bound to thine. The light is gone from out 
 
 Thy mother's eyes. Hope dies within her heart 
 
 Because she fears to see thee nevermore. 
 
 Oh, may some charitable heart, my child. 
 
 Discover thee ! " The prince essayed to dry 
 
 Her tears. " Now come away, my dearest love. 
 
 Soon day will dawn." The prince in grief set out, 
 
 But ever turned and wanted to go back. 
 
 They walked along together, man and wife 
 
 All solitary, with no friends at hand. 
 
 Care-worn and troubled, and the moon shone bright. 
 
SONG II 
 
 I SING in this song of a merchant great 
 And of his wealth. His goods and treasures were 
 Beyond all count, his happiness without 
 Alloy. In Indrapura town there was 
 No equal to his fortune. He possessed 
 A thousand slaves, both old and young, who came 
 From Java and from other lands. His rank 
 Was higher than Panggawa's. Wives he had 
 In goodly numbers. But he lacked one thing 
 That weighed upon his heart — he had no child. 
 Now, by the will of God, the merchant great 
 Came very early from the palace gates. 
 And sought the river-bank, attended by 
 His favorite wife. Lila Djouhara was 
 The merchant's name. He heard a feeble voice 
 As of an infant crying, like the shrill 
 Tones of a flute, and from a boat it seemed 
 To come. Then toward the wondrous boat he went 
 And saw an infant with a pretty face. 
 His heart was overjoyed as if he had 
 A mine of diamonds found. The spouses said : 
 " Whose child is this ? It surely must belong 
 To one of highest rank. Some cause he had 
 To leave her here." The merchant's heart was glad 
 To see the bright eyes of the little one. 
 He raised her in his arms and took her home. 
 Four waiting-maids and nurses two he gave 
 The pretty child. The palace rooms were all 
 Adorned anew, with rugs and curtains soft. 
 And tapestries of orange hue were hung. 
 The princess rested on a couch inlaid with gold, 
 A splendid couch, with lanterns softly bright 
 And tapers burning with a gentle ray. 
 
 7 
 
MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The merchant and his wife with all their hearts 
 
 Adored the child, as if it were their own. 
 
 She looked like Mindoudari, and received 
 
 The name of Bidasari. Then they took 
 
 A little fish and changing vital spirits 
 
 They put it in a golden box, then placed 
 
 The box within a casket rich and rare. 
 
 The merchant made a garden, with all sorts 
 
 Of vases filled with flowers, and bowers of green 
 
 And trellised vines. A little pond made glad 
 
 The eyes, with the precious stones and topaz set 
 
 Alternately, in fashion of the land 
 
 Of Pellanggam, a charm for all. The sand 
 
 Was purest gold, with alabaster fine 
 
 All mixed with red pearls and with sapphires blue. 
 
 And in the water deep and clear they kept 
 
 The casket. Since they had the infant found. 
 
 Sweet Bidasari, all the house was filled 
 
 With joy. The merchant and his wife did naught 
 
 But feast and clap their hands and dance. They watched 
 
 The infant night and day. They gave to her 
 
 Garments of gold, with necklaces and gems. 
 
 With rings and girdles, and quaint boxes, too, 
 
 Of perfume rare, and crescent pins and flowers 
 
 Of gold to nestle in the hair, and shoSs 
 
 Embroidered in the fashion of Sourat. 
 
 By day and night the merchant guarded her. 
 
 So while sweet Bidasari grew, her lovely face 
 
 Increased in beauty. Her soft skin was white 
 
 And yellow, and she was most beautiful. 
 
 Her ear-rings and her bracelets made her look 
 
 Like some rare gem imprisoned in a glass. 
 
 Her beauty had no equal, and her face 
 
 Was like a nymph's celestial. She had gowns 
 
 As many as she wished, as many as 
 
 A princess fair of Java. There was not 
 
 A second Bidasari in the land. 
 
 I'll tell about Djouhan Mengindra now, 
 Sultan of Indrapura. Very wide 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 His kingdom was, with ministers of state 
 
 And officers, and regiments of picked 
 
 Young warriors, the bulwark of the throne. 
 
 This most illustrious prince had only been 
 
 Two years the husband of fair Lila Sari, 
 
 A princess lovable and kind. The King 
 
 Was deemed most handsome. And there was within 
 
 All Indrapura none to equal him. 
 
 His education was what it should be, 
 
 His conversation very affable. 
 
 He loved the princess Lila Sari well. 
 
 He gave her everything, and she in turn 
 
 Was good to him, but yet she was so vain. 
 
 " There is no one so beautiful as I," 
 
 She said. They were united like unto 
 
 The soul and body. And the good King thought 
 
 There could not be another like his wife. 
 
 One day they were together, and the Queen 
 
 Began to sing : " Oh, come, my well-beloved, 
 
 And listen to my words. Thou tellst me oft 
 
 Thou lovest me. But I know not thy heart. 
 
 If some misfortune were to overwhelm 
 
 Wouldst thou be true to me ? " He smiled and said : 
 
 " No harm can touch thee, dear. But should it come, 
 
 Whenever thou art 'whelmed I'll perish too." 
 
 With joy the princess said : " My noble prince. 
 
 If there were found a woman whose flower face 
 
 Were fairer than all others in the world. 
 
 Say, wouldst thou wed her ? " And the King replied : 
 
 " My friend, my fairest, who is like to thee ? 
 
 My soul, my princess, of a noble race, 
 
 Thou'rt sweet and wise and good and beautiful. 
 
 Thou'rt welded to my heart. No thought of mine 
 
 Is separate from thee." 
 
 The princess smiled; 
 Her face was all transfigured with her joy. 
 But suddenly the thought came to her mind, 
 " Who knows there is none more fair than I ? " 
 And then she cried : " Now hear me, O my love ! 
 Were there a woman with an angel-face. 
 
3 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Wouldst thou make her thy wife ? If she appeared 
 Unto thine eyes more beautiful than I, 
 Then would thy heart not burn for her ? " 
 
 The prince 
 But smiled, and answered not. She also smiled, 
 But said, " Since thou dost hesitate, I know 
 That thou wouldst surely wed her." Then the prince 
 Made answer : " O my heart, gold of my soul. 
 If she in form and birth were like to thee 
 I'd join her with thy destiny." Now when 
 The princess heard these words she paled and shook. 
 With eyes cast down, she left her royal spouse. 
 But quick he seized her. With a smile he said : 
 " Gold, ruby, dearest friend, I pray thee now. 
 Oh, be not vexed with me. Light of my eyes, 
 Keep not within thy heart a bitterness 
 Because I answered thus unto thy words." 
 He took her in his arms and kissed her lips 
 And wooed her. And her face again grew sweet 
 The while she heard. And yet her woman's heart 
 Was grieved and saddened. And she sat apart. 
 And swift these thoughts came to her anxious mind : 
 " I'll seek to-morrow through this kingdom wide, 
 Lest there should be within the land a maid 
 More fair than I. To death I shall condemn 
 Her straight, lest rival she may be to me. 
 For if my lord should marry her, he'd love 
 Her more than me. He'd love the younger one, 
 And constantly my tortured heart would bleed." 
 They angered her, these thoughts, as if her heart 
 Were filled with gall. " Now may I be accursed 
 If I go not unto the end in love." 
 Her heart was not assuaged ; she sighed alone. 
 Upon the morrow morn the King went out, 
 And with him many officers and men. 
 Meanwhile the Princess Lila Sari sent 
 A summons to a jeweller of skill. 
 And at the same time called her four dyangs, 
 Who came and sat. Dang Wilapat bowed low 
 And said, " Our greetings to thee, princess great." 
 
BIDASARl II 
 
 The Queen replied : " Go forth, dyangs, at once 
 
 And find me gold and dust of gold, and take 
 
 It all unto a goldsmith. Let him make 
 
 For me a fan, all decked with beauteous gems, 
 
 With rubies red and pearls ; and after that 
 
 A girdle virginal. Count not the price. 
 
 I want it all as quickly as may be." 
 
 And so they hastened, took the gold, and went 
 
 Outside the city, through the whole campong 
 
 Of goldsmiths, seeking there the best to make 
 
 The fan and girdle. And the hammered gold 
 
 Soon shone with many amethysts and gems. 
 
 It was a marvel to behold those rare 
 
 And quaintly fashioned ornaments, to deck 
 
 A sultaness. Of priceless worth they were. 
 
 Four days, and all was ready for the Queen. 
 
 But she had never eaten all this time 
 
 Because of grief. She thought the fan more fine 
 
 Than Java princess ever yet possessed. 
 
 She called the four dyangs and said to them : 
 
 " A secret mission have I now for ye. 
 
 Go up and down among the officers 
 
 And show this fan for sale, but never name 
 
 The price. Seek ever if there be a face 
 
 More beautiful than mine ; and should ye find 
 
 A face more fair, come tell it straight to me. 
 
 If ye obey my will I'll make ye all 
 
 Inspectresses within the royal home." 
 
 Then forth the women went upon the quest. 
 
 And first among their friends they went with words 
 
 Of mystery and hints of wondrous things 
 
 They had for sale. And so these servants bore 
 
 The story to their masters, " The dyangs 
 
 Have something wonderful to sell." And soon 
 
 The daughters of the houses rich began 
 
 To clamor for a sight of this great prize. 
 
 Then the dyangs went to the houses all. 
 
 The young girls said, " Oh, tell us now the price." 
 
 Dyang Wiravan quickly answered, then 
 
 Dyang Podagah: " 'Tis a princely thing; 
 
12 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 I'll go and ask the price and tell it thee." 
 
 And so they spoke, and so they looked about 
 
 To find a face more beautiful and rare 
 
 Than their own Queen's, and wearied in the search. 
 
 " Where can we further look ? " they said, and then 
 
 Bethought them of the strangers and the priests. 
 
 But in that quarter no one dared to touch 
 
 The precious things, but thought it passing strange 
 
 The Queen should wish to sell. To the campong 
 
 Of merchants next they went. A double line 
 
 Of ramparts guarded it. " Here is more stir 
 
 And gayety," they said, " with sport and song. 
 
 Than elsewhere have we found." And so they sought 
 
 The richest merchants. " We have something rare," 
 
 They said, " made by an artist Javanese." 
 
 When Bidasari's servants saw these folk 
 
 They said : " Bring these things to our house and we 
 
 Will show them to our master. He will buy." 
 
 Then the dyangs with smiles replied : " They are 
 
 Not ours, but our good Queen's. And only we 
 
 May show them, lest a stone be lost, perchance, 
 
 And we be punished." Bidasari's maids 
 
 Were glad and said, " Wait but a moment here 
 
 Until we find what Bidasari wills." 
 
 They found her with her maids, and told the tale. 
 
 Then Bidasari bade them bring to her 
 
 The stranger folk, and said, " If I be pleased 
 
 I'll buy." Dang Ratna Watie went and told 
 
 The women that young Bidasari wished 
 
 To see their wares. The four dyangs came in 
 
 Together. Joy their faces all suffused. 
 
 But they seemed timid, modest, full of fear. 
 
 Then Bidasari's women said to them : 
 
 " Come, O young women, all are loyal here. 
 
 Enter, our sisters and our friends." 
 
 Now when 
 The Queen's dyangs had looked about them there 
 They all were dazzled, Bidasari's face 
 So beautiful appeared. How beat their hearts 1 
 As they upon her lovely features gazed, 
 
BIDASARI 13 
 
 Each murmured to herself, " She is more fair 
 Than our great Queen." 
 
 Then Bidasari wished 
 To buy the fan, and sent a maid to ask 
 Her parents for the gold. The merchant said, 
 " Go see what thing it is, and weigh the gold 
 For her." The mother feared a trap or trick. 
 " Oh, do not buy the fan, my child," she said ; 
 " I'll buy a finer one for thee. Send this 
 Away." But when her father saw her tears 
 Of disappointment, " It is thine," he said; 
 " What is the price ? I'd buy it though it cost 
 Thy weight in gold, my darling. Tell me now, 
 Dyangs." Tjendra Melinee answered him, 
 " Are two timbangs too much ? " " I'm very poor," 
 He said; " but I will buy it for the child." 
 The gold was weighed. The four dyangs straightway 
 Departed, hurried to the Queen and said: 
 " At last we have discovered, O our Queen, 
 What thou hast sought. 'Tis in a near campong 
 Of merchants very rich and great. Oh, there 
 We found a princess fairer than the day ; 
 More like an angel than a mortal maid. 
 No woman in this land compares with her. 
 Her name is Bidasari. And the King 
 Would surely marry her if once they met. 
 For soon she will be ready for a spouse ; 
 Her innocence is charming. Like a cloud 
 The merchant and his wife keep watchful guard. 
 Her hair is curly, like a flower full blown. 
 Her brow is like the moon but one day old. 
 She's like a ring in Peylou made. She would 
 Outshine thy beauty, shouldst thou bring her here." 
 The princess heard and quickly said : " I feel 
 My hatred rise. Oh, may I never see 
 Her face ! To hear ye speak of her inflames 
 My heart with anger. Say, why do ye think 
 That she's more fair than I ? " Then made reply 
 The women : " Bidasari's eyes are soft. 
 Her smile is sweet, her skin is tinted like 
 
14 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The green tjempakka, and her graceful form 
 
 Resembles some famed statue nobly made. 
 
 Her cheeks are like the bill of flying bird. 
 
 We loved to look upon her neck. Her nose 
 
 Is like a jasmine bud. Her pretty face 
 
 Is like the yellow of an egg. Her thoughts 
 
 Are pure as crystal. And she wears her hair 
 
 In such a charming way. Her lips are like 
 
 A little polished box. The flowers she wears 
 
 But make her look the prettier. Her teeth 
 
 Are like a bright pomegranate. Ah, the heart 
 
 Doth open when one looketh on her face. 
 
 She's like a princess of the Mount Lidang. 
 
 Her features are like those of Nilagendi. 
 
 Her heels are like the eggs of hens, and make 
 
 Her seem a princess of Siam. Her fingers 
 
 More tapering are than quills of porcupine. 
 
 And solid is the nail of her left hand. 
 
 No noble's girl is Bidasari's peer." 
 
 Now when the princess heard them sing her praise 
 
 Her soul was wounded as if by a thorn. 
 
 Her dark eyes flashed. " Ah, speak no more of her," 
 
 She said, " nor speak abroad what ye have seen. 
 
 But bring me Bidasari. I would see 
 
 If what ye say be true." 
 
 " Then we must take 
 Her presents first, and strive to gain by them 
 Her friendship, and attain our end at last." 
 They went to see her every day, and bore 
 Rich gifts. 
 
 The merchant and his wife remarked 
 The visits of the Queen's dyangs, and how 
 They loved their daughter. That is why they gave 
 Them all that they desired. But the dyangs 
 Among themselves kept saying : " How can we 
 Take her away? We love her so, and deep 
 Within our hearts we pity her. And now 
 Her parents have such trust in us, and load 
 Us down with gifts. But when, alas, at home 
 The princess questions us, what shall we say? 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 For she's a powerful Queen. Yet if we make 
 Unhappy this dear girl of these good folk. 
 Shall we not sin ? And still the princess is 
 So violent and harsh ! Her jealousy 
 Would know no limit should the King but hear 
 Of this affair." 
 
 Dang Djoudah answering spoke : 
 " We all can go to her and quiet her. 
 A word suffices oft. She is our Queen, 
 But to the King belongeth power supreme. 
 If Bidasari should disdain the throne 
 We shall renounce our functions at the court. 
 For what the Queen desires, is most unjust. 
 And if we prove unfaithful we shall be 
 O'erwhelmed with maledictions." Thus they spoke 
 And went back to the busy-lived campong 
 Of merchants. Here they thought to go and find 
 Djouhara, and obtain what they desired. 
 A messenger went after them and said : 
 " To Dang Bidouri : Come at once ; my friend 
 The princess summons you." Then the dyangs 
 Went to the Queen and found her with the King 
 At dinner. With malicious wink of eye 
 She made them understand they must not talk 
 Before the prince. When he had dined he took 
 Some siri from the betel-box, himself 
 Anointed with a perfume sweet, and went 
 To teach the young folk how to ride and shoot 
 The arrow straight, and played at many games. 
 Meanwhile the princess Lila Sari called 
 Before her the dyangs and questioned them : 
 " Why have ye come so late ? " Bidouri bowed 
 And said : " 'Twas very hard to bring her here 
 To thee. The merchant and his wife do not 
 A moment leave her, for they love her so. 
 Her tiring-women ever are about. 
 Thou shouldst demand her of her parents, if 
 Thou dost desire to see her. Treat her like 
 Thy child, for she is still so very young ! 
 From Bidasari's father thou wilt gain 
 
 IS 
 
,6 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 All that thou canst desire, he is so rich, 
 
 If thou wilt onlx love his daughter dear. 
 
 And dost thou give command to bring her here? 
 
 Let us go all alone and summon her 
 
 For Bidasari '11 freely follow us." 
 
 They tried to calm the anger of the Queen. 
 
 She bowed her head in silence, but her soul 
 
 Was very heavy, and hypocrisy 
 
 With hate and envy vied within her heart. 
 
 " They love the chil^, these dyangs," to herself 
 
 She said, " and I shall have no easy task. 
 
 I shall attract her here by trickery. 
 
 But she shall never my companion be. 
 
 With Bidasari once within my power 
 
 My heart will be no longer on the rack. 
 
 Go now, dyangs," she said, " and seek for me 
 
 The merchant and his wife and hither bring 
 
 Young Bidasari, whom I'll elevate 
 
 Unto the rank of princess, for I have 
 
 No child. Mazendra take with ye. And when 
 
 Young Bidasari shall arrive, conceal 
 
 Her for a day or two. And gently speak 
 
 Unto the merchant and his wife, and say 
 
 Concessions will be granted to the priests 
 
 And strangers in their quarter, should she come. 
 
 Console Lila Djouhara thus, and pledge 
 
 That he may come to see his child whene'er 
 
 His heart impelleth him." An escort went 
 
 With them, and the dyangs bowed low before 
 
 The merchant and his wife, and greeted, too. 
 
 Fair Bidasari. But the merchant said : 
 
 " Why come ye here in so great numbers ? " Then 
 
 They straight replied : " Our most beloved Queen 
 
 Hath sent us here with greetings unto thee, 
 
 The master of the house. If thou'lt permit. 
 
 We've come to seek fair Bidasari here." 
 
 They beat their breasts, the merchant and his wife. 
 
 " Our darling, only child ! It will be hard 
 
 For her to be the servant of a prince ; 
 
 For she hath had her way so long! Her traits 
 
BIDASARI I J 
 
 Are not yet formed. Go back, dyangs, and pray 
 
 The Queen to pardon us. Say how we grieve." 
 
 But the dyangs repeated all the words 
 
 Said by the Queen, and so their fears were calmed. 
 
 They hoped Queen Lila Sari would love well 
 
 Fair Bidasari. Then the merchant said: 
 
 " I will obey, and let my darling go, 
 
 So that she may become unto the Queen 
 
 A servant, and perchance a daughter loved. 
 
 Now shall she go with ye. Only I beg 
 
 The Queen to let her come back home to us 
 
 At three days' end. She is not used to stay 
 
 With strangers. Never hath she left us for 
 
 A single day." Then Dang Bidouri said: 
 
 " We'll do our best before the Queen ; and why 
 
 Should she not grant to Bidasari this ? " 
 
 They bathed fair Bidasari with sweet scents, 
 
 And then arranged her in rich raiment new. 
 
 A fine sijrash she wore with broidered flowers 
 
 Of Pekan, and a satin robe all fringed 
 
 With gold. She bore a plaque of beaten gold 
 
 Bound to a necklace, chiselled, gem-bedecked ; 
 
 Her over-tunic was of yellow silk 
 
 With tiny serpents on the buttons 'graved. 
 
 Three bracelets wore the maid, and rarest rings, 
 
 And ear-rings like a wheel in motion wrought. 
 
 Chaste links of gold set forth her beauty rare, 
 
 A fair flow'r in a vase, whose perfume sweet 
 
 Wafts scented breaths as far as one may see. 
 
 They kissed her then with tears and held her close 
 
 Upon their breasts. " Be humble to the Queen," 
 
 They said, " remember that thou art before 
 
 The King, and near the throne. Ask leave to come 
 
 To see us when thou dost desire. Speak sweetly 
 
 With low and gentle voice." 
 
 Thus they enjoined. 
 And then the merchant said, " Dyangs, if ye 
 Love Bidasari, see ye vex her not." 
 They dried their tears and said : " Be without fear. 
 Intrust thy daughter to our mistress dear." 
 
l8 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 " My child," he said, " I'll come to see thee oft. 
 
 Thou wilt be better there, my love, than here." 
 
 But Bidasari wept and cried : " Oh, come, 
 
 Dear mother, with me ! Wilt thou not, alas ? " 
 
 But the fond parents were astounded then 
 
 To learn the mother was not asked to come. 
 
 She stayed with tears, the while the father went. 
 
 As far as to the city's gates. With tears 
 
 He said : " Farewell, O apple of my eye 
 
 I leave thee here. Fear not, my dearest child." 
 
 Then Bidasari wept. Her heart was wrung. 
 
 She went. The merchant followed with his eyes. 
 
 She entered by a hidden door. Dyangs 
 
 And mandars flocked to see her, but she hung 
 
 Her head and kept her eyes downcast. 
 
 The sun 
 Announced the evening, and the King was still 
 Surrounded by his officers. 'Twas then 
 Fair Bidasari to the palace came, 
 And stood before the Queen. All the dyangs 
 Sat on the floor, with servants of the house. 
 Like the pengawas Bidasari bowed, 
 'Mid the dyangs, in presence of the Queen. 
 They gave her all the merchant's gifts, as sign 
 Of homage. All astonished was the Queen 
 At Bidasari's beauty. She appeared 
 Almost divine. Bidouri spoke and said, 
 " Thou seest Bidasari, O our Queen, 
 Lila Djouhari's daughter." At these words 
 The Queen was stupefied, and thought : " In truth 
 'Tis as they said. She is more lovely than 
 The fairest work of art." Bidouri told 
 All that the merchant and his wife had said. 
 The Queen inclined her head and silence kept. 
 But wicked thoughts were surging in her brain. 
 A combat raged within her heart. She feared 
 The King might see the maiden. " Send away," 
 She said, " the nurses and the women all." 
 Fair Bidasari wept when they retired. 
 The princess called her to her side and said : 
 
biDASARI ip 
 
 " Thou must not weep so, Bidasari. They 
 
 Will all return. When thou dost wish to go. 
 
 They will go with thee. Now depart, dyangs. 
 
 Ye need not care for Bidasari more. 
 
 I will procure her dames of company 
 
 And servants. You may come from time to time." 
 
 So they arose, and, with prostrations, went. 
 
 The Queen conducted Bidasari then 
 
 Into a room and left her all alone. 
 
 And all afraid. 
 
 When evening shadows fell, 
 The great King bade the Queen to sup with him. 
 He sat beside her^ smiled and gayly talked. 
 As he had been young Bedouwandas, on 
 His horse, with sword at belt. " My royal spouse, 
 How thou dost love me! for thou wouldst not sup 
 Without me, though thou needest food and drink." 
 Now when the King had eaten, he retired 
 Unto his sleeping-chamber. 
 
 Still alone 
 And weeping much, fair Bidasari stayed. 
 In darkness with no one to speak to her. 
 She thought on her dear parents. " O my God ! 
 Why dost Thou leave me here ? " The solitude 
 Filled her with terror, and she wept until 
 The middle of the night, and thought of home. 
 Out spake the King: " Now what is that I hear!! 
 What voice is that so sorrowful and sweet ? " 
 " It is an infant crying," said the Queen. 
 " In all the darkness it has lost its way." 
 Her heart was burning, and she sent a word 
 To Bidasari that she must not weep. 
 And held her peace and waited till the dawn. 
 But Bidasari wept the whole night long 
 And cried for home. When the dyangs all ran 
 To comfort her, they found the door was locked. 
 And none could enter. Bidasari thought, 
 " What wrong have I committed, that the Queen 
 Should be so vexed with me ? " When day appeared. 
 To the pavilion went the King. The Queen 
 
!0 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Threw wide the door of Bidasari's room 
 And entered all alone. 
 
 Then Bidasari 
 The Queen's hand kissed, and begged that she would let 
 Her homeward fare. " O gracious Queen," she said, 
 " Take pity on me ; let me go away. 
 I'll come to thee again." 
 
 The wicked Queen 
 Struck her, and said, " Thou ne'er shalt see again 
 Thy home." The gentle Bidasari drooped 
 Her head and wept afresh, shaking with fear. 
 " Forgive the evil I have done, my Queen, 
 For I am but a child, and do not know 
 How I have sinned against thee," falling at 
 Her feet she said. The Queen in anger struck 
 Her once again. " I know full well," she said, 
 "All thy designs and projects. What! Am I 
 To rest in peace and see thy beauty grow, 
 And thee become my rival with the King? " 
 Then Bidasari knew 'twas jealousy 
 That caused the fury of the Queen. Her fear 
 Increased, she trembled and bewailed her fate. 
 The livelong day she was insulted, struck. 
 And of her food deprived. 
 
 Before the King 
 Returned, the Queen departed from the room 
 Of Bidasari. The poor child had lost 
 Her former color. Black her face had grown 
 From blows, as if she had been burnt. Her eyes 
 She could not open. Such her sufferings were 
 She could not walk. Then unto God she cried : 
 " O Lord, creator of the land and sea, 
 I do not know my fault, and yet the Queen 
 Treats me as guilty of a heinous crime. 
 I suffer hell on earth. Why must I live? 
 Oh, let me die now, in the faith, dear Lord. 
 My soul is troubled and my face is black 
 With sorrow. Let me die before the dawn. 
 My parents do not help me. They have left 
 Me here alone to suffer. In the false 
 
BIDASARI ai 
 
 Dyangs I trusted, as to sisters dear. 
 
 Their lips are smiling, but their hearts are base. 
 
 Their mouths are sweet as honey, but their hearts 
 
 Are full of evil. Oh, what can I say? 
 
 It is the will of God." 
 
 Such was the grief 
 Of Bidasari, and her tears fell fast. 
 Now when the King went forth again, the Queen 
 Began anew her persecutions harsh. 
 With many blows and angry words, she said : 
 " Why dost thou groan so loudly ? Dost thou seek 
 By crying to attract the King, to see 
 Thy beauty ? 'Tis thy hope, I know full well. 
 His younger wife to be. And thou art proud 
 Of all thy beauty." Bidasari was 
 Astounded, and replied with many tears: 
 " May I accursed be if ever I 
 Such plottings knew. Thou art a mighty Queen. 
 If I have sinned against thee, let me die 
 At once. For life is useless to the hearts 
 That suffer. Hast thou brought me here to beat? 
 How thou hast made me weep ! O Queen, art thou 
 Without compassion ? " 
 
 All possessed with rage 
 The Queen replied : " I do not pity thee. / 
 
 I hate thee, when I see thee. Open not 
 Thy mouth again." The wicked Queen then seized 
 The lovely tresses of the beauteous maid. 
 And took a piece of wood with which to strike ; 
 But Bidasari wept and swooned away. 
 The King's voice sounded through the corridor. 
 As he returned. The Queen then hastened forth 
 And left a mandar there to close and guard 
 Fair Bidasari's room, that nothing should 
 Be seen. Then asked the King of her, " Whom hast 
 Thou beaten now ? " The hypocrite replied, 
 " It was a child that disobeyed my will." 
 "Are there not others for that discipline? 
 Is it for thee to strike ? " His siri then 
 He took, and kissed the Queen with fondest love. 
 
1 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 All the dyangs fair Bidasari's plight 
 Observed, and kindly pity filled their breasts. 
 " How cruel is the conduct of the Queen ! " 
 They said. " She made us bring her to her side 
 But to maltreat the child the livelong day. 
 It seems as if she wished to slay her quite." 
 Then secretly they went, with some to watch. 
 And sprinkled Bidasari's brow! To life 
 She came, and opened those dear wistful eyes. 
 " My friends," she said, " I pray ye, let me go 
 Back home again unto my father's house." 
 " Oh, trust in God, my child," said one in tears. 
 " My lot is written from eternity. 
 Oh, pray the princess great to take my life," 
 The poor child cried ; " I can no longer stand ; 
 My bones are feeble. Oh, she has no heart ! " 
 But the dyangs, for fear the Queen might see. 
 All fled. 
 
 Meanwhile the merchant and his wife 
 Wept all the day, and sighed for their dear child. 
 Sweet Bidasari. Nor did gentle sleep 
 Caress their eyes at night. Each day they sent 
 Rich presents of all kinds, and half of them 
 Were for the child. But naught the wicked Queen 
 To Bidasari gave. So five days passed 
 And then Dyang Menzara forth they sent. 
 The merchant said : " Oh, tell the mighty Queen 
 That I must Bidasari see. I'll bring 
 Her back in three days' time." The good 
 Dyang went to the queen and bowing low : 
 " The merchant fain would see his child," she said. 
 At this the features of the Queen grew hard. 
 " Did they not give their child to me? Now scarce 
 A day has passed, and they must see her face. 
 Is it thine own wish or the merchant's ? I 
 Have said the girl could go where'er she would. 
 Can I not have her taken back myself? " 
 Then the dyang bowed, beat her breast, and went. 
 Sad that she could not Bidasari see, 
 And quaking at the anger of the Queen. 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 Of the dyang, fair Bidasari heard 
 
 The voice, and felt her heart break that she could 
 
 Not speak to her and send a message home. 
 
 Upon the morrow, when the King had gone 
 
 Among his ministers and men of state. 
 
 The Queen again to Bidasari's room 
 
 Repaired, to beat her more. As soon as she 
 
 Beheld the Queen, poor Bidasari prayed 
 
 To her, " O sovereign lady great, permit 
 
 That I may go unto my father's house." 
 
 The princess shook with rage, her face on fire. 
 
 " If thou but sayest a word, I'll slay thee here." 
 
 To whom could Bidasari turn? She bent 
 
 Before the will of God, and in a sweet 
 
 Voice said : " O Lord, my God, have pity now 
 
 Upon me, for the cruel world has none. 
 
 Grant now the Queen's desire and let me die, 
 
 For she reproacheth me, though naught I've done. 
 
 My parents have forgotten me, nor send 
 
 A word." The angry princess struck again 
 
 Her piteous face, and as she swooned away 
 
 A napkin took to twist into a cord 
 
 And strangle her. She summoned to her aid 
 
 Dang Ratna Wall. " Help me pluck this weed ; 
 
 I wish to kill her." But the woman fled, 
 
 As base as cruel. Bidasari's ghost 
 
 Arose before her. Yet the child came back 
 
 To consciousness, and thought amid her tears : 
 
 "I'll tell the story of the golden fish 
 
 Unto the Queen, that she may know it all ; 
 
 For I can but a little while endure 
 
 These pains." She spoke then to the Queen and said : 
 
 " O Queen, thou dost desire that I shall die. 
 
 Seek out a little casket that doth lie 
 
 All hidden in the fish-pond at our house. 
 
 Within it is a fish. Have it brought here 
 
 And I will tell thee what it signifies." 
 
 The princess called Dyang Sendari : " Go 
 
 And bring here the dyangs, with no delay. 
 
 23 
 
34 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 From out the merchant's house." When they arrived: 
 
 " Go, now, dyangs, for Bidasari saith 
 
 There is a little casket in the pond 
 
 Where she is wont to bathe. Go bring it me, 
 
 In silence, letting no one see ye come." 
 
 Then the dyangs replied : " Oh, hear our prayer. 
 
 For Bidasari. How her parents grieve ! 
 
 Oh, pardon, princess, let her go with us." 
 
 The Queen with smiles responded : " The young girl 
 
 Is very happy here, and full of joy. 
 
 Her parents must not grieve, for in two days 
 
 If Bidasari doth desire to go 
 
 I'll send her freely. She is vexed that ye 
 
 Come here so often." The dyangs bowed low. 
 
 And smiled, and called enticingly : " Come forth, 
 
 O charming child, pure soul ; it is not right 
 
 To treat us so, for we have come to see 
 
 Thy lovely face, and in its beauty bask." 
 
 Sweet Bidasari heard, and could riot speak^ 
 
 But answered with her tears. The cruel Queen 
 
 Said to them : " Speak no more. But if ye bring 
 
 The little casket, ye will fill the heart 
 
 Of Bidasari with great joy." Forth fared 
 
 Then the dyangs, and found the casket small. 
 
 And brought it to the palace of the Queen. 
 
 Again to Bidasari called the good 
 
 Dyangs: " Oh, come, dear heart, and take it from 
 
 Our hands yourself." " She sleeps," the princess said. 
 
 " Come back to-morrow." So they bowed and went. 
 
 The princess hastened with the casket rich 
 
 To Bidasari's room, and opened it 
 
 Before her eyes. Within it was a box 
 
 Of agate, beautiful to see, and filled 
 
 With water wherein swam a little fish 
 
 Of form most ravishing. The princess stood 
 
 Amazed to see with eyes of fire a fish 
 
 That swam. Then was she glad, and spoke with joy 
 
 To Bidasari : " Say what signifies 
 
 The fish to thee? What shall I do with it?" 
 
 Then Bidasari bowed and said : " My soul 
 
BIDASARI 2$ 
 
 Is in that fish. At dawn must thou remove 
 It from the water, and at night replace. 
 " Leave it not here and there, but hang it from 
 Thy neck. If this thou dost, I soon shall die. 
 My words are true. Neglect no single day 
 To do as I have said, and in three days 
 Thou'lt see me dead." 
 
 The Queen felt in her heart 
 A joy unspeakable. She took the fish 
 And wore it on a ribbon round her neck. 
 Unto the Queen then Bidasari spoke, 
 " Oh, give my body to my parents dear 
 When I am dead." Again the young maid swooned. 
 The Queen believed her dead, and ceased to beat 
 Her more. But she yet lived, though seeming dead. 
 The joyful Queen a white cloth over her 
 Then spread, and called aloud to the dyangs, 
 " Take Bidasari to her father's house." 
 They groaned and trembled when they saw that she 
 Was dead, and said with many tears : " Alas ! 
 O dearest one, O gold all virginal ! 
 What shall we say when we thy parents see ? 
 They'll beat their breasts and die of grief. They gave 
 Thee to the King because they trusted us." 
 But the proud Queen, her face all red with hate : 
 " Why stay ye ? Take the wretched girl away." 
 They saw the Queen's great rage, and bore the maid 
 Upon their shoulders forth, and carried her 
 Unto her father's house at dead of night. 
 Fear seized the merchant. " Say what bring ye here? 
 Tell me, dyangs." They placed her on the ground. 
 The merchant and his wife, beside themselves, 
 With tears embraced her form. " I trusted in 
 The Queen, and so I sent my child to her. 
 O daughter dear, so young, so pure, so sweet. 
 What hast thou done that could the Queen displease, 
 That she should send thee home like this to me? 
 How could the Queen treat Bidasari so ? 
 For seven days she imprisoned her and sent 
 Her home in death. Ah, noble child ! alas ! 
 
86 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Thy father's heart will break, no more to hear 
 Thy voice. Speak to thy father, O my child, 
 My pearl, my gem of women, purest gold. 
 Branch of my heart ; canst thou not quiet me ? 
 O Bidasari, why art thou so still ? 
 Arise, my pretty child, arise and play 
 With all thy maids. Here is thy mother, come 
 To greet thee. Bid her welcome. Why art thou 
 So motionless? Hast' thou no pity, dear. 
 To see thy father overwhelmed with woe ? 
 My heart is bursting with despair because 
 Thou'rt lost to me." 
 
 Long time the merchant thus 
 Lamented. " What have I to live for now ? 
 Since thou art dead, thy father too shall die. 
 It is his lot both night and day to sigh 
 For thee. My God, I cannot understand 
 Why this dear child should thus a victim be ! 
 'Tis the dyangs who have this evil wrought." 
 Then, through the whole campong, the merchants all 
 Made lamentations, rolling on the ground. 
 With noise of thunder, and their hearts on fire. 
 They sought to speak and could not. Then began 
 Again the merchant, and unto his friends 
 Told his misfortune, asking back his child. 
 
 The Queen's dyangs shed tears, and gently said : 
 
 " Speak not so loudly. Thou dost know that we 
 
 Are but poor servants, and we tremble lest 
 
 The Queen should hear. If any one of us 
 
 Had done this wrong, we'd tell it to the King. 
 
 Fate only is at fault. Oh, be not wroth 
 
 With us. Our will was good. We had no end 
 
 Except to see thy lovely daughter great 
 
 And powerful. Naught the King hath known of this. 
 
 It was the Queen's mad jealousy and hate." 
 
 The merchant and his wife accepted these. 
 The dyangs" words. " It is as they declare. 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 The Queen was jealous and embittered thus 
 
 Against our Bidasari. To your home 
 
 Return, dyangs. I fear me that the Queen 
 
 May learn of your delay and punish ye." 
 
 They bowed and went, with hearts of burning grief. 
 
 The merchant and his wife then lifted up 
 
 Poor Bidasari. They were all but dead 
 
 With sorrow. On his knees the father took 
 
 The body wrapped in crimson silk. He felt 
 
 A warmth. Then he remembered that within 
 
 The water was her vital spirit still, 
 
 And, placing her upon a mat, sent Dang 
 
 Poulam, the casket from the pond to bring. 
 
 But 'twas not there. Then all the household searched, 
 
 But found it not. The merchant beat his breast. 
 
 " Branch of my heart," he said, " we all had thought 
 
 Thou wouldst become a princess. I have lost 
 
 My reason. I hoped now to summon back 
 
 Thy spirit vital, but the casket's lost. 
 
 My hope is gone. It may be the dyangs 
 
 Have stolen it. They're faithful, to the Queen. 
 
 We may not trust in them. They're filled with hate 
 
 And trickery." Unconscious all the time 
 
 Lay Bidasari ; but at midnight's hour 
 
 She for the first time moved. They torches brought 
 
 And there behind Egyptian curtains, right 
 
 And left, ignited them, with many lamps' 
 
 Soft flames.' The servants watched and waited there. 
 
 The father, always at his daughter's side. 
 
 With fixed glance looked for life to come once more 
 
 Back to his darling one. She moved again. 
 
 With opening eyes she saw and recognized 
 
 Her own soft couch, her parents, and her maids. 
 
 She tried but could not speak. Her hot tears fell. 
 
 She slowly turned and looked with fondest love 
 
 Upon her parents. 
 
 When the merchant saw 
 That Bidasari's spirit had returned. 
 
 «7 
 
aS MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 He took her on his knees and gave her rice. 
 
 She could not walk because such pain she felt. 
 
 She thought upon the Queen and wept afresh. 
 
 They dried her tears, and placed within her mouth 
 
 What food she liked. The merchant tenderly 
 
 Said, " Bidasari, dear, what has thou wrought 
 
 To cause the Queen against thee thus to act ? " 
 
 Young Bidasari, with a flood of tears, replied : 
 
 " No wrong at all I wrought the cruel Queen. 
 
 All suddenly her insults she began. 
 
 And beatings." They were stupefied to hear 
 
 Such tales. " Light of my eyes," the father said, 
 
 " We do not doubt thine innocence. Her deeds 
 
 Were those of madness. For her haughty birth 
 
 I care no whit. Wisdom and virtue bind 
 
 True hearts alone. As friends we ne'er must name 
 
 Those false dyangs. Not plants medicinal. 
 
 But poison foul, are they. These days are bad. 
 
 Injustice reigns. Believe me, friends, it is 
 
 A sign the last great day shall soon appear. 
 
 Those false dyangs are but a race of slaves. 
 
 Insensible to all that's good. The hour 
 
 The princess knoweth Bidasari lives, 
 
 We all shall die, the princess is so wroth. 
 
 Illustrious Queen they call her — ^but her words 
 
 Are hard and cruel. May the curse of God 
 
 O'erwhelm her and annihilate ! From thee, 
 
 O God, she shall receive the punishment 
 
 Deserved. She who pursueth thus a soul 
 
 Shall know remorse and pain. So God hath willed. 
 
 So God hath willed. Who doth another harm 
 
 Shall suffer in his turn. It shall be done 
 
 To him as he hath done to others. So, 
 
 My child, my crown, have no more fear at all. 
 
 Intrust thyself to God. The cruel Queen 
 
 Shall yet be treated as she treated thee." 
 
 The merchant thus lamented till the night 
 
 Was half departed, shedding sapphire tears. 
 
 The innocent young girl, like marble there. 
 
BIDASARI 29 
 
 Slept till the evening twilight came. Toward dawn 
 She swooned anew. 
 
 The merchant and his wife 
 Were much disturbed to see at night she came 
 To life, but when the daylight shone again 
 They lost her, and her spirit fled away. 
 This so distressed the merchant's heart, a lone 
 Retreat he sought to find. The parents cried : 
 " O dearest child, there's treason in the air. 
 Hatred and anger the companions are 
 Of lamentations and of curses dire. 
 Foul lies for gold are uttered. Men disdain 
 The promises of God, the faith they owe. 
 Oh, pardon, God ! I ne'er thought the dyangs 
 Would thus conspire. But since they are so bad 
 And treated Bidasari thus, we'll go 
 And in the desert find a resting-place. 
 And may it be a refuge for us all, 
 Hidden and unapproachable. 
 
 His goods 
 He gathered then, and all his servants paid, 
 And built a home far in the desert land, 
 A spot agreeable. A cabin there 
 He raised, with ramparts hemmed about, and strong 
 Sasaks, and seven rows of palisades. 
 They placed there many vases full of flowers, 
 And every sort of tree for fruit and shade. 
 And cool pavilions. This plaisance so fair 
 They called Pengtipourlara. It was like 
 The garden of Batara Indra. All 
 About, the merchant set pomegranate-trees 
 And vines of grape. No other garden was 
 So beautiful. 'Twas like the garden fair 
 Of great Batara Brahma, filled with fruits. 
 When all was ready, forth they went, toward night. 
 And took young Bidasari, and much food. 
 They fared two days and came unto the spot, 
 A garden in the desert. Softest rugs 
 From China there were spread and of bright hue 
 
30 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The decorations were, in every tint. 
 
