Moorish Literature Part 33

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, n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s Are apples whose sweet scent makes well the ill.

Thy body is, like paper, s.h.i.+ning, 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 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 pa.s.sed 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-l-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 pa.s.sed 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.

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 G.o.d, divinely good, would let it live.

But G.o.d, 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 pa.s.sed 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 n.o.ble race. Alas!

She still increased the burnings of my heart.

They wrapped her in a shroud, my n.o.ble 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 pa.s.sing 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, s.h.i.+ning 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, Like a gazelle's, have never left my sight.

O s.e.xton, care now for my sweet gazelle, And let no stones fall on Hyzyya's grave.

I do adjure thee by the Holy Book And by the letters which make up the name Of G.o.d, 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 conqueror, 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 G.o.d, the mighty and compa.s.sionate, 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 In all the contests 'twixt the wandering camps; I tourneyed with him careless of my fate.

When just a month had pa.s.sed I lost the steed.

Hyzyya first, and then this n.o.ble horse.

He did not long survive my well-beloved.

They both are gone, leaving their last farewells.

O grief! my charger's reins have fallen down.

G.o.d made my life a death, in leaving me Behind. For them I die. Oh, cruel hurt!

I 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 s.h.i.+nes 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 ill.u.s.trious, The daughter of Donaonda.

Such is The will of G.o.d, 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 n.o.ble race, A thousand camels, and a grove of palms 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 G.o.d. She's worth all n.o.ble 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.