The best presentation of the characteristics of Arabic poetry is by W. Ahlwardt, 'Ueber Poesie und Poetik der Araber' (Gotha, 1856); of Arabic metres, by G.W. Freytag, 'Darstellung der Arabischen Verkunst' (Bonn, 1830). Translations of Arabic poetry have been published by J.D. Carlyle, 'Specimens of Arabic Poetry' (Cambridge, 1796); W.A. Clouston, 'Arabic Poetry' (Glasgow, 1881); C.J. Lyall, 'Translations of Ancient Arabic Poetry' (London, 1885). The history of Arabic literature is given in Th. Noeldeke's 'Beitraege zur Kenntniss der Poesie der Alten Araber' (Hanover, 1864), and F.F. Arbuthnot's 'Arabic Authors' (London, 1890).

[Author's signature] Richard Gottheil



DESCRIPTION OF A MOUNTAIN STORM

From the most celebrated of the 'Mu 'allakat,' that of Imr-al-Kais, 'The Wandering King': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

O friend, see the lightning there! it flickered and now is gone, as though flashed a pair of hands in the pillar of crowned cloud. Now, was it its blaze, or the lamps of a hermit that dwells alone, and pours o'er the twisted wicks the oil from his slender cruse? We sat there, my fellows and I, 'twixt Darij and al-Udhaib, and gazed as the distance gloomed, and waited its oncoming. The right of its mighty rain advanced over Katan's ridge; the left of its trailing skirt swept Yadhbul and as-Sitar: Then over Kutaifah's steep the flood of its onset drave, and headlong before its storm the tall trees were borne to ground; And the drift of its waters passed o'er the crags of al-Kanan, and drave forth the white-legged deer from the refuge they sought therein. And Taima—it left not there the stem of a palm aloft, nor ever a tower, save ours, firm built on the living rock. And when first its misty shroud bore down upon Mount Thabir, he stood like an ancient man in a gray-streaked mantle wrapt. The clouds cast their burdens down on the broad plain of al-Ghabit, as a trader from al-Yaman unfolds from the bales his store; And the topmost crest, on the morrow, of al-Mujaimir's cairn, was heaped with the flood-borne wrack, like wool on a distaff wound.

* * * * *

FROM THE 'MU 'ALLAKAT' OF ZUHEIR

A lament for the desertion, through a war, of his former home and the haunts of his tribe; Translation of C. J. Lyall.

I

Are they of Umm Aufa's tents—these black lines that speak no word in the stony plain of al-Mutathellam and al-Darraj? Yea, and the place where his camp stood in ar-Rakmatan is now like the tracery drawn afresh by the veins of the inner wrist. The wild kine roam there large-eyed, and the deer pass to and fro, and their younglings rise up to suck from the spots where they all lie round. I stood there and gazed; since I saw it last twenty years had flown, and much I pondered thereon: hard was it to know again— The black stones in order laid in the place where the pot was set, and the trench like a cistern's root with its sides unbroken still. And when I knew it, at last, for his resting-place, I cried, "Good greeting to thee, O house! Fair peace in the morn to thee!" Look forth, O friend! canst thou see aught of ladies, camel-borne, that journey along the upland there, above Jurthum well? Their litters are hung with precious stuffs, and their veils thereon cast loosely, their borders rose, as though they were dyed in blood. Sideways they sat as their beasts clomb the ridge of as-Suban; in them were the sweetness and grace of one nourished in wealth and ease. They went on their way at dawn—they started before sunrise; straight did they make for the vale of ar-Rass, as hand for mouth. Dainty and playful their mood to one who should try its worth, and faces fair to an eye skilled to trace out loveliness. And the tassels of scarlet wool, in the spots where they gat them down glowed red, like to 'ishrik seeds, fresh-fallen, unbroken, bright. And then they reached the wells where the deep-blue water lies, they cast down their staves, and set them to pitch the tents for rest. On their right hand rose al-Kanan, and the rugged skirts thereof— (and in al-Kanan how many are foes and friends of mine!) At eve they left as-Suban; then they crossed the ridge again, borne on the fair-fashioned litters, all new and builded broad.

[Certain cantos, to the sixth one, reproach the author of the treachery and quarrel that led to the war and migration. Then follows a series of maxims as to human life and conduct.]

VI

Aweary am I of life's toil and travail: he who like me has seen pass of years fourscore, well may he be sick of life! I know what To-day unfolds, what before it was Yesterday; but blind do I stand before the knowledge To-morrow brings. I have seen the Dooms trample men as a blind beast at random treads: whom they smote, he died; whom they missed, he lived on to strengthless eld. Who gathers not friends by help, in many cases of need is torn by the blind beast's teeth, or trodden beneath its foot. And he who his honor shields by the doing of a kindly deed grows richer; who shuts not the mouth of reviling, it lights on him. And he who is lord of wealth and niggardly with his hoard, alone is he left by his kin; naught have they for him but blame. Who keeps faith, no blame he earns, and that man whose heart is led to goodness unmixed with guile gains freedom and peace of soul. Who trembles before the Dooms, yea, him shall they surely seize, albeit he set a ladder to climb the sky. Who spends on unworthy men his kindness with lavish hand; no praise doth he earn, but blame, and repentance the seed thereof. Who will not yield to the spears, when their feet turn to him in peace, shall yield to the points thereof, and the long flashing blades of steel. Who holds not his foe away from his cistern with sword and spear, it is broken and spoiled; who uses not roughness, him shall men wrong. Who seeks far away from kin for housing, takes foe for friend; who honors himself not well, no honor gains he from men. Who makes of his soul a beast of burden to bear men's loads, nor shields it one day from shame, yea, sorrow shall be his lot. Whatso be the shaping of mind that a man is born withal, though he think it lies hid from men, it shall surely one day be known. How many a man seemed goodly to thee while he held his peace, whereof thou didst learn the more or less when he turned to speech. The tongue is a man's one-half, the other, the heart within; besides these two naught is left but a semblance of flesh and blood. If a man be old and a fool, his folly is past all cure; but a young man may yet grow wise and cast off his foolishness.