 The house was hung with tapestries, and ceiled 
 
 To represent the heavens flecked with clouds. 
 
 And all about were lanterns hung and lamps. 
 
 Soft curtains and a couch completed this 
 
 Enchanted resting-place. Always the light 
 
 Was uniform, and brilliant as the day. 
 
 'Twas like a palace of a mighty king, 
 
 Magnificent and grand beyond compare. 
 
 There was a table on a damp rug set. 
 
 With drinks for Bidasari, and with bowls 
 
 Of gold, and vases of souasa, filled 
 
 With water. All of this beside the couch 
 
 Was placed, with yellow siri, and with pure 
 
 Pinang, all odorous, to please the child. 
 
 And all was covered with a silken web. 
 
 Young Bidasari bracelets wore, and rings, 
 
 And ear-rings diamond studded. Garments four 
 
 All gem-bedecked upon a cushion lay. 
 
 For Bidasari's wear. When night had come 
 
 Young Bidasari waked. Her parents dear 
 
 Then bathed her, and her tender body rubbed 
 
 With musk and aloes. Then she straight was clad 
 
 In garments of her choosing. Her dear face 
 
 Was beautiful, almost divine. She had 
 
 Regained the loveliness she erst possessed. 
 
 The merchant was astonished, seeing her. 
 
 He told her then that they would leave her there, 
 
 " Branch of my heart and apple of my eye, 
 
 My dearest child, be not disturbed at this. 
 
 I do not mean to work thee any harm, 
 
 Nor to disown thee, but to rescue thee 
 
 From death." But as she listened to these words 
 
 Young Bidasari wept. She thought upon 
 
 Her fate. Into her father's arms she threw 
 
 Herself, and cried : " Why wilt thou leave me here, 
 
 father dearest, in this desert lone? 
 I'll have no one to call in case of need. 
 
 1 fear to stay alone. No one there'll be 
 To talk to me. I only count those hours 
 
BIDASARI 31 
 
 As happy when I have my parents near." 
 
 The merchant heard fair Bidasari's words 
 
 And wept with his dear wife. With bitter grief 
 
 Their hearts were shattered. Counsels wise they gave 
 
 To Bidasari. " Dearest daughter mine," 
 
 The father said, " gem of my head, my crown. 
 
 Branch of my heart, light of my eyes, oh, hear 
 
 Thy father's words, and be thou not afraid. 
 
 We brought thee hither, to this fair retreat. 
 
 Far from the town, for, if the Queen should know 
 
 Thou liv'st at night, the false dyangs would come, 
 
 And who against the princess can contend? 
 
 They'd take thee back, and thus exonerate 
 
 Themselves. I'd let myself be chopped in bits 
 
 Before thou shouldst unto the Queen return. 
 
 Thy father cannot leave companions here. 
 
 But after three days he will come to thee. 
 
 Thy parents both will soon come back again." 
 
 Then Bidasari thought : " My parent's words 
 
 Are truth, and if the Queen should find I live 
 
 She would abuse me as before. Give me 
 
 One maid-companion here to be with me," 
 
 She asked. " My child, trust not," he said, " in slaves. 
 
 Nor servants, for they only follow pay." 
 
 Then Bidasari silence kept, and they. 
 
 The father all distraught and mother fond. 
 
 Wept bitterly at thought of leaving her. 
 
 Fair Bidasari bade them eat, before 
 
 They started. But because of heavy hearts 
 
 They but a morsel tasted. At the dawn 
 
 Young Bidasari swooned again. They made 
 
 All ready to return to town. With tears 
 
 The father said : " O apple of my eye. 
 
 Pearl of all women, branch of my own heart, 
 
 Pure gold, thy parents leave thee with distress. 
 
 No more they'll have a daughter in the house. 
 
 But, dear, take courage, we shall soon come back." 
 
 They left here with a talking bird to cheer 
 
 Her loneliness, close shutting all the gates 
 
 Of all the seven ramparts. Through a wood 
 
3» 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Bushy and thick they took a narrow path. 
 
 In sorrow, but with confidence in God. 
 
 " O sovereign God, protect our child," they said. 
 
 When they had fared unto their house, they prayed 
 
 And gave much alms. 
 
 When evening shadows came 
 Young Bidasari waked, and found herself 
 Alone, and was afraid. With bitter tears 
 Her eyes were filled. What could she say? She gave 
 Herself to God. Alas, our destiny 
 Is like a rock. 'Twas hers to be alone. 
 It is in no man's power to turn aside 
 Or change whatever is by fate decreed. 
 All desolate sat Bidasari. Sleep 
 Wooed not her eyes. Now when he heard the cry 
 Of " Peladou," the owl lamented loud. 
 Upon her parents coming, loaded down 
 With dainties for the child, she for a while 
 Her woe forgot, and ate and drank with joy. 
 The little bird with which she talked upheld 
 Her courage with its soothing voice. So ran 
 The days away. Upon pretext he gave 
 Of hunting deer, the merchant daily came. 
 
SONG III 
 
 HEAR now a song about the King Djouhan. 
 The wise and powerful prince e'er followed free 
 His fancy, and the Princess Lila Sari 
 Was very happy in her vanity. 
 
 Since she had killed (for so she thought) the maid, 
 Young Bidasari, tainted was her joy. 
 " The King will never take a second wife," 
 She mused, " since Bidasari is now dead." 
 The King loved Princess Lila Sari well. 
 He gratified her every wish, and gave 
 Her all she asked, so fond was he of her. 
 Whene'er the princess was annoyed, the King, 
 With kisses and soft words would quiet her. 
 And sing to her sweet songs till she became 
 Herself again. " Poor, little, pretty wife," 
 He'd say, and laugh her fretful mood away. 
 One night as he lay sleeping on his bed, 
 A dream tormented him. " What may it mean ? " 
 He thought. " Ah, well, to-morrow morn l'\l seek ' 
 An explanation." At the dawn he sat 
 Upon a rug Egyptian, breaking fast, 
 And with him was the princess. When she had 
 The dainties tasted, the dyangs arrived 
 With leaves of perfume. Then the King went forth 
 Into the garden. All the officers 
 Were there assembled. When they saw the King 
 They all were silent. To a mantri spoke 
 The King : " My uncle, come and sit thee here. 
 I fain would question thee." The King had scarce 
 These words pronounced, when, bowing very low. 
 The mantri in respectful tones replied, 
 " My greetings to thee, O most merciful 
 Of kings." He sat him near the throne. " I dreamed 
 3 33 
 
34 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Last night," the King continued, " that the moon 
 
 In her full glory fell to earth. What means 
 
 This vision ? " Then the mantri with a smile 
 
 Replied : " It means that thou shalt find a mate, 
 
 A dear companion, like in birth to thee. 
 
 Wise and accomplished, well brought up and good. 
 
 The one most lovable in all the land." 
 
 The King's eyes took new fire at this. He said 
 
 With smiles : " I gave the Queen my promise true 
 
 That never I would take a second wife 
 
 Until a fairer I could find than she. 
 
 And still she is so lovely in my eyes, 
 
 Her equal cannot anywhere be found. 
 
 You'd take her for a flow'r. Yet when arise 
 
 Her storms of anger, long it takes to calm 
 
 Her mind, so waspish is her character. 
 
 The thought of this doth sadden me. Should one 
 
 Not satisfy her heart's desire, she flies 
 
 Into a passion and attempts to kill 
 
 Herself. But 'tis my destiny — 'tis writ. 
 
 The Queen is like a gem with glint as bright 
 
 As lightning's flash. No one can ever be, 
 
 I tell thee now, so beautiful to me." 
 
 The mantri smiled. " What thou dost say is just, 
 
 King, but still if thou shouldst someone find 
 More beautiful, thou yet couldst keep thy word. 
 The beauty of the Queen may fade away. 
 
 The princess thou shalt wed, O King, hath four 
 High qualities. She must, to be thy queen. 
 Be nobly born, and rich, and fair, and good." 
 The prince replied : " O uncle mine, thy words 
 Are true. Full many princesses there live. 
 But hard it is to find these qualities. 
 The Queen is good and wise and lovable. 
 
 1 do not wish another wife to wed, 
 
 And wound the Queen with whom three years I've lived 
 In love and harmony. Yet if I saw 
 A quite celestial maid, perhaps I might 
 Forget, and marry her, and give the Queen 
 !A. gay companion." " O accomplished prince, 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 3! 
 
 Thou sayest truly. Stay long years with her 
 Thy Queen, thy first beloved, for she hath all- 
 Great beauty and intelligence." They bowed 
 As forth from them the King went palaceward. 
 He sat beside the Queen, and kissed her cheeks, 
 And said : " Thy features shine with loveliness. 
 Like to a jewel in a glass. When I 
 Must leave thy side, I have no other wish 
 But to return. Like Mount Maha Mirou 
 Thou art." The princess said : " Wherefore art thou 
 So spirited to-day ? Thou'rt like a toy." 
 " Branch of my heart, my dearest love," he said, 
 " Vex not thyself. Thou know'st the adage old : 
 First one is taken with a pretty face. 
 Then wisdom comes and prudence, and, with these, 
 One loves his wife until the day of death. 
 If thus thou dost deport thyself, my dear. 
 My heart between two wives shall never be 
 Divided ; thou alone shalt own it all." 
 The Queen was charmed to hear his loving words. 
 At night the Queen slept, but King remained 
 Awake, and watched the moon, and called to mind 
 His dream. As dawn approached he slept, and seemedi 
 To hear an owl's shrill voice, like Pedalou's. 
 When it was fully day, the royal pair 
 Together broke their fast. The King went forth 
 And orders gave, in two days to prepare 
 A mighty hunt, to chase the dappled deer, 
 With men and dogs and all apparel fit. 
 Then back into the palace went the King, 
 And told the Queen, who straightway gave commands 
 For food to be made ready. At midnight 
 Behind Egyptian curtains went to rest 
 The King and Queen, but slept not. Still the drean? 
 Was ever in his thoughts and worried him. 
 At dawn he said farewell unto the Queen. 
 She was all radiant, and smiling, said: 
 " Bring me a fawn. I'll tell the servants all 
 To take good care of it, so it may grow 
 Quite tame." " What we can do, my dear, we shall. 
 
36 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 So all of thy desires may come to pass." 
 
 And so the King took leave, with kisses fond, 
 
 And, mounted on a hunter brown, set forth. 
 
 With velvet saddle decked with fringe of pearls. 
 
 Lances and shields and arrows and blow-guns 
 
 They bore. The wood they entered, and the beasts 
 
 All fled before their steps at dawn's first ray. 
 
 And when the sun was up, they loosed the hounds 
 
 With savage cries. Toward noon an animal 
 
 In flight they saw, and would have followed it, 
 
 But then up spake the King and said, " We are 
 
 So hot and weary, let us linger here 
 
 For rest." One-half the company astray 
 
 Had gone, each striving to be first of all. 
 
 The King, attended by a faithful three, 
 
 Reclined upon the ground, and sent them forth 
 
 For water. So the mantris went to find 
 
 A river or a pond, and faring far 
 
 To Bidasari's plaisance came at last. 
 
 They stopped astounded, then approached the place. 
 
 When they were near the lovely garden close. 
 
 They said : " There was no garden here before. 
 
 To whom does this belong? Perchance it is 
 
 A spirit's bower. No human voice is heard 
 
 But just the cry of ' minahs ' and ' bajans.' 
 
 Whom shall we call, lest spectres should appear? " 
 
 They wandered round the ramparts, and a gate 
 
 Discovered, shut with heavy iron bar. 
 
 And vainly tried to open it. Then one 
 
 Of them went back, and found the King, and said : 
 
 " Hail, sovereign lord, we have no water found. 
 
 But a campong here in the desert lone. 
 
 As splendid as a sultan's, with all sorts 
 
 Of trees and flow'rs, and not a mortal there. 
 
 'Tis girt about with double ramparts strong. 
 
 No name is seen, and all the gates are shut. 
 
 So that we could not enter." 
 
 Scarce the King 
 Had heard the mantri's word when off he rushed 
 To see the fair domain. Before the gate 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 He stood astonished. " Truly, mantris mine, 
 
 It is as you have said. I once was here 
 
 And then the wood was filled with thorns and briers." 
 
 'Tis not a nobleman's campong. It must 
 
 Have recently been made. Now summon all 
 
 The mantris here and see what they will say." 
 
 They called aloud, " Oh, hasten, friends, and bring 
 
 The water here." Seven times they called, but none 
 
 Responded. Said the King, " It is enough. 
 
 'Tis like as if one called unto the dead." 
 
 " We'd best not enter," said the mantris then, 
 
 " It may be the abode of demons fell. 
 
 We are afraid. Why should we linger here? 
 
 Return, O King, for should the spirits come 
 
 It might to us bring evil. Thou shouldst not 
 
 Expose thyself to danger." But the King 
 
 Upon the mantris smiled. " Ye are afraid 
 
 Of demons, spectres, spirits? I've no fear. 
 
 Break down the barriers. I'll go alone 
 
 Within the precincts." When the gates were forced, 
 
 He entered all alone. The mantris all 
 
 Were terrified lest harm should come to him. 
 
 They sought with him to go. He lightly said : 
 
 " No, mantris mine, whatever God hath willed, 
 
 Must happen. If in flames I were to burn, 
 
 In God I still should trust. 'Tis only He 
 
 That evil can avert. We mortal men 
 
 No power possess. With my own eyes I wish 
 
 To see this apparition. Should it be 
 
 The will of God, I'll come forth safe and sound. 
 
 Be not disturbed. In case of urgent need 
 
 I'll call upon ye. All await me here." 
 
 The mantris made obeisance and replied, 
 
 " Go, then, alone, since thou hast willed it so." 
 
 Into the plaisance strode the King. He saw 
 
 That all was like a temple richly decked. 
 
 With rugs of silk and colored tapestries 
 
 Of pictured clouds and wheels all radiant. 
 
 And lamps and candelabra hung about. 
 
 And lanterns bright. 'Twas like a palace rich. 
 
 37 
 
38 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The eyes were dazzled with magnificence. 
 
 And seats there were, and dainty tables rare. 
 
 As through the palace went the King, the more 
 
 Astonished he became at all he saw, 
 
 But nowhere found a trace of human soul. 
 
 Then spake the little bird : " Illustrious King, 
 
 What seek'st thou here? This mansion is the house 
 
 Of ghosts and demons who will injure thee." 
 
 The King was filled with wonder thus to hear 
 
 A bird address him. But it flew away, 
 
 And hid behind a couch. " The bird I'll find," 
 
 He said, and ope'd the curtains soft. He saw 
 
 Full stretched, upon a bed in dragon's shape, 
 
 A human form, in heavy-lidded sleep 
 
 That seemed like death, and covered with a cloth 
 
 Of blue, whose face betokened deepest grief. 
 
 " Is it a child celestial ? " thought the King, 
 
 " Or doth she feign to sleep ? Awake, my sweet. 
 
 And let us be good friends and lovers true." 
 
 So spake the King, but still no motion saw. 
 
 He sat upon the couch, and to himself 
 
 He said : " If it a phantom be, why are 
 
 The eyes so firmly shut? Perhaps she's dead." 
 
 She truly is of origin divine, 
 
 Though born a princess." Then he lifted high 
 
 The covering delicate that hid the form 
 
 Of Bidasari sweet, and stood amazed 
 
 At all the magic beauty of her face. 
 
 Beside himself, he cried, " Awake, my love." 
 
 He lifted her and said, with kisses warm, 
 
 " Oh, have no fear of me, dear heart. Thy voice 
 
 Oh, let me hear, my gold, my ruby pure, 
 
 My jewel virginal. Thy soul is mine. 
 
 Again he pressed her in his arms, and gave 
 
 Her many kisses, chanting love-songs low. 
 
 " Thou dost not wake, O dearest one, but thou 
 
 Art yet alive, because I see thee breathe. 
 
 Sleep not too long, my love. Awake to me, 
 
 For thou hast conquered with thy loveliness 
 
 My heart and soul." So fell the King in love 
 
BIDASARI 39 
 
 With Bidasari. " Ah, my sweet," he said, 
 
 " In all the world of love thou'rt worthiest." 
 
 The mantris grew uneasy at his stay. 
 
 They rose and said : " What doth the King so long ? 
 
 If harm befell him, what would be our fate ? 
 
 Oh, let us call him back at once, my lords." 
 
 So one approached the palace, and cried out: 
 
 " Return, O prince accomplished, to us now. 
 
 Already night is near. Back thou may'st come 
 
 To-morrow ere the dawn. We are afraid 
 
 Lest spirits harm thee. Come, O King, for we 
 
 A-hungered are, and wait for thy return." 
 
 But the illustrious prince was mad with love 
 
 Of Bidasari. Pensively he cried: 
 
 " Branch of my heart, light of mine eyes, my love, 
 
 Pure gold, thou'rt like angel. Now must I 
 
 Depart. To-morrow I will come again." 
 
 With no more words he left her, but returned. 
 
 " My heart would tell me, wert thou really dead. 
 
 Some trouble hast thou, dearest one ? " he cried. 
 
 " What bitter grief hath caused thee thus to sleep ? " 
 
 He found the nobles murmuring and vexed. 
 
 " O King," they said, " our hearts were filled with fear 
 
 Lest evil had befallen thee. What sight 
 
 So strange hath kept thee all these hours ? " The King 
 
 Replied with laughter, " There was naught to see." 
 
 But they remarked his brow o'ercast with thought. 
 
 And said, " O King, thy heart is sorely vexed." 
 
 " Nay, nay," the King replied, " I fell asleep. 
 
 Naught did I hear except the mantri's voice. 
 
 It surely is the home of demons dread 
 
 And spirits. Let us go, lest they surprise 
 
 Us here." He seemed much moved. " We naught have 
 
 gained 
 But weariness. So let us all go home 
 To-night, and hither come again at dawn. 
 For I a promise gave the Queen to bring 
 A fawn and a kidjang." The mantris said : 
 " None have we taken yet. But game we'll find 
 To-morrow, and will save a pretty fawn." 
 
40 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The King, when they returned, went straight within 
 
 The palace. There he saw the Queen, but thought 
 
 Of Bidasari. " O my love," he said, 
 
 " To-morrow I'm resolved to hunt again, 
 
 And bring thee back a fawn, and win thy thanks. 
 
 I'm never happy when away from thee, 
 
 My dearest love. Thine image is engraved 
 
 Upon my heart." Then he caressed the Queen 
 
 And fondled her, but still his heart went out 
 
 To Bidasari. All night long his eyes 
 
 He did not close in sleep, but thought of her, 
 
 In all her beauty rare. Before the dawn 
 
 The royal couple rose. The King then gave 
 
 Command that those who wished should hunt again 
 
 With him. At sunrise forth they fared. 
 
 On Bidasari let us look again. 
 
 When night had gone, in loneliness she rose. 
 
 And ate and drank. Then to the bath perfumed 
 
 She went, and coming to her chamber, took 
 
 Some siri from the betel-box. She saw 
 
 A sepah recently in use and cast 
 
 It forth. She thought within herself: 
 
 " Who could have used it ? Someone hath been here." 
 
 She ran through all the rooms, but nothing found 
 
 Except the sepah in the betel-box. 
 
 " Had it my father been, he would have left 
 
 Some food for me. Oh, he is very rash 
 
 To leave me here alone." Upon the couch 
 
 She sat and wept, and could not tell her grief 
 
 To anyope. " When we no longer may 
 
 Live happily," she said, " 'tis best to die. 
 
 My parents never can forgiven be. 
 
 To leave me here like any infidel. 
 
 And if I suffer, they will sorrow, too." 
 
 The minahs, the bajans, and talking birds 
 
 Began to sing. She took a 'broidered cloth. 
 
 And 'neath its folds she sweetly fell asleep. 
 
 The King's horse flew apace to the campong 
 Of Bidasari. All the mantris said: 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 " Thou takest not the path for hunting, sire ; 
 
 This is but the campong of demons dread 
 
 And spectres. They may do us deadly harm." 
 
 The great prince only laughed, and made as if 
 
 He heard not, still directing his fleet course 
 
 To Bidasari's garden, though they sought 
 
 His wishes to oppose. When they arrived 
 
 Before the palisades, the mantris cried: 
 
 " Avaunt, ye cursed demons, and begone 
 
 Into the thorns and briers." Then to the King : 
 
 " If thou wilt prove the courage of thy men. 
 
 Lead us behind the barriers, among 
 
 The evil spirits. We will go with thee." 
 
 " Nay. Let me go alone," the prince replied, 
 
 " And very shortly I'll come forth again." 
 
 They said : " O prince, to us thy will is law. 
 
 To God most high do we commend thy soul." 
 
 Alone the prince in Bidasari's home 
 
 Set foot. He was astonished, for he saw the bath 
 
 Had recently been used, and all the lamps 
 
 Were trimmed and full of oil. Then opening 
 
 The chests, he saw the traces of a meal. 
 
 And glasses freshly drained. The chambers all 
 
 He searched, and came to Bidasari's couch. 
 
 And, lifting up the curtains, saw her there, 
 
 Asleep beneath the 'broidered covering. 
 
 " 'Tis certain that she lives," he said. " Perchance 
 
 It is her lot to live at night, and die 
 
 At dawn." Then came he nearer yet, and gazed 
 
 Upon her beauty. Ling'ring tears he saw 
 
 Bedewed her lashes long, and all his heart 
 
 Was sad. Her face was beautiful. Her locks 
 
 Framed it with curls most gracefully. He took 
 
 Her in his arms and cried, with kisses warm : 
 
 " Why hast thou suffered, apple of my eye ? " 
 
 He wept abundantly, and said : " My gold, 
 
 My ruby, my carbuncle bright, thy face 
 
 Is like Lila Seprara's, and thy birth 
 
 Is pure and spotless. How could I not love 
 
 A being fair as thou dost seem to me ? 
 
 41 
 
42 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Thy beauty is unspeakable ; thou art 
 
 Above all crowns, the glory of all lands. 
 
 My soul adores thee. Lord am I no more 
 
 Of my own heart. Without thee, love, I could 
 
 No longer live ; thou art my very soul. 
 
 Hast thou no pity to bestow on me ? " 
 
 The more he looked the more he loved. He kissed 
 
 Her ruby lips, and sang this low pantoum: 
 
 Song 
 
 Within a vase there stands a china rose; 
 
 Go buy a box of betel, dearest one. 
 I love the beauty that thine eyes disclose ; 
 
 Of my existence, dear, thou art the sun. 
 
 Go buy a box of betel, dearest one. 
 
 Adorned with sountings brave of sweet campak, 
 Of my existence, dear, thou art the sun; 
 
 Without thee, everything my life would lack. 
 
 Adorned with sountings fair of sweet campak, 
 A carafe tall will hold the sherbet rare ; 
 
 Without thee, everything my heart would lack; 
 Thou'rt like an angel come from heaven so fair. 
 
 A carafe tall will hold the sherbet rare, 
 Most excellent for woman's feeble frame. 
 
 Thou'rt like an angel come from heaven so fair, 
 Love's consolation, guardian of its flame. 
 
 At the approach of night the mantris said, 
 
 " What doth the King so long away from us? " 
 
 They were disturbed, the prince seemed so unlike 
 
 Himself and filled with such unrestfulness. 
 
 " I fear me much," then said a mantri there, 
 
 " That some mishap hath overwhelmed the King. 
 
 Perhaps by some bad spirit he's possessed. 
 
 That he to this weird spot should fain return." 
 
 One went and cried: " Come hither, O our King! 
 
 The day decHnes ; we've waited here since dawn." 
 
BIDASARI 43 
 
 The King responded to the call, and came 
 
 With smiling face, though pale, unto the gate : 
 
 " Come here, my uncle ; come and talk with me, 
 
 Thy King. No evil thing hath come to pass." 
 
 " O lord supreme, most worthy prince, return. 
 
 If harm should come to thee, we all should die." 
 
 " Be calm, my uncle, I will not this night 
 
 Return, but he may stay with me who wills." 
 
 " O King, with spirits what hast thou to do ? 
 
 Thy face is pale and worn, and tells of care." 
 
 The King but sighed, and said : " My heart is full 
 
 Of trouble, but the will of God is good. 
 
 Here yesterday a fair celestial form 
 
 With angel face I saw. 'Twas here alone." 
 
 And so the King told all that had occurred. 
 
 " Go back," he added. " Leave me here with her. 
 
 Say to the Queen I've lingered still a day 
 
 For my amusement, with my retinue." 
 
 Then half the escort stayed, and half repaired 
 
 Back to the palace to acquaint the Queen 
 
 The King would stay another day and hunt. 
 
 When all was dark, sweet Bidasari waked 
 
 And saw the King, and tried to flee away. 
 
 He seized and kissed her. " Ruby, gold," he said, 
 
 " My soul, my life, oh, say, where wouldst thou go ? 
 
 I've been alone with thee for two whole days, 
 
 And all the day thou wrapped in sleep didst lie. 
 
 Where wouldst thou go, my dove?" The gentle girl 
 
 Was much afraid and trembled, and she thought : 
 
 " Is it a spirit come to find me here ? 
 
 Avaunt thee and begone, O spectre dread," 
 
 She said, amid her tears. " No phantom I," 
 
 Replied the King ; " be not afraid. I wish 
 
 To marry thee." Then Bidasari strove 
 
 Again to flee. Then sang the King a song 
 
 That told of love and happiness. Its words 
 
 Astonished Bidasari, and she cried: 
 
 " Art thou a pirate ? Why dost thou come here ? 
 
 Speak not such things to me. If thou shouldst be 
 
 Discovered by my father, he would cut 
 
44 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Thee into pieces. Thou shouldst go alone 
 
 To death, and find no pardon in his heart. 
 
 Take all my gems and hasten forth at once." 
 
 The King replied : " 'Tis not thy gems I want, 
 
 But thee. I am a pirate, but thy heart 
 
 Is all I want to steal. Should spectres come 
 
 In thousands, I would fear them not at all. 
 
 No tears, my love, bright glory of my crown. 
 
 Where wouldst thou go ? Hast thou no pity, sweet. 
 
 For me? I am a powerful prince. Who dares 
 
 Oppose my will? Pure gold, all virginal. 
 
 Where wouldst thou go ? " So spake the King, and fair 
 
 Young Bidasari trembled more and more. 
 
 " Approach me not," she cried, " but let me bathe 
 
 My face." " I'll bathe it for thee, dear," he said. 
 
 But Bidasari threw the water pure 
 
 Into his face. " Not that way, child," he laughed ; 
 
 " My vesture thou hast wet. But I shall stay 
 
 And meet thy parents here. Oh, hearken, love. 
 
 I followed far the chase, and wandered here. 
 
 I sought a pretty fawn to take the Queen; 
 
 But now thy face I've seen, no more I wish 
 
 To go away. Oh, have no fear, my child ; 
 
 I would not harm thee. When thy parents come, 
 
 I'll ask them for thy hand. I trust they'll grant 
 
 My prayer. I'll lead thee forth from this fair spot 
 
 Unto my palace. Thou shalt sit beside 
 
 The Queen, and live in happiness complete." 
 
 Sweet Bidasari bowed her head and wept. 
 
 All red with modesty. Unto herself she said : 
 
 " I never thought it was a king. How rude 
 
 I was ! I hope the King will not be vexed." 
 
 He calmed her fears with tender words of love. 
 
 " Branch of my heart," he said, " light of my eyes, 
 
 Have no more fear. Soon as thy parents fond 
 
 Have given their consent, I'll lead thee forth. 
 
 My palace is not far. A single day 
 
 Will take us there. It is not difficult 
 
 To go and come." Then Bidasari knew 
 
 It was the King of that same land. With fright 
 
BIDASARI 45 
 
 She nearly swooned at thought of all the woe 
 
 The Queen had caused her. " O my lord," she said, 
 
 " I'm but a subject humble. Give me not 
 
 The throne. I have my parents, and with them 
 
 Must stay." The King was overjoyed. " My dear," 
 
 He said, " by what names are thy parents known ? " 
 
 With low, sweet voice the tender girl replied: 
 
 " Lila Djouhara is my father's name. 
 
 He dwelleth in Pesara." " Dearest one, 
 
 Tell me the truth. Why have they treated thee 
 
 In such a fashion — why abandoned thee 
 
 In solitude ? Thy father is not poor. 
 
 A merchant rich is he, of birth, who hath 
 
 A host of slaves and servants. For what cause 
 
 Hath he his daughter left in this far spot? 
 
 He is renowned among the merchants all. 
 
 Both good and honest. What hath forced him here 
 
 Within this lonely wood to hide thee, dear? 
 
 Oh, tell me all ; let nothing be concealed." 
 
 She thought : " It was the fault of his own Queen. 
 
 But if I tell him all — he never saw 
 
 Me there, within the palace — should he not 
 
 Believe, I'll be a liar in his eyes." 
 
 She feared to speak and tell him of the Queen. 
 
 She thought, " So cruel was the Queen to me 
 
 When she but feared a rival, what would come 
 
 If I should sit beside her on the throne ? " 
 
 Then in her sweet voice Bidasari said : 
 
 " My glorious King, I am afraid to speak. 
 
 I am not suited to a royal throne. 
 
 But since thou lovest me, how dare I lie? 
 
 If thou dost favor me, the Queen will vex 
 
 Her heart. My parents fear her. 'Tis the cause 
 
 Why hither they have brought me. Three long months 
 
 Ago I came, for terror of the Queen." 
 
 She thought on all the horror of those days. 
 
 And choked with sobs, and could no longer talk. 
 
 Then tenderly the King spake to the girl : , 
 
 "Ah, well, my darling love, confide in me 
 
 The- secret thy dear heart conceals. Fear naught ; 
 
46 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The Queen is good and wise, and knoweth how 
 To win all hearts. Why should she render thee 
 Unhappy ? Speak not thus, my pretty one ; 
 The Queen could never do an evil deed. 
 When thou art near her, thou shalt see, my dear. 
 Whether she loves or hates thee." 
 
 At these words 
 Young Bidasari knew the King esteemed 
 The Queen, and felt her heart sink in her breast. 
 " My words are true," she said, " but still perchance 
 My prince cannot believe. But was I not 
 Within thy palace six or seven nights ? 
 The sweat of pain became my couch, so great 
 Was my desire to see my parents dear. 
 They sent me dainties, but all the dyangs 
 Were kept as prisoners by the princess there. 
 She said she'd take me back herself. One day 
 I was, indeed, sent home, but scarce alive." 
 She told him everything that came to pass. 
 He listened stupefied, and said : " How could 
 It be that thou wert in the palace hid. 
 And I not see thee there ? Why was it thou 
 Wert not beside the Queen? I've never left 
 The palace for a single day. Where wert 
 Thou hid? Thy strange words I believe, my dear. 
 Speak without fear and let me know the whole." 
 Urged by the King, young Bidasari told 
 Him all. And when the conduct of the Queen 
 He learned, the King was wonder-struck. A rage 
 Most terrible possessed him. But his love 
 For Bidasari mounted higher still 
 And his compassion. "So the Queen thus wrought! 
 I never thought hypocrisy could be 
 So great ! I never in the princess saw 
 Such bent for evil. But be not, my dear. 
 Disconsolate. It is a lucky thing 
 Thou didst not quite succumb. No longer speak 
 Of that bad woman's ways. Thank God we've met ! 
 So weep no more, my love. I'll give to thee 
 A throne more beautiful than hers, and be 
 
BIDASARI 47 
 
 Thy dear companion until death." " O King," 
 
 She said : " I have no beauty fit to grace 
 
 A throne. Oh, let me stay a simple maid. 
 
 And think of me no more." The King replied : 
 
 " I will not give thee up. But I must still 
 
 Return, arid meditate how I may win 
 
 Thee back to life complete." With kisses warm 
 
 He covered her fair face. She bowed her head. 
 
 And silence kept; and when the morning dawned 
 
 She swooned anew. It was a proof to him 
 
 That she had told the truth. A mortal hate 
 
 Then filled the prince's heart against the Queen. 
 
 Touched with deep pity for the maiden young. 
 
 He kissed her once again, and left her there. 
 
 So white and still, as if she lay in death. 
 
 What of the mantris? They awaited long 
 
 The King, in silence. Then the oldest said : 
 
 " O sovereign lord, O caliph great, wilt thou 
 
 Not now return ? " " I'll come again, dear heart," 
 
 He said, and sought thie city. Straigjit he went 
 
 Into the palace, to the Queen, who asked : 
 
 " What bringest thou from hunting? " He replied 
 
 In murmurs : " I have taken naught at all. 
 
 For my own pleasure I remained all night." 
 
 " 'Tis nothing, lord, provided no harm came 
 
 To thee. But say what thou didst seek, to stay 
 
 So long? I always have prepared for thee 
 
 The food for thy great hunts, but never yet 
 
 Have I received a recompense ? " The King 
 
 To this replied with smiles : " Prepare afresh, 
 
 For I to-morrow shall depart again. 
 
 If I take nothing, I'll return at once." 
 
 As he caressed the Queen, upon her breast 
 
 He felt the little magic fish of gold 
 
 All safe. Then gave he quick commands to all. 
 
 " I'll hunt to-morrow, and shall surely bring 
 
 Some wondrous game." Now when the princess fell 
 
 Asleep he found upon her heart no more 
 
 The little fish. " 'Tis as the maiden said," 
 
 He thought. " The princess hath a wicked soul. 
 
48 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 With such a heart I cannot go with her 
 
 Through life." Through all the night he could not sleep, 
 
 But thought upon the girl. He was as sad 
 
 As though he heard a touching song. At dawn 
 
 The royal couple rose and went to bathe. 
 
 The King into the palace came again 
 
 And sat upon the throne adorned with gems. 
 
 He donned the royal robe to wear before 
 
 The dear young girl. A vestment 'twas of silk. 
 
 All gold embroidered, with a tunic bright. 
 
 Of orange hue. His mien was most superb. 
 
 As doth become a mighty king. He bore 
 
 A quiver of Ceylon, most deftly wrought. 
 
 When all the mantris had assembled there. 
 
 The King within the palace once more went 
 
 And met the Queen. Caressing her he took 
 
 The little fish that lay upon her breast. 
 
 The princess wept, and at the door she cried : 
 
 " Why takest thou my little ornament ? " 
 
 The great King gave no heed, and went away. 
 
 At dawn's glad hour, when birds begin to sing. 
 
 Swords gleamed and lances shone, and through the wood 
 
 They hastened on, with quivers and blow-guns, 
 
 And seemed a walking city. 
 
 Now again 
 To Bidasari let us turn. When dawn 
 Appeared, she rose and sat in loneliness, 
 Her face grew still more beautiful. Her state 
 Astonished her. " Perhaps it is the King 
 Who hath this wonder wrought. How happy I 
 To be no longer dead ! " She washed her face 
 And felt still sad, but with her pensiveness 
 A certain joy was mingled, for her pain 
 Was passed. Her grief the " talking bird " allayed 
 With songs about the mighty King and love. 
 
 Song 
 There's siri in a golden vase. 
 
 Good Dang Melini plants a rose ; 
 The King admires a pretty face, 
 
 To-day he'll come to this fair close. 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 Good Dang Melini plants a rose, 
 Here in the garden they will meet; 
 
 To-day he'll come to this fair close, 
 To man and maiden love is sweet. 
 
 Here in the garden they will meet, 
 Go seek the fairest fruit and flower ; 
 
 To man and maiden love is sweet, 
 The King is coming to the bower. 
 
 Lo! At this very instant they approached. 
 Dear Bidasari hid behind the couch. 
 The King searched everywhere, and found at last 
 The maiden hiding, bathed in bitter tears. 
 Then kissing her, the King inquired : " My love. 
 Bright glory of my crown ; pray tell to me 
 Why thou art sad." He dried her tears. But she 
 Still hung her head in silence. Then the King 
 For elephants and horses to be sent 
 Gave orders. " Go with mantris two at once. 
 And bring the merchant and his wife, and bid 
 Forty dyangs to hasten here forthwith." 
 Then went the mantris forth in haste, and found 
 The merchant and his wife and said, " The King 
 Inviteth ye to come." Then through the wood 
 The parents hurried to the plaisance fair 
 Of Bidasari, there to meet the King. 
 Before his Majesty they bowed with fear. 
 The great King smiled. " Be not afraid," he said, 
 " My uncle and my mother. Let us go 
 Within, to see thy lovely child. I make 
 Ye now my parents. We have friendly been. 
 And still shall be." Beside the King they saw 
 Fair Bidasari seated, as with steps 
 Still hesitating they the palace sought. 
 The father fond was glad within his heart, 
 His daughter was so beautiful. She seemed 
 A princess lovely of the Mount Lidang. 
 4 
 
 49 
 
so 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 " Dear Bidasari, sweetest child," they said, 
 
 " Behind the King, dear daughter, thou should stand 
 
 She made as if to go, but still the King 
 
 Restrained her. " No, my pretty one," he said, 
 
 " Thy place is at my side. So God hath willed," 
 
 The oldest mantri, called for counsel, spoke : 
 
 " Lila Djouhara good, what sayest thou ? 
 
 Art thou not glad to see thy daughter made 
 
 A queen ? What happiness hath come to thee ! " 
 
 The merchant bowed before the King, and said: 
 
 " Make her thy servant, not thy wife, my lord. 
 
 Thy glorious Queen we fear. She e'er hath shown 
 
 For Bidasari hatred dire, because 
 
 A child so lovely might attract the King." 
 
 The monarch hearing him thus speak, still more 
 
 Toward him was borne. " My uncle," then he cried, 
 
 " Have no more fear. But never shall I make 
 
 A servant of thy daughter." 
 
 Then he gave 
 Command to build a castle in the wood. 
 And all the workers came, and built it there. 
 With ramparts three. As if by magic then 
 A golden palace rose. The outer gate 
 Was iron, loaded down with arms, and held 
 By demons and by Ethiopians. 
 These were the keepers of the gates, with steeds 
 Untamed. With swords unsheathed they stood alert 
 And waited for the King's commands. Of brass 
 All chiselled was the second gate, supplied 
 With cannons and with powder, guarded safe 
 By beings supernatural. The third 
 Was silver, such as may be seen in far 
 Eirak. The beauty of the castle was 
 Beyond compare ! From far it seemed to be 
 As double, like an elephant with two 
 White ivory tusks. Where may its like be found? 
 Three diamonds pure reflected all the light. 
 Big as a melon. Now the castle built, 
 The King a plaisance beautiful desired 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 With gay pavilions, and all kinds of plants. 
 The middle booth nine spacious rooms displayed, 
 One for the royal audiences, adorned 
 And pleasant as a bed of flowers. 
 
 The King 
 A festival maintained for forty days, 
 With games and sports and dances to divert. 
 And never was such animation seen ! 
 All ate and drank to sound of music sweet. 
 They passed the loving-cup and drank to each 
 In turn. 
 
 For forty days resounded there 
 The gongs and gendarangs, and joyous tones 
 Of gay serouni and neiiri glad. 
 " How beautiful is Bidasari ! " all 
 Exclaimed ; " a thousand times more lovely than 
 The Queen." Thrice happy are the merchant now 
 And his good wife ; by marriage they're allied 
 To our great King, though strangers to the land. 
 We count it strange that Bidasari's face 
 In naught is like the merchant nor his wife. 
 Who knoweth but that she, in mortal shape. 
 An angel fair may be? Full many slaves 
 The merchant hath, but never children own." 
 " He found her when a babe, upon the shore," 
 Another said, " and brought her up." 
 
 The King 
 Heard all their words. He thought : " It is the truth 
 And this I take as proof of her high birth. 
 She certainly is noble or come down 
 From heaven." 
 
 When four days had fled, the wives 
 Of mantris dressed the beauteous girl. They clad 
 Her form in satins soft of Egypt, shot 
 With gold, adorned with precious stones inset 
 And many gems. Her beauty was enhanced 
 The more, till she a radiant angel seemed. 
 She wore a tunic, crimson and pomegranate. 
 With buttons shaped like butterflies. She was 
 
 SI 
 
52 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Adorned with padaka of five quaint clasps. 
 
 And belt called naga souma. Ear-rings rich 
 
 She had, of diamonds set in gold, and wrought 
 
 Most wondrously, as bright as daylight's gleam ; 
 
 A ring most marvellous and rare she wore 
 
 Called astakouna, and another named 
 
 Gland kana, and a third from far Ceylon, 
 
 Studded with precious stones. Her eyes were like 
 
 The stars of orient skies. Her teeth were black, 
 
 Her face like water shone. Her chiselled nose 
 
 Was prominent and like a flower fresh culled. 
 
 When she was dressed, upon a couch of pearls 
 
 Her mother put her. Supple was her form. 
 
 And white, as she reclined, by many maids 
 
 Surrounded. In his royal garb the prince 
 
 Was clad, and dazzling to the eyes of all 
 
 Who saw. He wore a kingly crown which shone 
 
 With diamonds bright and lucent amethysts 
 
 And many stones, and all majestic seemed. 
 
 Then rice was brought. The King with pleasure ate, 
 
 And what was left he gave the mantris' wives. 
 
 When all had finished he perfumed himself 
 
 And gazed upon his lovely wife. Her face 
 
 And form were charming. Her soft tresses curled 
 
 In grace. Her eyes still kept the trace of tears, 
 
 Which made her lovelier. The silken folds 
 
 Of soft Egyptian curtains fell. They were alone. 
 
 " Awake, my darling," said the prince at dawn, 
 
 " Crown of my life, awake, my pretty one." 
 
 Then Bidasari waked and said, with tears : 
 
 " My friend, I had all sorts of wondrous dreams. 
 
 I saw a palm-tree tall with tufted limbs. 
 
 And fruits all ripe." When three days more had fled 
 
 And all the people saw and loud acclaimed. 
 
 Then Bidasari took the rank of Queen. 
 
 The King o'erloaded her with gifts and loved 
 
 Her tenderly. "Oh, let us live and die 
 
 Together, dear, and, as the days go by, 
 
 Think more of one another, and our love 
 
 Preserve, as in the hollow of the hand 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 Oil is upheld, nor falls a single drop." 
 So spake the King. 
 
 The merchant and his wife 
 Were soon established in the neighborhood, 
 Near to Queen Bidasari's palace grand. 
 A hundred servants had they to fulfil 
 Their orders. They sent gifts to all their friends, 
 And food to last a month. 
 
 A certain day 
 It chanced that Bidasari said : " O King, 
 Why goest thou no more within the gates 
 Of that thine other palace ? Of a truth 
 Queen Lila Sari will be vexed, because 
 Thou hast abandoned her so long a time. 
 She'll think that I have kept thee from her side 
 Unwilling thou shouldst go." So, with all sorts 
 Of words, fair Bidasari strove to urge 
 The King to visit Lila Sari. " I 
 Will go to-morrow," finally he said. 
 He went, when morning came, and met the Queen. 
 She turned him back, and with sharp, bitter words 
 Reproached him. " Wretched one, I will not see 
 Thy face. I love thee not. I hate thee. Go! 
 Lila Djouhara's son-in-law, thou'rt not 
 To me an equal. Thy new wife's an ape, 
 Who liveth in the woods." 
 
 But when the King 
 Heard these vociferations of the Queen, 
 He said : " Branch of my heart, light of my eyes, 
 Oh, be not vexed, my dear. It was not I 
 Who wrong began, but thou didst cause it all. 
 For thou didst hide thy deed from me, and drive 
 Me on to this extremity. Oh, why 
 Art thou now angry with me ? If thou wilt 
 But love her, and attach thy heart to hers, 
 She'll pardon thee, and take thee as a friend." 
 As more and more enraged the Queen became. 
 Her wrath with strong reproaches overflowed. 
 " Depart from here, accursed of God ! Thou art 
 No longer husband mine. Go live with her 
 
 S3 
 
54 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Whom God hath struck, but whom thou dost delight 
 
 To honor. Formerly of noble blood 
 
 Thou wert, but now no more than broken straw. 
 
 Thou needst not further try to flatter me. 
 
 Though thou shouldst purify thyself seven times, false one, 
 
 I'd not permit thee to approach my side." 
 
 The King grew angry and replied : " 'Tis thou 
 
 Who art despicable. Thy cunning tricks 
 
 Are worthless now. Thy jealousy insane 
 
 Was without cause, and common were thy acts. 
 
 Thy wit is much below thy beauty. Ill 
 
 Will follow thee, should I protection cease." 
 
 " Have I forgot my noble birth ? " she asked. 
 
 " But thou hast erred, to lower thine high estate 
 
 To people of such base extraction. Here 
 
 And everywhere thy shame is known, that thou 
 
 Art wedded to a gadabout. Is it 
 
 For princes thus to wed a merchant's child ? 
 
 She ought far in the woods to dwell, and know 
 
 Most evil destiny." The King but smiled 
 
 And said : " If this event is noised abroad, 
 
 'Tis thou who wilt receive an evil name. 
 
 For who in all the land would dare prevent 
 
 The King from marrying? I ought to take 
 
 From thee all I have given. But before 
 
 The people I've no wish to humble thee. 
 
 Is it because I met thy every wish 
 
 That thou art grown so bad ? Most evil hath 
 
 Thy conduct been, and I with thee am wroth," 
 
 And in hot anger rushed the King away, 
 
 And straight repaired to Bidasari's side. 
 
SONG IV 
 
 THIS song will tell again about the prince 
 Of Kembajat, most powerful. He was chased 
 By fell garouda, horrid bird of prey. 
 And sought another land. His way he took 
 Toward Indrapura. At the break of dawn 
 A daughter fair was born, a princess true. 
 Within a boat that lay upon a shore. 
 The Queen and he abandoned her, and went 
 Back to the royal palace and for days 
 Bemoaned her fate. Of her they nothing heard. 
 " Alas my child ! " the father cried, " my dear. 
 In whose care art thou now ? We do not know 
 If thou art dead or living. Thus thy sire 
 Hath no repose. Light of mine eyes, my love, 
 My purest gold, our hearts are torn with grief. 
 An evil fate was ours to hide thee there. 
 We do repent the deed. To think that thou 
 Perchance hath fallen among the poorest folk ! 
 A slave perhaps thou art ! " The prince's son 
 Remarked the sorrow of his parents dear. 
 And was profoundly moved. " Have I," he asked, 
 " A sister ? Tell me why have ye concealed 
 Her far away ? Did ye not care for her ? 
 Was she a burden that ye must forsake 
 Her thus ? Doth shame not fill your parents' hearts ? " 
 But when he heard the tale in full, he said : 
 " O father, let me go to seek for her. 
 My sister dear. If I succeed I'll bring 
 Her back to thee." " Oh, leave us not, my son," 
 The father said. " Thou art our only heir. 
 Like a tamed bird upon our shoulders fain 
 We've carried thee, and watched thee, day and night. 
 Whv shouldst thou leave us now ? Oh, go not forth, 
 
 55 
 
5 6 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Vex not thyself about thy sister dear. 
 From travellers we shall get news of her, 
 And her abode discover." 
 
 Then the prince 
 Bowed low and said : " My father, lord, and King, 
 I am but strengthened in my wish to go 
 And find my sister. Let me now depart. 
 And seek for news of her." The King replied : 
 " Well, go, my dearest son ; thy heart is good. 
 Though but a child thou still dost bear a brain." 
 Then summoned the young prince the merchants all. 
 And bought much goods and questioned them in turn 
 About all neighboring villages and camps. 
 They told whate'er they knew most willingly. 
 For much the young prince was beloved by them. 
 Among them was a youth of handsome face. 
 Fair Bidasari's foster-brother tall. 
 Amid the strangers sat he near the throne; 
 His name was Sinapati. He was brave 
 And wise. Now as he watched the prince he thought, 
 " How strangely like dear Bidasari's face 
 Is his, as when a reed is split in twain 
 There is no difference between the halves." 
 His home he left when Bidasari fair 
 Became the Queen. He thought of her and wept. 
 The prince observed him there, and said, with smiles : 
 " Young man, my friend, from what far town art thou ? 
 Why dost thou weep so bitterly? What thoughts 
 Arise in thee and make thy visage dark ? " 
 Young Sinapati bowed and said : " My lord, 
 I came from Indrapura, in a ship, 
 My wares to sell. For that I do not weep. 
 But sorrow cometh to my heart whene'er 
 I think upon my home, and brothers dear, 
 And sisters." 
 
 At these words the prince rejoiced. 
 He thought, " From him some news I'll surely learn." 
 Sherbets and dainties then to all the folk 
 He offered, and the cup went 'round from dawn 
 Till noon, and then the merchants went away ; 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 But the young prince kept Sinapati there. 
 
 Now he already strong affection felt 
 
 For him and said : " My friend, toward thee I'm moved 
 
 And look upon thee as a brother dear. 
 
 Thou dost at Indrapura live, but who 
 
 May be thy patron there ? " Then with a smile 
 
 Young Sinapati said : " My patron's called 
 
 Lila Djouhara, merchant great. He owns 
 
 Some six or seven swift ships, and toileth more 
 
 Than ever since he Bidasari took 
 
 As child." In two days' time the young prince went 
 
 With Sinapati to his father's house. 
 
 " I bring thee news," he said, "but nothing yet 
 
 Is sure. Behold from Indrapura far 
 
 A youth, from whom I've things of import great. 
 
 A merchant of Pesara, very rich, 
 
 My sister must have found. All well agrees 
 
 With what to me thou saidst. Now must we seek 
 
 For confirmation of the glad report." 
 
 To Sinapati gold and gems they gave. 
 
 Then spake the King : " If this be so I'll send 
 
 An envoy bearing richest gifts, and thanks 
 
 Within a letter writ." 
 
 The youthful prince 
 Bowed low and said : " Oh, send me on this quest ! 
 Lila Djouhara I would like to see. 
 Perhaps he's virtuous and just. If I 
 Am made full sure it is my sister dear, 
 I'll send a messenger. And if it be 
 I'll bring her back." 
 
 The King was moved 
 To hear his son thus speak. " O dearest child," 
 He said : " I'm very loath to let thee go. 
 But thou must many horsemen take with thee, 
 Lest thou shouldst long be absent." 
 
 " Why should I 
 Be long away ? " the prince replied, with bows ; 
 " For if Lila Djouhara will not let 
 Her come, I shall forthwith return to thee." 
 The King could now no more object. He gave 
 
 57 
 
58 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Commands to make an expedition great. 
 With richest gifts, and food, and princely things, 
 And sent him forth with blessings on his head. 
 " Stay not too long; thou art my only hope," 
 The King exclaimed ; " I'm getting old, my son, 
 And thou my heir upon the throne must be." 
 They started early on the fourteenth day 
 Of that same month. And Sinapati rode 
 Beside the Prince. 
 
 Some went on foot and some 
 On horses. When they far had gone, the prince 
 Said to the youth : " Now listen, friend. When we 
 Arrive thou must not name my family 
 And rank. I'm someone from another town. 
 It doth not please me to declare my rank 
 To strangers. Should the girl my sister prove. 
 Thou mayst tell all, for I shall soon return." 
 Thus speaking, the young prince his way maintained. 
 And soon arrived near to the city sought. 
 He Sinapati left, and went within 
 The gates, with four companions, true as steel. 
 And six attendants. They at once repaired 
 To the campong of good Lila Djouhara. 
 They found it closed, with a forsaken look. 
 " There's no one here. The King hath taken all 
 Away, both old and young," said the mandar. 
 Then Sinapati beat his breast and said: 
 " What hath become of my dear patron, then ? " 
 " Be not disturbed. No harm hath come to him. 
 The merchant with the King hath gone, because 
 The King hath married Bidasari fair, 
 And made of her a queen, and built a fine 
 New palace in the country wild. There all 
 Is joy and happiness." Beyond all count 
 Was Sinapati glad to hear these words. 
 Then to the prince he said : " My gracious lord, 
 Lila Djouhara's near at hand. He is 
 In highest favor with the King, and bears 
 A title new." They hurried forth to find 
 His residence. " It is the left campong," 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 59 
 
 Remarked a country-man. " Thy lord is grand 
 
 And powerful now, and master of us here. 
 
 The King hath now become his son-in-law." 
 
 Then Sinapati went within the gates 
 
 And saw his mother there. Her heart was touched. 
 
 She kissed him and inquired, " Whom hast thou brought ? '' 
 
 " It is a friend," he answered. " Come, my lord," 
 
 She to the young prince said, " enter and rest." 
 
 " He's so like Bidasari," to herself 
 
 She said. " What is thy name, my brave young man. 
 
 Thou seemest nobly born. In very truth 
 
 Thou'rt handsome and well mannered." Then the prince 
 
 Said : " Poutra Bangsawan I'm called. Thy son 
 
 I've followed here." But Sinapati paid 
 
 Him homage, and they knew him for a prince. 
 
 Before his door young Sinapati slept 
 
 At night to guard him safe. Next day there came 
 
 An invitation from Lila Mengindra 
 
 (Before, Djouhara). So they started forth. 
 
 Lila Mengindra was astonished quite 
 
 To see the prince's face so beautiful. 
 
 " Who is this most distinguished stranger here ? " 
 
 He asked himself. " My master, speak a word 
 
 To Poutra Bangsawan, a friend of mine," 
 
 Said Sinapati. So the old man turned 
 
 And spoke unto the prince, " Come here, my son, 
 
 And sit thee near thy father." He felt drawn 
 
 To him, he looked so much like Bidasari. 
 
 The young prince smiled and on the dais sat. 
 
 " What is thy visit's purpose ? " then inquired 
 
 The good old man. The prince with bows polite 
 
 Replied : " I'm but a humble stranger, come 
 
 To find my sister. I bespeak thine aid." 
 
 " Be not afraid, my son, but trust in me, 
 
 Nor fear to give thy sister's name. If thou 
 
 Wilt have it so I'll take thee for a son ; 
 
 I love thee for thou hast a face so like 
 
 My daughter's." Then the brave young prince began 
 
 And told his sister's story, how she was 
 
 In time of stress abandoned on the shore. 
 
5o MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 " And if I only knew," he said, " where now 
 
 She is, I'd be her master's willing slave." 
 
 Now when Lila Mengindra heard his tale 
 
 His joy was quite unspeakable. His love 
 
 For Bidasari's brother greater grew. 
 
 With smiles he asked : " Now, Poutra Bangsawan, 
 
 Say of what family thou art, that I 
 
 May aid thee in thy quest, and help thee find 
 
 Thy sister." Then the young prince bowed his head 
 
 And pondered, " Shall I he ? " For he knew not 
 
 If 'twere his sister. Lila saw his mood 
 
 And said : " Be not disturbed. It is most sure 
 
 That thy dear sistei^'s here. So speak the truth. 
 
 That my old heart may be surcharged with joy. 
 
 Thy sister's seated on a throne, and like 
 
 A brilliant jewel is her family. 
 
 Be no more sorry. As for me, my heart 
 
 Is full of joy." 
 
 The prince looked in his face 
 And said : " Can I confide in him ? I am 
 A stranger here and fear to be deceived." 
 Said Sinapati : " Speak not thus, I pray. 
 For everybody knows this man can tell 
 Ten-carat gold from dross. Now list, my lord. 
 Although he bids me silent be, a prince 
 He is, son of a powerful king, and comes 
 To seek his sister." Then within his heart 
 The former merchant much rejoiced, as if 
 He'd found a mountain of pure gems. He paid 
 His homage to the prince in proper form. 
 And took him into his abode, to meet 
 His wife and all within. The spouses two 
 To him exclaimed : " Dear prince, in our old age 
 We're very happy. When thy sister sweet 
 We found, o'erjoyed were we. And now the King 
 Hath married her, and raised her to the throne. 
 He hath our family to noble rank 
 Upraised, and covered us with benefits." 
 Then smiling said the prince : " I learn with joy 
 My sister sweet is here. When may I go 
 
BIDASARI 6i 
 
 Before the King and see her? For I've come 
 
 To take her home. And yet I fear the King 
 
 Will never let her go away from him. 
 
 When I have seen her I'll return again." 
 
 In three days' time the King gave audience. 
 
 The former merchant with him took the prince, 
 
 Who sent the richest presents on before. 
 
 The princeling was most gorgeously attired 
 
 And bore himself with haughty dignity. 
 
 His robe was rich, his tunic violet 
 
 And fire. His many-colored turban bore 
 
 Bright agates. At his girdle hung his kriss. 
 
 He was entirely clad as prince should be. 
 
 And bracelets wore with little bells and rings. 
 
 His leggings were embroidered with bright flowers 
 
 Called pouspa angatan. He seemed divine — 
 
 His beauty was extraordinary. Pearls 
 
 In numbers countless covered all his garb ; 
 
 An amulet he had with sacred verse 
 
 From the Koran, a diamond pure. He rode 
 
 A steed most richly housed, with shabraque decked 
 
 With gleaming jewels casting rays of light. 
 
 'Twas thus the prince set out to meet the King. 
 
 Lila Mengindra with him went. The prince 
 
 Approached the King's pavilion, and at once 
 
 The King remarked his beauty and his mien 
 
 Of noble grace. " Who can he be ? " he thought. 
 
 Meanwhile the prince dismounted and appeared 
 
 Before the King. Full seven times he bowed 
 
 And said, " O may your happiness increase. 
 
 Illustrious sovereign ! " 
 
 Then the King with smiles 
 Lila Mengindra questioned, " Who is this 
 Thou hither bringest, of such noble mien 
 And amiable face ? " 
 
 With humble bow 
 The former merchant said : " This slave of thine 
 Has come from lands remote, from Kembajat, 
 Upon the seashore, since thy Majesty 
 He wished to see. His presents few he sent 
 
62 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Before him, which he hopes thou wilt accept." 
 
 The former merchant thought : " I wOuld his rank 
 
 Divulge. But some might think I lied because 
 
 The King hath Bidasari wed, and if 
 
 She knew she was a princess born she might 
 
 Be very vain and haughty." 
 
 To the prince 
 The King was very friendly. " Come and sit 
 Here by my side," he said, " for thee I deem 
 A brother." " Let me here remain, my lord, 
 I am a poor unworthy servitor. 
 I hope that thou wilt pardon me. I would 
 I might become a subject of thy crown." 
 The King thought : " This may be some royal heir 
 Who here hath wandered. He resembles much 
 Our Bidasari. Pity 'tis that he 
 Unto another nation doth belong." 
 Then pleasantly he said : " Pray, truly tell 
 What is thine origin? Keep nothing back. 
 What is thy name ? The whole truth let me know." 
 The young prince bowed him low and said : " My name 
 Is Poutra Bangsawan, of family 
 Most humble. I am searching everywhere 
 To find a sister lost. When she is found 
 I shall return at once." Then said the King: 
 "Where is thy sister? I will help thy search. 
 Stay here with me a month or two, that we 
 May learn to know e^ch other and become 
 Fast friends." The young prince then obeisance made 
 And said : " I bear thine orders on my head. 
 Thou art a king illustrious, and I 
 A humble servitor. I am the son 
 Of good Lila Mengindra, but for long 
 I've absent been. My sister dear I seek. 
 Thine aid I do bespeak. From Kembajat 
 I come, a subject of thy father there, the King. 
 Forgive me, lord, for now thou knowest all." 
 The King rejoiced to hear a voice that seemed 
 So much like Bidasari's, and inquired 
 Of Sinapati, " Tell me now his race." 
 
BIDASARI 63 
 
 Then Sinapati bowed and said : " My lord, 
 
 Of princes and of caliphs is his race. 
 
 His kingdom, not so far, is most superb ; 
 
 His palace is most beautiful and grand. 
 
 Swift ships within the harbor lie, all well 
 
 Equipped." At this the King enchanted was, 
 
 To find a prince was brother to his wife. 
 
 Still more he asked and Sinapati said: 
 
 " Because his realm was ravaged by the foe 
 
 He hath misfortunes suffered manifold." 
 
 Then knew the King he was of royal blood 
 
 And had adversity experienced. 
 
 The King came from his throne and said, " My friend. 
 
 My palace enter." So the King and prince 
 
 Went in. They met fair Bidasari there. 
 
 She sat beside a Chinese window quaint. 
 
 All choicely carved. She saw the King and thought, 
 
 " What fine young man is this he bringeth here ? " 
 
 When they were seated all, the young prince looked 
 
 At Bidasari : " Beautiful is she," 
 
 He thought, " my sister dear, and very like 
 
 My father." Then the King with smiling face 
 
 Said : " Bidasari, darling, speak to him. 
 
 He is thy younger brother, come to seek 
 
 Thee here. From Kembajat he came. And thy 
 
 Dear father mourns for thee the livelong day." 
 
 At this fair Bidasari sighed. She bowed 
 
 Her head and silence kept. She much was moved 
 
 Because she had not known her parents true. 
 
 But fancied them Djouhara and his wife. 
 
 " I'm but a merchant's daughter," finally 
 
 She said. " Things all uncertain this young prince 
 
 Hath told. If I'm the daughter of a King, 
 
 Why hath he left me here, and never sought 
 
 For me through all these years? 'Tis not so far 
 
 From here to Kembajat." The young prince bowed. 
 
 " Thy words I bear upon my head," he said, 
 
 " O sister dear. Pray banish from thy heart 
 
 All hatred. If thou'rt lowly born, I am 
 
 Likewise. Our realm was ravaged at thy birth. 
 
64 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 But shortly afterward fair peace returned. 
 And to his own my father came again. 
 I've seen how much he suffers in his heart. 
 Thy name he never utters without tears — 
 He never hath forgotten thee. Forgive 
 Him, then, in what he was remiss. Except 
 For stern necessity he never would 
 Have thee abandoned." 
 
 Then the King with smiles 
 Said : " Speak to him, my dear. He tells the truth. 
 Thy parents wandered through a desert land 
 Beneath a cruel sun. Impossible 
 It was to carry thee through brier and brush." 
 Down at his sister's feet the young prince knelt. 
 Then Bidasari clasped him in her arms. 
 The brave young prince to them recounted all 
 The sorrows of his parents. Much he wept. 
 And they wept, too, as he the story told. 
 Then sat they down to dine. And afterward 
 They siri took and perfumes of all kinds. 
 Then the young prince took leave. " Where goest thou, 
 My brothei- ? " asked the King. " I fain would go 
 Straight home to my dear parents," said the prince. 
 But, with a voice affectionate, the King 
 Replied : " Seek not Lila Mengindra. Here 
 Thou shouldst remain, for thou hast met within 
 This palace thy dear sister. There is room 
 Enough for thee. Stay here with all thy folk 
 And retinue." The prince bowed low, and forth 
 Unto the merchant went, and to him said: 
 " Within the palace now I shall remain 
 With all my retinue, for thus the King 
 Commands." The merchant said : " 'Tis very well, 
 For where can one lodge better than within 
 The palace ? " So the prince returned, with all 
 His people, to the palace of the King. 
 Then all the mantris came, and festivals 
 And feasts were held. As long as he remained 
 At Indrapura, the young prince received 
 All courtesies. And Bidasari fair 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 Was known as daughter of a mighty king. 
 The news was carried far and wide, and all 
 Repeated how her brother brave had come 
 To seek for her. 
 
 Queen Lila Sari heard 
 And was surprised. She sighed in solitude, 
 And felt a woe unspeakable. She said 
 To a mandar: " I was in too much haste. 
 On the dyangs I counted, but they come 
 No more. All four have gone and homage paid 
 To Bidasari. All my tricks are foiled. 
 In no one can I trust." Dang Lila then 
 Approached and said : " Acts of unfaithfulness 
 Bring never happiness. God's on the side 
 Of loyalty. Now those dyangs are sad 
 And languish after thee, but fear the King, 
 Dost thou not think, O Queen, thou ill hast wrought? 
 For while the King is absent none will come 
 Thy heart to cheer." The Queen replied with ire : 
 " Seek not to consolation give. The King 
 Esteems me not. I'll not humiliate 
 Myself before him. Who is that young prince. 
 So called, who hither came? A pirate's son 
 He well may prove, and calls himself a prince. 
 Go ye, dyangs, pay service to the King, 
 And he may favor ye as he did her." 
 She seemed most wroth. But she repented sore 
 In truth, and pined away in sorrow deep. 
 In other days she had no wish nor whim 
 Unsatisfied. Now all were for the King. 
 The Queen's heart angrier grew from day to day 
 As if a scorpion's sting had wounded her. 
 And her distress grew greater when she thought 
 Upon the love of other days. Her heart 
 Was inconsolable because so bitterly 
 She missed the pomp and glory of her court. 
 But Bidasari to the King one day 
 Said : " Send back these mendars; for if they all 
 Stay here. Queen Lila Sari all alone 
 Will be." The King with smiles replied : " Oh, no I 
 % 
 
 65 
 
66 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 I will not let them go. She is so fell 
 
 And barbarous, she no one loves. She is 
 
 Much better all alone." Then to the King 
 
 Fair Bidasari said : " Thine anger was 
 
 Too prompt. She spoke in wrath because she was 
 
 Accustomed to a court. In what to thee 
 
 Hath she been wanting, that thou shouldst repel 
 
 Her thus ? Thou gav'st her love, and now thou dost 
 
 Abandon her in sorrow. Be not thus 
 
 Incensed with her, for should she come to want 
 
 The shame would be reflected on thy head." 
 
 The King's face lighted, and he said : " My dear, 
 
 I went to see her, but she drove me forth 
 
 With bitter words. Her conduct was beyond 
 
 All bearing. And she heaped on me abuse." 
 
 But Princess Bidasari said : " Dwell not 
 
 On that, my friend. She was disturbed by wrath 
 
 And jealousy. In other days thou didst 
 
 Embrace and kiss her. Now she is alone. 
 
 And thou perchance didst somehow hurt 
 
 Or bruise her body." All his anger left 
 
 The King at this. He said : " O purest soul. 
 
 Thou speakest well and wisely. How could I 
 
 Not love thee, dear, and cling to thee for life? 
 
 Oh, never may we separated be ! 
 
 Branch of my heart, light of my eyes, thou dost 
 
 But good desire. Thou'rt all the world to me. 
 
 I'll go to her, since thou doth ask. Perchance 
 
 A reconciliation may be made. 
 
 But she must first admit her faults. If she 
 
 Repentance shows, to see her I will go." 
 
 The merchant's wife had come and heard these words. 
 
 Her warm tears fell. She thought within herself, 
 
 " My daughter hath no vengeance in her heart." 
 
 Then Dang Bidouri brought delicious rice 
 
 Unto the King and Queen. They ate and drank, 
 
 And stronger grew their love from hour to hour. 
 
 Then gave the King commands to call the prince. 
 
 He came with smiling face and graceful bows. 
 
 " Sit here beside us," said the King, and all 
 
BIDASARI 67 
 
 The three dined there together, royal ones, 
 Surrounded by deft servants and dyangs. 
 They chatted gayly, and, with laughter, ate. 
 When all was finished, from the betel-box 
 The King of siri took, perfumed himself, 
 And then the prince retired. 
 
 When two short months 
 Had fled, the prince bethought him of his home 
 And parents. To himself he said, " I'll go." 
 He gave commands to preparation make 
 For his departure. " I am loath to leave 
 My sister," he to Sinapati said. 
 " My life is joyous here. But there at home 
 I've left my parents in solicitude." 
 Then Sinapati bowed and said, " With thee 
 I'll ga" 
 
SONG V 
 
 A CERTAIN day the mantris came 
 Before the King, in the pavilion grand. 
 And with them came the youthful prince, and cast 
 Himself before the throne. The King with smiles 
 Said : " Sit thou at my side, my brother dear, 
 I have not seen thee for a day entire." 
 The princeling bowed and said : " My gracious lord 
 If thou wilt pardon me, I would return 
 And give my parents dear the joyful news. 
 My father bade me seek my sister lost, 
 And still he nothing knows of her good fate." 
 The King replied with sorrow : " Brother mine. 
 Why wilt thou go so soon? We scarcely are 
 Acquainted, and I have not had enough 
 Of thy dear company." The prince replied: 
 " Oh, be not sorrowful, my gracious lord. 
 As soon as I have my dear father seen 
 I'll tell him what good things have come to pass. 
 'Twill soothe his heart to hear my sister's joy. 
 My parents will be glad in learning all " 
 Thy goodness great. And pray consider me 
 Thy subject leal. Soon I'll return again." 
 The King's emotion grew. With pleasant voice 
 He said : " Take counsel of thy sister. Heed 
 What she may say." They found the Queen within. 
 Fair Bidasari, and attending her 
 Dyang Agous Djouhari. All sat down 
 And took some siri from the betel-box. 
 The Queen to the young prince then spoke : " Come here. 
 My brother, why have I thy face not seen 
 For two long days ? " With bows the prince replied : 
 " I've had a multitude of things to do. 
 Thus came I not ; for my companions all 
 
 68 
 
BIDASARI 65 
 
 Seek homeward to return. So I must take 
 
 My leave of thee upon the morrow morn, 
 
 When pales the silver moon before the dawn." 
 
 The Queen was grieved to hear these words, and shed 
 
 A flood of tears. Her tender heart was touched. 
 
 Beside herself with sorrow she exclaimed : 
 
 " O prince illustrious ! How canst thou go, 
 
 Since we have met ? I've loved thee from the time 
 
 I knew thou wert my brother. I am grieved 
 
 To hear thee say thou wilt so soon depart. 
 
 Of low extraction must I be ! 'Twas wrong 
 
 For thee to call thyself my brother. I 
 
 A poor and feeble orphan am, and how 
 
 Should I the love deserve of a great prince ? " 
 
 When this he heard the prince bowed low his head 
 
 And was much troubled. " Sister sweet," he said, 
 
 " Grieve not like this. I only do return 
 
 Because our parents must so anxious be. 
 
 I love thee so, my darling, that my heart 
 
 Is nearly breaking. If thou speakest thus 
 
 To me, my dear, my grief will still increase. 
 
 I could not leave thee, but I must respect 
 
 Our parents' wishes. They commanded me 
 
 All haste to make. So — sweet — I pray thee have 
 
 Compassion on me." 
 
 Much disturbed, the King 
 Observed the sorrow of the princess fair. 
 He kissed her lips, to her a sepah gave. 
 And said with tender voice : " My darling wife, 
 What dost thou wish ? Let now thy brother go. 
 We'll see thy parents here ere many days." 
 The Queen wept bitterly, and said to him : 
 " His wishes I do not oppose. Let him 
 Do whatsoe'er it pleaseth him to do. 
 For I am but a stranger, a lost child. 
 And who should think of me or love me true ? " 
 Then bowed the prince and said : " In very truth, 
 I know thou art my sister. Speak not thus. 
 God knows how much I love thee, sister mine. 
 If thou dost not permit me to depart 
 
JO MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 I'll not resist. I'm happy here with thee, 
 
 But our dear parents are in cruel doubt, 
 
 And look for news of thee. Now that I know 
 
 Thy husband is a king, our parents dear 
 
 Would be so overjoyed to learn it too! " 
 
 Then spoke the King with face all radiant, 
 
 " Return not, brother mine," he said. " I'll send 
 
 Swift messengers to bear the gladsome news 
 
 That Bidasari's found. Then, if he wills, 
 
 Thy royal father here we'll hope to see. 
 
 I'll go myself to meet him when he comes." 
 
 The young prince bowed and said : " Nay, rather send 
 
 Thy messengers, a great king cannot go 
 
 So far away." Queen Bidasari heard 
 
 These words and much rejoiced, and gayly gave 
 
 Her brother then her betel-box. 
 
 The King 
 Caressed his wife and said^ " My dearest soul, 
 Love not thy brother more than me." He called 
 Lila Mengindra. Soon the merchant came 
 Before the King and prince. The King exclaimed : 
 
 " Come here, my uncle. Tell me, wilt thou take 
 
 A letter to the King of Kembajat — 
 
 To prove to him we live? " 
 
 So spake the King 
 
 And called his counsellor of state, who came 
 
 And kissed his hands. The King then bade him write 
 
 A letter, all in characters of gold. 
 
 " Well," cried the King, " let's hear the letter now." 
 
 " Now glory be to God," it thus began. 
 
 And all fair Bidasari's history 
 
 Recited. Then the King a mighty host 
 
 Assembled and with elephants and steeds 
 
 Ten mantris took the letter of the prince 
 
 Unto his parents. With the cavalcade 
 
 There went a laksimana great, who bore, 
 
 As king's ambassador, bejewelled flags 
 
 And standards rich, and presents of much worth. 
 
 Then Sinapati by the King was called 
 
 A laksimana mantri, and received 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 A fine equipment, with a hundred men 
 
 To follow him. 'Twas thus the King preserved 
 
 His reputation as a mighty king. 
 
 When he had sent the embassy, the King 
 Went to his wife, and they were very gay. 
 His love for her grew greater every day. 
 The former merchant also was beloved. 
 He gave the King good counsel, and obeyed 
 His orders wilUngly. He often dined 
 Together with the King and Queen. His wealth 
 Grew vast. No one at all could with him vie, 
 In Indrapura. He was much attached 
 To the chief mantri. They were equals both 
 In prudence, wisdom, and fidelity, 
 With power unquestioned over all the folk. 
 Beneath their sway prosperity increased, 
 And many merchants came from far and wide. 
 The kingdom was at peace. The King rejoiced, 
 And everyone was happy in the land. 
 
 71 
 
SONG VI 
 
 THE laksimana mantri now I'll sing, 
 Who went upon the embassy. As soon 
 As the great King of Kembajat had news 
 Of his arrival, he was much rejoiced. 
 He told the Queen, and in the audience-hall 
 Awaited. Then went forth the ofificers 
 With elephants and payongs. A countless throng 
 Attended them, with music and with flags. 
 They met the embassy, and, with rich gifts, 
 They gave the King's commands. Into the town 
 Then entered all. The King was very glad. 
 As if his only daughter had returned. 
 All bowed before the King, who took the gifts. 
 While servants took the letter to the chief 
 Of mantris. And he gave it to the King. 
 The monarch read, and was possessed with joy. 
 He could not thank enough the merchant good, 
 Who raised his daughter to a royal throne. 
 He wished forthwith to go and see his child. 
 The letter cordial invitation gave. 
 But one thing troubled him : " He straight inquired, 
 ' Hath not the prince, my son, the liberty 
 To come back home ? ' " The laksimana bowed 
 And said : " The King wished not to let him come 
 And begged with tears that he would stay. The Queen 
 Feared if her brother went she'd never see 
 Her father. From your children both I bring 
 Warm greetings. Kind indulgence from your heart 
 They ask, and press their invitation. I 
 Crave pardon for myself, O King, and hope 
 Thy children dear may see their father's face. 
 And that the kingdoms may become one realm." 
 At these words smiled the King. " Ah, well ! " he said, 
 
 72 
 
BIDASARI 73 
 
 " I'll wait for seven days still." Then questions flew, 
 And the great king learned all about his child. 
 
 The Indrapura mantris went apart 
 
 When evening came. A separate palace grand 
 
 The King assigned them, with the best of food. 
 
 He orders gave for preparations great. 
 
 Unto the Queen he said : " In seven days' time, 
 
 My dear, I look to start, for I shall have 
 
 No peace until I've seen our darling child." 
 
 Then he assembled there his mantris all. 
 
 Both young and old, with elephants and steeds. 
 
 And all was ready to set forth, as he had wished. 
 
 The while the morning stars were twinkling still. 
 
 The royal gong resounded many times. 
 
 The guards leaped forth with joy. The officers 
 
 Came out and took their shining helms of war. 
 
 Their naked swords all glistened. It was thus 
 
 They made the glittering royal cavalcade. 
 
 Their flags and banners flaunted in the air, 
 
 All those who stayed behind were sad, as if 
 
 A knife had cut them. All together marched. 
 
 The lancers and the horsemen, and they seemed 
 
 A moving city. Soon all darkened was 
 
 The moon, as someone sorrowful. The swords 
 
 And lances glistened like an island in 
 
 The middle of the sea. Thus is described 
 
 The royal escort marching through the land. 
 
 The King was mounted on an elephant. 
 
 His jfn-bearer seated close behind. 
 
 A rich payong of royalty, all tricked 
 
 With bells, was stretched above his head, 
 
 And drums and other instruments without 
 
 Cessation sounded. Thus went forth the King, 
 
 And soon to Indrapura came. 
 
 When near 
 He halted and forthwith an envoy sent 
 His coming to announce, together with 
 The laksimana mantri. " Mighty King," 
 They said, " thy royal father hath arrived," 
 
y^ MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The King his heralds ordered then to call 
 
 Lila Mengindra. With a smile he said 
 
 To him : " Assemble in the square the folk 
 
 And army. Straight to my pavilion let 
 
 Them come, and all in holiday attire, 
 
 For I my father am to meet to-day." 
 
 Lila Mengindra bowed and hied him forth 
 
 To execute the orders of the King. 
 
 The King within his palace went, and sat 
 
 Upon a jewelled seat. The Queen was there. 
 
 And good Lila Mengindra at her side. 
 
 The King said smilingly: " Light of my eyes, 
 
 Let all the palace decorated be. 
 
 Assemble all the palace folk and all 
 
 The younger girls. For now without the gates 
 
 Our parents wait. To-morrow I shall go 
 
 To meet them." Then Queen Bidasari cried. 
 
 With smiles : " My brother they have come to see. 
 
 I cannot go before them and declare 
 
 Myself their daughter." But the young prince said: 
 
 " Oh, speak not thus, my sister, but give heed 
 
 To what I say to thee, and be not wroth. 
 
 If I'm the only one they love, alone 
 
 I'll go with them away." Then to the King 
 
 He said : " With my dear sister I but jest. 
 
 To quiet her alarms." He bowed before the King 
 
 And asked permission forth to go at once 
 
 To meet his father. " Nay," replied the King, 
 
 " We'll go together." A repast was served 
 
 With every kind of food. The royal three 
 
 Together ate. Then from the betel-box 
 
 They siri took, and perfumes sweet they used. 
 
 The prince then from the palace forth did go. 
 
 Next day the King invited him to start 
 
 With him upon the royal progress. All 
 
 The banners waved, and everyone was glad. 
 
 Then to the Queen he said : " Stay here, my love, 
 
 And I will hither bring thy father dear." 
 
 These words rejoiced the Queen. She said : " Go forth, 
 
 My dear, and I will follow with my eyes." 
 
BIDASARI 
 
 The King then took his leave with the young prince, 
 With many mantris following. The strains 
 Of gladsome music sounded. All the bells 
 Were rung, and those without the cavalcade 
 Were sad. 
 
 Ere long they came to the frontier, 
 And King met King. The folk of Kembajat 
 Were all astonished at the young King's face, 
 As beautiful as painter's masterpiece. 
 The old King looked with smiles on all. His joy 
 Was great. The King of Indrapura bowed 
 Respectfully, and made them bring to him 
 The elephant that bore 'neath gay payong 
 His consort's father. " Son, where goest thou?" 
 " I've come to seek thee." Then the old King said : 
 " Why didst thou come in person ? 'Twould have been 
 Enough if thou hadst mantris sent instead." 
 His joy o'erflowed his heart. His son-in-law 
 He greatly loved. Upon his elephant 
 He said : " Approach, my son, thou art a king 
 Renowned. Thy body and thy soul are both 
 Alike, and both of royal stock ! " He pressed 
 Him in his arms and said : " Light of ray eyes. 
 Almighty God hath heard my many prayers. 
 And granted me a perfect son-in-law." 
 The King of Indrapura bowed and smiled 
 Most graciously. Then to the young prince said 
 His father : " Mount, my son, beside me, here." 
 The young prince mounted at his father's side. 
 He was as beautiful as chiselled gold. 
 
 Within the town the kings made entry then 
 
 Amid a joyous throng. When they had come. 
 
 The former merchant bowed before them both. 
 
 The mangkouboumi now. The mighty King 
 
 Of Indrapura bowed and said : " My sire, 
 
 Speak to my uncle here ; for he brought up 
 
 Thy daughter." Scarcely had the old King heard 
 
 These words than he exclaimed with joy : " Come here, 
 
 My brother, let us now acquaintance make." 
 
 75 
 
y6 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The old King, seated on his elephant, 
 
 Shed all about him rays of happiness, 
 
 And all the people there were greatly moved. 
 
 " This is my brother well beloved," he said. 
 
 And kissed his brow. " How great hath been his love. 
 
 His faithfulness has proved beyond compare." 
 
 The former merchant bowed, and to the King 
 
 Replied : " I am thy slave, O King, and bear 
 
 Thine orders on my head. Thou dost o'erwhelm 
 
 Thy servant with thy favor." Then upon 
 
 The royal throne, which was all gem-bedecked. 
 
 The old King sat, the young prince at his side, 
 
 With all the mantris near. Then came the Queen 
 
 Consort. The prince and Bidasari fair 
 
 Came from their seats, their mother to receive. 
 
 All entered then the palace. The young Queen, 
 
 Fair Bidasari, bowed and was embraced 
 
 By both her parents. With a flood of tears 
 
 Her father said : " Alas, my darling child. 
 
 Fruit of my heart, light of my eyes, keep not 
 
 A hatred in thy soul against us now. 
 
 The will of God is now made manifest. 
 
 We long have separated been. At last 
 
 We see each other with our very eyes. 
 
 Great wrong we did thus to abandon thee. 
 
 But still let not thy heart a stranger be 
 
 To us. Peace later came to our dear land — 
 
 Such was our destiny. What could we do ? 
 
 We were in flight. We thought, ' May God decree 
 
 Some honorable man shall find her here ! ' 
 
 How can we now be glad enough 'twas thus 
 
 Ordained! What recompense can we present?" 
 
 Sweet Bidasari wept as she recalled 
 
 The past. The King her husband was much moved, 
 
 And felt great pity when her tears he saw. 
 
 And all were sad with sorrow mixed with joy, 
 
 Because they knew she was of royal birth. 
 
 Food now was served, and quickly the dyangs 
 
 Brought salvers for the princes. The two kings 
 
 Ate of the rice till they were surfeited, 
 
BIDASARI 77 
 
 Then to their children offered it. All took 
 
 The siri placed before them, and straightway 
 
 Themselves anointed with rare perfumes sweet. 
 
 When all had eaten, the five royal ones 
 
 Lila Mengindra called, and gave to him 
 
 The remnants of the feast. The kings then spoke 
 
 To him and to his wife. They both bowed low 
 
 And kissed the royal hands. Then said the King 
 
 Of Kembajat : " My children, I had planned— 
 
 In case we ever met on earth and ere 
 
 The prey of death became — a feast to give, 
 
 To last a month, and to it ye invite. 
 
 In triumph I my daughter fain would bear. 
 
 With all of ye. I would at once repair 
 
 Unto the isle of Nousa Antara, 
 
 And there I'd hold a royal festival 
 
 With all the members of our family. 
 
 And all the bitis, mandars, and dyangs. 
 
 Such was my plan — if ever I should find 
 
 My daughter dear. Now while this moon doth last 
 
 Let me the project see fulfilled before 
 
 Your parents come to die." 
 
 The gracious King 
 Of Indrapura at these words bowed low 
 And said : " I bear thy words upon my head. 
 It shall be done as thou hast wished, my King." 
 And when the evening came all was prepared. 
 Soft mattresses were spread, and the two queens 
 Betook them to their chambers, and the rich 
 Egyptian curtains fell. They vainly sought to sleep. 
 They talked together of their sorrows past 
 And evil days. And neither kings nor queens 
 That night could slumber. 
 
 At the break of day 
 The talking bird began to sing and prate. 
 A little later the bajangs began 
 Their song. Then all arose, and bathed, and broke 
 Their fast, and chattered and amused themselves. 
 The King of Indrapura then gave word 
 Unto the mangkouboumi: " All prepare 
 
jg MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 That's necessary, ere the moon be full. 
 Get ready all the various kinds of ships, 
 And load them down with every sort of arms. 
 Prepare all sorts of games to pass the time, 
 And get in order all the cannons great 
 And fire-arms. Thus the King commands." 
 
 Straightway 
 The mangkouboumi bowed before the King, 
 And went his orders to obey. He made 
 The ships all ready, with new paint and gold. 
 When three were well equipped, on board he took 
 The people of the city. All the old 
 Were left behind, but of the young none stayed. 
 Then to the King the mangkouboumi said, 
 " All is prepared." At this the King rejoiced. 
 And to the King of Kembajat sent word. 
 Who told his wife, and she was all aglow. 
 They started from the palace, kings and queen 
 And prince, and lovely Bidasari, too. 
 Attended by the courtiers all. The strains 
 Of music sounded and the bells were rung. 
 All those whose lot it was to stay at home 
 Were pained, as if a knife had stricken them. 
 The cannons roared ; the royal banners waved. , 
 
 In three days' sail they reached the island fair. 
 Of Nousa Antara, and the ships made fast. 
 The two queens sat and watched the deft dyangs 
 Take up the coral white and pink, and toyed 
 With pretty shells. The King set foot upon 
 The isle of Nousa Antara. The King 
 And his dear wife upon the shore came forth. 
 With their sweet daughter Bidasari pure. 
 The King of Indrapura with them went. 
 The prince walked near them on the left. 
 
 The King 
 Of Indrapura ordered that a tent 
 Be raised, and one was made. It was as large 
 As any palace, set with royal throne. 
 The two queens entered it and sought repose. 
 
BIDASARI jg 
 
 The prince before his father bowed and said, 
 
 " My royal father, let me go and hunt." 
 
 To this the King of Kembajat replied, 
 
 " Do- what thou dost desire, light of my eyes." 
 
 The King of Indrapura said with smiles, 
 
 " I'll go with thee to hunt, my brother dear." 
 
 The prince replied, " I shall in truth be charmed. 
 
 My brother." " Forth we'll fare to-morrow morn," 
 
 Returned the King of Indrapura. " Call 
 
 The folk together." 
 
 When the dawn appeared. 
 The King and prince together started forth. 
 Escorted by a band of hunters tried, 
 And beat the woods for game. The King and prince 
 And all their following made rapid work. 
 The game took flight. The King then drew his bow 
 And many animals were killed. A deer 
 Came running by. His arrow struck him full 
 Upon the shoulder, and the huntsmen seized 
 And quickly killed him. In the pathless woods 
 Of Nousa Antara there was much game. 
 A tiger roared, the King and prince pursued. 
 The tiger swiftly fled. The prince sat down 
 Within the forest deep. To overtake 
 The beast he was unable. To return 
 He sought, but could not find the way. Alone 
 He was, and in perplexity, because 
 His huntsmen he no longer could descry. 
 Then, wandering to and fro, he found at last 
 A pleasure garden of the days gone by. 
 Belonging to King Lila, beautiful 
 And without flaw. He was astonished quite 
 When he perceived a palace. All alone 
 He found himself, when he had entered there. 
 He walked about, but found no living soul. 
 Unto himself he said : " Can this domain 
 A habitation be of demons dread 
 And spirits ? Can this be the cause of all 
 The solitude which reigns ? " On all sides then 
 He looked. All suddenly a voice he heard. 
 
8o MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 But still no one could see. Amazed he stood. 
 
 The mystic voice exclaimed, " Have pity, lord, 
 
 And free me from this room." As in a dream 
 
 The prince these accents heard. He answered then: 
 
 " Who art thou ? Whose strange voice is this I hear. 
 
 The while I no one see? Dost thou belong 
 
 Unto the race of demons and of spectres ? 
 
 Where is the key, that I may ope the door ? " 
 
 Then the dyang of Mendoudari said 
 
 Unto the prince : " Look toward the left, for there 
 
 The key thou'lt find that opes the palace tower." 
 
 He took the key and opened wide the door. 
 
 All those who were within, when they beheld 
 
 The prince's face, fell prostrate at his feet. 
 
 To them the prince cried out : " Say to what race 
 
 Ye do belong. This quickly tell. And whose 
 
 This palace beautiful ? " Then answered him 
 
 Dang Tjindra Melini : " O Royal prince, 
 
 We are God's creatures, like to thee. And this 
 
 Fair palace of the King Lila is now 
 
 By Ifrid occupied, a spirit-king, 
 
 With whom now lives the prince illustrious, 
 
 Lila. His daughter. Princess Mendoudari, 
 
 Is shut alone within a chamber here. 
 
 And Ifrid, king of spirits, cometh oft. 
 
 On every third day cometh he. His eyes 
 
 Are brilliant as the sun." When this he heard 
 
 The prince was glad. The room he entered then. 
 
 The Princess Mendoudari sought to flee. 
 
 " Where wouldst thou go, my friend," he said. " I've sought 
 
 And found thee. Do not flee away from me." 
 
 The Princess Mendoudari said with tears : 
 
 " And art thou mad enough hither to come ? 
 
 The spirits will destroy thee without doubt." 
 
 These words rejoiced the prince, and to her then 
 
 He sang a low sweet song of love and wooing. 
 
 The princess answered with a dreamy chant. 
 
 And when the young prince heard her gentle lay 
 
 He feh a yearning pity for her fate. 
 
 " Be not afraid, my dear," he said, " for 1 
 
BIDASARI 8i 
 
 Will triumph over all thine enemies." 
 
 Then Dang Sendari served them dainty food ; 
 
 And what was left, to her the princess gave. 
 
 The prince too siri from the betel-box 
 
 And rare sweet perfumes used. When evening came, 
 
 A soft couch for the prince was spread. And then 
 
 The princess sought her room, and curtains drew 
 
 Of rich Egyptian stuff. The prince had asked, 
 
 " When comes the spirit-king ? " And she had said, 
 
 " At early dawn." The young prince could not sleep, 
 
 But through the long night hours sang soft pantoums. 
 
 When dayUght came the prince arose. He heard 
 
 A spirit coming to the palace. Then with fear 
 
 Was seized the princess fair. " Behold," she cried, 
 
 " He cometh." Then the young prince took his arms. 
 
 " Fear not," he said ; " have confidence in God. 
 
 What he decrees must always come to pass. 
 
 If I'm destroyed, then follow me in death. 
 
 I only ask one thing of thee, my love. 
 
 When I am dead, I pray thee weep for me, 
 
 And let thy mantle be my winding-sheet. 
 
 Now let thy glances follow as I go." 
 
 I'll tell of Ifrid now — ^the spirit-king. 
 He lurked beneath the palace. When he heard 
 The princess talking with the prince his ire 
 Arose like burning flame. His cry was like 
 A thunder-burst. The very palace shook. 
 " Depart from here," unto the prince he roared, 
 "And feel my mighty power." Then sweet love-songs 
 Exchanging with the princess went he forth. 
 His mien was Uke Sang Samba's, and his face 
 Was nobly firm, as if he went to meet 
 A roaring tiger. At his side he wore 
 A rare carbuncled sword, and arrows bore 
 With points in deadly poison dipped. Ifrid, 
 The creature with two heads, like spectre came 
 With laughter horrid. He took up a stone 
 And hurled it at the prince, who dodged its flight. 
 Then full of wrath Ifrid upon him rushed. 
 6 
 
82 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 But swift the prince let fly an arrow sharp, 
 And pierced his heart. One groan, and then he fell. 
 And died beside the river. Then the prince 
 Made haste to join the princess. 
 
 When she saw 
 The spirit Ifrid dead she much rejoiced 
 And bowed before the prince. Great gladness shone 
 In her fair face, because her woe had ceased, 
 And she was happy that 'twas to the prince 
 She owed her rescue. 'Twas as if she'd found 
 A mountain great of jewels. Then she said : 
 " Caliph a high divinity once was 
 And called himself King Lila. God will bless 
 Thee for thy deeds, O mighty prince." 
 
 The prince 
 With kisses said : " Thou hast a charming mouth. 
 Thy form is supple. Prithee tell me why 
 I should not love thee ? Thou art beautiful 
 As a statue of pure gold, and thou shalt be 
 A princess in my palace. Well I know 
 Thine origin is noble, and thy race 
 Is high." They gayly chatted while some food 
 Was served. The prince, with pleasure, at the side 
 Of the fair princess ate. When all was done 
 He took some siri from the betel-box 
 And perfumes used. " Thou art a jasmine sweet," 
 He said, " an antidote to every ill. 
 And thou shalt be my wife." 
 
 Next day the prince 
 Took her behind him on his horse, and they 
 Departed. The dyangs accompanied them. 
 
 Now will I tell about the mantris all. 
 
 Until the fall of evening, with the King 
 
 Of Indrapura, they in waiting stayed. 
 
 To welcome back the prince. And much disturbed 
 
 They were that he delayed so long to come. 
 
 The King then bade them seek the prince, and see 
 
 Why he remained so long apart from them. 
 
 Then mantris four set out, and hunted far 
 
BIDASARI 83 
 
 And wide, but found him not. They brought the news 
 That he could not be found. The King was sad 
 And ordered them to go and tell the King, 
 His wife's dear father, that the prince was lost. 
 The old King fainted when he heard the tale. 
 With oil of rose they sprinkled him, and back 
 Unto his senses came he. " O my child," 
 He said, " my heart hath lost all hope. Where now 
 Art thou? I'll go, myself, to seek." 
 
 The King 
 Wept much, and his dear wife. And as for her — 
 Sweet Bidasari — she appeared to wish 
 To kill herself, for never on the earth 
 Did brother love his sister like the prince 
 And Bidasari. At the fall of day 
 Back came the King of Indrapura, sad 
 And weeping. Then the King of Kembajat 
 Said : " O my son, be silent. Do not weep, 
 For thou dost but increase the pain I feel." 
 But Indrapura's King replied : " Alas ! 
 He was my brother true, so brave and good ! " 
 But while they were lamenting thus the prince 
 Stood there before them with his consort fair. 
 He bowed to all. The King, his father, saw 
 And could not speak. He thought, " It is the voice 
 Of my dear son." Then recognition came 
 And he was wild with joy. The prince then told 
 How he had chased the tiger, and had lost 
 His way within a wood : how he had killed 
 A spirit there, Ifrid, the dread. 
 
 The King 
 Heard all he said and much rejoiced. Then came 
 The servants serving tasteful food to all. 
 The King ate with his wife and children dear. 
 Together they were six. All sorts of rare 
 And dainty food were served them, and the King 
 Took siri from the betel-box, and used 
 Sweet perfumes. The great King of Kembajat 
 Then gave a festival which lasted quite 
 Seven days, with music and diversions gay. 
 
84 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Glad joy was at its height, of pleasure born 
 
 And of the dance. The kings amused themselves. 
 
 All kinds of games they had. Intji Bibi, 
 
 A singer of Malacca, sang with grace. 
 
 The seven days passed, the Princess Mendoudari 
 
 Was all in finery arrayed. The wives 
 
 Of the two kings took her in hand. The prince 
 
 Was by the mangkouboumi ta'en in charge. 
 
 The princess sweetest perfumes did exhale. 
 
 Her manners were most gracious and polite 
 
 As of a well-born person. Every sort 
 
 Of gem and jewel sparkled from her robes. 
 
 She wore a ring — 'twas astakouna called — 
 
 And yet another one, glangkano named, 
 
 And still another, with bright stones all carved 
 
 In fashion of Ceylon. Her tresses curled 
 
 Like to a full-blown flower, and on them shone 
 
 Full many precious stones. The tourie buds 
 
 Became her well. Her features were as bright 
 
 As those of some celestial being pure. 
 
 Fair Mendoudari thus was clad, and led 
 
 To the bride's seat, and at her either hand 
 
 Stood mantris' daughters seven with waving fans. 
 
 Meanwhile the mangkouboumi patiently 
 
 Achieved the tiring of the prince. He wore 
 
 A royal crown, made in the island fair 
 
 Called Nousa Antara, and a rich coat 
 
 Which opened at the sides, made in the West. 
 
 A chiselled necklace hung about his neck. 
 
 His tunic flamed with orange, like the robe 
 
 Of great Schahid Schah Pri. His girdle bright 
 
 Was cloth of tjindi, fringed with agates rare. 
 
 An amulet he wore with diamond pure. 
 
 With sacred words engraved of the Koran. 
 
 He wore a jewel like a butterfly. 
 
 Most beautiful, and many rings and gems. 
 
 His features of the rarest beauty were. 
 
 Like those of some divinity of heaven. 
 
 When thus arrayed, the youthful prince came forth 
 
 And made obeisance to his parents both. 
 
BIDASARI 8s 
 
 He went to the appointed place, and all 
 
 The children of the court assembled there 
 
 Before him, while two sons of heralds stood 
 
 Beside him, waving fans like floating clouds. 
 
 All kept the strictest silence. Then a band 
 
 Of soldiers came, with blades all glittering. 
 
 The royal sword, all diamond decked, flashed rays 
 
 Of light. Three times around the island went 
 
 They all, with sound of music and the noise 
 
 Of bells. And all who heard in vain essayed 
 
 To estimate the number. Everyone 
 
 Ran forth to see the progress — men and women. 
 
 Some tore their garments, some their children lost. 
 
 Distracted by the pleasure and the noise. 
 
 When ended the procession, the young prince 
 
 At Princess Mendoudari's right was placed, 
 
 Within the palace. Then to them was brought 
 
 Rice called adapadap, and they became 
 
 A wedded pair. And all the folk dispersed. 
 
 In three days' time was Mendoudari dressed 
 
 Anew by Bidasari. She was robed 
 
 With vesture of embroidered silk. The prince 
 
 Was likewise gayly clad, to suit the glad 
 
 Occasion. Now again they made, in state; 
 
 A royal progress round about the isle. 
 
 The King and Bidasari rode in one 
 
 Grand chariot, and, within another, went 
 
 The prince and Mendoudari, his fair bride. 
 
 Then back they came for rest, upon the soft 
 
 Rich palace cushions. Then the mighty King 
 
 Of Kembajat inquired of his dear wife : 
 
 " What think'st thou, love ? Shall we to-morrow morn 
 
 Return? " With smiles the Queen replied, " I bear 
 
 Thine orders on my head." Next day the hearts 
 
 Of all the royal company were filled 
 
 With joy. The officers assembled then 
 
 To take the King's commands, and he was pleased 
 
 To see them dutiful. The following morn 
 
 The song of the bajans awaked the King. 
 
 At early dawn each princess with her lord, 
 
86 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 And all the ofificers, embarked upon 
 
 The ship. They sailed far from the island fair, 
 
 Nousa Antara, and in three days came 
 
 To Indrapura and the river's mouth. 
 
 When at the palace they arrived again, 
 
 The mantris came in joy and kissed their hands. 
 
 The King of Kembajat said that he wished 
 
 To go. Scarce had fair Indrapura's King 
 
 Heard that his parents to their home desired 
 
 At once to go, when he the mantris called 
 
 And orders gave. The King of Kembajat 
 
 Set out with his dear wife next day at dawn. 
 
 Within the palace of their daughter sweet 
 
 They met fair Indrapura's King. The King 
 
 Of Kembajat sat at his side, and said 
 
 In softest tones : " Well, Bidasari, child, 
 
 Thy parents now will homeward fare. Obey 
 
 The King, thy gracious husband, in all things. 
 
 The former merchant brought thee up. He will 
 
 A father be to thee. Strive hard to win 
 
 Thy husband's heart, and never disregard 
 
 His wishes." Scarcely had she heard these words 
 
 Than at her father's knees she fell, and shed 
 
 A flood of tears. The King embraced his child 
 
 And, weeping, said : " My daughter dear, pure gold. 
 
 My crown's chief gem, light of my very eyes. 
 
 Branch of my heart, be not disturbed, my soul, 
 
 Nor let thy heart be sad." The royal four 
 
 All wept together. Then the father said: 
 
 " My son, accomplished prince, we trust to thee 
 
 Our Bidasari. Show her the right path 
 
 If she aside should step, for hither she 
 
 As prisoner came. Correction should she need, 
 
 For us it will not be a shame." At this 
 
 Fair Indrapura's King was greatly moved. 
 
 He bowed and said : " My father, speak not thus. 
 
 I have the best opinion of the girl. 
 
 Our hearts are one, as body with the soul. 
 
 This kingdom all is hers, the guardian I 
 
 Qf her possessions, and I'll satisfy 
 
BIDASARI 87 
 
 Her every wish." The King with joy replied : * 
 
 " Well, daughter, jewel of my crown, thou art 
 
 No more beneath my sway, but wholly now 
 
 Under the orders of thy husband dear." 
 
 He much was moved, and to the mangkouboumi 
 
 Said, " Brother, take my treasures all, for we 
 
 Can never all thy goodness recompense." 
 
 The former merchant and his wife bowed low : 
 
 " Your gratitude, O prince, is great, but all 
 
 Thy treasures are thy royal daughter's meed. 
 
 For her we'll guard them." But the King replied: 
 
 " Nay, speak not thus, my brother. Should I give 
 
 All Indrapura's weight in purest gold 
 
 It would not pay thee for thy care and love. 
 
 We are to thee devoted from our hearts." 
 
 At dawn they breakfasted, but all were sad, 
 
 Because from Bidasari now must part 
 
 Her parents dear and brother. Much she wept 
 
 Because she felt her heart go out to him 
 
 Her brother. Then she said : " I've one to take 
 
 The place of parents, but where shall I find 
 
 A brother ? " Princess Mendoudari bowed 
 
 To Bidasari, and they kissed with tears. 
 
 Fair Bidasari said : " My sister dear. 
 
 Sweet Mendoudari, when wilt thou return ? 
 
 Stay not too long at Kembajat, for I 
 
 Could not thine absence bear. Farewell, my love." 
 
 The King embraced his daughter. Bitterly 
 
 Both wept. The royal father said, " Stay here, 
 
 My son-in-law, with thy dear wife." The King 
 
 Before his parents bowed. The youthful prince 
 
 Before the King his brother bowed, and went 
 
 To Bidasari's side, his sister dear, 
 
 With heavy heart. Then, weeping much, he said : 
 
 " O sister mine, gem of my crown, be not 
 
 So sorrowful. I go, but if thou dost 
 
 Desire, I'll come each year to visit thee." 
 
 Sweet Bidasari kissed him. But her grief 
 
 Was inexpressible. " O brother dear, 
 
 Illustrious prince," she said, " thine absence would 
 
88 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 E'en then be much too long." The prince replied, 
 With bows : " Assuage thy grief, my sister dear. 
 For if the King permits, perhaps I may 
 Come sooner back to thee." 
 
 The mighty King 
 Of Indrapura said, in friendly tones : 
 " Although he be thy brother, still, my dear, 
 I love him much. We ne'er have had the least 
 Misunderstanding. Why art thou not gay ? 
 And why art thou not willing he should go? 
 If 'twere not for thy father I would keep 
 Him here." 
 
 The King departed, followed by 
 His son, who took his father just beyond 
 The gates. The mangkouboumi bowed his head 
 Before the King, who with much ardor said, 
 " O father of dear Bidasari, give 
 Aid and protection to thy lovely child." 
 The mangkouboumi bowed again, and said : 
 " Whate'er is fit, I'll do. Upon my head 
 I bear thine orders. I thy servant am." 
 The prince embraced the former merchant too. 
 And said, " O uncle dear, my sister guide. 
 And counsel her if any fault she doth." 
 Then said the King of Kembajat, " My son. 
 Come, let us start at once." 
 
 So forth he fared. 
 The prince and all the escort with him went. 
 A few days passed and they were home again. 
 New garments to the escort all were given. 
 And many presents to the officers. 
 By mantris four the King rich treasures sent 
 Unto his children loved, with many steeds 
 And elephants. When safely they arrived 
 At Indrapura, they appeared before 
 The mangkouboumi. He presented them 
 Unto the King, and said : " O sire, these gifts 
 Are from thy son." The King replied : " Why dost 
 Thou bring them here, my uncle ? Keep them all 
 In thine own treasury." Then he retired 
 
BIDASARI 89 
 
 Within and said to Bidasari sweet : 
 " Thy father, dear, hath sent us presents rare, 
 And four young mantris, and a thousand men 
 With elephants and horses. All is thine." 
 The fair young Queen with smiles to him replied : 
 " All that with me to share thou dost desire. 
 Whatever be thy wish, I wish it too." 
 The King adored his wife, and was to her 
 Devoted. His great happiness increased 
 And his domains extended every year. 
 When Bidasari's royal birth was known, 
 The news spread far and wide, and everywhere 
 Was told. The realm of Indrapura grew 
 More populous and powerful year by year. 
 
 The wicked Princess Lila Sari lived 
 Alone and desolate, in sadness deep 
 And full repentance for her evil deeds. 
 
 This song is weak because my skill is small. 
 My heart was deeply stirred. And that is why 
 I made, poor fakir I, this poem here. 
 I have not made it long, because too sad 
 I was, and troubled. Now at last 'tis done. 
 For this, at least, your blessings I deserve. 
 
 THE END. 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 
 
 Legends of the Malay Archipelago 
 
 [Translated by M. Devic and Chauncey C. Starkweather ] 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 
 
 ONCE upon a time lived King Iskender, son of King 
 Darab. He traced his origin to Roum; Macedonia 
 was his native country, and Dhoul-Garnein his sur- 
 name. Now it happened that this prince set out upon his 
 travels to find the place where the sun rose ; and he arrived at 
 the frontier of India. There reigned in this country a very 
 powerful king, to whom half of India was in subjection; and 
 his name was King Kida Hindi. As soon as King Kida Hindi 
 heard of King Iskender's approach, he gave orders to his 
 prime minister, who gathered together the armies and princes 
 who were subject to him. When all were met together, he 
 marched forth to meet King Iskender. The two armies en- 
 gaged and the conflict was carried on with extreme activity 
 on both sides, as is related in the history of King Iskender. 
 Kida Hindi was defeated and taken alive. Iskender ordered 
 him to embrace the true faith, and Kida Hindi embraced the 
 faith and became enrolled in the religion of the prophet Abra- 
 ham, the friend of God, to whom be the glory! Then King 
 Iskender caused him to be clothed in a garment like his own, 
 and bade him return to his own country. 
 
 King Kida Hindi was the father of a very beautiful girl, 
 whose equal was not to be found in her day. Her face had the 
 dazzling lustre of the sun or the moon ; she was modest and dis- 
 creet. Her name was Chehr-el-Beria. King Kida Hindi took 
 his prime minister aside and said to him : 
 
 " I have summoned you to ask your advice on the subject 
 of my daughter, whose equal in these days cannot be found. 
 I have formed the project of presenting her to King Iskender." 
 
 The minister answered : " Your Majesty has made a wise 
 decision." 
 
 "Very well," replied the King, "to-morrow, God willing, 
 you shall go and find the prophet Khidar and relate to him the 
 whole matter." 
 
 93 
 
94 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Next day accordingly the minister set out to find the prophet 
 Khidar. After his departure King Kida Hindi commanded 
 that the name of King Iskender should be inscribed on the coins 
 and standards of his realm. When the minister approached 
 the prophet Khidar he made a salaam to him, which the prophet 
 returned and asked him to be seated. Then the minister spoke 
 as follows: 
 
 " You must know, O prophet of God, that my King enter- 
 tains for King Iskender an affection so fervent that I cannot 
 describe it. He is the father of a girl who has no equal among 
 the children of this world's monarchs from the rising to the set- 
 ting sun. She is without a rival in face, wit, and good- 
 ness of disposition. Now the desire of the King is to present 
 the princess before King Iskender, with the view of ultimately 
 giving her to him for his wife." 
 
 Now the soldiers of King Souran laid siege against the 
 walled town of Gangga-Chah Djouhan; but those on guard re- 
 pulsed them, so that they could not get near. Seeing this, 
 King Souran advanced, mounted on an untamed elephant. 
 Taking no heed to the arrows that were launched against him 
 by the defenders of the wall, he reached the gate and struck 
 it with his mace. The gate gave way and King Souran entered, 
 followed by his warriors. 
 
 When King Garigga-Chah Djouhan saw King Souran ap- 
 proaching, he seized his bow and shot an arrow with haste. 
 The arrow struck the forehead of King Souran's elephant. The 
 elephant fell on his knees. King Souran quickly leaped to the 
 ground, drawing his sword as he did so; at a single stroke he 
 struck through the neck of King Gangga-Chah, and the severed 
 head rolled to the ground. The forces of Gangga-Nagara, as 
 soon as they saw their prince fall, demanded the aman (i.e., 
 truce). 
 
 King Gangga-Chah Djouhan had a sister, named Princess 
 Zaras Gangga. She was exceedingly beautiful. The victori- 
 ous prince took her for his wife. Then he resumed his march. 
 
 Some time afterward he reached the city of Ganggayon. It 
 was formerly a great city, the black stones of whose fortress 
 survive even to this day. This fortress is at the extremity of 
 the river Djoher. The name Ganggayon in the Siamese tongue 
 means "treasury of emeralds." The King of the city was 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 95 
 
 Rajah Tchoulin; he was a powerful prince, to whom all the 
 kings of the land did obeisance. 
 
 On the news of King Souran's approach, King Tchoulin 
 called together all his troops and sent word to the kings who 
 were his tributaries. When all were assembled he set out to 
 repel the invaders. The muhitude of his soldiers was like the 
 waves of the sea; his elephants and horses stood up among them 
 like islands; his flags and standards presented the appearance 
 of a forest, and the cows' tails fluttering at the pike-heads pre- 
 sented the appearance of lalang ploughers. 
 
 The army came in four bodies and reached the banks of a 
 river. There they saw the soldiers of King Souran, ranged 
 like forest-trees. The Siamese exclaimed, " Pangkal," a word 
 which means " river," and hence that river became known as 
 the river Pangkal. 
 
 The soldiers of Siam at once joined battle with the soldiers 
 of Kling, who were Hindoos; and the battle raged with inde- 
 scribable confusion. The soldiers mounted on elephants pressed 
 forward these great beasts; the men on horseback made their 
 horses champ with fury; the lancers pressed home their lances; 
 those who carried pikes plied them furiously; and those who 
 bore sabres dealt many a doughty stroke. Blood flowed like 
 rain. The crash of thunder would have been drowned by the 
 shouts of the warriors and the clash of arms. The dust that 
 rose from the plain obscured the brightness of the day like an 
 eclipse of the sun. So complete was the confusion with which 
 the contestants mingled that it was not possible to distinguish 
 the combatants of either side: each assailant was at the same 
 time the assailed, and he who struck with his weapon himself 
 at the same moment was stricken with a blow. Sometimes the 
 soldiers attacked a comrade by mistake. Every moment 
 crowds of people on either side were killed and wounded, many 
 horses and elephants had their throats cut, and the blood shed 
 covered the ground. The dust had disappeared; the comba- 
 tants were seen struggling in masses so compact that neither 
 party was able to retire from the battle. 
 
 King Tchoulin managed to force a way by means of the ele- 
 phant he rode through the innumerable horde of King Souran's 
 soldiers; the corpses were piled up beneath his feet. A crowd 
 of Hindoo warriors lost their lives. The rest of them began 
 
96 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 to give way. King Souran, on perceiving this, dashed forward 
 to meet King Tchoulin in single combat. He mounted an un- 
 tamed elephant eight cubits high that had no driver. But the 
 elephant of King Tchoulin was also very brave. The two ani- 
 mals met ; they attacked each other ; the clash of their encoun- 
 ter was hke the thunder that rends the earth; their tusks 
 clashing and intertwining made a sound like that of a storm 
 that never ceases. Neither could triumph over the other. 
 
 Then King Tchoulin raised himself upon the beast he rode 
 and brandished a javelin. He hurled it against King Souran ; 
 the javelin struck the elephant on his flank and pierced deep. 
 At the same time King Souran shot an arrow which smote 
 King Tchoulin in the breast and came out at his back. That 
 prince fell to the earth and expired. The soldiers seeing their 
 king dead, broke ranks and took flight in utter disorder, pur- 
 sued by the Hindoos, who put to the sword all they overtook. 
 Penetrating the ramparts of Ganggayon the Hindoo soldiers 
 pillaged the town; the booty was immense. 
 
 King Tchoulin had a daughter, extremely beautiful. Her 
 name was the princess Ouangkion ; she was presented to King 
 Souran, who took her for his wife. 
 
 The King then resumed his march and arrived at Temasik. 
 The rumor of his approach soon reached China. People said, 
 " Lo ! King Souran comes with a countless army to conquer 
 China. He has already reached Temasik." This news was 
 heard with dire alarm by the King of China. He said to his 
 ministers and to his officers: 
 
 " What must be done to repel this invading multitude ? If 
 the King of Kling arrives here, he will doubtless ruin our 
 country." 
 
 The prime minister said: " O King of the world; I have a 
 device for repelling him." 
 
 " Very good," said the King; " do not fail to try it." 
 
 The prime minister therefore caused a pilo, or ship, to be fit- 
 ted out with rusty needles. They took also two kinds of trees, 
 kamses and jujube trees, laden with fruit ; these were placed 
 on board ship with the soil in which they grew. Old men who 
 had lost their teeth were chosen for passengers and crew. To 
 these the minister gave his instructions and they started for 
 Temasik. 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 97 
 
 When they had reached this place King Souran was informed 
 that a ship had arrived from China. " Go and ask these stran- 
 gers," he said to his attendants, " at what distance does this 
 country He from us." The attendant put this question to the 
 crew of the pila and received the following reply: 
 
 " When we left China we were all still young, being scarcely 
 twelve years old; and these trees were seeds which we had 
 sown. But you see how old we are now, and how our teeth 
 are fallen out; the grains of seed have become trees in fruit, 
 and all this has happened during the time it has taken us to 
 reach here." 
 
 At the same time they took the needles of which they had 
 a large quantity and said as they showed them to the Hindoos : 
 
 " When we started from China, these were as thick as a 
 man's arm, and now see how they are worn out by the rust. 
 This will give you an idea of the length of the voyage: we 
 could not keep count of the years and the months." 
 
 On hearing this answer of the Chinese, the Hindoos ran to 
 report it to King Souran, to whom they repeated all they had 
 heard. 
 
 " If the thing is as they say," replied the prince, " the land 
 of China is still a very long way off. When shall we arrive 
 there? We had better return home." 
 " His Majesty is undoubtedly right," said the officers. 
 King Souran meditated thus: " Behold, the contents of the 
 land is known to me, but how can I learn the contents of the 
 sea? I must needs enter the sea, in order to know it." 
 
 Then he summoned his engineers and skilful men, and 
 ordered them to fashion a box of glass with lock and fastenings 
 within, in order that he might shut himself in it. The engi- 
 neers made the box of glass just as the King desired it; they 
 furnished it with a chain of the purest gold; then they presented 
 it to King Souran, who was exceedingly well pleased with it, 
 and rewarded them all with rich presents. 
 
 The prince entered into the box, disappeared from the eyes 
 of all present, and shut the door upon himself. They took the 
 box to the sea, and let it descend even to the bottom. What 
 treasures, what wealth, works of the Almighty, were seen by 
 King Souran ! The box fell until it reached a land called Dika. 
 There King Souran came out of the box, and went forward, 
 7 
 
gS MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 seeing most wonderful things. He arrived at a great and 
 strongly fortified town, which he entered and saw a vast popu- 
 lation, whose number God alone knows. This people, who call 
 themselves the Badsam people, were composed of believers and 
 unbelievers. 
 
 The inhabitants of the town were astonished to see the face 
 of King Souran, and his garments they looked upon with as- 
 tonishment. They conducted him to the presence of their 
 King, whom they call Agtab-al-Ard (i.e., Bowels of the Earth). 
 This prince asked, " What man is this? " 
 
 " My lord," was the reply, " it is a stranger, who arrived a 
 moment ago." 
 
 " Whence does he come? " 
 " We do not know." 
 
 Then the King addressed King Souran himself and said, 
 " Who are you, and whence do you come ? " 
 
 King Souran repHed: "I come from the world; I am the 
 king of men; my name is King Souran." 
 
 King AgtaS-al-Ard was very much astonished on hearing 
 these words. " There is, then," he said, " another world beside 
 ours?" 
 
 " The world," replied King Souran, " contains many races." 
 " Glory to God almighty," said the King, full of surprise. 
 Then he made King Souran ascend and sit with him on the 
 royal throne. 
 
 Agtab-al-Ard had a daughter, of great beauty, named Prin- 
 cess Mah-tab-al-Bahri (" Moon of the Sea "). He gave her in 
 marriage to King Souran. That prince dwelt three years with 
 her and had three male children by her. When he thought 
 about these three children King Souran felt much troubled. 
 He said to himself: " What will become of them, here, under 
 the earth? Or how shall I withdraw them hence?" 
 
 He went to see Agtab-al-Ard, and said to him: " If my sons 
 grow up, will your Majesty allow me to see that they are 
 brought into the upper world, in order that the royal line of 
 Sultan Iskender Dhoul-Quameen may not be broken to the 
 end of time?" 
 
 The King answered, " I shall not hinder you." 
 ^ Then King Souran took leave of the King and prepared for 
 his return. The King and his daughter shed many tears at 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 99 
 
 parting. Then the King gave orders to bring the horse Sem- 
 brani, named Paras-al-Bahri ("Sea-horse "), which he gave to 
 King Souran. The prince mounted the horse, which bore him 
 from the sea, and carried him in the air above the billows. 
 
 The troops of King Souran caught sight of the horse Sem- 
 brani, and recognized in its rider their King. The prime min- 
 ister at once took a beautiful mare and led it to the shore. The 
 sea-horse saw the mare and came to land to meet her, and King 
 Souran descended. Then the horse Sembrani went back into 
 the sea. 
 
 King Souran said to his wise men and engineers : " Raise 
 a monument which shall witness to my journey in the sea; for 
 I wish the memory of it to be preserved even to the Resurrec- 
 tion day. Write out the story, so that it may be told to all my 
 descendants." 
 
 In obedience to the words of the King the wise men and engi- 
 neers set up a stone on which they traced an inscription in 
 the tongue of Hindostan. This done, King Souran gathered 
 a quantity of gold, silver, jewels, gems, and precious treasures, 
 which he laid up under the stone. 
 
 " At the end of the centuries," he said, " there will come a 
 king among my descendants who will find these riches. And 
 this king will subdue every country over which the wind 
 blows." 
 
 After this, King Souran returned to the land of Kling. 
 There he built a mighty city, protected by a wall of black stone 
 having seven rows of masonry thick and nine fathoms high; 
 the engineers made it with such skill that the joints of the 
 stones were invisible, and the wall seemed cast of a single 
 substance. The gate was of steel, enriched with gold and 
 precious stones. 
 
 This rampart enclosed seven hills. In the centre of the city 
 extended a pool vast as the sea; from one bank it was im- 
 possible to discern an elephant standing up on the other. It 
 contained very many kinds of fishes. In the midst of it rose 
 a very lofty island, always covered with a mantle of mist. 
 The King caused to be planted there every sort of flowering 
 and fruit-bearing tree to be found in the world. None was 
 lacking, and to this island the King would repair when he 
 wished for recreation. 
 
,oo MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 He caused also to be planted on the banks of the pool a vast 
 forest wherein wild animals were at large. And when the King 
 wished to hunt, or catch elephants in the snare, he went to 
 this forest. When the town was completed the King called it 
 after himself, Souran-Bidgi-Nagara, and this town still exists 
 in the province of Kling. 
 
 In short, if one wished to relate all the rest of King Souran's 
 history he would find it as long as that of Sidi Hanza. 
 
 The Adventures of Badang 
 
 It is related that there once lived at Salouang a husbandman 
 who owned a slave named Badang, whom he employed in clear- 
 ing forest-land. It happened one day that Badang spread his 
 nets in the river; but on the following morning he found his net 
 quite empty, and by its side some fish-scales and fish-bones. 
 The same thing took place for some days following. Badang 
 flung the fish-scales (sisik) into the river; from which circum- 
 stance was derived the river's name, Besisik. 
 
 Meanwhile the slave said to himself: " Who is it who eats 
 the fish caught in my net? I must watch and find out." 
 
 With this intention he hid one day behind some trees and 
 saw a hantou, or evil genius, or monster, who was eating the 
 fish taken in his net. This hantou had eyes red as fire, his hair 
 was like woven osiers, and his beard fell down to his waist. 
 Badang drew his knife, and, screwing up his courage, rushed 
 up to the hantou and seized him. 
 
 " Every day," he said, " you eat up my fish. But this time 
 you shall die at my hands." 
 
 On hearing these words, the hantou was afraid, and slipped 
 aside, wishing to avoid the hands of his adversary; but failing 
 to do so, he said to him : " Do not kill me ; I will give you what 
 you wish, on condition that you spare my life." 
 
 Badang thought : " If I ask for riches, my master will claim 
 them. If I ask the power to become invisible, they will put 
 me to death as a sorcerer. Therefore it is best for me to ask 
 for the gift of physical strength, in order that I may do the work 
 of my master." 
 
 In accordance with this resolution, Badang said to the 
 hantou, " Give me the gift of physical strength ; let me be strong 
 enough to tear down and to uproot the trees; that is, that I may 
 
SEDJARET MALA YOU loi 
 
 tear down, with one hand, great trees, a fathom or two in 
 girth." 
 
 The hantou answered : " Your prayer is granted. You wish 
 for strength; I will give it to you; but first it is necessary that 
 you eat up what I vomit." 
 
 " Very well," said Badang; " vomit, and I will eat it up." 
 The hantou vomited, and Badang set to work to eat it. He held 
 the hantou by the beard, and would not let him go. Then he 
 attempted the uprooting of great trees ; and, seeing that he tore 
 them up with ease, he let go the beard of the hantou. 
 
 Afterward, coming and going through the forest, he tore 
 down enormous trees; he carried off, roots and all, those of a 
 fathom or two in girth. As for the small ones, he tore them 
 up by handfuls and flung them on all sides. In a moment 
 the forest which had been a wilderness became level as a great 
 plain. 
 
 When his master saw this work he said: " Who has cleared 
 our land? For I see that it is suddenly freed entirely from trees 
 and brushwood." 
 
 " It is I," said Badang, " who have effected this clearance." 
 
 Then answered the master : " How have you been able to 
 do this, single-handed, so quickly and in one job? " 
 
 Then Badang related all the details of his adventure, and his 
 master gave him his liberty. 
 
 The report of these occurrences reached Singapore. King 
 Krama immediately ordered that Badang be brought before 
 him, and he called him Raden (i.e., Royal Prince). 
 
 Once upon a time the King of Singapore ordered Badang 
 to fetch for his repast the fruit of kouras, at the river Sayang. 
 Badang went there alone in his pilang, or boat, which was eight 
 fathoms long, and he punted it with a pole cut from the trunk 
 of a kampas-tree a fathom in girth. 
 
 When he arrived at the river Sayang, he clasped the kouras- 
 tree. The branches broke, the tree fell, and his head struck 
 against a huge rock. His head was not injured, but the rock 
 was split in two. This stone is still seen to-day on the river 
 Sayang, and it bears the name of Balou-blah, which means the 
 " Riven Rock." His pole and boat have also been preserved 
 to the present day. The day following his exploit Badang 
 started back for Singapore, with his pikmg completely laden 
 
ro2 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 with sugar-cane, bananas, and keladion, or edible lily, root. He 
 had eaten the whole cargo before he arrived at Djohor-the-Old. 
 
 On another occasion the King of Singapore had caused a 
 large ship to be built, fifteen fathoms long, in front of the 
 palace. The vessel being finished, between forty and fifty men 
 were ordered to push it into the water. They were unable to 
 launch it. As many as 2,000 or 3,000 persons were equally 
 unsuccessful. Then the King ordered Badang to undertake 
 the operation. Badang undertook the task unaided, and 
 pushed with such force that the vessel went right across the 
 strait to the other shore. For this feat the King appointed 
 him houloubalong, or officer of military rank. 
 
 A report reached the province of Kling that among the offi- 
 cers of the King was a man of extraordinary strength, named 
 Badang. Now there was a powerful athlete at the court of 
 the King of Kling, who had no' rival in the country. His name 
 was Madia-Bibjaya-Pelkrama. The King ordered him to go 
 to Singapore with seven vessels ; " Go," said he, " and wrestle 
 with this officer. If he defeat you, give him as a prize the 
 cargo of the seven vessels ; if you are victorious, demand of him 
 an equal forfeit." 
 
 " I obey, your Majesty," said the athlete, and started off with 
 the seven vessels. 
 
 When he arrived at Singapore they brought news to the King 
 of the city, saying: " An athlete has arrived from the land of 
 Kling to compete with Badang in many kinds of sports. If he 
 is defeated, he will leave the cargo of his seven vessels as for- 
 feit." 
 
 The King came out of his palace to give audience. The 
 Hindoo athlete presented himself. The prince told him to try 
 a bout with Badang. Badang beat him in every round. 
 
 Now facing the balerong, or court of audience, was an enor- 
 mous rock. The athlete said to Badang: " Come, let us match 
 our strength by lifting this stone. Whoever cannot lift it will 
 be conquered." 
 
 " Do you try first," said Badang. 
 
 The athlete commenced, and made many attempts without 
 succeeding in lifting it. At last, mustering all his strength, he 
 raised it to the height of his knee and let it fall again. 
 
 " Now it is your turn, my master," he said. 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 103 
 
 " Very good," answered Badang, and lifting the stone he 
 swung it in the air, then hurled it toward the river, at the en- 
 trance to the town, where it is still seen at the extremity of 
 the point of Singapore. 
 
 The athlete of Kling, thus vanquished, handed to Badang 
 the seven vessels and their cargoes ; then he returned, very 
 much saddened and mortified by his defeat. 
 
 Now the report came to the country of Perlak that there 
 was at Singapore an officer of the King named Badang with- 
 out a rival in extraordinary strength. The King of Perlak, 
 so runs the story, had an athlete named Bandarang, also very 
 strong and of a great reputation. This athlete was before 
 the King when they spoke of Badang. 
 
 " My lord," he asked, " is Badang stronger than I am ? If 
 you will permit me, I will go to Singapore to try an assault 
 with him." 
 
 "Very well; go to Singapore," said, the King. Turningto 
 the prime minister, Toun Parapatih, he said: 
 
 " Get ready a praho, for I am going to send Bandarang to 
 Singapore." When all was ready, a royal litter was prepared 
 and the minister embarked with the athlete, and after a while 
 reached Singapore. Prince Sri Rana Ouira Krama received 
 the King's litter in the audience-chamber, among the radjas, 
 ministers, body-guards, heralds, and other grand officers upon 
 his command. 
 
 Then the prince, addressing the ambassador, asked : " With 
 what commission is our brother charged ? " 
 
 The ambassador replied: " Behold, I have received the com- 
 mand of your illustrious younger brother to bring here this 
 subject Bandarang, to try his strength with Badang. If Ban- 
 darang is vanquished, your brother will place at your Majesty's 
 leet the contents of a storehouse; and if Badang succumbs, you 
 shall offer us the equivalent." 
 
 " Very well," said the King; " to-morrow everything shall 
 be arranged for the struggle." The King retired to the palace, 
 summoned Badang, and said to him : 
 
 " You kriow, Badang, that to-morrow you will have to con- 
 tend with Bandarang." 
 
 " My lord," answered Badang, " know that this man is a 
 powerful athlete, of extraordinary strength, famous in all coun- 
 
104 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 tries. If your slave is vanquished will it not cast some dis- 
 credit on the sovereign? If your Majesty thinks it wise, let 
 us both be called into your presence together, so that I may 
 test him ; and if I feel myself capable of competing with him, 
 we will have the contest ; but if he is too strong for me, then 
 your Majesty can oppose the struggle." 
 
 " You are right," said the King. That is why, when night 
 came, the prince invited Toun Parapatih Pendek, Bandarang, 
 and their companions. When they arrived they were served 
 with a collation. Bandarang was seated beside Badang, who 
 began to test him. They tried each other's strength without 
 attracting attention. 
 
 At the end of an hour, when the guests were in wine, the 
 King asked Badang if he were strong enough to struggle with 
 Bandarang, who declared that he was equal to him. On the 
 other hand, when Toun Parapatih Pendek had returned to the 
 ship, Bandarang said to him : 
 
 " Lord, if you will permit me to advise, there will be no con- 
 test between Badang and me. I might not conquer, for I have 
 learned how powerful he is." 
 
 " Very well," said the minister; " it is very easy to arrange 
 that." 
 
 So the minister said to the King : " It is my opinion that 
 we should prevent this struggle; for if one of the contestants 
 should be vanquished in soine bad way, a quarrel might arise 
 out of it between your Majesty and the sovereign your brother." 
 
 The King agreed, and the ambassador asked leave to return 
 home. The prince had a letter written for the King of Perlak. 
 It was carried in state on board the ship and the envoy, after 
 receiving vestments of honor, set sail to his own country. Ar- 
 riving, he told the King all that had taken place. Later Badang 
 died and was buried at Bourou. When the news of his death 
 arrived at that country, the King of Kling sent a carved stone, 
 which is now seen at Bourou. 
 
 And now as to the kings of Pasey. The authors of this story 
 declare that there were two brothers named Marah who lived 
 near Pasangan. They were originally from the mountain of 
 Sanggong. The elder was named Mara-Tchaga, and the 
 younger Marah-Silou. Marah-Silou was engaged in casting 
 nets. Having taken some kalang-kalang, he rejected them 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 105 
 
 and cast his net anew. The kalang-kalang were caught again. 
 After several attempts with the same result, Marah-Silou had 
 these kalang-kalang boiled. And behold, the wretched things 
 became gold and their froth became silver. Marah-Silou 
 caught more kalang-kalang, boiled them, and again saw them 
 become gold and silver. He had thus acquired much store of 
 gold and silver, when one day the news came to Marah-Tchaga 
 that his younger brother was catching kalang-kalang, and he 
 was so irritated that he wished to kill him. When Marah-Silou 
 learned of this design, he took refuge in the forest of Djawn. 
 The place where he fished is still called the Plain of Kalang- 
 Kalang. 
 
 Marah-Silou, established in the forest of Djawn, gave gold 
 to those who dwelt there, and they all obeyed his commands. 
 One day when he was hunting, his dog, named Si Pasey, began 
 to bark on a slight hill which one would have believed made 
 by the hand of man. Climbing the small hill he saw an ant as 
 big as a cat. He took it and ate it up. The place was after- 
 ward called Samodra; that is to say, " The Big Ant." Now it 
 is said that the prophet of God — blessings be upon him ! — once 
 told his companions: 
 
 " There will be a country some day, toward the south, called 
 Samoudra. When you hear it spoken of, hasten thither to con- 
 vert the inhabitants to Islam, for in that country many will be- 
 come the friends of God. But there will also be the king of a 
 country called Mataba, whom you must take with you." 
 
 A long time after this decree of the prophet, the fakir 
 Mahomet went to Samoudra. Reaching the shore, he met 
 Marah-Silou, who was gathering shells. The fakir asked 
 him: 
 
 " What is the name of this country? " 
 
 " Its name is Samoudra," answered Marah-Silou. 
 
 "And what is the sovereign's name?" 
 
 " I am the sovereign of all who dwell here," said Marah- 
 Silou. 
 
 The fakir Mahomet converted Marah-Silou to Islam and 
 taught him the words of the creed. Now Marah-Silou being 
 asleep dreamed that he was in the presence of the prophet of 
 God, and the prophet said to him, " Marah-Silou, open your 
 mouth." He opened it and the prophet spat in it, and Marah- 
 
io6 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Silou, awaking, perceived throughout his whole body a per- 
 fume Hke that of spikenard. When day broke he told his 
 dream. 
 
 " This is truly the country of Samoudra of which the prophet 
 of God has spoken," said the fakir Mahomet. Bringing from 
 the ship all the royal ensigns aboard, he proclaimed Marah- 
 Silou king with the title of Sultan Melik-es-Salih. 
 
 Sultan Melik-es-Salih sent Sidi Ali Ghaiath-ed-Din to the 
 country of Perlak. This prince had three daughters, two of 
 blood-royal on their mother's side, and one born of a concubine. 
 The latter was called the princess Ganggang. When Sidi Ali 
 Ghaiath arrived at Perlak they showed him the three datighters. 
 The two sisters of the blood-royal were seated lower than the 
 princess Ganggang, who occupied a high seat. The latter, by 
 order of her father, was cleaning arec nuts for her two sisters, 
 like one doing the honors of the household. She wore rose- 
 colored garments and a violet cloak. Her ears were adorned 
 with soubangs made with the young leaves of the lontar. She 
 was very beautiful. 
 
 Sidi Ali Ghaiath-ed-Din said to the King of Perlak, " That 
 one of your daughters who is seated above is the one I ask in 
 marriage for my master, your son." The envoy knew not that 
 Princess Ganggang was the daughter of a concubine. 
 
 The King burst out laughing. " Very well," he said, " let 
 the will of my son be accomplished." Then he gave orders to 
 equip loo prahos, and Toun Parapatih received the command 
 to accompany the princess to the country of Samoudra. 
 
 Sultan Melik-es-Salih went to meet the princess as far as 
 Djambou Ayer. He introduced her into Samoudra with a 
 thousand honors and splendors, and married her. The mar- 
 riage accomplished, the prince gave presents to the ministers 
 and to the officers, and showed himself lavish in gold and silver 
 to the poor of the country. As for Toun Parapatih Pendek, 
 he took leave to return to Perlak. Sultan Melik-es-Salih and 
 the princess Ganggang had two sons who received from the 
 prince the names of Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir and Sultan Melik- 
 el-Mansour. The elder was confided to Sidi Ali Ghaiath-ed- 
 Din and the other to Sidi Ali Asmai-ed-Din. Years passed 
 and the two young princes had grown up. Perlak had been 
 conquered by an enemy come from the opposite coast, and the 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 107 
 
 inhabitants of the country had migrated to Samoudra. Sultan 
 Melik-es-Salih conceived the plan of founding a city to estab- 
 lish his sons there. He said to the great ones, " To-morrow 
 I shall go hunting." The next morning he set out, mounted on 
 an elephant called Perma Diouana. He passed to the other 
 side of the water. When he came to land his dog Si Pasey be- 
 gan to bark. The prince ran up and saw that he was barking 
 before a hillock, suf55ciently extended for the erection of a pal- 
 ace and its dependencies, level on top and well disposed. Sul- 
 tan Melik had the ground cleared and built a palace and a city 
 there. After the name of his dog he called the palace Pasey, 
 and established as king his son Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir, with 
 Sidi Ali Ghaiath as minister. He divided his men, his ele- 
 phants, and his royal standards into two parts, one for each of 
 his sons. 
 
 Some time after this, the prince, having fallen ill, commanded 
 the grandees to assemble and called his two sons and spoke as 
 follows: "Oh, my two sons, and you all, my companions, my 
 last hour is approaching. You men be good to those whom 
 I leave behind. And you, my sons, beware of being envious 
 of another's good, and of the wives and daughters of your sub- 
 jects. Maintain between you the union of two brothers, abstain 
 from all injustice, and avoid between you every cause of quar- 
 rel." He said also to Sidi Ali Gaiath-ed-Din and to Sidi Asmai- 
 ed-Din : 
 
 " Oh, my brothers, take care of these two sons. Stir not up 
 trouble between them. Be faithful to them and never give 
 your allegiance to another king." The two young princes 
 bowed their heads and wept. 
 
 As for the two ministers, " Lord," they said, " light of our 
 eyes, we swear by the sovereign Master who created the worlds 
 that we will never break our promises, that we will never lack 
 in our fidelity or render homage to another king than your two 
 well-beloved sons." 
 
 Then Sultan Melik-es-Salih named his son Melik-el-Man- 
 sour, King of Samoudra. Three days later he died and was 
 buried in the interior of the palace. Their father dead, the two 
 young princes, his sons, commanded the royal herald to assem- 
 ble the officers and soldiers, elephants and horses, as well as the 
 royal insignia of the country of Pasey. And the two cities grew 
 
io8 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 and flourished more and more. God knows best the truth. 
 He is our aid and our refuge. 
 
 Now this is the story of the King Chehr-en-Naoui. His 
 power was great, his ofificers and soldiers innumerable. They 
 told this prince that the country of Samoudra had a large popu- 
 lation, many merchants, and a powerful king. Chehr-en-Naoui 
 said to his ofificers: 
 
 " Which of you would be able to take the King of Samou- 
 dra? " 
 
 One of his ofificers very strong and brave, Aoui Ditchou, 
 bowed and said: " Lord, if your Majesty will give me 4,000 
 chosen warriors, I will take the King of Samoudra alive and 
 bring him to the foot of your Majesty's throne." 
 
 The King gave him the 4,000 warriors and 100 ships. When 
 they were ready Aoui Ditchou sailed toward Samoudra, feign- 
 ing that the ships were bent on commerce up to the very mo- 
 ment when they reached the end of the voyage. Then he caused 
 it to be said that he was an ambassador of the King Chehr-en- 
 Naoui, and the King of Samoudra sent some officers to receive 
 him. 
 
 Landing, Aoui Ditchou put into four chests four lusty houlou- 
 balongs, to whom he said : " Presently, when you are in the 
 presence of the King of Samoudra, open the chests, leap out, 
 and seize the King." The chests were fastened from within. 
 They took them ashore in state as presents from the King 
 Chehr-en-Naoui. When they were in the presence of the 
 prince, a message couched in flattering terms was read, and 
 the chests were brought in. Immediately the houlou-balongs 
 opened the chests, sprang out, and seized the sovereign. The 
 soldiers uttered fierce cries and unsheathed their arms to attack 
 the band of Chehr-en-Naoui's men. But the latter cried: 
 
 " If you fall upon us, we will kill your King." 
 
 So the soldiers paused in their attack. Aoui Ditchou and 
 his people returned, bringing with them the King of Samoudra. 
 They crossed the sea and regained their own country. There 
 the prisoner-King was conducted by Aoui Ditchou before King 
 Chehr-en-Naoui, who was very joyful and loaded the head of 
 the expedition and all his companions with honors. As for the 
 King of Samoudra, they made him a poultry-keeper. 
 
 Now let us talk of Sidi AH Gaiath-ed-Din. Having consult- 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 109 
 
 ed with the principal ministers in the country of Samoudra, he 
 equipped a ship and purchased a cargo of Arabic merchandise, 
 for the inhabitants of Pasey at that time all knew the Arabic 
 language. Sidi Ali and the soldiers whom he embarked on the 
 ship with him took all the ways and manners of the Arabs. 
 The minister being on board and all being made ready, they 
 set sail for the country of Chehr-en-Naoui, where they arrived 
 after a short voyage. Sidi Ali landed and went to present him- 
 self to the King, bearing as a gift a tree of gold, of which the 
 fruits were all sorts of precious stones, and which was worth 
 an almost inconceivable sum. When the prince saw this pres- 
 ent he asked: 
 
 " What do you want of me? " 
 
 Sidi Ali replied, " We want nothing." 
 
 The King was highly pleased, although surprised by such 
 a magnificent present. And he said to himself, " Now, what 
 can be the aim of these people giving me all this? " The pre- 
 tended Arabs returned to their ships. A few days after, the 
 master of the ship returned to visit the King. This time he 
 brought as a present a chess-board of gold of which the chess- 
 men were of precious stones, which was worth an enormous 
 sum. 
 
 "What do you want of me?" again asked the prince. 
 " Speak, that I may satisfy you." 
 
 And they replied, " We ask for nothing." 
 
 Then they returned to the ship. Some time later, when the 
 favorable monsoon blew for their return homeward, Sidi Ali 
 Ghaiath thought upon his departure. He went to see the King, 
 laden with a present which consisted-of two golden ducks, male 
 and female, enriched with precious stones, and in a big golden 
 basin. He filled this golden basin with water, put in the ducks. 
 They began to swim, dive, and pursue each other, a sight at 
 which the King marvelled much. 
 
 " I beg of you to tell me," he said, " what you desire of me. 
 By the God whom I worship, I swear to fulfil your wishes." 
 
 Then Sidi Ali answered: " Lord, if it is the accomplishment 
 of your favor, we beg that you will give us your poultry- 
 keeper." 
 
 " It is the King of Pasey that you ask of me. But, very well, 
 I grant him to you." 
 
iio MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 " It is because he is a Mussulman," said the strangers, " that 
 we ask him of your Majesty." 
 
 The King Chehr-en-Naoui delivered therefore the Sultan 
 Melik-ed-Dhahir to Sidi AH Gaiath-ed-Din, who took him on 
 board the ship, gave him a bath, and then clothed him in royal 
 raiment. The wind blew, they weighed anchor, set sail, and 
 after a certain time arrived at the country of Samoudra. And 
 God knows the truth. He is our aid and our refuge. 
 
 Now we are going to speak of the King Melik-el-Mansour 
 at Samoudra. This prince said one day to Sidi Ali Asmai-ed- 
 Din: 
 
 "I would like to go and see how my brother is getting 
 along." 
 
 The minister answered, " Do not go, my lord, for fear of 
 misfortune." And, indeed, he tried to restrain his master. 
 The prince would listen to nothing, and finally the minister was 
 silent. He ordered the drums to beat, in order to make the 
 announcement, " Sultan Melik-el-Mansour is going to see the 
 country of his brother." 
 
 Sidi Ali Asmai-ed-Din was not satisfied. He was an old min- 
 ister who knew that out of every affair causes of trouble may 
 arise. But it was his duty to obey. The prince started. He 
 made the tour of the city of Pasey, and then entered the palace 
 of the Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir. There he fell in love with one 
 of the ladies-of-honor of his brother's court, and a quarrel 
 arose between the two brothers on her account. Sultan Melik- 
 ed-Dhahir felt in the bottom of his heart a violent irritation 
 toward his brother. 
 
 Now he had a son named Radja Ahmed, very young when 
 his father was captured, but grown up when the prince was 
 restored from the hands of Chehr-en-Naoui. Sidi Ali Ghaiath- 
 ed-Din having withdrawn from affairs, a minister named Para- 
 patih Toulous Toukang Sikari had replaced him in his minis- 
 terial functions. One day the King said to the minister: 
 
 " What is your opinion concerning the act of Sultan Melik- 
 el-Mansour?" 
 
 The minister answered : " We have a means " 
 
 " But," answered the King, " it might involve his death." 
 
 " If he dies," replied the minister, " my name shall be no 
 longer Toukang." 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU m 
 
 " Give a family fete for your son Sultan Ahmed. We will 
 invite Sultan Melik-el-Mansour to the festival." 
 
 Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir gave orders then to decorate the 
 city and made preparations for the fete, and sent to find Sultan 
 Melik-el-Mansour. This prince was with Sidi Ali Asmai-ed- 
 Din and his officers. They introduced the prince and his 
 minister, but left the officers outside. When they had entered, 
 Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir caused them both to be seized and 
 ordered one of his officers to conduct his brother to Mandjang. 
 " As for you," he said to Sidi Ali, " stay here. Do not try 
 to go with your master or I'll cut ofif your head." 
 
 Sidi Ali answered : " Rather let my head be separated from 
 my body than that the servant should be separated from his 
 master." 
 
 So the King had his head cut off. The head was thrown 
 into the' sea and the body impaled at the entrance to the Bay 
 of Pasey. While they were taking the Sultan Melik-el-Man- 
 sour toward the east in a prabo, at the moment when they 
 arrived near Djambou Ayer, the pilot saw a human head float- 
 ing in the water near the rudder. He recognized the head of 
 Sidi Ali. Informed of this event, Sultan Melik-el-Mansour 
 caused the head to be taken from the water. It was indeed that 
 of his minister. Casting his glances toward the land : " Be- 
 hold," he said, " the Plain of Illusions." And it bears that 
 name, " Padang-Maya," to this day. The prince sent to his 
 brother and demanded the body of Sidi Ali ; joined the head 
 with the body, and buried both in the Plain of Illusion. Then 
 he went back to Mandjang. 
 
 After the departure of the Sultan Melik-el-Mansour, King 
 Melik-ed-Dhahir had the family festival. The Sultan Melik- 
 el-Mansour had been at Mandjang three years when the Sultan 
 Melik-ed-Dhahir bethought him of his brother. 
 
 " Alas," he said, " I was truly too unwise. For a woman 
 my brother dethroned, and his minister is dead." 
 
 And the prince repented. He ordered some of his officers 
 to go and find his brother at Mandjang. They therefore 
 brought back Sultan Melik-el-Mansour with the regard due 
 to a king. When they arrived near the Plain of Maya, the 
 prince landed to visit the tomb of Sidi Ali Asmai-ed-Din. 
 " I salute you, my father," he said. " Stay here, ray father. 
 As for me I go away, called by my brother." 
 
112 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 From the interior of the tomb Sidi Ali answered : " Where 
 would the prince go ? It is better to remain here." 
 
 When the prince heard these words, he made his ablutions, 
 said a couple of prayers, then stretched himself upon the tomb 
 and expired. They bore to Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir the news 
 that his brother was dead, in the Plain of Maya, in the tomb 
 of Sidi Ali Asmai-ed-Din. He started at once, went to the 
 place, and had his brother. Sultan Melik-el-Mansour, buried 
 with the ceremonies of great kings. Then, after returning 
 to Pasey, a prey to grief, he abdicated the throne in favor of 
 his son, Sultan Ahmed. 
 
 Some time after this. Sultan Melik-ed-Dhahir fell ill. He 
 gave Sultan Ahmed his last instructions. " O my son," said 
 he, " light of my eyes, treasure of my heart, never neglect the 
 advice of your old servitors. In every affair take counsel with 
 your ministers. Neglect not the duties of piety to God, the 
 sovereign Master. Beware of injustice to men." 
 
 Sultan Ahmed heard in tears the last words of his father. 
 The prince died, and they buried him near the mosque. 
 
 Sultan Ahmed was for many years on the throne and gov- 
 erned with much justice. Now, the author of this story says : 
 " There was at Pasey a servant of God named Toun Djana 
 Khatite. This man made the voyage to Singapore with two 
 companions. Crossing the square of Singapore he passed by 
 the palace of the King and saw the Queen. Near the palace was 
 an areca tree, and while Toun Djana was looking at the 
 Queen the tree split in two. At sight of this. King Sri Maha- 
 radja was extremely irritated. ' You see,' he cried, ' the con- 
 duct of Toun Djana Khatite. To call the attention of the 
 Queen, he has acted thus. And he ordered him to be killed. 
 So Toun Djana was led to the place of punishment, near a 
 cake-shop, where Toun Djana Khatite received the blow of 
 the poniard; his blood ran on the earth, but his body dis- 
 appeared and no one could ever tell what became of it. The 
 cake-shop-keeper covered the blood with the cake-cover, and 
 the cake-cover was changed into stone, which is still seen at 
 Singapore. According to a tradition, the body of Toun Djana 
 Khatite was transported to Langkaoui and there buried." 
 
 Some time later came the sea-monsters called toudaks and 
 attacked Singapore. They leaped upon the shore, and people 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 113 
 
 who were there died in great numbers, overtaken by these 
 toudaks. If they struck a man on the breast, they pierced to 
 his back. If they struck the neck or the loins, they pierced 
 clear through from one side to the other. There were many 
 killed. People ran about crying : 
 
 " The toudaks are attacking us ! " 
 
 "Whatshall we do?" 
 
 " How many dead ? We shall all perish ! " 
 
 Padouka Sri Maharadja in great haste mounts the elephant 
 and goes forth, followed by his ministers, his body-guards, and 
 all his officers. Arriving at the seashore he sees with horror 
 the work of these monsters, the toudaks. Whoever was 
 wounded by them inevitably perished. The number of the 
 victims became larger and larger. The prince ordered the men 
 to make a rampart of their legs, but in their boundings the 
 toudaks succeeded in passing, this barrier. They came like the 
 rain, and the slaughter was terrible. While this was happening 
 a young boy said : 
 
 " Why make thus a rampart of our legs ? That is an artifice 
 very much to our hurt. If we should make a rampart of the 
 trunks of banana-trees, would not that be better? " 
 
 When Padouka Sri Maharadja heard the words of the child, 
 " He is right," he said. And on his orders they hastened to 
 construct a barrier of banana-tree trunks. When the toudaks 
 came botinding along their snouts were buried in the tree- 
 trunks, and the men ran up and killed them. There perished 
 thus of these toudaks a number beyond computation. Their 
 bodies formed heaps on the shore, and all the population of 
 Singapore did not suffice to eat them. And the toudaks ceased 
 their leapings. They say, by the force of their boundings the 
 toudaks reached the elephant of the prince and tore the sleeve 
 of his cloak. About this they made a song : 
 
 " The boundings of the toudaks tore 
 The mantle which the Sultan wore. 
 But here they ceased their onset wild, 
 Thanks to the wisdom of a child." 
 
 While Padouka Sri Maharadja was returning, the grandees 
 said to him : " Lord, this child, though so young, has much 
 wit. What will it be when he has grown up? You had better 
 
 8 
 
114 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 get rid of him." That is why they found it just that the King 
 should give the order for him to be killed. 
 
 After they had caused this young boy to perish, it seems 
 that the city of Singapore felt the weight of his blood. 
 
 Padouka Sri Maharadja reigned some time still and then 
 died. He had as successor his son Padja Is Keuder Chah, 
 who married the daughter of Toun Parapatih Toulous, and by 
 her had a son named Radja Ahmed Timang-timanganga 
 Radja Besar Mouda. This young prince was handsome and 
 well formed, without equal in those days. When he was of 
 age his father married him to the daughter of the King Sala- 
 miam. King of Kota-Mahlikie, who was named Kamar-al- 
 Adjaaib, a princess of unrivalled beauty. King Is Keuder 
 Chah had a bendahari, or major-domo, named Lang Radjouna 
 Tapa, of the race of ancient inhabitants of Singapore, father 
 of a very beautiful girl in the court of the King. The other 
 court ladies calumniated this young woman, and the King in 
 a rage ordered her to be impaled in the corner of the market- 
 place. 
 
 Lang Radjouna Tapa was extremely wounded by the 
 treatment of his daughter. " If in truth my daughter had 
 ofifended," said he, " you might have simply had her killed. 
 But why dishonor us thus ? " On this he wrote a letter to 
 Java saying, " If the Batara of Madjapahit wishes to attack 
 Singapore let him come at once, for I will give him entrance 
 into the fortifications." 
 
 When the Batara of Madjapahit had read this letter he 
 caused to be equipped 300 junks and a great quantity of other 
 boats. A hundred thousand Javanese embarked, crossed the 
 sea, and attacked Singapore. At the end of several days King 
 Is Keuder commanded his major-domo to carry rice for the 
 rations of the troops. Lang Radjouna Tapa answered, 
 " There is no more, my Lord." For he wished to betray him. 
 At daybreak he opened the gates of the fortifications and the 
 Javanese entered. Inside the town there was a frantic combat. 
 So many people were killed on each side that blood flowed 
 like water. From this came the marks of blood which are 
 seen to this day in the Plain of Singapore. The natives ceased 
 their struggle and King Is Keuder escaped, descending from 
 Salitar to the Moara coast. By the will of God, the house of 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 115 
 
 Lang Radjouna Tapa was overturned, the storehouse for rice 
 fell to pieces, and the rice was changed to earth. The bendahari 
 himself and his wife were changed to stone, and these stones 
 are still found in the ditch at Singapore. After this victory 
 the Javanese returned to Madjapahit. 
 
 On arriving at Moara, King Is Keuder halted at nightfall. 
 Now there came a multitude of iguanas, and, when day 
 dawned they saw them gathered in a crowd near the halting- 
 place. They killed them and threw their bodies into the river. 
 But at night, iguanas again came in mass. The next morning 
 the Singaporeans killed them, but that night as many more 
 arrived. So that the place became putrid from the multitude of 
 their bodies. The quarter is still called Biaoak Bousok, or 
 "Putrid Iguanas." 
 
 King Is Keuder Chah set out and came to another place, 
 where he built a fort. But all they constructed by day was 
 overturned by night. And the place still bears the name of 
 Kota-Bourok, or " Ruined Fort." 
 
 Starting from there the King advanced into the interior 
 during many days and came to the Saning Oudjong. He found 
 this place agreeable and left a minister there. Hence comes it 
 that to this day Saning Oudjong is the residence of a minister. 
 Then the King returned toward the coast near a river at the 
 shore of the sea. The river was called Bartain. Is Keuder 
 Chah halted at the foot of a very bushy tree. Then he began 
 hunting. His dog, chasing some game, was struck by the foot 
 of a little white gazelle and fell into the water. On this the 
 prince cried : 
 
 " Here is a good place to build a city, for even the little 
 gazelles are valiant here." 
 
 And all the grandees said, " His Majesty is right." The 
 King therefore gave orders for the construction of a city at 
 this place. He asked, " What is the name of this tree against 
 which I have been leaning ? " 
 
 Someone answered, " It is a malaka-tree." " Very well," 
 said he, " let Malaka be the name of the city." 
 
 The prince established himself at Malaka. 'He had lived 
 thirty-two years at Singapore, up to the capture of that town 
 by the Javanese. He lived for three years more at Malaka, and 
 then died, by the vicissitudes of this world, and had as successor 
 his son Radja Besar Mouda. 
 
,i6 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 This prince governed with justice. He regulated the eti- 
 quette of the court. He first established a ministry of cere- 
 monies to direct people who came to Balerong, and forty 
 heralds who stood below the throne ready to take the orders of 
 the King and carry to him the words of the public. He insti- 
 tuted among the sons of the grandees a body of pages serving 
 as royal messengers and bearing everywhere the royal equipage. 
 
 This prince had three sons, Radeu Bagousa, Radeu Tengah, 
 and Radeu Anoumah, who all married daughters of Bauhara 
 Toun Parapatih Toulous. At his death, Radeu Bagousa took 
 his functions with the title of Toun Parapatih Permouka Ber- 
 djadjar. 
 
 When, by the vicissitudes of the world. King Besar Mouda 
 died, his son Radeu Tengah succeeded him. The latter had a 
 son called Radja Kitchil Bessar, who at his death was his 
 successor. He was just and guarded the interests of his sub- 
 jects. No one in his time among the kings of the world 
 equalled him in liberality. And the city of Malaka became 
 large, well peopled, and the meeting-place of merchants. This 
 King married a daughter of Toun Parapatih Permouka Ber- 
 djadjar, and by her had two sons, Radja Kitchil Mainbang 
 and Radja Makat. He reigned for a certain time, when one 
 night he dreamed that he was in the presence of the glorious 
 prophet of God, on whom be blessings ! And the prophet said 
 to him, " Recite the words of the creed." And Radja Kitchil 
 Bessar did as the prophet commanded. 
 
 " Your name shall be Sultan Mahomet," said the prophet. 
 " To-morrow at the moment of the Asr (in the afternoon) there 
 will arrive a ship from Djedda, from which the men will 
 descend to pray on the shore of Malaka. Follow all their 
 orders." 
 
 " Yes, Lord," replied the prince, " I shall obey your word." 
 
 And the prophet disappeared. When day came the King 
 awaked. He perceived upon his body the odor of spikenard 
 and saw that he bore certain marks. " It is clear," he thpught, 
 " that my dream does not come from Satan." And he began 
 to recite without relaxation the words of the creed. 
 
 The ladies-of-honor who were in the palace were very much 
 surprised to hear the King speak thus. " Has the King been 
 touched by Satan, or has he lost his wits? Let us hasten tq 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 117 
 
 inform the bendahari." They ran to tell the bendahari, who came 
 at once, entered the palace, and saw the King repeating with- 
 out cessation the words of the creed. 
 
 " What is this language in which the King is speaking? " 
 said the minister. 
 
 " Last night," said the King, " I dreamed that I was in the 
 presence of the glorious prophet." And he told his dream to 
 the bendahari. 
 
 "If your dream is not an illusion," said the latter, " what is 
 ,the sign?" 
 
 " Here is the sign that proves that I have really seen in a 
 dream the prophet of God. Furthermore, the prophet told me : 
 ' To-day, at Asr, there will arrive a ship from Djedda, from 
 which the people will descend to say their prayers on the shore 
 of Malaka. Follow their directions.' " 
 
 The bendahari was surprised at seeing the marks on the 
 King. 
 
 " Truly," he said, " if a ship arrives at the hour stated, then 
 your dream is a reality. If it does not arrive, we shall judge 
 that Satan must have troubled your spirit." 
 
 The King replied, " My father is right." And the bendahari 
 returned to his house. 
 
 Now at the hour of Asr there arrived a ship from Djedda 
 which cast anchor. The master came on shore. He was called 
 Sidi Abd-el-Aziz. He said his prayers on the shore of Malaka. 
 The inhabitants, astonished at the sight, said : 
 
 " Why does he stoop so and prostrate himself so ? " 
 
 And to see him better, the people pressed around, leaving no 
 spot vacant, and making a great tumult. 
 
 The noise reached the palace, and the King mounted an 
 elephant and came in haste, accompanied by his grandees. He 
 saw the master making all the ceremonies of his prayer, and all 
 was in evident accord with the dream. 
 
 "It is exactly as in my dream," he exclaimed to the bendahari 
 and the grandees. 
 
 When the master had finished praying, the King made his 
 elephant stoop, and took up the master with him and carried 
 him to the palace. The bendahari and the grandees all be- 
 came Mussulmans, and by command of the King so did all the 
 population, men and women, great and small, young and old. 
 
Ii8 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The master taught the King the ceremonies of prayer, and 
 gave him the name of Sultan Mahomet Chah. The bendahari 
 received the title of Sri Ouak Radja ; that is to say, " Paternal 
 Uncle of the King," which he was in fact. And that is the 
 first title of the bendahari. 
 
 Sultan Mahomet regulated the ceremonial customs of the 
 court. He was the first to prohibit yellow for the clothes of 
 the person strange to the court, for handkerchiefs, borders of 
 curtains, pillow-cases, mattresses, coverings of all kinds, orna- 
 ments of every nature, as well as for the decoration of houses. 
 
 Furthermore the use of only three kinds of garments was 
 permitted — the kain, the badjoa, and the destar. It was also 
 forbidden to construct houses with projections sustained upon 
 pillars not touching the ground, or with pillars extending be- 
 yond the roof or with observatories. The prahos could have no 
 windows in front. It was forbidden to carry clasps or orna- 
 ments of gold on the kris. No one strange to the court could 
 have gold rings nor pins nor jingling bangles of gold and 
 silver. Nobody without the royal consent had the right to 
 wear on his clothes gilding of any sort ; but the authorization 
 once granted, one might wear it indefinitely. When a man pre- 
 sented himself at the palace, if he had a vesture falling be- 
 neath the girdle, if his kris was not attached in front, if he 
 was not clad in a sabec, he was not admitted, whatever might 
 be his distinction. If anyone entered with his kris attached 
 behind, the officer took it away from him. 
 
 Such were formerly the prohibitions of the Malay kings. 
 Whoever transgressed was guilty of Use-majeste and was con- 
 demned to pay a fine of one to five katis. White parasols were 
 held in higher esteem than yellow ones, because they could be 
 seen at a greater distance. That is why they were ranked 
 higher; the first were for the King and the second for the 
 princes. The objects of the king's private use, such as the 
 spittoon, the ewer for his ablutions, the fan, and other like 
 objects, had no fixed place, except the betel-tray juid the sword, 
 which they kept at the right and left of the sovereign. At the 
 arrival and departure of an ambassador, the servitors of the 
 King brought from the palace dishes and basins which were 
 received 'by the head of the bataras and deposited near the 
 bendahari. They gave a dish and a scarf to the bearer of the 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU 119 
 
 letter. If the missive came from Pasey or from Harau, it was 
 received with all the royal pomp — drum, flute, trumpet, kettle- 
 drum, and two white parasols together ; but the bugle did not 
 figure at this reception. The ministers preceded the elephant 
 bearing the message, the bataras followed it with the sida-sida. 
 The letter was borne by the chief of the bedaouenda, and they 
 placed the elephant at the extremity of the balei. For the kings 
 of these two countries were equal in greatness to the King of 
 Malaka. Younger or older, all gave the salaam. 
 
 Having reached the audience-chamber, the letter was re- 
 ceived by the chief of heralds of the right, the one of the left 
 being charged with transmitting the words of the King to the 
 ambassador, and the herald of the right transmitted the answer. 
 If the message came from another country than Pasey and 
 Harau, they suppressed part of the men. The cortege in- 
 cluded only the drum, the flute, and a yellow parasol. They 
 took, as was suitable, now an elephant, now a horse, and they 
 halted outside the first exterior gate. When the message came 
 from a more considerable sovereign, they employed the flute 
 and two parasols, one white and one yellow. The elephant 
 passed through the exterior gate, for formerly the royal en- 
 trance included seven fortifications. At his departure, the 
 ambassador received a complete investiture, even were he only 
 a simple ambassador of Rakan. The same gift was oifered 
 to our own ambassadors at the moment of their departure. 
 
 When the King conferred a title, he gave audience in the 
 falerong, with the following procedure: According to the 
 rank, the person to be honored was brought on an elephant, on 
 horseback, or simply on foot, with parasol, drum, and flute. 
 There were green, blue, and red parasols. The noblest were 
 the yellow and the white, which with the kettle-drums repre- 
 sented the height of distinction. The yellow with the trumpet 
 was also very distinguished; they were the parasols of the 
 princes and greatest personages. The violet, red, and green 
 parasols were those of the sida-sida, of the bataras, and of 
 the houlou balongs. The blue and black ones served for any 
 other person summoned to receive a title. When the personage 
 arrived at the palace, he was detained without. Then they 
 read before the King a very fine piece. It was a descendant of 
 Batl that held this office. The piece read, they took it out. 
 
leo MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 He who received it was of the family of the candidate for 
 honors. With this piece they brought a tetampan scarf with 
 which the reader invested the candidate, whom he then intro- 
 duced into the audience-chamber. There a mat was stretched 
 for him to sit upon in whatever place the King designated. 
 
 Then arrived the vestments. For a personage promoted 
 to the ranks of the bendahari there were five trays. The sons 
 of radjas and the grand officers had four trays only, and so on 
 down through the various ranks. The servitors of the King 
 charged with this duty approached the beneficiary and placed 
 the vestments upon his shoulders. He crossed his arms, to 
 hold the vestments in place, and they took him outside. The 
 etiquette in that was the same for ambassadors awarded an 
 investiture, each according to the rights of his rank. The 
 beneficiary dressed himself outside and then re-entered. They 
 decorated him with a frontlet and with bracelets, for every 
 man who received a title wore bracelets, each according to his 
 dignity. Some had bracelets in the form of a dragon with 
 amulets, others had bracelets of precious stones, others of blue 
 enamel, others of silver. These wore them on both wrists, those 
 on only one. The beneficiary thus decorated went and bowed 
 before the King. Then he returned accompanied according to 
 his rank, or by the person who introduced him. The cortkge 
 included now a drum and a flute alone, now trumpets or kettle- 
 drums, sometimes a white parasol ; but the white parasol was 
 a rare honor, as well as the kettle-drums, for the yellow para- 
 sol and the trumpet were very hard to obtain in those times. 
 
 On festival days, when the King went forth in a palanquin, 
 he was surrounded by high officers of state. At the head, 
 before the sovereign, marched the bataras and the houlou 
 balongs, each following their charge. Footmen, also before 
 the King, bore the royal insignia. The royal pikes were at the 
 right and left; the bataras had sword at shoulder. Before 
 them marched the lancers. When the King gives a festival it 
 is the panghoulou bendahari who arranges everything inside the 
 palace, stretches mats, decorates the balerong, and places the 
 bangings on the ceilings. It is he who looks after the repasts 
 and sends the invitations; for the servitors of the King, his 
 bendahari, his tax-gatherers, and the receiver of the port all 
 depend on the administration of the panghoulou bendahari. 
 
SEDJARET MALAYOU ui 
 
 He invites the guests and the temonggoreg seats them. In the 
 hall the guests eat four at a dish, to the end of the platform. 
 If any one of the various fours are lacking the others eat with- 
 out him, by threes or by twos or even one alone. For it is not 
 permitted for those below to ascend to make up the number. 
 The bendahari eats alone or from the same dish as the princes. 
 
 Such was in former days the etiquette of Malaka. There 
 were many other regulations, but to relate them all would 
 weary the attentions of my readers. At the month of 
 Ramadhau, at the twenty-seventh night, while it was still light, 
 they went in state to make adorations to the mosque. The 
 Temonggoreg was at the head of the elephant. They first took 
 in state to the mosque the betel-tray, the royal insignia, and the 
 drum. When night came, the King started for the mosque, fol- 
 lowing the ceremonial of festival days, made the prayer of 
 perfumes, and returned. 
 
 The next day the laksamana carried in state the turban, for 
 the Malay kings were accustomed to go to the mosque in a 
 turban, a badjon, and a sarong. These vestments were for- 
 bidden at weddings except by express permission. It was also 
 forbidden to dress in the Hindoo fashion. Only those persons 
 who had worn this costume for a long time were allowed to 
 wear it at prayers and at weddings. Festival days, great or 
 small, the bendahari and the grandees assembled at the palace, 
 and the panghoulou bendahari brought in pomp the palanquin. 
 As soon as they saw it appear, the persons seated in the balei 
 descended and stood about. Seven times they beat upon the 
 drum, and each time the trumpet sounded. After the sev "-h, 
 the King set out on an elephant and came to the platform 
 erected for that purpose, which he mounted. At sight of him, 
 all those present bowed to the earth, except the bendahari, who 
 mounted the platform to receive him. The palanquin having 
 approached, the King placed himself in it, and they started for 
 the mosque according to the ceremonial above mentioned. 
 
 Such was formerly the etiquette of the Malay kings. Such 
 I learned it, such I tell it. If I commit any error, I desire to 
 be convicted by anyone who has given attention to this story, 
 and implore the indulgence of the reader. 
 
THE^PRINCESS D JO U HER-M ANIK AM 
 
 [Translated by Aristide Marre and Chauncey C. Starkweather] 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 
 
 THIS is the history of the Princess Djouher-Manikam, 
 whose renown is celebrated in all lands, windward and 
 leeward. 
 
 There was in the city of Bagdad a king named Haroun-er- 
 Raschid, sovereign of a vast empire. He was a prince who 
 feared God the almighty, and worthy of all praise, for he was 
 a king descended from the prophet. After having lived for 
 some time in his kingdom, he desired to start on a pilgrimage. 
 So he addressed his ministers and his military chiefs and spoke 
 to them as follows: 
 
 " O you all, my subjects, my officers, what is your opinion ? 
 I would fain make a pilgrimage to the house of God." 
 
 The cadi, prostrating himself, answered : " Sire, King of 
 the world, the will of your sublime Majesty is very just, but in 
 my opinion your departure would cause the ruin of the in- 
 habitants of the fields, and those of your subjects who ac- 
 company you will have much to suffer." 
 
 The prince, having heard these words, said : " The opinion 
 of the cadi is loyal, and you, my officers, tell what is your 
 advice." 
 
 The officers arose, then they prostrated themselves and 
 spoke as follows : " Sire, King of the world, we, your 
 servants, beg you a thousand and a thousand times to cause 
 your forgiveness to descend upon our heads, but how will 
 your Majesty accomplish the pilgrimage ? In whom can you 
 trust to protect the country and watch over the palace ? " 
 
 The prince having heard these words of his officers, none 
 of whom approved of the pilgrimage, kept silence and re- 
 strained his anger, and then departed and returned to the 
 palace. Some days after this, by the will of the most high 
 God, the heart of the prince felt more keenly still the desire 
 to make the pilgrimage. He gave orders to gather together 
 
 125 
 
126 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 the interpreters of the law, the wise men, and the muftis, as 
 well as the officers. When they were all assembled, the prince 
 went to the audience-chamber, and there before the officers 
 of the court he questioned one of the doctors. It was the 
 mufti of the city of Bagdad. He, prostrating himself, said: 
 " The pilgrimage of his Majesty would be an excellent work, 
 but is it of absolute necessity ? For the voyage will be very 
 long, and there is no one, my lord, who would be capable of 
 ruling in the place of your sublime Majesty." 
 
 The prince answered : " He in whom we first of all place 
 our trust is God. We shall hope then in the blessing of his 
 envoy. We shall leave the cadi here, and if it pleases God 
 the most high, we shall return promptly as soon as we have 
 accomplished the pilgrimage." 
 
 The King therefore caused to be equipped and provided 
 with all sorts of provisions, those of his subjects who were 
 going to accompany him, and when the favorable moment 
 had arrived he started with the Queen, some of the maids-of- 
 honor, and his son named Minbah Chahaz. He took his son, 
 but he left behind, guarded in the palace, his daughter called 
 the Princess Djouher-Manikam. In those times there was 
 no one in the country of Bagdad who surpassed in beauty the 
 Princess Djouher-Manikam. Furthermore, she had in her 
 heart the fear of God the most high and worthy of all praise, 
 and would not cease her prayers. 
 
 After travelling for some time, the prince her father arrived 
 at Mecca, and fulfilled his duties as a pilgrim. He recited the 
 appropriate prayers. But observing that there was still a 
 great quantity of provisions, the prince said to his officers : 
 
 " It is good for us to wait a year or so, for our provisions 
 are yet considerable." 
 
 The officers replied : " It is well, lord of the world ! What- 
 ever may be your Majesty's commands, we place them above 
 our heads." " Since it is thus," answered the prince, " it is 
 fitting that we should send a letter thus conceived : ' Peace 
 and blessing upon the cadi : I place my trust in God first of 
 all, and in the cadi, to guard my kingdom, palace, and my 
 child the Princess Djouher-Manikam. Be a faithful guardian, 
 neglect nothing in the cares to be given to my kingdom, for 
 I am going to remain another year for the great pilgrimage.' " 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 127 
 
 The prince's letter reached the cadi. The latter gave all 
 his efforts to the good administration of the country, and, 
 according to the words of the prince, he avoided every negli- 
 gence. 
 
 But one night while he was on watch near the fortifications 
 of the King's palace, Satan came to him and slid into his heart 
 a temptation. The cadi thought in his heart: "The King's 
 daughter is of a marvellous beauty ; her name, Djouher-Mani- 
 kam, is charming; and her face is lovely. Since it is thus, 
 I must marry this daughter of the King." The cadi called 
 the man who was guarding the gate, exclaiming: 
 
 " Ho ! Guardian of the gate ! Open unto me." 
 
 The guardian of the gate demanded, " Who is there ? ^ 
 
 The cadi replied, " It is I, the cadi." 
 
 So the guardian promptly opened the gate, and the cadi 
 entered within the fortification, then went up into the palace 
 and found the princess there saying her evening prayers. He 
 hid behind the lamp in a corner which was dark. When her 
 prayer was finished, the Princess Djouher-Manikam cast her 
 eyes in that direction and saw there was someone standing 
 there in the shadow, so three times again she said the " verse 
 of the Throne " ; but she saw that the vision had not yet van- 
 ished from her eyes. 
 
 Then the princess said in her heart : " What in the world 
 is that? Is it a ghost? Is it a demon? Is it a djinn? If 
 it were, it would have necessarily disappeared when I recited 
 the ' verse of the Throne.' " 
 
 The cadi heard these words and said : " O Princess Djouher- 
 Manikam, it is I, the cadi." 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " asked the princess. He 
 answered, " I wish to marry you." 
 
 The Princess Djouher-Manikam said : " O cadi ! Why do 
 you act so to me? Have you then no fear of God the most 
 high and worthy of all praise ? Do you not blush before the face 
 of my ancestor the prophet Mahomet, the envoy of God? 
 May the peace and blessings of God be upon him! As for 
 me, I am the servant of the Lord and I belong to the religion 
 of the envoy of God. I fear to marry now. And you, cadi, 
 w;hy do you act so ? My father gave you a charge. He sent 
 you a letter which commanded you to protect the country and 
 
,28 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 all who dwelt in his palace. Why do you conduct yourself 
 in this fashion toward me ? " 
 
 The cadi, hearing these words of the Princess Djouher- 
 Manikam, felt a great confusion in his heart. He went out 
 of the palace and returned home full of trouble and emotion. 
 When it was day, the cadi sent a letter to the King Haroun-er- 
 Raschid at Mecca. It was thus conceived: "Your Majesty 
 left me to be guardian of his kingdom, his palace, and his 
 daughter. Now, the Princess Djouher-Manikam desires to 
 marry me. This is the reason why I send this letter to your 
 Majesty." Thus spake the cadi in his letter. 
 
 When it reached the prince and he had read it, he imme- 
 diately summoned his son Minbah-Chahaz. He came in 
 haste, and the King gave him a cutlass and said, " Return to 
 Bagdad and slay your sister, because she will bring shame 
 upon the family by marrying now." 
 
 Minbah-Chahaz bowed before his father. Then he set out 
 to return to his own country. 
 
 Arriving at the end of his journey, he entered the city, and 
 went up to the palace of the Princess Djouher-Manikam. She 
 was filled with joy and said, " Welcome, O my brother ! " 
 
 Minbah-Chahaz answered, " O my little sister, our parents 
 will remain for the great pilgrimage." 
 
 The brother and sister thus chatting together, the Princess 
 Djouher-Manikam said, " O my brother, I wish to sleep." 
 
 " It is well, my sister," answered Minbah-Chahaz ; " sleep 
 while your brother combs his little sister's hair." And the 
 princess Djouher-Manikam slept. 
 
 Her brother then took a cushion, which he slipped under 
 the head of the young virgin his sister; then he thought in 
 his heart : " If I do not execute the commands of my father, 
 I shall be a traitor to him. But, alas, if I kill my sister, I shall 
 not have a sister any more. If I do not kill her, I shall cer- 
 tainly commit a crime against the most high, because I shall 
 not have obeyed the order of my father. I will fulfil then my 
 father's will. It is a duty obligatory on all children. What 
 good are these subterfuges ? " His resolution thus confirmed, 
 he bound his handkerchief over his eyes and directed his cut- 
 lass against his sister's neck. But at that instant, by the will 
 of God the most high, a little gazelle came up and, by the 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 139 
 
 power of God the most high, placed its neck upon the neck 
 of the princess Djouher-Manikam, saying, " I will take the 
 place of the princess Djouher-Manikam." And the little 
 gazelle was killed by Minbah-Chahaz. That done he un- 
 bound his eyes and saw a little gazelle lying dead with its 
 throat cut, by the side of his young sister the princess Djouher- 
 Manikam. 
 
 At this sight, Minbah-Chahaz was stricken with astonish- 
 ment. He thought in his heart : " Since it is so with my 
 sister, she must be entirely innocent, and cannot have com- 
 mited the least fault. Nevertheless, although I am confident 
 that she was calumniated by the cadi I must tell my father 
 that I have killed her." 
 
 Minbah-Chahaz set out then for Mecca, to find the prince 
 his father. When he had arrived at Mecca he presented to his 
 father the cutlass still stained with blood. The King Haroun- 
 er-Raschid cried, " Praise be to God, the Lord of the worlds. 
 Our shame is now effaced, since you have poniarded your 
 sister and she is dead." Such were the deeds of this first 
 story. 
 
 The princess Djouher-Manikam, having awakened after the 
 departure of Minbah-Chahaz, saw that her brother was no 
 longer there, but that at her side there was a little gazelle with 
 its throat cut. She thought in her heart: "The cadi has 
 slandered me to my father, and that is why my brother came 
 here with orders to kill me." The princess Djouher-Manikam 
 felt a great shame and thought in her heart, " Since it is so, I 
 must retire to a hidden place." Now in the King's park there 
 was a solitary place in the midst of a vast deserted plain. There 
 was a pond of very agreeable appearance there, many kinds 
 of fruit-trees and flowers, and an oratory beautifully built. 
 The princess Djouher-Manikam set out and retired to this 
 place to pray to God the most high and worthy of all praise. 
 She was established there for some time when, by the will of 
 God the most high, a certain thing happened. 
 
I30 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Second Story 
 
 There was in the country of Damas a king who was named 
 Radja Chah Djouhou. This King wished to go hunting in the 
 deser.ted forests. His first minister said to him, bowing low: 
 " O my lord. King of the world, why does your Majesty wish 
 to go hunting in foreign countries ? " 
 
 King Chah Djouhou replied : " I insist upon my plan of 
 going to hunt in foreign lands, in forests far removed from 
 ours. I wish to go from place to place, from plain to plain. 
 Such is my will." The prince set out therefore accompanied 
 by his ministers, his chiefs, and his servants. 
 
 They had all been hunting for some time and had not yet 
 found a single bit of game. The prince had directed his march 
 toward the forests of the country of Bagdad. These forests 
 were of immense extent. The heat was excessive, and the 
 prince, being very thirsty, wanted a drink of water. The 
 people who generally carried water for the King said to him : 
 " O lord, sovereign of the world, your Majesty's provision 
 of water is entirely exhausted." 
 
 The prince then asked of his officers and servants : " Which 
 of you can get me water ? I will reward him with riches and 
 with slaves." 
 
 These words were heard by one of his officers named Asraf- 
 el-Kaum. He said : " O my lord, sovereign of the world, 
 give me the vase which will serve for water, and I will go and 
 seek water for your Majesty." 
 
 Then the prince said to the people who had brought water 
 for his use, " Give my emerald pitcher into the hands of Asraf- 
 el-Kaum." 
 
 The latter bowed low and started to seek water. Seeing 
 from afar a very large fig-tree, he advanced in that direction. 
 Arriving near the tree he saw at its base an oratory and a 
 pond. At the oratory there was a woman of very great beauty. 
 The splendor of her countenance shone like that of the full 
 moon at its fourteenth day. Asraf-el-Kaum, astonished and 
 moved with admiration, thought in his heart : " Is this a 
 human creature, or is it a peri ? " and Asraf-el-Kaum saluted 
 the princess Djouher-Manikam, who returned the salutation. 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 131 
 
 Then the princess asked him, " What is your desire in com- 
 ing here to my dwelling ? " 
 
 Asraf-el-Kaum answered, " I have come here to ask you 
 for water, for I have lost my way." 
 
 The princess said, " Take water, lord." 
 
 Asraf-el-Kaum plunged the emerald pitcher into the pond, 
 and filled it with water. Then he asked permission to re- 
 turn. 
 
 Arriving near the King Chah Djouhou he presented the 
 pitcher to the prince, who seized it quickly and drank. 
 
 " Asraf-el-Kaum," said the prince, " where did you find 
 such fresh and delicious water? In all my life I have never 
 drunk the like." 
 
 Asraf-el-Kaum answered : " O my lord, sovereign of the 
 world, there is a garden in the middle of the plain, and in this 
 garden there is a very large and bushy fig-tree, and at the 
 foot of this tree there is a pond, and near this pond there is 
 an oratory. At this oratory there was a woman who was 
 reading the Koran. This charmingly beautiful woman has 
 no equal in this world. I saluted her and then returned to 
 the presence of the sovereign of the world. That is what I 
 saw, my lord." 
 
 " Conduct me to this place," said the King. 
 
 " O sovereign of the world, if your Majesty wishes to go 
 thither, let it be with me alone. Let not my lord take his 
 people with him, for it is a woman, and naturally she would 
 be ashamed." 
 
 The prince set out then on horseback with Asraf-el-Kaum. 
 The princess Djouher-Manikam, seeing two cavaliers ap- 
 proach, thought in her heart : " I must hide myself, so that 
 I may not be seen." So she left the oratory and went toward 
 the fig-tree. She addressed a prayer to God the most high 
 and worthy of all praise, in these terms : 
 
 " O God, I beseech thee, give me a refuge in this tree, for 
 thy servant, O Lord, is ashamed to look upon the faces of these 
 infidels." 
 
 Then by the will of God the most high, the tree opened in 
 two and the princess Djouher-Manikam entered by the split, 
 and the tree closed and became as it was before. The King 
 Chah Djouhou and Asraf-el-Kaum arrived at the oratory, but 
 
'32 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 the prince saw nothing of the princess Djouher-Manikam. 
 He was astonished and said: 
 
 " O Asraf-el-Kaum, the woman has gone. But just a 
 moment ago I saw her from afar, seated at the oratory, and 
 now she has suddenly disappeared." The prince added : " O 
 Asraf-el-Kaum, perhaps, as with the prophet Zachariah (upon 
 whom be blessings!), her prayer has been answered and she 
 has entered this tree." 
 
 Then he offered this prayer to God the most high and worthy, 
 of all praise : " O God, if thou wilt permit that this woman 
 be united to thy servant, then grant her to him." 
 
 The prayer of the King Chah Djouhou was heard, and a 
 woman of dazzling beauty appeared before his eyes. He de- 
 sired to seize her, but the princess Djouher-Manikam pro- 
 nounced these words : " Beware of touching me, for I am a 
 true believer." Hearing these words the King Chah Djouhou 
 drew back, a little ashamed. Then he said : 
 
 " Woman, what is your country ? Whose child are you, 
 and what is your name ? " 
 
 The princess answered : " For a long time I have dwelt 
 here, and I have no father nor mother. My name is Djouher- 
 Manikam." 
 
 The King, hearing these words of the princess Djouher- 
 Manikam, took ofif his cloak and gave it to the princess, who 
 covered all her body with it. Then she got up and descended 
 to the ground. Then King Chah Djouhou, dismounting from 
 his horse, received her, put her on his horse, and took her to 
 the country of Damas. 
 
 Asraf-el-Kaum then said to the King : " O my lord, sov- 
 ereign of the world, you made a promise to your servant. Be 
 not careless nor forgetful, my lord." 
 
 " Asraf-el-Kaum, be not disturbed. I will fulfil my promise 
 to you. If it pleases God, when I have arrived in our own 
 country, I shall certainly give you all that I promised you." 
 King Chah Djouhou set out for the country of Damas. 
 
 After a certain time on the way, the prince came to the city 
 of Damas and entered his palace. He commanded one of his 
 pages to summon the cadi, and a page went promptly to call 
 him. The latter, in all haste, entered the presence of the King. 
 Chah Djouhou said : " O cadi, marry me to the princess 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 133 
 
 Djouher-Manikam." And the cadi married them. After the 
 celebration of the marriage the prince Chah Djouhou gave 
 to Asraf-el-Kaum 1,000 dinars and some of his slaves, both 
 men and women. King Djouhou and Princess Djouher- 
 Manikam were happy and full of tenderness for each other. 
 Within a few years the princess had two sons, both very beau- 
 tiful. The prince loved these children very fondly. But 
 above all he loved his wife. He was full of tender solicitude 
 for her, and bore himself with regard to her with the same 
 careful atention that a man uses who carries oil in the hollow 
 of his hand. Some time later Princess Djouher-Manikam had 
 another son of great beauty. The prince loved this third child 
 tenderly. He gave him a great number of nurses and gov- 
 ernesses, as is the custom for the children of the greatest kings. 
 And he never ceased to bestow upon him the most watchful 
 care. 
 
 It happened one day that the ministers, the chiefs, and the 
 courtiers of the King, all gathered in his presence, were en- 
 joying all sorts of sport and amusements. The prince showed 
 himself very joyous, and the princess herself played and 
 amused herself with the three children. Her countenance 
 shone with the brightness of rubies; but happening to think 
 of her father, her mother, and her brother, she bega:i to weep 
 and said : " Alas, how unhappy I am ! If my father, mother, 
 and brother could see my three children, necessarily their 
 affection for me would be greater." And the princess Djouher- 
 Manikam burst into sobs. The prince, who was not far from 
 there, heard her, and as the princess did not stop weeping he 
 asked her : " O princess, why do you weep thus ? What do 
 I lack in your eyes ? Is it riches or physical beauty or noble 
 birth? Or is it the spirit of justice? Tell me what is the 
 cause of your tears ? " 
 
 Princess Djouher-Manikam answered: Sovereign of the 
 world, your Majesty has not a single fault. Your riches equal 
 those of Haroun. Your beauty equals that of the prophet 
 Joseph (peace be upon him!). _Your extraction equals that 
 of the envoy of God (Mahomet). May the benediction of God 
 and blessings rest upon him! Your justice equals that of 
 King Rouchirouan. I don't see a single fault in you, my 
 lord." 
 
134 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 King Chah Djouhou said : " If it is thus, why then does 
 my princess shed tears ? " 
 
 Princess Djouher-Manikam answered : "If I wept thus 
 while playing with my three children, it is because I thought 
 that if my father, my mother, and my brother should see my 
 three children, necessarily their affection for me would be 
 greater. And that is why I shed tears." 
 
 King Chah Djouhou said to her: " O my young wife, dear 
 princess, are your father and mother still living? What is 
 your father's name ? "' 
 
 Princess Djouher-Manikam answered, " O my lord, my 
 father is named Haroun-er-Raschid, King of Bagdad." 
 
 Clasping her in his arms and kissing her, the prince asked 
 her : " Why, until this day have you not told the truth to 
 your husband ? " 
 
 And the princess answered : " I wished to avow the truth, 
 but perhaps my lord would not have had faith. It is on ac- 
 count of the children that I tell the truth." 
 
 King Chah Djouhou answered : " Since it is so, it is fitting 
 that we should start^ and make a visit upon King Haroun-er- 
 Raschid." 
 
 He called his ministers, ordered them to make all the 
 preparations, and commanded them to place in order ingots 
 of gold and ingots of silver on which were graven the name 
 of King Haroun-er-Raschid; and his ministers' vestments 
 woven of goats' hair and fine wool, stuffs of price, many kinds 
 of superb precious stones of various colors, formed the burden 
 of forty camels, which bore these presents to the King, his 
 father-in-law, in the city of Bagdad. 
 
 During the night Princess Djouher thought in her heart: 
 " If the two kings meet, there will necessarily be discord, and 
 at the end separation." Having thus thought she said to her 
 husband : " O sovereign of the world, do not set out at the 
 same time with me, for in my opinion the meeting of the two 
 kings would have as a final result a disagreement. Permit 
 me therefore to start first with the three children, that I may 
 present them to my father and mother. Give the command 
 to conduct me to the country of Bagdad, near my father, to 
 whomsoever you shall judge worthy of your confidence for 
 this mission." 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 135 
 
 When the prince heard these words of the princess whom 
 he loved so tenderly and whose wishes he granted, he ordered 
 his ministers and chiefs to arrange the transport of the prin- 
 cess and her children. Addressing the ministers he said as 
 follows : " O you my ministers, whom among you can I 
 charge to conduct safely my wife and three children to Bag- 
 dad, near their ancestor King Haroun-er-Raschid ? " 
 
 No one among them dared approach and speak. All held 
 silence. Then the prince, addressing the oldest minister of all, 
 said: 
 
 " O my minister, it is you to whom, following the dictates 
 of my heart, I can trust to accompany my wife and three chil- 
 dren. For I have always found you loyal and faithful to me. 
 Beside, you are older than the other ministers. And you have 
 the fear of God the most high and worthy of all praise as well 
 as respect for your King." 
 
 The minister said : " O my lord, it is in all sincerity that 
 your servant puts above his head the commands of your 
 Majesty. I shall do my whole duty in conducting the princess 
 and her children to the King Haroun-er-Raschid." 
 
 So the King Chah Djouhou trusted his wife and his three 
 children to this perfidious minister, reposing upon the promise 
 he had made. Forty camels were laden with presents, forty 
 nurses for the children, one hundred ladies in the suite of the 
 princess, a thousand cavaliers, well armed and well equipped, 
 formed the escort. The princess took leave of her husband. 
 He held her clasped in his arms, and, weeping, covered her 
 and his three children with kisses. He bade her to present his 
 homage to her father the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid, his salu- 
 tations to her elder brother Minbah-Chahaz, and to place at 
 the feet of their majesties a thousand and a thousand apologies, 
 and to make his excuses to her brother Minbah-Chahaz. 
 Then the prince said to the wicked minister : 
 
 " O my minister, you must go now, and lead the camel of 
 my wife, for I have perfect confidence in you. Above all, 
 guard her well." 
 
 But the King did not lean upon God the most high and 
 worthy of all praise, and that is why God punished him. 
 
 When the prince had finished speaking to the minister the 
 latter said : " O my lord. King of the world, your servant 
 
136 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 bears your command on his head." So the cavalcade started 
 on the march. Princess Djouher-Manikam mounted her 
 camel with her three children. A body-guard held the van. 
 She proceeded accompanied by the wretched minister and all 
 the escort, wending from day to day toward the city of Bag- 
 dad. They had reached one of the halting-places when day 
 was turning into night. The minister then erected a tent 
 so that the princess might repose in it. The people put up 
 their tents all about. Princess Djouher-Manikam dismounted 
 from her camel and entered the tent, with her three children. 
 The tents of the nurses and ladies-in-waiting surrounded the 
 tent of the princess in a circle. In the middle of the night 
 a violent rain began to fall. Then the wretched minister, 
 stirred by Satan, was stirred in his heart. He thought: " The 
 King's wife is most beautiful ; beautiful, indeed, as her name, 
 Djouher-Manikam. I must marry her." 
 
 So the rebel minister started, and entered the tent of the 
 princess, and asked her to marry him. He found her seated 
 by her three children, occupied in chasing away the mosqui- 
 toes. When the princess saw him enter her tent she asked 
 him : " O my minister, what brings you to my tent at this 
 hour in the middle of the night? " 
 
 The minister answered, " I have come to beg you to marry 
 me. 
 
 The princess then said: " Is that what brings you here? 
 And it was to you that the King intrusted me on account of 
 your great age, and as if you were my father. It was in you 
 that he put all his confidence that you would take us safely, 
 me and my children, to my venerable father. King Haroun-er- 
 Raschid. What must be your nature, that you should so be- 
 tray his trust ? " 
 
 The wretched minister replied : " If you refuse to marry 
 me, I will kill your children." 
 
 " Never," said the princess, " never shall I consent to marry 
 you. And if you kill my children, what can I do against the 
 decree of God, save to invoke his name ? " 
 
 The minister killed one of the children. When it was dead, 
 he made the same demand on the princess for the second time, 
 and she answered : " Never shall I consent to marry you." 
 
 The minister said : " If you refuse, I shall kill another of 
 your children." 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 137 
 
 The Princess Djouher-Manikam answered : " If you slay 
 my child, it is by the decree of God, and I submit to his will." 
 
 The minister killed the second child. 
 
 " No," repeated the princess. " Never shall I consent to 
 wed you." 
 
 The wretched minister said : " Then I will kill your third 
 child." 
 
 "If you kill him, what can I do but to submit to the 
 will of God, and invoke his name ? " The third son of the 
 King was killed. 
 
 Questioned anew, the princess said again, " Never shall I 
 marry you." 
 
 And the wicked minister said : " If you will not marry me, 
 I will kill you, too." 
 
 Then the princess thought in her heart: " If I do not ap- 
 pear to yield, he will kill me, too, without a doubt. I must 
 employ a trick." Then she said : " Await me here, until I 
 wash from my clothes and my body the stains of my children's 
 blood." 
 
 The minister accursed of God replied : " Very well. I 
 await you here." 
 
 Then the princess Djouher went out of her tent. The rain 
 was falling in torrents. The princess, fleeing precipitately, 
 walked during the whole night, not knowing where she was 
 going. She had walked many hours when day broke. The 
 princess arrived thus near a tree in the midst of the plain, and, 
 having measured its height with her eyes, she climbed into it. 
 At this moment there passed along the road a merchant who 
 had made his sales and was returning to the city of Bassrah. 
 His name was Biyapri. Passing beneath the tree he raised 
 his eyes and beheld a woman seated in the tree. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he said ; " are you woman or djinn ? " 
 
 " I am neither demon nor djinn, but a descendant of the 
 prophet of God (may blessings rest upon him), a disciple of the 
 prophet Mahomet, envoy of God." 
 
 Biyapri climbed up the tree, put her on his camel, and tak- 
 ing up his journey conducted her to the country of Bassrah. 
 Arriving at his house he desired to marry her. But she put 
 him ofif saying : " Wait, for I have made a solemn vow before 
 God not to look upon the face of a man for forty days. When 
 
138 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 the time expires, that will be possible. But if these forty days 
 have not yet run I should surely die." So Biyapri installed 
 her on his latticed roof and lavished attention and care upon 
 her. 
 
 Immediately after the flight of the princess Djouher-Mani- 
 kam the minister commanded the whole escort to return and 
 present itself to the King Chah Djouhou. He said to his 
 people : " O all your servants of the Queen, see what has been 
 her conduct. Her three children are dead, and it is she who 
 killed them. After that she disappeared. Where has she 
 taken refuge ? Nobody in the world knows that. As for you, 
 depart, bear the bodies of his three children to King Chah 
 Djouhou, and tell him all the circumstances." 
 
 Arriving in the presence of the King, they reported all the 
 circumstances of the minister's treachery toward the princess, 
 and the murder of his three children. They added that the 
 minister had departed, leaving word that he had gone to find 
 the princess, and had taken with him his own three sons, forty 
 soldiers, and the treasure. 
 
 When the prince had heard these words he was struck with 
 a stupor. But his sorrow at having let the princess go with- 
 out him was useless. He caused the three young princes to 
 be buried. The King shed tears, and all the people of the 
 household filled the air with cries and sobs, so that the noise 
 seemed like the bursts of thunder, while the funeral ceremonies 
 were proceeding according to the customs of the greatest 
 kings. After that the King descended from his royal throne 
 and became a dervish, the better to seek in all lands his well- 
 beloved spouse. He had with him three slaves only. One 
 of them was named Hestri. 
 
 " Go," he said to him, " go seek your mistress in all coun- 
 tries." And he gave him a horse and some provisions. 
 
 Hestri said : " May your Majesty be happy ! O lord. 
 King of the world, whatever be your commands, your servant 
 places them upon his head." Hestri bowed low, then mounted 
 his horse and rode away toward the city of Bassrah. 
 
 After proceeding some time he reached Bassrah, and passed 
 by the house of Biyapri. At this very moment the princess 
 Djouher-Manikam was sitting on the roof of Biyapri's house. 
 She looked attentively at the face of Hestri as he was passing 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 139 
 
 by the house and called to him saying : " Hestri, what brings 
 you here ? " 
 
 Hestri, casting his glance toward the roof, saw the princess 
 Djouher-Manikam and said to her : " I was sent by your hus- 
 band to seek you, princess." 
 
 She rephed : " Go away, for the present. Come back 
 when it is night. As it is broad daylight now I fear lest 
 Biyapri should discover our departure." 
 
 Hestri, bowing low, rephed, " Very well, princess." He 
 walked here and there, waiting till night should come. When 
 it was dark he returned to the house of Biyapri and waited a 
 few minutes. Then he called the princess. 
 
 " Wait," she said, " for Biyapri is still watching." Hestri 
 stooped down, and fell asleep near Biyapri's house, having 
 first of all tied the bridle of the horse to his girdle. 
 
 The princess Djouher-Manikam descended from the roof, 
 and mounted the horse while Hestri was yet sleeping. She 
 sat on the horse waiting till Hestri should awake. But an 
 ^Ethiopian robber, who had come to rob the storehouse of 
 Biyapri, saw the horse whose bridle was attached to the belt 
 of Hestri. He unfastened the bridle and led the horse to the 
 middle of the plain. In the mind of the princess it was Hestri 
 who was thus leading the horse. But the moon having risen, 
 the Ethiopian saw seated upon the horse a woman of a strik- 
 ing and marvellous beauty. The heart of the Ethiopian was 
 filled with joy. He said in his heart : 
 
 " For a very long time have I been stealing riches. Truly, 
 I have acquired no small store of jewels, pearls, precious 
 stones, gold and silver, and magnificent vestments of all sorts. 
 But all that is nothing in comparison with the marvel I have 
 just now found and who will become my wife, the light of my 
 eyes, and the fruit of my heart. Now shall I enjoy in peace 
 the happiness of having such a wife." 
 
 The house o£ the .(Ethiopian robber was seated on the top 
 of a hill. He conducted the princess thither, showed her all 
 it contained, and gave it to her, saying : " O my future bride, 
 it is to you that all which this house contains belongs. Make 
 use of it according to your good pleasure." The princess said, 
 " First of all, be tranquil." And she thought in her heart : 
 "This is my destiny. First I was with Biyapri, and now I 
 
140 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 have fallen into the hands of an Ethiopian robber. It is by 
 the will of God that this has happened to his servant." The 
 JEthiopian robber was bent on having the marriage celebrated 
 at once, but the princess said : " I cannot be married now, for 
 I have made a vow to God the most high not to see the face 
 of a man for three days." 
 
 The Ethiopian robber desired to drink, and said : " Come, 
 let us drink together." 
 
 " In my opinion," observed the princess, " if we begin to 
 drink both together you will become heavy with wine, and 
 I, too. Then they will take me far from you and kill you. 
 Come, I will fill your cup and you shall drink first. When 
 you have drunk enough, then I will drink in my turn, and you 
 shall fill my cup." 
 
 The ^Ethiopian robber was very joyful at these words of 
 the princess. " What you say is true," said he. He received 
 with great pleasure the cup from the hands of the princess 
 and drank. After emptying the cup many times he fell down 
 in the stupor of intoxication, losing his senses and becoming 
 like a dead man. The princess Djouher-Manikam put on a 
 magnificent costume of a man, and adding a weapon some- 
 thing like a kandjar, went out of the house. Then mounting 
 her horse she rode forward quickly and came to the foot of 
 the hill. She directed her course toward the country of Roum, 
 and continuing her journey from forest to forest, and from 
 plain to plain, she reached the gate of the fortifications of the 
 city of Roum at the moment when the King of that country 
 had just died. 
 
 When the princess Djouher-Manikam had arrived outside 
 the fortifications of Roum, she sat down in the baley, near the 
 fort. She was marvellously beautiful, and her vestments, all 
 sparkling with gold, were adorned with precious stones, 
 pearls, and rubies. A man happening to pass by saw her, and 
 was seized with astonishment and admiration. For in the 
 country of Roum there was nobody who could compare with 
 this young man, so handsome and so magnificently attired. 
 He asked : 
 
 "Whence come you and why did you come here? " 
 
 The princess answered : " I know not the place where I 
 am at this moment. I came from the city of Damas." 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 141 
 
 This citizen of Roum took leave and went away to present 
 himself to the vezir and tell what he had seen. The vezir, 
 having heard him, went out promptly to find the young man. 
 As soon as he had approached him and had seen his remark- 
 able beauty and his splendid vestments decorated with pre- 
 cious stones, pearls, and rubies, the vezir seated himself by 
 him and said : 
 
 " Young man, whence do you come, and why did you come 
 to this land?" 
 
 The princess answered : " I wish to travel through the world 
 for my pleasure. That is my will." 
 
 The vezir replied : " Would you like to have us make you 
 King of this country ? " The princess replied : " For what rea- 
 son should I wish to be king in this country? And by what 
 means could it be achieved ? " 
 
 The vezir replied : " Our King is dead." 
 
 " Is there no child ? " asked the princess. 
 
 " The King has left a child," answered the vezir, " but 
 he is still very little, and incapable of governing his subjects. 
 That is why we will make you King of this country." 
 
 The princess Djouher-Manikam answered : " Why not ? 
 What prevents ? If you all will follow my counsel I will ac- 
 cept the throne of this country." 
 
 The ministers said, "And why should we not follow the 
 commands of my lord ? " 
 
 The vezir conducted her to the palace. All the ministers 
 of state and the high officers assembled to proclaim as their 
 king the princess Djouher-Manikam. That done, the princess 
 took the name of Radja Chah Djouhou. 
 
 After reigning some time her spirit of justice and her per- 
 fect equity in the government of her subjects rendered her 
 name celebrated in all the foreign countries. Radja Chah 
 Djouhou said to her minister : 
 
 " O minister, have built for me a baley outside the fort." 
 And the ministers and the oflBcers commanded them in haste 
 to construct the baley. As soon as it was built they came to 
 announce it to the King. The latter said : 
 
 "O my vezir, is there in my kingdom a man who knows 
 how to paint?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord, king of the world, there is a very skilful 
 painter here." 
 
142 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 " Let him come to me." 
 
 " Immediately, my lord," said the vezir, and he ordered a 
 slave to go and summon the painter. The painter came in all 
 haste and entered the presence of Radja Chah Djouhou, bow- 
 ing his head to the floor. The prince said to him : 
 
 " O painter, have you a daughter who knows how to 
 paint?" 
 
 The painter answered : " Yes, my lord, king of the world, 
 I have a daughter very skilful in the art of painting." 
 
 " Tell your child to come here." 
 
 The painter bowed again and went to find his daughter. 
 " O my child," he said, " the fruit of my heart, come, the King 
 calls you." 
 
 Then the painter's daughter quickly set out, accompanied 
 by her father. They together entered the presence of the 
 King, who was still surrounded by his ministers and his offi- 
 cers. The painter and his daughter bowed their heads to the 
 floor. The prince said : 
 
 " Painter, is this your daughter ? " 
 
 " O my lord, king of the world, yes, this is my daughter." 
 
 " Come with me into the interior of the palace." And at 
 the same time the prince started and entered his apartments, 
 followed by the daughter of the painter. He led the way to a 
 retired place, and said : " My daughter, make my portrait, I 
 pray you, and try to have the resemblance good." Then the 
 princess Djouher-Manikam clothed herself in woman's rai- 
 ment, and in this costume she was ravishingly beautiful. That 
 done, she commanded the artist to paint her thus. She suc- 
 ceeded perfectly and the portrait was a remarkable likeness, 
 for the daughter of the painter was very skilful. When her 
 work was finished she received a large sum in gold. The 
 prince said to her : 
 
 " Come, sister, let this remain a secret. Reveal it not to 
 anyone in the world. If you tell it I will slay you, with your 
 father and your mother." 
 
 The daughter of the painter said : " O my lord, king of the 
 world, how could your servant disobey your Majesty's com- 
 mands ? " She bowed low, and asked permission to go home. 
 
 Radja Chah Djouhou, in the presence of his ministers and 
 his subjects, said to the vizier: " O vizier, place this portrait 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 143 
 
 in the baley outside the fort, and have it guarded by forty men. 
 If anyone coming to this portrait begins to weep or kiss it, 
 seize him and bring him before me." The portrait hung in 
 the baley, and the vezir ordered an officer to guard it with 
 forty soldiers. 
 
 When the ^Ethiopian robber came out of his drunken slum- 
 ber he saw that the princess Djouher-Manikam was no longer 
 in his house. So he went out-of-doors weeping, and took up 
 his journey, going from country to country until he afrived 
 at the city of Roum. There he saw a baley, and hanging there 
 a portrait which bore a perfect resemblance to the princess 
 Djouher-Manikam. Quickly he climbed to the baley, and, 
 holding the portrait in his arms, he wept and covered it with 
 kisses. 
 
 " O unhappy man that I am ! Here is the portrait of my 
 well-beloved for whom I was seeking. Where can she be ? " 
 
 The guards of the baley, seeing the act of the ^Ethiopian, 
 seized him and bore him before the King. They told the 
 deed. 
 
 The prince said : " ^Ethiopian robber, why did you act thus 
 in reference to this picture ? " 
 
 The .(Ethiopian answered : " O my lord, king of the world, 
 I ask you a thousand and a thousand pardons. Your servant 
 will tell the truth. If they kill me I shall die ; if they hang me 
 I shall be lifted very high ; if they sell me I shall be carried 
 very far away. O king of the world, hear the words of your 
 humble slave. A certain night I had started out to rob. I 
 found a horse, and on its back there was a woman of the most 
 marvellous beauty. I took her to my house. I fell asleep in 
 my cups. My beloved one disappeared. I became mad, and 
 so it is, O king of the world, that your slave came to the fort 
 and saw the portrait hanging at the baley. This portrait is the 
 faithful picture of my well-beloved. That is why I weep." 
 
 The prince said : " O my vezir, let this man be carefully 
 guarded. Treat him well and give him plenty to eat." On 
 the other hand, Biyapri, after forty days, mounting the roof, 
 saw that the princess Djouher was no longer there. He be- 
 came mad, abandoned his house and all his wealth, and, be- 
 coming a dervish, went from country to country seeking the 
 princess Djouher-Manikam, without ever finding her. Com- 
 
144 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 ing to the country of Roum he saw the baley situated out- 
 side the fort, and stopped there. Then he saw the portrait, 
 and, observing it with the closest attention, he began to weep. 
 Then he took it in his arms and covered it with kisses. 
 
 " Alas, my well-beloved ! " he cried, " here indeed is your 
 picture, but where can I find you ? " He was immediately 
 seized by the guard and led before the King of Roum. 
 
 " Biyapri," said the prince, " whence do you come, and why 
 did you act thus ? " Biyapri answered : " O my lord, king of 
 the world, your slave asks pardon a thousand and a thousand 
 times. I will tell the whole truth. If they kill me, I shall die ; 
 if they hang me, I shall be lifted very high ; if they sell me, I 
 shall be taken very far away. When I was engaged in com- 
 merce I passed under a tree, and saw that in this tree there 
 was a woman of the most marvellous beauty. I took her and 
 carried her to the city of Bassrah and installed her on the roof 
 of my storehouse. A certain night she disappeared without 
 my knowing where she had gone. Then, O king of the world, 
 I became as one mad and left my native land. Arriving at 
 the country of Roum I saw a baley outside the fort and came 
 to sit down there. Then, my lord, I saw the portrait hanging 
 at the baley. It exactly resembles my beloved, whom I lost. 
 I pressed it in my arms and covered it with kisses. Such is 
 the truth, O king of the world." 
 
 The prince then said to his minister : " O minister, let this 
 man be carefully guarded and give him food and clothes." 
 
 The King of Damas, after abdicating the throne, had left 
 his kingdom, and in the costume of a dervish had started to 
 travel through the different countries. Arriving at Roum, the 
 King Chah Djouhou saw a baley situated outside of the fort, 
 and went to sit down near it. The prince looking closely at 
 the portrait, which was exactly like the princess Djouher- 
 Manikam, burst into a flood of tears and exclaimed : 
 
 " Alas ! Fruit of my heart, my well-beloved, Hght of my 
 eyes ! It is, indeed, your picture. But you, whom I seek, oh, 
 where are you ? " 
 
 Speaking thus, the prince took the portrait in his arms and 
 covered it with kisses. Seeing this, the guards of the baley 
 seized him and carried him before the King. 
 
 The King said to him : " My lord, whence do you come ? 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 145 
 
 How have you wandered into this country ? And why did you 
 behave thus about my portrait ? " 
 
 The King Chah Djouhou answered : " Know that my wife, 
 who is named the princess Djouher-Manikam, has disappeared 
 far from me. It is for that reason that I have left my king- 
 dom, and that I, dressed as a dervish, have walked from coun- 
 try to country, from plain to plain, from village to village, 
 seeking her whom I have never been able to find. But ar- 
 riving in your Majesty's country I saw hanging at the ialey 
 that portrait, which is of a striking resemblance to my 
 wife. It is for this reason that I wept in contemplating this 
 picture." 
 
 The princess smiled, and at the same time her heart was 
 softened at seeing the conduct of her husband. She said to 
 her prime minister : " O my minister, I confide this person to 
 your care. Treat him worthily, give him the best of food and 
 a suite of attendants. He is the King of Damas." 
 
 The minister therefore, by command of the princess, de- 
 parted and conducted the King of Damas to a fine house, fur- 
 nished and equipped according to the needs of kings. 
 
 The minister took all the riches which had been initended 
 as presents for the King Haroun-er-Raschid. The ingots of 
 gold and of silver, the rich garments in fine stuffs of the coun- 
 try of Rouzoungga, as well as the vestments of the princess 
 Djouher-Manikam and of her three children, were transported 
 and sold in the city of Bagdad. But the King Haroun-er- 
 Raschid, seeing that his name and that of his daughter, the 
 princess Djouher-Manikam, were graven on these ingots of 
 gold and silver, seized all these riches. 
 
 The minister of the country of Damas said, " These riches 
 are mine." 
 
 On his side the King Haroun-er-Raschid said : " These 
 riches are mine, for my name and that of my child are en- 
 graved on these ingots of gold and silver." 
 
 The minister said, " Since your Majesty declares that these 
 treasures are yours, we must try this case in a court of jus- 
 tice." 
 
 The King of Bagdad answered : " It is well. We will go 
 wherever you wish." 
 
 " Very well," said the minister ; " let us go then before the 
 
146 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 King of the country of Roum. That prince has the reputation 
 of being extremely just. Each of us shall plead his cause." 
 
 The prince answered: " It is well." The minister replied: 
 " O king of the world, let us start without delay." 
 
 So the King Haroun-er-Raschid set out with his son Min- 
 bah-Chahaz, his chief warrior, and his soldiers. The cadi ac- 
 companied the prince. On his side, the minister of the coun- 
 try of Damas started, accompanied by his three sons and 
 forty soldiers of the country of Damas. After proceeding 
 some time, they arrived at the city of Roum and entered the 
 fortifications. Each one of them presented himself before the 
 King and pleaded his cause. 
 
 The King Haroun-er-Raschid expressed himself as follows : 
 " O king of the world ! I present myself before your Majesty 
 to ask your impartial judgment. The minister of the country 
 of Damas brought to Bagdad, among other precious objects, 
 ingots of gold and ingots of silver, on which are engraved my 
 name and that of my daughter, the princess Djouher-Manikam. 
 I seized these, and come to your Majesty to decide my claim 
 to them." 
 
 The King of Roum said : " If it pleases God the most high, 
 this afifair shall be judged with the best of my powers." The 
 King of Roum continued : " My ofificers and you, my minis- 
 ters and chiefs, seek all the divine inspiration to decide the 
 diiiference existing between the King of Bagdad and the min- 
 ister of Damas." 
 
 The officers bowed low and said : " O my lord, king of the 
 world, whatever they may be, we shall put the commands of 
 your Majesty above our heads and shall carry them out to 
 the letter." And they deliberated on the character of the dis- 
 pute. 
 
 The King of Bagdad declared : " These objects are precious 
 to me, for they bear engraven upon them the names of myself 
 and my child." 
 
 On the other hand, and at the same time, the minister 
 Damas declared, " These precious objects are mine." 
 
 The ministers and chiefs were very much embarrassed, and 
 said to the King : " O king of the world, we, all of us, are 
 unable to judge this dispute. It is too difficult for us. Only 
 the impartial judgment of your Majesty can decide it." 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 147 
 
 The prince said: " It is well. I will pronounce sentence, 
 if It please God the most high, provided that you consent to 
 accept it." 
 
 The King of Bagdad answered : " O king of the world, 
 judge between us according to your impartial justice." 
 
 The King of Roum then said: " O minister of Damas, and 
 you, Kmg of Bagdad, is it the wish of both of you that I 
 should give judgment according to the judgment of God the 
 most high ? " 
 
 And they both answered : " That is what we ask, the judg- 
 ment of God." ^ 
 
 The prince replied : " If you consent on both sides, it is 
 well." 
 
 " I consent to it," said the minister of Damas. 
 
 " And I, too," said the King of Bagdad. 
 
 The King of Roum then spoke in these terms : " In con- 
 formity with the law of the most high God, I ask this ques- 
 tion of the King of Bagdad: Have you a daughter?" 
 
 The King of Bagdad replied: "Yes, king of the world, 
 I have a daughter and a son." 
 
 " And have you at present these two children ? " 
 
 The King of Bagdad answered : " I have my son, but my 
 daughter — I lost her." 
 
 The King of Roum, continuing, said : " What is the cause 
 of the loss of your daughter?" The King of Bagdad an- 
 swered : " O king of the world, hear my story. While I was 
 gone on a pilgrimage with my wife and my son, whose name 
 is Minbah-Chahaz, I left my daughter to watch over my pal- 
 ace. Arriving at the end of my pilgrimage, I sent home a let- 
 ter to the cadi, conceived as follows : ' May peace be with the 
 cadi : I shall wait still for the grand pilgrimage about a year 
 longer. As for all that concerns my kingdom, my palace, 
 and my daughter, the princess Djouher-Manikam, watch with 
 greatest care, and beware of any negligence in the protection 
 of my kingdom and my child.' Some time later the cadi sent 
 me a letter at Mecca, couched in these words : ' O king of the 
 world, your servant has received the command to watch over 
 the palace and the princess. But the princess now desires to 
 marry me.' After I had read the letter from the cadi I called 
 my son Minbah-Chahaz, and said to him : ' Start at once for 
 
148 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Bagdad, and slay your sister.' My son Minbah-Chahaz 
 started immediately for Bagdad, and killed his sister. Then 
 he returned and found me at Mecca. His cutlass was still 
 blood-stained. Then I cried : ' Praise be to God the Lord of 
 the universe, our shame is effaced.' Such is my story, O king 
 of the world." 
 
 The King of Roum said : " It is well. Now I shall pro- 
 nounce judgment." And addressing the minister of Damas 
 he said to him : " O minister of Damas, tell me the truth if 
 you wish that at the day of judgment the prophet should in- 
 tercede for you (may the peace and blessings of God be upon 
 him!). Speak and tell the truth. Say whence come these 
 riches, in order that I may pronounce my judgment between 
 you." 
 
 The minister of the King of Damas said : " O my lord, king 
 of the world, I will lay at the foot of your Majesty's throne 
 the completed story from the beginning. I received a mis- 
 sion from the King Chah Djouhou : ' O my minister,' he said, 
 ' start, I send you to the city of Bagdad, taking my three chil- 
 dren to their grandfather, and my wife, the princess Djouher- 
 Manikam, to her mother and her father, the King Haroun- 
 er-Raschid.' I set out, therefore, with the escort which ac- 
 companied the princess Djouher-Manikam, and we arrived 
 at our first halting-place. When it was night I erected a tent, 
 and the people of the escort all put up tents around that of the 
 princess. But Satan breathed into my heart a temptation. 
 This thought came to me : ' The wife of the King is wonder- 
 fully beautiful, and she has such a pretty name ! I will go and 
 ask her to marry me.' So I entered her tent. At that moment 
 she was seated by her sleeping children, occupied in keeping 
 away the mosquitoes. The princess demanded, ' O my minis- 
 ter, why do you come here ? ' And I answered, ' I have come 
 to ask you to marry me.' The princess said : ' Have you 
 no fear of God the most high? No, I cannot marry you. 
 What would become of me if I should do such a thing ? ' Then 
 I said, ' If you will not agree to marry me, I will kill one of 
 your children.' The princess answered : ' If you kill my child 
 it will be by the judgment of God, and what can I do but to 
 invoke his name ? ' Then I killed one of the children. When 
 he was dead I asked again if she would marry me, and I killed 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 149 
 
 another of the children. When this one was dead I asked the 
 same question. The princess answered, ' I cannot marry 
 when I am already married.' I said to her, ' If you will not, 
 then I will kill the third of your children.' The princess 
 Djouher-Manikam answered, ' If you kill my third child, k 
 will be by the judgment of God, and what can I do but invoke 
 his name, for I am only a woman ? ' So I killed the third child. 
 After the death of this last child of the King, I put again my 
 question to the princess. She would not consent to marry 
 me. I said to her, ' If you don't, I will kill you.' She an- 
 swered : ' If you kill me, it is the decree of God. But wait 
 awhile, for I wish to wash my garments and cleanse the traces 
 of my children's blood from my body.' I said, ' It is well. We 
 will have the wedding-feast to-morrow.' She left the tent. It 
 was raining in torrents. I could not discover where she went. 
 Such is my story, O king of the world." 
 
 The King said, " Minister of the country of Damas, have 
 you any sons ? " 
 
 He answered, " Yes, my lord, king of the world, I have 
 three sons." 
 
 The prince said : " Let your three sons come here, in order 
 that I may give judgment quickly, according to the law insti- 
 tuted by the prophet (may the peace and blessings of God be 
 upon him!). Behold what his law prescribes: The minister 
 killed the children of the princess Djouher-Manikam. It is 
 not, therefore, the minister who should be punished with 
 death, but his children should be slain. The execution of this 
 judgment will be the just application of the law of retaliation 
 between the minister and the princess." 
 
 The minister summoned his three sons. As soon as they 
 had come, he pointed them to the King of Roum. 
 
 The latter said to his minister, " O minister, where is the 
 Ethiopian whom they brought here ? " The ^Ethiopian rob- 
 ber was brought out, and prostrated himself before the King 
 of Roum. 
 
 The King of Roum said to him: "^Ethiopian, return to 
 your own country and change your mode of life. You will 
 never see again the woman for whom you are seeking." And 
 the prince gave him a keti of gold. 
 
 Then the prince said : " O my minister, where is Biyapri ? 
 
ISO 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Let them bring him here." So they brought Biyapri. When 
 he arrived he bowed low before the prince. 
 
 The prince said : " Biyapri, go back to your own country 
 and change your conduct. The woman whom you seek you 
 will never see again." And the prince made him a gift of two 
 keti of gold. 
 
 The King of Roum then said : " Let all assemble. I am 
 about to pronounce judgment between the King of Bagdad 
 and the minister of Damas." The minister and the officers 
 assembled therefore in the presence of the King, together 
 with many of his subjects. 
 
 The King of Roum said : " O my executioner, let the three 
 children of the minister of Damas be all killed; such is the 
 divine command." So the children of the minister of Damas 
 were all three killed. 
 
 After they were dead the prince said : " Minister, return to 
 the country of Damas, with a rag for your girdle, and during 
 your last days change your conduct. If you do not know it, 
 I am the princess Djouher-Manikam, daughter of the Sultan 
 of Bagdad, wife of Chah Djouhou, my lord, and the sister of 
 Minbah-Chahaz. God has stricken your eyes with blindness 
 on account of your crimes toward me. It is the same with the 
 cadi of the city of Bagdad." 
 
 The minister of Damas, seized with fear, trembled in all 
 his limbs. He cast himself at the feet of the princess Mani- 
 kam, and thus prostrated he implored pardon a thousand and 
 a thousand times. Then he returned to Damas all in tears, 
 and overwhelmed with grief at the death of his three sons. 
 The cadi, covered with shame on account of his treachery to 
 the Sultan of Bagdad, fled and expatriated himself. 
 
 The King of Roum commanded them to bring the King 
 Chah Djouhou and give him a garment all sparkling with 
 gold, and he sent him to dwell in the company of his father- 
 in-law, the Sultan of Bagdad, and his brother-in-law, the 
 prince Minbah-Chahaz. 
 
 Then the princess Djouher-Manikam retired. She en- 
 tered the palace and returned clad in the garments of a 
 woman. She then went out, accompanied by ladies of 
 the court, and went to present herself to her father, the Sultan 
 of Bagdad. She bowed before her father, her brother the 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 151 
 
 prince Minbah-Chahaz, and her husband, the King Chah 
 Djouhou. The princess said : " O all of you, lords and war- 
 riors of the country of Roum, know that I am a woman, and 
 not a man. Behold my father, the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid, 
 King of Bagdad. Behold my brother, whose name is Min- 
 bah-Chahaz; and behold my husband, the King Chah Djou- 
 hou, who reigns over the country of Damas. From the time 
 when you placed me upon the throne of Roum, if I have com- 
 mitted any fault by error or by ignorance, you must excuse 
 me, for constantly the servants of God commit faults by error 
 or ignorance. It is only God alone who forgets not, nor neg- 
 lects, and is free from error or ignorance." 
 
 The grandees of the country of Roum said : " Never has 
 your Majesty committed the least fault, either by ignorance or 
 by error, during the time you have reigned over the country 
 of Roum. Nevertheless, among the judgments just now ren- 
 dered there was a fault committed by your glorious Majesty. 
 The minister killed, the princess killed, both did it voluntarily. 
 It was a fault of judgment for the princess Djouher-Manikam 
 to have killed the children of the minister, just as the minis- 
 ter committed a fault in killing the children of the princess. 
 There was a likeness there. Still, if it pleases her Majesty to 
 remain upon the throne of Roum, we should all be very glad 
 of it." 
 
 The princess Djouher said : " I shall take leave of you, my 
 lords. It is good that we should make the young prince king, 
 and that he should replace me on the throne." 
 
 The ministers and the officers of Roum responded, " What- 
 ever be the commands of your Majesty, we place them above 
 our heads." 
 
 Then the princess made the royal prince her successor, and 
 the ministers and officers and subjects all bowed low, placed 
 their hands above their heads, and proclaimed him King. 
 
 The princess Djouher-Manikam said: "O my child, here 
 are the last instructions your mother gives you: You must 
 practise justice so that God will make strong your realm. To 
 you, my ministers and officers, I confide my child. If he com- 
 mits some faults by negligence or by ignorance, I pray you 
 take them not too much to heart, for my child is young, and 
 he has not yet attained all the maturity of his judgment." 
 
152 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 The ministers and officers answered: "O your Majesty, 
 may your prosperity grow forever ! How could it be possible 
 for us to disobey your commands ? " 
 
 The princess replied : " O my child, above all must you ob- 
 serve justice and be patient and liberal toward your ministers 
 and officers and all your subjects, so that the favors of God 
 may increase upon your person and that your kingdom may 
 be protected by God the most high by the grace of the inter- 
 cession of the prophet Mahomet, the envoy of God (may the 
 peace and blessings of God be with him !). O my child, you 
 must govern all your subjects with a spirit of justice, for in 
 this world, until death, we ought to seek the truth. O my 
 child, above all forget not my last instructions." Then, taking 
 in her arms the royal child, she kissed him. 
 
 The Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid having told the Sultan of 
 Roum that he wished to return to the country of Bagdad, the 
 Sultan gave orders to his ministers to assemble the grandees, 
 the officers, and the soldiers, with elephants, horses, and in- 
 struments of music. All came with presents, for the Sultan 
 of Roum wished to accompany the Sultan Haroun-er-Ras- 
 chid as far as Bagdad and carry him the presents. The favor- 
 able moment having arrived, the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid 
 departed from Roum, directing his way to the country of Bag- 
 dad, from plain to plain, and from halting-place to halting- 
 place. After journeying some time, they rejoicing all the way, 
 they arrived at the country of Bagdad. 
 
 The ministers, the chiefs, and the soldiers came out to meet 
 the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid, and they entered the palace. 
 Then the Queen hastened to find the Sultan and her daughter, 
 the princess Djouher-Manikam. Meeting her daughter, she 
 pressed her in her arms and covered her with kisses. She 
 said in tears : " Alas, my child ! the fruit of my heart ! I, your 
 mother thought that she would never see you again." And 
 she covered her body with tears and kisses, while she kept 
 repeating, "Alas, my child! I thought you lost forever." 
 Then the Queen bowed before the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid. 
 Her son, Minbah-Chahaz, then came to bow before his 
 mother, but the latter pressed him in her arms and kissed him. 
 Then her son-in-law. King Chah Djouhou, advanced and 
 bowed before the Queen in his turn. And she pressed him in 
 her arms and kissed him. All were in tears. 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 153 
 
 The Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid started for the hall of au- 
 dience, and gave orders to one of his heralds to assemble his 
 ministers, his warriors, and his subjects. When they were 
 all gathered together the Sultan said : " Now I wish to enter- 
 tain the ministers, the chiefs, and the officers who escorted 
 us here." When the Sultan had finished entertaining them 
 they desired to take leave and return to the country of Roum. 
 The Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid made them gifts of vestments 
 of honor, to each according to his rank. They prostrated 
 themselves at his feet, and then returned in peace to the coun- 
 try of Roum. 
 
 Afterward, the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid ordered one of 
 his heralds to assemble his ministers, his officers, and his sub- 
 jects. Once gathered together, the prince said : " O all of 
 you, my ministers and my officers, you must build me a house 
 of baths seven stories high, on the public square of Bagdad." 
 
 All responded, " O my lord, king of the world, whatever 
 your commands may be, your servants place them above 
 their heads." And all, ministers, officers, and subjects, gave 
 themselves to the work, each of them doing what was directed 
 by the architect. After some time, the palace of baths was 
 finished. It was sumptuously adorned with curtains of silk, 
 canopies, tapestries woven with gold and fringed with pearls. 
 Rugs embroidered with gold were stretched on the different 
 floors, and there was a quantity of torches and lanterns. 
 
 Then the builders came before the King and said : " O my 
 lord, king of the world, your slaves have finished their work 
 according to the commands of your Majesty." 
 
 The King Haroun-er-Raschid gave thanks unto God the 
 most high, worthy of all praise, the true Lord who accords to 
 his servants all their needs. 
 
 Then the festivals began. For forty days and forty nights 
 the bands never stopped playing. There were sports, ban- 
 quets, amusements of all sorts. They gave themselves noisily 
 to pleasure, because the Sultan was going to proceed to the 
 ceremony of the bath of the two spouses, his children. When 
 the watches were finished and the favorable moment had 
 come, the Sultan was arrayed in a magnificent garment em- 
 broidered with gold, while the princess Djouher-Manikam 
 was adorned by her mother with superb veils and vestments 
 
1 54 
 
 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 trimmed with jewels, with pearls and precious stones of an 
 incomparable richness. The spouses thus adorned, the Sul- 
 tan made them mount a palanquin. His son, Minbah-Cha- 
 haz, was clad in a splendid costume. 
 
 The Sultan mounted his horse Sembaran, and his saddle 
 was of carved gold. Surrounded by young princes and lords, 
 by officers of his court and the standards, Haroun-er-Raschid 
 marched at the head. He advanced, followed by princes, min- 
 isters, and officers. The wives of the grandees accompanied 
 the Queen with her maids-of-honor, and all the musical in- 
 struments gave forth their harmonious sounds. Seven times 
 they made the circuit of the city. When the two spouses had 
 arrived at the foot of the Palace of Baths the Sultan made 
 them ascend. Then came the spouses of the grandees with 
 the Queen, who showered them with rice-powder mixed with 
 amber and musk, and poured on their heads spikenard and 
 curcuma (turmeric). They were both plunged into a bath of 
 rose-water and extracts of all sorts of aromatic flowers, to- 
 gether with water from the sacred fountain of Zemzem. 
 
 The ceremonies of the bath finished, the two spouses went 
 out of the Palace of Baths and went into the King's palace. 
 On their arrival, they served a repast to the princes, the 
 orilemas, the doctors of the law, the priests, the ministers, the 
 officers, the common people, men and women. All without 
 exception took part in the feast. When it was ended one of 
 the doctors of the law recited the prayer asking God for per- 
 fect happiness, sheltered from all danger in this life and the 
 next. Then he sprinkled showers of the most charming, per- 
 fumes. 
 
 After that the Chah Djouhou went to find the Sultan, and 
 said to him : " O my lord, king of the world, I have to ask 
 your Majesty a favor and pardon. I wish to take leave of 
 your Majesty and return to the country of Damas, for the 
 country of Damas is forsaken, O my lord." 
 
 The Sultan said, " It is well, my lord. Your country, truly, 
 is separated from its King. If it were not for your kingdom I 
 would wish never to be separated from you, now that I have 
 my daughter back again. But if I am inclined to commit a 
 fault, do not comply with it." 
 
 Radja Chah Djouhou answered : " Your daughter is like a 
 
THE PRINCESS DJOUHER-MANIKAM 155 
 
 soul which has entered my body. That is how I feel. But 
 the countless favors of your Majesty to me, I place them above 
 my head." 
 
 The Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid then said to his prime min- 
 ister : " O my minister, get ready to start 3,000 soldiers and 
 300 horsemen. And have elephants or horses well equipped 
 to transport my two children, husband and wife." When the 
 escort was ready, then the Sultan commanded them to open 
 the place where his treasures were stored, and forty-four camels 
 were laden with riches, with vestments of woven gold and 
 precious objects such as are found only in the palaces of kings. 
 
 All these preparations being finished, Radja Chah Djouhou 
 took leave of his father-in-law, his mother-in-law, and his 
 brother-in-law, Minbah-Chahaz. The latter all held in their 
 arms and covered with kisses the princess Djouher-Manikam, 
 as well as Radja Chah Djouhou. He and his brother-in-law 
 Minbah-Chahaz wept as they embraced, and the people of 
 the palace burst into sobs with a noise like that of the waves 
 breaking on the seashore. Finally the princess Djouher and 
 the King Chah Djouhou, after bowing before their father, 
 mother, and brother, set out for the country of Damas, to the 
 imposing sound of all the instruments of music. The Sultan 
 Haroun-er-Raschid and his son, Minbah-Chahaz, conducted 
 them outside of the fortifications. When they were far off, 
 the Sultan went back to his palace, walking sadly with his 
 son, Minbah-Chahaz, and praying God to bless his children. 
 
 After some time on the journey, the King Chah Djouhou 
 arrived at the country of Damas. The officers and the sol- 
 diers sallied from the fortifications of Damas and went 
 to meet the prince. The ministers and the officers bowed low 
 at his feet, all rejoicing over the happy return and perfect 
 health of the King and Queen. The prince entered his pal- 
 ace, and the two spouses lived full of tenderness for each other. 
 
 I will not prolong this story of the princess Djouher-Mani.- 
 kam, which has become celebrated in all countries to wind- 
 ward and to leeward. I close it here, giving my best wishes 
 to those who shall read or hear it, and particularly to those 
 who shall copy it ! 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CROWN OF KINGS 
 
 [Translated by Aristide Marre and C. C. Starkweather] 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA* 
 
 KINGS who are of the true faith, who have wisdom and 
 follow justice, cause men worthy of their confidence 
 to travel through their kingdom, to serve as their 
 eyes and ears, and to make reports on the state and condi- 
 tion of their subjects, so that, knowing the cause, they may 
 examine for themselves the conduct of the servants of God. 
 But there are kings who do not rest contented with the re- 
 port of their servants, and go themselves by night to see the 
 condition and hear the complaints of subjects. Then they 
 make by day a thorough examination of the matters thus 
 come to their knowledge, in order to regulate them with jus- 
 tice and equity. 
 
 A story will illustrate this. Zeyd Ibries Selam tells what 
 follows : The prince of the believers, the Caliph Omar (may 
 God be satisfied with him !), judged the servants of God with 
 equity during the day, and after pronouncing his judgments 
 he went out of the city on the side toward the cemetery 
 called Bakia-el-Gharkada. There he cut stone to gain money 
 enough for the maintenance of his house, and when night had 
 come he went through the city to know the good and evil 
 of the servants of God. One night, says Zeyd Ibries Selam, 
 " I accompanied the prince of the believers, Omar. When 
 he was outside of Medina, he perceived a fire in an out-of-the- 
 way place, and turned his steps thither. Scarcely had he ar- 
 rived when he heard a woman with three children, and the 
 latter were crying. The woman said : ' O God the most high, 
 I beseech thee, make Omar suflfer what I am suffering now. 
 He sleeps satiated with food, while I and my children are 
 starving.' The prince of the believers, Omar, hearing these 
 
 • Or, " The Crown' of Kings." 
 »59 
 
i6o MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 words, went to the woman, and with a salutation said, ' May 
 I approach ? ' 
 
 " The woman answered, ' If it be by way of goodness, come.' 
 
 " He approached her and questioned her about her situa- 
 tion. 
 
 " The woman said : ' I come from a far place ; and as it was 
 dark when I arrived here, I could not enter the city. So I 
 stopped at this place. My children and I are suflfering from 
 hunger and we cannot sleep.' 
 
 " The Caliph inquired, ' What is there in this kettle? ' 
 
 " The woman answered : ' Nothing but water. I put it in 
 the kettle so that the children should imagine that I was cook- 
 ing rice — perhaps, then, they would go to sleep and stop cry- 
 ing so loudly.' 
 
 " As soon as Omar had heard these words he returned 
 promptly to the city of Medina. Arriving at a shop, where 
 they sold flour, be bought some and put it into a sack. In 
 another shop he bought some meat. Then lifting the sack to 
 his shoulders he carried it out of the city. I said to him : 
 
 " ' O prince of the believers, give me this sack, that I may 
 carry it for you.' 
 
 " ' If you bear the weight of this sack,' said his glorious 
 Majesty to me, ' who will bear the weight of my fault, and 
 who will clear me from the prayer of this woman in the afflic- 
 tion of her heart when she complained to the Lord of my neg- 
 ligence ? ' 
 
 " Omar, having said these words, continued to walk in tears 
 until he had come near the woman and her children. Then 
 he gave her the flour and the meat, and they ate till their hun- 
 ger was appeased. The woman with a satisfied heart cried : 
 
 " ' May God the most high hear my prayer and render you 
 benefits, since you are so full of compassion for the servants 
 of God and are so much better than Omar.' 
 
 " The Caliph said to her, ' O woman, blame not Omar, for 
 he knew not how you fared.' " 
 
 There was once a king in the country of Syria named Ma- 
 lik-es-Saleh, very pious and just, and continually preoccu- 
 pied with the state of his subjects. They say that every night 
 he went to the mosque, cemeteries, and other solitary places, 
 in search of strangers, fakirs, and poor people who had neither 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA jd 
 
 home nor family. One night, arriving near a mosque, he 
 heard the voice of a man inside the edifice. He entered and 
 saw a fakir there. He could not see him distinctly, because 
 he was covered with a mat. But he heard him, and this is 
 what he said : " O Lord, if on the judgment-day thou shalt 
 give a place in heaven to kings who are forgetful of the fakirs 
 and the poor, then, O Lord, grant that I may not enter there." 
 
 Malik-es-Saleh, hearing these words, shed tears. He placed 
 a piece of stuff before the fakir with loo tahil of silver, and 
 said to him : 
 
 " O fakir, I have learned from the glorious prophet (may 
 peace be with him !) that fakirs become kings in heaven, after 
 a life of self-sacrifice on earth. Since I am King in this per- 
 ishable world, I come to you with the weakness of my nature 
 and baseness of my being. I ask you to be at peace with me, 
 and to show yourself compassionate to me when the moment 
 of your glory in heaven shall have arrived." 
 
 When the Sultan Zayad sat upon the royal throne of Ikak, 
 the country was infested with malefactors, brigands, robbers, 
 assassins, and the like. The compounds were destroyed, the 
 houses pillaged, and the people killed. The inhabitants could 
 not sleep a single night in quiet, nor pass a single day in safety 
 at home. A crowd of people came with their complaints to 
 the Sultan Zayad, saying: 
 
 " The compounds are destroyed, the houses are pillaged, 
 and the men are killed." All throughout Irak one heard noth- 
 ing but reports of this kind. 
 
 One Friday the Sultan went to the mosque to pray. He 
 then shut all the doors and said to the people in the mosque : 
 " O servants of God now present in this mosque, know that a 
 duty is imposed upon me. I must protect my subjects, for I 
 shall have to give an account of my actions on the day of 
 judgment. There are now in this country large numbers of 
 malefactors, and many of my people have been ruined by them. 
 It is my duty to repress these disorders. So, then, listen to 
 what I have to say, and repeat it to those who are not present 
 I swear to you that all who shall, three days from now, leave 
 his house after the hour of evening prayer, shall be put to 
 death." 
 
 When the three days had passed and the fourth night ar- 
 
i6a MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 rived, Sultan Zayad mounted his horse and traversed the pity 
 with an escort of cavaliers. Outside of the city he came to a 
 place and saw a man standing under a tree in the middle of a 
 flock of sheep and goats. He said to him, " Who are you ? " 
 
 The man said : " I come from a far-off village, and I am 
 bringing sheep and goats to the city to sell them, and with 
 their price to buy what I can for my wife and children. When 
 arrived at this place I was so tired that I could not enter the 
 city, and was obliged to stay here, with the intention of enter- 
 ing at daybreak and selling my sheep and goats." 
 
 Sultan Zayad, having heard this response, said : " Your 
 words are true, but what can I do? If I do not put you to 
 death to-morrow, when the news spreads, they will say Sultan 
 Zayad is not faithful to his word. They will regard me with 
 disdain, and no one will obey my orders. And the wicked 
 ones will commit violent acts upon the good ones, and my 
 country will be ruined. Heaven is better for yoii than this 
 world." So he had him put to death and ordered that they 
 should take his head. 
 
 During that same night all that he met were killed and be- 
 headed. They say that in the course of that first day 500 
 persons were put to death. At dawn he had all these heads 
 exposed on the highways, and published this proclamation : 
 
 " Whosoever shall not obey the commands of Sultan Zayad 
 shall suffer the same fate." 
 
 When the people of the country saw these heads exposed 
 at all sides on the earth, they were frightened, and a respect- 
 ful fear of Sultan Zayad filled all hearts. 
 
 The second night Sultan Zayad went out again from the city, 
 and that night 500 persons were killed. 
 
 The third night he remained out of the city till morning, but 
 he did not meet a soul. 
 
 The following Friday Sultan Zayad went to the mosque, 
 said his prayers, and declared : " O servants of God, let no 
 one after to-day shut the door of his house nor his shop. I 
 take upon myself the charge of replacing those of your goods 
 which shall be destroyed or stolen." 
 
 They all obeyed his orders, for they feared him greatly. 
 Their doors remained opened for several nights, and they 
 never suffered the slightest loss. But after a while a man 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA jgj 
 
 complained to the Sultan, saying, " Last night someone stole 
 from me 400 tahil." 
 
 The Sultan said : " Can you swear to it ? " 
 
 The man swore to the facts, and the Sultan had 400 tahil 
 counted out to him in place of those he had lost. The follow- 
 ing Friday, after prayers, forbidding anyone to leave the 
 mosque, the Sultan said : " O servants of the Lord, know that 
 400 tahil have been stolen from the shop of a certain man. 
 Unless you denounce the robber, not one of you shall escape, 
 but to-day shall all of you be put to death." 
 
 Now, as he had rigorously commanded attendance at Fri- 
 day's prayer service, the whole town had come to the mosque. 
 They were seized with fright, for they knew that the Sultan 
 kept his word, and they denounced the robber. The latter 
 gave back the 400 tahil and received his punishment. 
 
 A long time afterward the Sultan Zayad asked, " At what 
 place in my kingdom do they fear robbers most of all ? " 
 
 " In the Valley of the Beni Ardou, in the country of Bass- 
 rah, for there they are numerous." 
 
 Sultan Zayad one day had the highways and paths of the 
 valley strewn with gold and silver, precious stones, and stuffs 
 of great price. All these things lay there a long time and not 
 one was taken. Then the Sultan ordered them to take up 
 these riches and give them to the fakirs and the poor. Then 
 he rendered thanks unto God that he had thus securely es- 
 tablished his law among his subjects. 
 
 Now it was in the times when Nouchirvau governed with 
 justice and equity, protecting his subjects and causing his 
 kingdom to prosper. One day he asked the grandees of his 
 court, " Are there in my kingdom any places deserted and 
 without inhabitants ? " 
 
 The grandees who were there answered, " O king of the 
 world, we know not in all your Majesty's realm a place which 
 is not inhabited." 
 
 Nouchirvau kept silence, and for many days did not leave 
 the palace. He summoned to his private chamber a learned 
 doctor named Bouzor Djambour, and said to him : 
 
 " I desire to know with certainty if all parts of my realm are 
 peopled, or if there is any which is not. How can I be sure of 
 this?" 
 
1 64 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 "To have your Majesty's desire fully satisfied you have 
 only to abstain from leaving the palace." 
 
 Saying this, Bouzor Djambour took leave of the King and 
 went to the audience-chamber of the King. He spoke to those 
 assembled there as follows : " O ministers, generals, and all 
 present, know that his Majesty is ill. Now, in order to cure 
 him you must find for me a little bit of earth from a place in 
 ruins and uninhabited. Those who are faithful servants of 
 the King will not hesitate to accomplish immediately this act 
 of devotion in his service, and to start at once in search of the 
 remedy I have named." 
 
 These words were scarcely uttered when men were sent out 
 to search the towns and villages and find some earth from a 
 place in ruins and uninhabited. They found only one house 
 in ruins, and the governor of the town -said as follows about 
 it : "A merchant once established in this dwelling. He died 
 and left much wealth. As none of his heirs came forward, 
 we closed the doors with stones and mortar, waiting for them 
 to arrive. So the house has fallen to ruin." 
 
 Then the people took a little earth from beneath the house 
 and took it to the King, telling him what had happened. Then 
 the King called an assembly and said : 
 
 " Know all that my illness proceeded only from my fear that 
 there might be in my kingdom a house in ruins. Now that it 
 has been shown to me that there exists in my whole realm not 
 a single place in ruins, but that the country is well populated, 
 my malady is cured, seeing that my kingdom is in a perfect 
 condition." 
 
 In the time of Nouchirvau a man sold his compound to 
 another man. The buyer of this property, while engaged in 
 making repairs, found in the earth many jars filled with gold 
 which someone had buried there. He went immediately to the 
 one who sold him the premises and told him the news. The 
 seller said: 
 
 " That gold is not mine, for I did not put it in the ground. 
 I sold you the compound ; the discovery that you have made is 
 yours." 
 
 The buyer replied : " I bought the premises alone : I did 
 not buy gold; so it is yours." As each refused to take the 
 treasure, they went to the King Nouchirvau and recounted the 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 165 
 
 affair to him, saying, " This gold should be the property of 
 the King." But King Nouchirvau would not take the gold. 
 He asked the two men if they had children. They replied, 
 " Yes, my lord, we have each a child, a boy and a girl." 
 
 " Well," said the King, " marry the girl to the boy, and give 
 them the gold you found." 
 
 In ancient times a King of China fell ill and as a result of 
 his malady he lost his hearing. He wept in sorrow over this 
 affliction and grew very thin and pale. His ministers came 
 one day and asked him to tell them in writing his condition. 
 He answered : " I am not ill, but so weakened by my inquietude 
 and distress that I can no longer hear the words of my subjects 
 when they come to make their complaints. I know not how 
 to act not to be guilty of negligence in the government of my 
 kingdom." 
 
 The ministers then said : " If the ears of your Majesty do 
 not hear, our ears shall replace those of the King, and we can 
 carry to his Majesty the complaints and regrets of his sub- 
 jects. Why, then, should his Majesty be so much disturbed 
 over the weakening of his physical forces ? " 
 
 The King of China answered : " At the day of judgment 
 it is I, and not my ministers, who will have to render account 
 of the affairs of my subjects. I must therefore myself ex- 
 amine into their complaints and troubles. I am sure that the 
 burden of ruling would be lighter for me if I could have tran- 
 quillity of spirit. But my eyes can see, although my ears are 
 deaf." 
 
 And he commanded them to publish this edict: "All who 
 are victims of injustice must reduce their complaints to writing, 
 and bring them to the King so that he may look into their 
 troubles." 
 
 They tell also the following story: There was formerly 
 in the city of Ispahan, a king whose power and glory had filled 
 him with pride. He commanded his ministers to build him 
 a palace in a certain place. The ministers, with the archi- 
 tects, ordered the slaves to level the ground so as to form a 
 vast esplanade and cause to disappear all the houses of the 
 neighborhood. Among these houses, they say, there was one 
 belonging to an old woman who was very poor and without a 
 family to help her. In spite of her great age, she went to 
 
i66 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 work as well as she could, in different places, but could 
 scarcely exist on her earnings. Her house near the site selected 
 for the new palace was old and in a tumble-down condition. 
 They tell that one day having gone a long distance to find work 
 she fell ill and remained a long time without being able to 
 return to her house. Then the architects who were building 
 the palace said, " We must not let this hovel remain standing 
 so near the King's palace." So they razed the hut and levelled 
 the earth, and finished the palace with all sorts of embellish- 
 ments. The King, taking possession, gave a grand house- 
 warming festival. 
 
 Now on this very day it so happened that the old woman 
 returned home. Arriving she could find no traces of her house, 
 and was stupefied. In one hand she held a stick, in the other 
 some dry wood for her fire. On her back she bore a package 
 of rice and herbs for cooking. She was fatigued with a long 
 journey and faint with hunger. When she saw that her house 
 had disappeared she knew not what to do nor where to go. She 
 burst into tears. The servants of the King drove her away, 
 and as she went, she fell and spilled her rice and herbs and 
 fell down in the mud. In this state of indescribable desola- 
 tion she exclaimed, " O Lord, avenge me on these tyrants ! " 
 
 The old woman had hardly ceased speaking when the voice 
 of some unseen being was heard above her saying, " O 
 woman, fly quickly from this spot, for the anger of God is 
 advancing upon the King." In horror she got up and fled in 
 all haste. Again she heard the voice saying, " O woman, 
 look behind you at the palace." She looked behind her and 
 saw the palace, the King, and all his ministers and servants 
 engulfed in the bowels of the earth by the will of God. And 
 to this day that place vomits fire and smoke as a mark and a 
 warning. 
 
 In the Kitab Tarykh it is told that in ancient times under the 
 kings of Persia named Moah, who followed the rules of justice, 
 men were happy. But after these kings, Izdegherd-ibn- 
 Chahryar reigned over Persia. By his harsh tyranny he 
 destroyed the high reputation of the kings of Persia and 
 wretchedly closed a series of reigns lasting 4,000 years and 
 noted all over the world for justice and equity. Under the 
 rule of this miserable tyrant countless numbers of men perishecl 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 167 
 
 and a great many prosperous and famous cities were devas- 
 tated. All the better classes of citizens were plunged into the 
 most frightful distress and the most lamentable desolation, 
 and it would be impossible to tell how great and wide-spread 
 was the mourning. Now while all were groaning in affliction 
 the King made merry. 
 
 One day in his presumptuous pride he assembled his min- 
 isters and his generals to show his royal power and his domi- 
 nation over the people. He was seated on his throne, surrounded 
 by a crowd of courtiers, when suddenly a beautiful horse cross- 
 ing the city at a gallop went straight into the palace of the 
 King, among the ministers and the grandees. They all ad- 
 mired the beautiful horse, the like of which none had ever 
 seen. Nobody dared to seize him as he pranced from right to 
 left. Suddenly the horse approached the throne and laid down 
 at the feet of the King. The King patted and stroked him, 
 and the horse never moved. Then the wicked King began to 
 laugh and said : " O my ministers, you see how far my great- 
 ness goes. It is only at my throne that this wonderful horse 
 has stopped. I will mount and ride him on the esplanade." 
 The King ordered a saddle brought, and was placing it on the 
 horse with his own hands, when he received such a kick over 
 the heart that he was immediately killed. Then the wonderful 
 horse vanished, and no one saw where it went. The people all 
 rejoiced and said, " Of a truth, this mysterious horse was 
 one of the angels of God sent to exterminate a tyrant." 
 
 It was in the time of this King, and by his tyranny, that the 
 kingdom of the sovereign of Persia was ruled and fell into the 
 hands of another people. King Khochtacab, the most cele- 
 brated of all the kings of his time, by his power, greatness, and 
 magnificence, had raised in rank a man named Rassat Rouchin, 
 a name which in Persia signifies " sincere and brilliant." In- 
 fluenced by this fine name, the King forgot all prudence, and 
 without any proof of his capacity he raised this man to power 
 and made him minister, turning over to him tlie care of the 
 most important afifairs in his kingdom and giving him all his 
 confidence. His ostensible conduct was irreproachable, and his 
 acts had for everybody the appearance of honesty and truth. 
 One day the minister Rassat Rouchin said to the King : " The 
 people, on account of our leniency and goodness, are forgetting 
 
1 68 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 their duty, and are showing no more deference nor respect 
 We must inspire them with fear, or affairs will not prosper." 
 
 The King in his blind confidence responded, " Do whatever 
 you think is right." As soon as the minister had come from 
 the palace of the King he addressed a proclamation to the 
 towns and villages in which he said : " His Majesty is irri- 
 tated with his subjects. You must all come with presents to 
 appease his anger." From all sides arrived princes and min- 
 isters and grandees of the realm, with precious and magnificent 
 objects. Seized with fear they sought counsel of the minister 
 Rassat Rouchin. 
 
 " How," said they, " dare we present ourselves before his 
 Majesty in his present state of anger against us?" 
 
 Then the minister responded : " If the instant of death is 
 not yet come for you, I will try to save you. I tremble to admit 
 you to the King. But what can I do? On account of the 
 critical situation I will go alone before the King and present 
 your case." So every day he conducted them only as far as the 
 door of the King. There they were told of the fines to which 
 they had been condemned. He took in this way what they 
 had, and sent them home. 
 
 This sort of thing continued for a long while until the means 
 of the people were exhausted and the treasury became abso- 
 lutely empty. The King, always full of confidence in the up- 
 rightness of the minister, was in complete ignorance of all 
 this. But at that time there was a king who was an enemy 
 of King Khochtacab. When he learned that the subjects of 
 the latter were suffering cruelly from the oppression of his 
 minister and that his generals were weakened by hunger, he 
 toot heart and invaded the kingdom. Then King Khochtacab 
 commanded that his treasury should be opened, and that they 
 should take out all the wealth to gratify the army, gain the 
 hearts of the generals, and defray the expenses of the war. But 
 he found that there was nothing left in the treasury. The 
 army, weakened, was incapable of resisting. The King, shut 
 up in his fort, found it impossible to attack the enemy, and they 
 ravaged and despoiled the kingdom. 
 
 The King, having been considered so great, was cruelly 
 wounded by shame at his defeat. He knew not which way 
 to turn his steps. His soul was profoundly troubled. One 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 169 
 
 day, when he had gone forth from the city, wandering at ran- 
 dom through plain and forest, he saw a shepherd's hut in the 
 distance, at the door of which were two dogs hanging by the 
 neck. Seeing the King, the shepherd approached and led 
 him to his hovel and served him with the best food he could 
 afford. But the King said : 
 
 " I shall not eat until you have told me why you have 
 hanged these two dogs at your cabin-door." 
 
 The shepherd responded : " O king of the world, I hanged 
 these two dogs because they betrayed my flock. As my flock 
 was wasting away, I hid one day to see what took place. The 
 wolf came and the dogs played with him and let him carry off 
 sheep and goats. So I hanged the two dogs as faithless trai- 
 tors." 
 
 The King returned to the city and thought over this singu- 
 lar story. " It is a lesson for me," he said, " a revelation. It 
 is impossible not to see that my subjects are the flock and I 
 am the shepherd, while my minister has acted like the shep- 
 herd's dogs, and the enemy who has my kingdom is the wolf. 
 I must examine into the conduct of my minister and see with 
 what fidelity he has served me." 
 
 When he had returned to the palace he called his secre- 
 taries and bade them bring the registers in which the accounts 
 of the kingdom were kept. When these registers were 
 opened he saw that they mentioned only the name of the min- 
 ister Rassat Rouchin, and included such statements as : " In- 
 tercession of Rassat Rouchin in favor of princes so and so, 
 ministers such and such, and grandees this and that, who ask 
 pardon for their faults. Rassat Rouchin took their treasures 
 and granted them grace." There was nothing else in the reg- 
 isters. When the King saw this he said : 
 
 " Who rests his faith upon a name goes often without bread, 
 While he who faithless proves for bread shall lose his soul instead." 
 
 These words the King had engraved in letters of gold and 
 fastened to the gate. And at this gate he had the false minis- 
 ter hanged as the dogs were hanged at the cabin-door. 
 
 A King of Persia, in a fit of anger against his wife for a cer- 
 tain fault which she had committed, commanded his prime 
 minister to put her to death, together with her nursing in- 
 
170 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 fant. The minister, on account of the furious anger of the 
 King, did not dare to plead the Queen's cause, but took her 
 to his mother's house. The minister found another woman 
 who had been condemned to death and had her executed, tell- 
 ing the King that it was the Queen who was beheaded. The 
 King's child grew and flourished until he had become a hand- 
 some young man. But the King grew more and more morose 
 and melancholy, and shut himself up in the palace. The min- 
 ister, noticing this continual sadness of the King, said : 
 
 " O king of the world, what has come over the heart of your 
 Majesty? Pray tell me the cause of your sorrow." 
 
 And the King said : " O minister, how should I not be sad 
 and disturbed ? Here I am getting old and I have no son to 
 cause my name to live and protect my kingdom. That is the 
 cause of my sorrow and unhappiness." 
 
 When the minister heard these words he said, " O king of 
 the world, your sorrow shall not long endure, for'you have a 
 son, capable of preserving and protecting your kingdom. 
 This son of yours has intelligence, education, natural gifts, 
 and great personal beauty, and is of most excellent charac- 
 ter." 
 
 The King said, " Where is this son of whose existence I 
 have been unaware ? " 
 
 The minister answered, " Your Majesty is not aware of his 
 existence, but I know that he is very much alive." The min- 
 ister then related how he had spared the lives of the Queen 
 and her child. The King was transported with joy, and cried, 
 " Happy the king who has such a minister ! " 
 
 The minister bowed low and said, " When shall your son, 
 the prince, present himself? " 
 
 The King answered : " Go seek forty young men of his 
 age, build, figure, and complexion. Have them all dressed 
 alike. Bring these forty young men with my son to a cer- 
 tain place in the plain. Await me there, but tell not this secret 
 to a soul. When I have arrived at the spot then cause these 
 forty young men to present themselves before me. If my son 
 is among them I shall most certainly recognize him." 
 
 The minister took leave of the King, and with a heart filled 
 with joy set about doing what the King had ordered. When 
 the King had arrived at the spot chosen his minister ad- 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-HADJA fji 
 
 vanced, followed by forty-one youths, all dressed alike. As 
 soon as the King had seen them he recognized his son and 
 called him to his side. Then he went back to the city with 
 him and all the grandees. The next day he invited the latter 
 to a great festival, and gave to each of them a splendid pres- 
 ent. He turned over his kingdom to his son, taking care to 
 place him and his government under the tutelage of the good 
 minister who had saved his wife and brought him up. Then 
 the King went into a religious retreat, and as long as he lived 
 occupied himself in the service of God. 
 
 The Sultan Alexander, called the Two-Horned, at the be- 
 ginning of his reign sent an ambassador to King Darius, who 
 was then at the zenith of his greatness. On his return, this 
 ambassador made his report to King Alexander. The latter 
 read it, but had doubts over a certain word therein contained. 
 He questioned his ambassador about the word, saying, " Did 
 you hear that exact word from the mouth of King Darius ? " 
 
 The ambassador replied, " I heard it with my own ears." 
 
 King Alexander, not being able to believe it, wrote a sec- 
 ond letter, mentioning this word, and despatched to King 
 Darius another ambassador, charged to deliver it. When 
 King Darius, reading the letter of King Alexander, came to 
 this special word, he took a knife and cut it out, then wrote 
 a letter to King Alexander, in which he said : " The sincerity 
 of the soul of the King is the foundation of his realm and his 
 greatness. His words, therefore, should be faithfully trans- 
 mitted and reproduced by his ambassador. I have cut out of 
 your letter a certain word, because it was never pronounced 
 by me. And if your former ambassador were only here I 
 would cut out his lying tongue even as I have cut out the word 
 from your letter." 
 
 When this answer of King Darius's was borne to King Al- 
 exander he read it and summoned before him the faithless 
 ambassador. "Why," said he, "were you willing, with a 
 word, to cause the loss of many men and countries ? " 
 
 " Because they showed me little deference and did not treat 
 me well." 
 
 King Alexander said : " Foolish man ! And you thought 
 that we sent you to look after your own personal interests, and 
 neglect those of the nation ? " He commanded that his tongue 
 
172 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 should be torn out, and made a proclamation, saying, " This 
 is the fate of traitors who falsely report the words of kings." 
 
 In the Kitab Tarykh the following is recounted : The Sul- 
 tan Homayoun sent an ambassador to the King of Khoras- 
 san. When this ambassador, on his arrival in the country, 
 had delivered the letter of the Sultan to the King, the latter 
 asked : 
 
 " How does your King conduct himself regarding his sub- 
 jects ? How does he govern them ? " 
 
 " The rule of conduct and the mode of government used by 
 my King," answered the ambassador, " are to make himself 
 loved by all his subjects." 
 
 The King asked, " Of what nature is the affection of your 
 King for his subjects ? " 
 
 " That of a mother and father for their children and grand- 
 children." 
 
 " In hard and calamitous times, how does your King con- 
 duct himself ? " 
 
 " He shows that he cares not for riches, for the door of his 
 treasury is always open." 
 
 " In the daily receptions how does your King behave ? " 
 
 " The receptions of my King resemble the gardens of Para- 
 dise refreshed by sweet breezes and scented with the balmy 
 breath of sweetly smelling plants or like a sea filled with 
 pearls and corals." 
 
 The King asked again, " And in council how speaks your 
 King?" 
 
 The ambassador answered, " All those who hear my King 
 in council become wise if they lack wisdom, and brave if they 
 lack courage." 
 
 The King of Khorassan was enchanted with the answers 
 of the ambassador, loaded him with presents, and said to him : 
 " The spirit and judgment of your King are reflected in the 
 person of his ambassador. They should all be like you." Apd 
 he addressed in answer to the Sultan a letter filled with com- 
 pliments and felicitations. 
 
 In the Kitab Tarykh it is related that the Sultan Mahmoud 
 was fond of his servant Ayaz on account of the excellence of 
 his wit and judgment. The other servants of the Sultan were 
 jealous of Ayaz, and murmured against him. One day the 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 173 
 
 ministers and grandees were in the presence of the Sultan 
 Mahmoud, and Ayaz was standing respectfully before him. 
 Someone brought a cucumber as a present to the Sultan. The 
 Sultan sliced it and ate a morsel. He found it very bitter, but 
 gave no sign of this. He handed a piece of it to Ayaz, saying, 
 I " Eat some of this cucumber and tell me how it tastes, so that 
 the others present may eat some of it also, and tell us if they 
 ever ate anything like it." Ayaz saluted, and ate of the cu- 
 cumber with an appearance of pleasure. 
 
 " It is very good." 
 
 The King made the others eat of it. They found that it 
 was bitter, and were angry with Ayaz, and asked how he dare 
 to lie in such a manner. 
 
 " It is true," said the Sultan ; " how could you say it was 
 good?" 
 
 Ayaz answered with respect : " May the Lord bless the 
 king of the world ! How many favors have you given me ! 
 How many sweet and savory dainties ! How, then, could I 
 make a wry face over one bitter morsel ? I ought, on the con- 
 trary, to declare that the bitterness of this mouthful is com- 
 pletely annulled by the delicious sweetness of the others, so 
 that your Majesty shall continue to bestow dainties upon me 
 as before." 
 
 A certain king, vain of his royal power, had a servant who 
 was very pious and a true believer, very punctilious in the 
 practice of his reUgious duties. The King distinguished him 
 above all the others as one in whom he could trust on account 
 of the integrity of his heart. He had given him this order : 
 " Go not far away from here, day or night. Keep close watch, 
 and neglect not my service." The servant, after finishing his 
 religious duties, took his post, where the King from time to 
 time sent for him. But the King had need of him, and he was 
 not to be found. They sent to look for him, but in vain, and 
 the King grew very angry with him. Finally the servant ar- 
 rived and prostrated himself before the King. The latter, full 
 of wrath, demanded : 
 
 " Why are you late ? Why don't you pay attention to my 
 orders ? " And he commanded that the man be punished, to 
 make him more attentive to the King's service. 
 
 But the servant replied, "If I am late, it is only on ac- 
 
174 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 count of the great embarrassment in which I find myself 
 placed." 
 
 " What embarrassment ? Tell me." 
 
 The servant, bowing low, spoke as follows : " My embar- 
 rassment comes from the fact that I have two masters to serve. 
 The first is the true Master, he who created the universe and 
 the children of Adam, whose punishments are very severe. 
 The second is only the servant of the former, and not the true 
 master. I am obliged to attend to the service of the true Mas- 
 ter before the service of the second. That is the embarrass- 
 ment in which I find myself." 
 
 When .the King heard these words he shed abundant tears, 
 and said : " From this day forth you are free. Follow the ser- 
 vice of the Lord, and do not forget to pray for me." 
 
 The servants of the King should love their King more than 
 they love their own life, their mother, their father, their chil- 
 dren, their grandchildren, their family, their riches, and all 
 that belongs to them. In a word, for them the person of their 
 King should be above all, so that one may call them true ser- 
 vants of the King, and that in all truth they may be termed 
 his favorites. They tell the story that one day the Sultan 
 Mahmoud Ghazi (may grace be upon him !) was seated on his 
 throne, surrounded by his ministers and his oflScers, among 
 whom was Ayaz. The Sultan said to his treasurer : 
 
 " Go to the treasure-chamber. Take to a certain place gold, 
 silver, precious stones, and other objects of great value. For 
 we are going there to amuse ourselves, and present these 
 treasures to those who shall accompany us." 
 
 One day the Sultan started to go and amuse himself at that 
 place, and as soon as the news spread abroad, a great number 
 of people followed him there. When he arrived he halted at 
 a spot level, clean, and well lighted, and said to his treasurer: 
 
 " Expose my treasures here, in this place, so that all those 
 who are- happy shall obtain a present according to their de- 
 gree of happiness, and that one may know who are those who 
 have the most luck and those who have the least." 
 
 All hearing these words quickly approached, pressing for- 
 ward, with their eyes wide open and their looks fixed on the 
 treasurer, praying him to exhibit the presents at the desig- 
 nated place. At this very moment the Sultan spurred his 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA ,75 
 
 horse to a gallop and rode from their presence. When he was 
 far away and out of their sight, he stopped and looked be- 
 hind him. There he saw Ayaz, the only one who had followed 
 him. The others, preoccupied with getting their share of the 
 treasures, never suspected that the Sultan had gone and was 
 already far away from them. The Sultan, halting a moment, 
 returned to the city. 
 
 On their side, the ministers and the grandees, having taken 
 possession of the most precious objects, returned joyfully to 
 their homes. On the way they compared notes with each 
 other about their shares of the treasure. One said, " I had the 
 best luck " ; and another, " No, I had the best." And all, 
 whoever they were, said the same thing, for all except Ayaz 
 had their share of the King's presents. So they said among 
 themselves, " It is clear that the one who has no luck is 
 Ayaz." 
 
 Some jealous ones added : " In truth, Master Ayaz has no 
 luck at all. By his lack of intelligence and good judgment he 
 has had none of the Sultan's presents." 
 
 Ayaz heard all these remarks, but kept silence. Some days 
 later, the Sultan came out of his palace and sat upon the 
 throne. All the grandees came into his presence. Ayaz was 
 standing before him. The Sultan asked : 
 
 " Who among you had no luck ? " 
 
 The ministers answered : " It is Ayaz ! He did not get a 
 single one of your Majesty's many presents. It is clear that 
 he has no luck, for he left all those precious objects and came 
 back with empty hands." 
 
 The Sultan said : " O Ayaz, are our presents without value 
 in your eyes, that you disdain them ? I don't know why you 
 took nothing that was within your grasp. You would have 
 prevented them from saying that you have no luck. What 
 was your motive in doing a thing that has the approbation of 
 nobody ? " 
 
 Ayaz responded : " May the days and prosperity of the 
 King increase! May the presents never tarnish that he has 
 given to his servants. As for me, I have more luck than those 
 who received the presents of your Majesty." 
 
 The Sultan said, " O Ayaz, prove to me the truth of your 
 words." 
 
176 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Ayaz responded : " If they found some part in the lar- 
 gesses which were given them, I found the author himself 
 of those great gifts. If they found gold, I found the master 
 of the gold. If others found silver, I found the master of sil- 
 ver. If others found precious stones, I found the master of 
 precious stones. If others yet found some pearls, I found the 
 ocean of pearls. Who, therefore, O king of the world, among 
 all those who vaunt themselves as having luck, has more than 
 I have?" 
 
 The Sultan replied : " O Ayaz, tell me what is the meaning 
 of your words. Where is all that which you say you found ? " 
 
 Ayaz responded : " May the most high protect the person 
 of the king of the world, more precious to me than all those 
 objects of price! In whatever place may be his august per- 
 son, there I am, and I thus obtain all that my heart desires. 
 When I am with your Majesty, and your Majesty is with me, 
 what do I lack ? Who, then, has more luck than I have ? " 
 
 One day the Sultan Alexander was plunged in sadness, and 
 kept himself shut up in his palace. The wise Aristotle came 
 before him, and seeing him absorbed in sad thoughts, asked 
 him: 
 
 " Why is the Sultan so sad and what keeps him from going 
 out of his palace ? " 
 
 The Sultan Alexander answered : " I am grieving at the 
 thought of the smallness of this world, and of all the troubles 
 I am giving myself and others for the sake of reigning over a 
 world that is so little worth. It is the vanity of my works 
 that renders me sad." 
 
 Aristotle replied : " The reflection of the Sultan is just, for 
 what, in truth, is the world? Certainly it has not enough 
 importance by itself that the Sultan should occupy himself 
 with a vain kingdom. But the government of this world is a 
 mark of the sublime and eternal kingdom of the other world, 
 and this kingdom the Sultan can obtain by governing this 
 present world with justice. Your Majesty must therefore 
 give all his cares to the government of this world, to obtain 
 finally in the other world a kingdom of which the greatness is 
 beyond measure and the duration is eternal." 
 
 The Sultan Alexander heard with pleasure the words of 
 his wise counsellor. 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA ^Tj 
 
 Two qualities are essential to kings, generosity and mag- 
 nanimity. When a minister remarks, in his king, sentiments 
 unworthy of his rank, he should warn him of the fact, and 
 should turn him from unworthy actions. They tell that a' 
 king, having made a gift of 500 dirhems, his minister said to 
 him : " I have heard from the mouth of wise men that it is 
 not permitted to kings to make a present of less than 1,000 
 dirhems ! " 
 
 One day Haroun-er-Raschid made a gift of 500 tahil. His 
 minister, named Yahya, made by signs and by gestures every 
 effort to prevent him from doing this. When all those who 
 had been present were gone, Haroun-er-Raschid said: 
 
 " O Yahya ! what were you trying to do with all your 
 signs ? " 
 
 The latter replied: "O prince of true believers! I was 
 trying to say that kings should never let it be seen that they 
 are capable of making presents of less than 1,000 dirhems." 
 
 One day King Mamoun-er-Raschid heard his minister, 
 named Abbas, say to a servant, " Go to the bazaar and buy 
 something with this half-tahil." 
 
 Mamoun-er-Raschid was angry with him and said : " You 
 are capable of dividing a tahil in two ! That is not proper in 
 a minister; you are not worthy of the name," and he forth- 
 with desposed him from office. 
 
 In the Kitab Sifat-el-Molouk it is related that the King 
 Chabour, giving his last instructions to his son, said as fol- 
 lows : " O my son ! whenever you make a present to anyone, 
 do not bestow it with your own hands. Do not even examine 
 or have brought into your own presence the gifts that you 
 make. Whenever you give a present, see that it be at least 
 the equivalent of the revenue of a town in value, so that it 
 will enrich the recipients, and make them and their children 
 and grandchildren free from adversity. Furthermore, my 
 child, beware all your life of giving yourself up to operations 
 of commerce in your kingdom. For this kind of affairs is 
 unworthy a king who has greatness of character, prosperity, 
 and birth." 
 
 King Harmuz received one day a letter from his minister 
 in which he said : " Many merchants being in town with a 
 great quantity of jewels, pearls, hyacinths, rubies, diamonds, 
 
178 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 and other precious stones, I bought all they had for your 
 Majesty, paying 200,000 tahil. Immediately afterward there 
 arrived some merchants from another country who wanted 
 to buy these and offered me a profit of 200,000 tahil. If the 
 King consents I will sell the jewels, and later buy others." 
 
 King Harmuz wrote to his minister the following response : 
 " What are 200,000 tahil ? What are 400,000 tahil, profit in- 
 cluded? Is that worth talking about and making so much 
 ado ? If you are going into the operations of commerce who 
 will look after the government? If you buy and sell, what 
 will become of the merchants? It is evident that you would 
 destroy thus our good renown, and that you are the enemy 
 of the merchants of our kingdom, for your designs would 
 ruin them. Your sentiments are unworthy a minister." And 
 for this he removed him from office. 
 
 In the Kitab Sifat-el-Houkama it is said : " There is a great 
 diversity of inclinations among men. Everyone has his own 
 propensity. One is borne naturally toward riches, another 
 toward patience and resignation, another toward study and 
 good works. And in this world the humors of men are so 
 varied that they all dififer in nature. Among this infinite 
 variety of dispositions of soul, that which best suits kings and 
 ministers is greatness of character, for that quality is the orna- 
 ment of royalty. 
 
 " One day the minister of the Sultan Haroun-er-Raschid 
 was returning from the council of state to his house when 
 he was approached by a beggar who said : ' O Yahya ! misery 
 brings me to you. I pray you give me something.' 
 
 " When Yahya had arrived at his house he made the beggar 
 sit down at the door, and calling an attendant said to him: 
 ' Every day give this man 1,000 dinars, and for his food give 
 him his part in the provisions consumed in your house.' 
 
 " They say that for a month the beggar came every day 
 and sat at Yahya's door, and received the sum of 1,000 dinars. 
 When he had received them at the end of the month, 30,000 
 dinars, the beggar went away. When informed of his de- 
 parture, Yahya said : ' By the Lord ! if he had not gone away, 
 and had come to my door for the rest of his Hfe, I should have 
 given him the same daily ration.' " 
 
 In the Kitab Tarykh the following is told: "There was 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 179 
 
 once upon a time a Persian king named Khrosrou, remarkable 
 among all the kings of Persia for his power, his greatness of 
 character, his goodness, and the purity of his morals. His 
 wife, named Chirine, was of a rare beauty, and no one at that 
 time could be compared to her, for she possessed all the virtues. 
 Khrosrou passionately loved Chirine, and among the books, 
 famous in the world, which speak of loving couples, there is 
 one called ' Khrosrou and Chirine.' One day Khrosrou was 
 seated in the palace with his wife Chirine, when a fisherman 
 brought in a fine fish as a present to Khrosrou. The latter 
 ordered them to give him a present of 4,000 dirhems. 
 
 " ' You are wrong,' said Chirine. 
 
 " ' And why ? ' asked the King. 
 
 " ' If, in the future, you made one of your servants a present 
 of 4,000 dirhems he will not fail to say forthwith, " I am con- 
 sidered as the equal of a fisherman." If your present is less 
 than 4,000 dirhems, then necessarily he will say, " I am con- 
 sidered as being less than a fisherman," and your actions will 
 sadden his heart.' 
 
 " Khrosrou said : ' Your observation is just. But I have 
 spoken, and I cannot reverse what I have said, for it is shame- 
 ful for a king to fail in keeping his word.' 
 
 " Chirine replied, ' Never mind, I know a way, and no one 
 can say that you broke your promise.' 
 
 " ' What is this way ? ' asked Khrosrou. 
 
 " Chirine answered : ' Put this question to the fisherman, 
 " Is this a fresh-water or a salt-water fish ? " 
 
 " ' If he answers, " It is a fresh-water fish," say, " I want a 
 salt-water one," and the contrary. Then he will go away and 
 you will be released from your foolish promise.' 
 
 " Khrosrou, who by love of Chirine could not help hearing 
 her advice and following it, put the question to the fisherman. 
 But the latter, suspecting a trap, said, ' It is both.' King 
 Khrosrou began to laugh, and gave him 4,000 dirhems in 
 addition. 
 
 "The fisherman, having received his 8,000 dirhems, put 
 them in a sack and went away. On the journey, a dirhem fell 
 to the ground, and the fisherman, lowering his sack, began to 
 search for the dirhem that had fallen. When he found it, he 
 placed it with the others and took up his march again. 
 
i8o MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 Khrosrou and Chirine had both been witnesses of his action. 
 Chirine said to Khrosrou : ' Behold the baseness and the 
 lack of judgment of the fisherman. He wearied himself to 
 hunt for one dirhem when he had a sack full of them. Recall 
 him and do him shame.' 
 
 " Khrosrou, who from his love for Chirine was incapable 
 of resisting her words, and always obeyed them, recalled the 
 fisherman and said to him : ' Of a truth, you have a low soul, 
 and possess neither judgment nor dignity. What! One of 
 your 8,000 dirhems was lost and you deferred your journey 
 until you had found it ? That shows the baseness of your soul 
 and your lack of judgment.' 
 
 " The fisherman made obeisance and answered : ' May the 
 prosperity of the king of the world increase! I sought not 
 the dirhem on account of its money value, but only on account 
 of the greatness and importance of the words engraved upon 
 the coin. On one of its sides is written the name of God most 
 high. On the other side is written the name of the King. 
 Had I not found the dirhem, and had left it on the ground, 
 then people passing would have trodden upon it, and the two 
 names inscribed upon it, and which ought to be glorified 
 by all men, would have been despised and disgraced, and I 
 would have been the accomplice of all the passers-by who 
 trod upon it. That is why I took the trouble to find the 
 dirhem.' 
 
 " Khrosrou was pleased with this answer and gave him still 
 another 4,000 dirhems. The fisherman, filled with joy, took 
 his 12,000 dirhems and returned to his home." 
 
 A man had committed a serious offence against King 
 Haroun-er-Raschid. Condemned to death, he succeeded in 
 escaping. But he had a brother. The King summoned the 
 latter and said to him : " Find your brother so that I may 
 kill him. If you do not find him I will kill you in his place." 
 This man not finding his brother, the King Haroun-er- 
 Raschid ordered one of his servants to bring him to be killed. 
 But this servant said : " O prince of believers ! if the one who 
 received the command to put this man to death brings him 
 for that purpose and at the same time a messenger comes 
 from your Majesty with an order not to kill him, ought he 
 not to release him?" 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA i8i 
 
 King Haroun-er-Raschid answered, " He certainly ought 
 to release him, on account of my orders." 
 
 " O prince of believers," answered the servant, " the Koran 
 says, ' He who has a burden shall not bear another's.' " 
 
 Then the King said : " Set the man free, for this must 
 cover his case, and means that the innocent should not perish 
 for the guilty." 
 
 They tell that, a pundit appearing one day before the Sultan 
 Ismail Samani, King of the country of Khorassan, the Sultan 
 received him with great distinction, and at his departure 
 saluted him most respectfully and escorted him to the door, 
 taking seven steps behiiid him. 
 
 The next night he dreamed that the glorious prophet (with 
 whom be peace!) spoke thus to him: "O Ismail, because 
 you honored one of my pundits, I will pray God that after you 
 seven of your children and grandchildren shall become great 
 and glorious kings." They say that for many years the king- 
 dom of Khorassan flourished under the paternal government 
 of the successors of this Sultan. 
 
 The Sultan Abdallah Tlahir, as soon as he had taken posses- 
 sion of the throne of Khorassan, received the homage of a 
 large number of his subjects. At the end of several days he 
 asked, " Is there anyone of distinction in the country who 
 has not come to present himself before me ? " They told him, 
 " There are two persons that have not come, one named 
 Ahmed Arab, and the other named Mahomet Islam. But 
 these two men never present themselves before kings and 
 ministers." 
 
 The Sultan replied, " Since they will not come to find kings 
 and ministers, I must go to them." So one day the Sultan 
 repaired to the house of Ahmed Arab. The latter, imme- 
 diately arising, remained standing a long time facing the 
 Sultan. Then regarding him fixedly he said to him: "O 
 Sultan, I had heard tell of your beauty, and I now see that 
 they spoke the truth. Make not of that body the embers 
 of hell." Saying this he returned to his prayers. The 
 Sultan Abdallah Tlahir went away from the sheik's house 
 weeping. 
 
 He then betook himself to the house of Mahomet Islam. 
 At the news that the Sultan was coming to see him, the sheik 
 
i82 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 shut the door of his house, saying : " I ought not to see him. 
 I ought not to speak to him." 
 
 The Sultan departed in tears and said : " Friday, when the 
 sheik goes to the mosque I will go to him." 
 
 When Friday came he was on horseback, surrounded by 
 soldiers, awaiting the arrival of the sheik. As spon as he per- 
 ceived him, he dismounted, approached him on foot, and 
 saluted him. The sheik asked: "Who are you? What do 
 you want of me ? " 
 
 The Sultan answered : " It is I, Abdallah Tlahir. I have 
 come to see the sheik." 
 
 The latter, turning away his face, said to the Sultan, " What 
 connection is there between you and me ? " 
 
 The Sultan fell at the feet of the sheik, in tears, in the middle 
 of the highway, and, invoking God the most high, spoke as 
 follows, " O Lord, forgive my faults, on account of the many 
 virtues of this faithful sheik." And he was forgiven and be- 
 came a good man. 
 
 The imam El-Chafei (may mercy be with him !), going from 
 the city of Jerusalem to the country of Egypt, halted in a town 
 called Ramla. One of the inhabitants of this town took him 
 into his house and entertained him with many attentions. The 
 companions of the imam El-Chafei perceived that he felt a 
 certain inquietude, but none of them knew the reason for it. 
 The more the master of the house showered his attentions 
 and civilities, the more disturbed the imam seemed to be. 
 Finally at the moment when the imam was mounting his horse 
 to continue his journey, the master of the house arrived and 
 put a writing into his hands. On reading this, the imam lost his 
 worried air, and, giving orders to pay the man thirty dinars, 
 he went on his way rejoicing. One of his companions asked 
 him: 
 
 " Why were you so disturbed? What did the writing say? 
 And why did you show so much joy in reading it? " 
 
 The imam El-Chafei answered : " When our host took us 
 to his house I noticed that his face lacked the characteristic 
 signs of honesty. But as he treated us so well I began to think 
 perhaps I was mistaken in judging him. But when I read the 
 writing he handed me I saw it was as follows : ' While the 
 jmam h?is been here I have spent on him ten dinars. He ought 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 183 
 
 therefore to pay me back twenty.' So then I knew that I had 
 made no error in reading his character, and was pleased at 
 my skill." 
 
 The story is told that one day as the prophet Solomon was 
 seated on his royal throne, surrounded by men, spirits, and 
 birds, two women came before him, each claiming possession 
 of a child. These two women kept saying, " It is my child," 
 but neither could give proof. All their arguments amounting 
 to nothing, the prophet Solomon commanded that the child 
 should be cut in two, and that each woman should take half. 
 When the executioner advanced, drawing his sword, one of 
 the women bursting into sobs cried out in anguish : " O 
 Prophet Solomon, don't kill the child. Give it to this woman, 
 it is all I ask ! " 
 
 As the murder of the child never drew a tear nor a move- 
 ment of anxiety from the other woman, Solomon commanded 
 them to give it to the woman who had wept, because her tears 
 proved her to be the true mother, and that the child belonged 
 to her, and not to the other woman. Thus did King Solomon 
 show his wisdom in judging character. 
 
 O you who are magnificent ! listen, I pray you, and hear to 
 what degree of sublimity generosity is lifted. In the Kitab 
 Adab-is-Selathin it is said that two qualities were given by 
 God in all their perfection to two men — ^justice to Sultan 
 Nouchirvau, King of Persia, and generosity to a subject of 
 an Arab sultan named Hatim-Thai. The author of that work 
 says that in the time of Hatim-Thai there were three kings 
 celebrated throughout the whole world, and rivals in showing 
 the perfection of generosity — the King of Roum, the King of 
 Syria, and the King of Yemen. But as none of them was as 
 famous as Hatim-Thai, they became jealous of him and united 
 in hostility toward him. They said : " We are the kings of 
 vast countries, and shall we suffer a simple subject of an Arab 
 sultan to be counted as more generous than we are ? " And 
 each of these kings thought to try Hatim-Thai and destroy 
 him. 
 
 The first of the three who attempted the undertaking was 
 the King of Roum. This King said to one of his ministers : 
 "O minister, I hear tell that there is among the Arabs a man 
 named Hatim-Thai, and that he is reputed the most generous 
 
1 84 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 man in the world. I am displeased that my name is not as 
 noted for generosity as his. I want to make a proof and see 
 if his fame is true or false. I have heard that Hatim-Thai 
 possesses a horse which he loves as he does his own soul. 
 Well, we will ask him to give us this beloved horse." 
 
 The minister sent an envoy, with suitable presents' and a 
 letter to give to Hatim-Thai. He arrived in a great storm of 
 wind and rain which permitted no one to attend to his affairs 
 abroad. It was already night, and Hatim-Thai had made no 
 preparations to receive a guest, but he received the stranger 
 with the marks of the highest respect and greatest cordiality. 
 
 " What need brings you here to-night ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nothing but to visit you," replied the envoy, and he never 
 mentioned that evening his mission from the King of Roum. 
 
 As there was nothing in the house to eat, Hatim-Thai killed 
 his favorite horse and served it for his guest's supper. As soon 
 as it was day, the envoy presented the gifts and the letter from 
 the King of Roum. When he read the passage in the letter 
 where the King asked for the horse which had just been killed, 
 Hatim-Thai turned pale and could not say a word. The en- 
 voy, observing him in this state, imagined that he regretted 
 the gift of his horse, and said : 
 
 " O Hatim-Thai, if it is not with pleasure that you give your 
 horse to my master, think no more about it, and let me return 
 to my country." 
 
 Hatim-Thai answered : " O envoy of the King of Roum ! 
 if I had a thousand horses like that one I should give them all 
 without a moment's hesitation. But last night I asked you 
 the motive which brought you hither, and you said it was 
 merely to visit me. So I killed the horse for your food, and 
 that is why I am afflicted with sorrow at my lack of foresight." 
 He sent the envoy back home with many other horses as a gift. 
 
 The envoy told the whole story and the King of Roum said : 
 " The renown of Hatim-Thai is deserved ; he is the most gen- 
 erous of men." He made an alliance of friendship with him, 
 and the fame of Hatim-Thai grew apace. 
 
 The second one who tested Hatim-Thai's generosity was 
 the King of Syria. He said : " How can Hatim-Thai, who 
 lives in the woods and the plains, occupied in pasturing goats, 
 camels, and horses!, be more generous than so great a King 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 185 
 
 as I? I will put him to the proof. I will ask rich presents 
 that he cannot give, and he will be shamed and humiliated 
 before kings and peoples." 
 
 So the King of Syria sent an envoy to Hatim-Thai to ask 
 for 100 red camels with long manes, black eyes, and very tall. 
 Camels of this sort are hard to find, only kings having four 
 or five. When the envoy had arrived he told Hatim-Thai 
 what the King of Syria asked of him. Hatim-Thai was full of 
 joy hearing the words of the envoy, and hastened to regale 
 him bountifully with food and drink. Then he searched among 
 his camels, but found none such as the King of Syria desired. 
 He ordered search to be made among the peoples of his nation, 
 Arabs and Bedouins, offering a large price. By the will of 
 God a Bedouin succeeded in finding 100, and Hatim-Thai 
 asked only the delay of one month in payment. The. envoy 
 returned home with the red camels and many other presents. 
 Seeing them, the King of Syria was struck with astonishment 
 and cried : " Behold, we wished only to test Hatim-Thai, and 
 now he has gone into debt to satisfy our desire. Yes, truly 
 he is the most generous man in the world." 
 
 He commanded them to send back to Hatim-Thai the 100 
 red camels loaded with magnificent presents. As soon as they 
 arrived, Hatim-Thai summoned the owner and gave him the 
 camels with all their burden of riches, without keeping any- 
 thing for himself. When the envoy, returning home again, 
 recounted all these things, the King of Syria marvelled and 
 exclaimed : " No one can equal Hatim-Thai. He is gen- 
 erosity itself, in all its perfection." 
 
 The third king, that is, the King of Yemen, was very gen- 
 erous, and wanted no one to rival him in this particular. So 
 when he heard of the fame of Hatim-Thai for generosity, he 
 was vexed and full of sorrow. He said : " How can that 
 poor Hatim equal in generosity a great king like me ? I give 
 alms to the poor, I feed them, and every day I give them cloth- 
 ing. How is it possible that anyone can dare to mention the 
 name of Hatim-Thai in my presence as the most generous o£ 
 men?" 
 
 Now, at that time an ambassador of the King of Maghreb 
 arrived at the Court of the King of Yemen, who spoke of the 
 wonderful generosity of Hatim-Thai. He felt as if his heart 
 
,86 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 was burning, but did not let his grief appear, and said to him- 
 self: 
 
 " Everybody repeats the praises of Hatim, one after another, 
 without knowing exactly who he is, of what birth, and what 
 are the means which permit him thus to give hospitality. I shall 
 cause him to perish." 
 
 The King of Yemen summoned a Bedouin, a bandit cele- 
 brated for his ferocity, without pity for the life of a man. The 
 Bedouin arrived, and the King gave him gold, silver, and 
 clothing. " O Bedouin," he said to him, " if you will perform 
 an affair for us, we will give you whatever you ask." 
 
 The Bedouin answered: " O my lord, king of the world, 
 what is your Majesty's will? " 
 
 The King of Yemen replied: "There is a man named 
 Hatim-Thai, of the tribe of Thai, on the confines of Syria. Go 
 to this country, and employ all the tricks you can to kill him. 
 When you have killed him bring me his head. If you succeed 
 in doing as I wish, whatever you ask, it shall be given you." 
 
 These words of the King filled with joy the Bedouin's heart. 
 He said to himself : " Here is a good piece of work. For an 
 old tattered cloak I will kill a man. Why then should I hesi- 
 tate a moment for a superb cloak of scarlet ? " 
 
 Taking leave of the King, the Bedouin set out promptly and 
 went toward Syria in search of Hatim-Thai. After a while 
 he arrived at a village near to Syria, and there he met a young 
 man of a rare beauty. His face bore the marks of virtue, his 
 language was full of sweetness and affability, his soul was 
 righteous, and his heart compassionate. He asked the 
 Bedouin where he was going. The latter answered, " I am 
 from the country of Yemen, and am going to Syria." 
 
 The young man replied : " O my brother ! I wish you would 
 do me the favor to rest for a day and a night in my house, 
 and I will do the best to entertain you. After that you shall 
 go on your journey when you wish." 
 
 The Bedouin heard these words with pleasure, and went into 
 the young man's house. There he was treated magnificently 
 and regaled so lavishly that he thought he had never seen and 
 eaten so much. He slept peacefully all night. At dawn he 
 said farewell, eager to gain the end of his journey. The young 
 man said to him : " O my brother, if it is possible, stay two 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 187 
 
 or three days longer, I beg you, so that by my hospitality I 
 may show all the sincere affection that my heart feels for you." 
 
 The Bedouin replied : " O my brother, truly would I re- 
 main some time longer here, had I not a most important and 
 delicate mission to fulfil. It is impossible for me to stay and 
 enjoy myself here, while I have not yet accomplished my 
 errand." 
 
 The young man answered : " O my brother, what is this 
 difficult and delicate affair which prevents you from staying 
 here ? If you will tell me, doubtless I shall find some means 
 of coming to your aid, and lightening the burden which weighs 
 so heavily upon your heart. But, now, what can I do since 
 you tell me nothing ? " 
 
 Hearing these words, the Bedouin kept silence. He said 
 to himself : " This affair is not easy to execute. It might be 
 of use for me to have a prudent and discreet companion to 
 confer with him about it. Perhaps I should do well to talk 
 of it to this young man and ask his advice." 
 
 And nevertheless he da'red not yet trust his secret, and his 
 perplexity was written on his countenance. He could not 
 utter a single word, and remained very anxious. 
 
 The young man observing the state of the Bedouin said to 
 him : " O servant of God, your embarrassment is evident ; 
 you fear to open your heart to me. God alone, in truth, knows 
 the secrets of his servants. But, in your present situation, it 
 may be that I can be of some benefit to you." 
 
 The Bedouin, hearing these words of the young man, said 
 to him : " O my loyal friend, know then that I am an Arab- 
 Bedouin of the country of Yemen ; that of all the Bedouins of 
 Arabia there is not one so wicked nor so great a thief as I, and 
 that my fame as a bandit is celebrated throughout all Yemen. 
 The King, having resolved upon a wicked deed, ordered his 
 minister to find a man capable of performing it. As I had the 
 reputation of being the greatest bandit of the country of 
 Yemen, I was summoned to the presence of the King. As 
 soon as his Majesty saw me he loaded me with presents and 
 said : ' If you do as I wish I will give you many more presents 
 of gold and silver and other magnificent things.' I replied, 
 ' O my lord, king of the world, what is this affair ? ' ' You 
 must go and kill a man named Hatim-Thai, who lives on the 
 
1 88 MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 confines of Syria.' To this I replied : ' O my lord, king of the 
 world, I am only a Bedouin, a poor robber, wandering in the 
 forests and the plains. For drink I have but the brackish 
 water of the marshes. For food I have only rats and locusts.' 
 On account of my wretchedness, I obeyed the wishes of the 
 King, and promised to execute this affair. But here I am, in 
 a very embarrassing situation, for I do not know this Hatim- 
 Thai, and I don't even know where his tribe is, the Ben-Thai." 
 
 The young man, hearing these words, began to laugh, and 
 said : " O my brother, be not disturbed. I know this Hatim- 
 Thai, and I will show him to you." These words rejoiced the 
 Bedouin. The young man continued : " O my brother, know 
 that the tribe of Ben-Thai inhabit this village, and that the 
 man named Hatim-Thai is himself in this tribe. If you will 
 follow exactly what I indicate to you, you will certainly ac- 
 complish your mission." 
 
 The Bedouin answered : " O my brother, I place my life 
 in your hands. What must be done ? " 
 
 The young man answered : " O my brother, there is a place 
 where Hatim-Thai goes for recreation. It is an extremely 
 deserted place, which no one ever visits. When he gets there 
 he eats, drinks, and then he sleeps, his head covered with a 
 cloth, and his horse tied near by. You will arrive at that mo- 
 ment, you will promptly execute the wish of the King, you 
 will jump upon the horse and dash away from this place and 
 go wherever you like." 
 
 The young man went then to show the place to the Bed- 
 ouin, and giving him a poniard with two edges well sharp- 
 ened, he said : " O my brother, to-morrow Hatim-Thai will 
 come to this spot. Forget nothing that you have to do." 
 
 All the instruction of the young man were followed by the 
 Bedouin. Early in the morning Hatim-Thai repaired to the 
 designated place. He ate, he drank, and when he had finished 
 his repast he tied his horse near by. Then, covering his head 
 with a cloth, he fell fast asleep. At this very moment the 
 wicked Bedouin arrived. By the will of God, just as he was 
 about to assassinate the young man, a thought came into his 
 heart. " Hatim-Thai is celebrated throughout the whole 
 world for his generosity and his benevolence. Before I kill 
 him, while he is still alive, I want to see his face." And he 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 189 
 
 raised the cloth that covered his head. At the sight of the 
 countenance of the sleeping young man he fell at his feet and 
 covered them with kisses, saying : " O my friend ! What 
 have you done ? You ought not to act thus ! " 
 
 Hearing these words of the Bedouin, the young man said : 
 "What could I do? For the one called Hatim-Thai is I. The 
 head that the King of Yemen wants is mine. What other 
 means could I employ ? " He conducted the Bedouin to his 
 house, regaled him again, and gave him all he needed. 
 
 Then the Bedouin took leave and returned to his country. 
 As soon as he arrived in Yemen, he went before the King and 
 recounted all the circumstances relative to Hatim-Thai. 
 
 Having heard the story the King shed tears, and said : " Of 
 a truth, Hatim-Thai is liberal, benevolent, and noble, brave 
 and generous." Afterward the King of Yemen made a friend- 
 ship with Hatim-Thai that lasted as long as his life. 
 
 When the Sultan Yakoub invaded Khorassan and be- 
 sieged the capital, the Sultan Mahomet, shut up in the city, 
 made such a strong resistance that for a long time it was im- 
 possible to capture the place. But his ministers betrayed him 
 by sending to Sultan Yakoub letters which showed how it 
 might be taken. One only of these ministers, named Ibrahim 
 Hadjib, abstained from sending any traitorous letters, and re- 
 mained faithful to his master. After a while the City was taken 
 and Sultan Yakoub ascended the throne. Then all the most 
 important people of the country came to pay homage to him. 
 The ministers who had betrayed the former Sultan were son- 
 spicuous in their demonstrations of joy. The Sultan Yakoub 
 gave a pleasant reception to those who came, and made them 
 suitable gifts. 
 
 After this he asked, " Who has not come to present himself 
 before me on this day of rejoicing?" 
 
 The ministers immediately answered, " Ibrahim Hadjib is 
 the only one who has not come to present his congratula- 
 tions?' 
 
 Then the Sultan asked, " Why has he not done so? Is he 
 ill?" 
 
 " No," they answered, " he is not ill." 
 
 The Sultan summoned Ibrahim Hadjib, and the latter came 
 into the royal presence. The Sultan, observing on his coun- 
 
I go MALAYAN LITERATURE 
 
 tenance evident marks of care and sorrow, spoke thus to him : 
 " Ibrahim Hadjib, are you the minister in whom the Suhan 
 Mahomet placed his confidence ? " He replied in the affirma- 
 tive. 
 
 " From what motive, Ibrahim Hadjib, did you keep silence, 
 and send me no word of advice while the ministers of Sultan 
 Mahomet, now here, sent many letters to show me how to 
 capture the city ? Why did you refrain from appearing before 
 me at court to-day, at the same time with the ministers and 
 grandees ? Why, now that you are here, are you the only one 
 to wear a sad and mournful appearance and a long face, while 
 all the others show their joy? To all these questions you 
 must truthfully respond. And if you speak not the truth you 
 shall be put to death." 
 
 " If the Sultan wishes to hear the language of truth and 
 will not be vexed by it, I will reply to each of his questions. 
 To the first question, why I sent no letter betraying my King, 
 I will say : Know, Sultan, that the Sultan Mahomet was the 
 King of this country ; that he gave me many presents and had 
 full confidence in me, thinking that in the moment of danger 
 I would be his companion and his counsellor. How could I, 
 then, betray him ? I knew you not, and had received no bene- 
 fits from you. Would it have been just for me to send you 
 letters and cause the fall of one who had been so bountiful 
 to me ? " 
 
 " Your words are just and true," said the Sultan Yakoub. 
 
 Ibrahim Hadjib continued : " As to the question why I 
 abstained from presenting myself at court to-day, and why 
 I wore so sorrowful a face, I answer : Know that I could not 
 present myself before the Sultan, because he was the enemy 
 of my master and benefactor, and brought about the ruin of 
 my lord. That is why I wore a sad face in your presence. 
 Beside, the children and grandchildren of my lord are plunged 
 in grief and anxiety, and how could I be happy in your pres- 
 ence, like these hypocrites, who are very different elsewhere? 
 I have told the truth." 
 
 When the Sultan Yakoub had heard these words of Ibrahim 
 Hadjib, he cried : " God be praised ! Up to this time I have 
 heard tell of ministers, I have seen many kinds, but never 
 have I seen nor heard of a minister like this one. Now, only 
 
MAKOTA RADJA-RADJA 191 
 
 for the first time have I seen a true minister and listened to 
 the words of truth." The Sultan Yakoub loaded Ibrahim 
 Hadjib with favors, made him prime minister, and gave him 
 the name of father. As for the other ministers, he caused 
 them to perish, with their whole families. Then he published 
 this proclamation: 
 
 " Behold the fate of those who are Pithless to their prom- 
 ises and commit treason toward their King, for they cannot be 
 counted as men."