VII

We asked, and ye gave; we asked again, and ye gave again: but the end of much asking must be that no giving shall follow it.



TARAFAH IBN AL 'ABD

A rebuke to a mischief-maker: Translation of C. J. Lyall

The craft of thy busy tongue has sundered from home and kin the cousins of both thy houses, 'Amr, 'Auf, and Malik's son. For thou to thy dearest art a wind of the bitter north, that sweeps from the Syrian hills, and wrinkles our cheeks and brows. But balmy art thou and mild to strangers, a gracious breeze that brings from the gulf shore showers and fills with its rain our streams. And this, of a truth, I know—no fancy it is of mine: who holds mean his kith and kin, the meanest of men is he! And surely a foolish tongue, when rules not its idle prate discretion, but shows men where thou dwellest with none to guard.

LABID

A lament for the afflictions of his tribe, the 'Amir. From the 'Diwan': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

Yea, the righteous shall keep the way of the righteous, and to God turn the steps of all that abideth; And to God ye return, too; with Him, only, rest the issues of things—and all that they gather. All that is in the Book of Knowledge is reckoned, and before Him revealed lies all that is hidden: Both the day when His gifts of goodness on those whom He exalts are as palms full freighted with sweetness, (Young, burdened with fruit, their heads bowed with clusters, swelled to bursting, the tallest e'en as the lesser,) And the day when avails the sin-spotted only prayer for pardon and grace to lead him to mercy, And the good deed he wrought to witness before him, and the pity of Him who is Compassion: Yea, a place in his shade, the best to abide in, and a heart still and steadfast, right weening, honest. Is there aught good in life? Yea, I have seen it, even I, if the seeing bring aught of profit. Long has Life been to me; and this is its burthen: lone against time abide Ti'ar and Yaramram, And Kulaf and Badi' the mighty, and Dalfa', yea, and Timar, that towers aloft over Kubbah[1]; And the Stars, marching all night in procession, drooping westwards, as each hies forth to his setting: Sure and steadfast their course: the underworld draws them gently downwards, as maidens encircling the Pillar; And we know not, whenas their lustre is vanished, whether long be the ropes that bind them, or little. Lone is 'Amir, and naught is left of her goodness, in the meadows of al-A'raf, but her dwellings— Ruined shadows of tents and penfolds and shelters, bough from bough rent, and spoiled by wind and by weather. Gone is 'Amir, her ancients gone, all the wisest: none remain but a folk whose war-mares are fillies, Yet they slay them in every breach in our rampart— yea, and they that bestride them, true-hearted helpers, They contemn not their kin when change comes upon them, Nor do we scorn the ties of blood and of succor. —Now on 'Amir be peace, and praises, and blessing, wherever be on earth her way—or her halting!

[Footnote 1: The five names foregoing are those of mountains.]



A FAIR LADY

From the 'Mu 'allakat of Antara': Translation of E.H. Palmer

'Twas then her beauties first enslaved my heart— Those glittering pearls and ruby lips, whose kiss Was sweeter far than honey to the taste. As when the merchant opes a precious box Of perfume, such an odor from her breath Comes toward me, harbinger of her approach; Or like an untouched meadow, where the rain Hath fallen freshly on the fragrant herbs That carpet all its pure untrodden soil: A meadow where the fragrant rain-drops fall Like coins of silver in the quiet pools, And irrigate it with perpetual streams; A meadow where the sportive insects hum, Like listless topers singing o'er their cups, And ply their forelegs, like a man who tries With maimed hand to use the flint and steel.



THE DEATH OF 'ABDALLAH

AND WHAT MANNER OF MAN HE WAS

From the original poem of Duraid, son of as-Simmah, of Jusharn: Translation of C.J. Lyall.

I warned them both, 'Arid, and the men who went 'Arid's way— the house of the Black Mother: yea, ye are all my witnesses, I said to them: "Think—even now, two thousand are on your track, all laden with sword and spear, their captains in Persian mail!" But when they would hearken not, I followed their road, though I knew well they were fools, and that I walked not in Wisdom's way. For am not I but one of the Ghaziyah? and if they err I err with my house; and if the Ghaziyah go right, so I. I read them my rede, one day, at Mun'araj al-Liwa: the morrow, at noon, they saw my counsel as I had seen. A shout rose, and voices cried, "The horsemen have slain a knight!" I said, "Is it 'Abdallah, the man whom you say is slain?" I sprang to his side: the spears had riddled his body through as a weaver on outstretched web deftly plies the sharp-toothed comb. I stood as a camel stands with fear in her heart, and seeks the stuffed skin with eager mouth, and thinks—is her youngling slain? I plied spear above him till the riders had left their prey, and over myself black blood flowed in a dusky tide. I fought as a man who gives his life for his brother's life, who knows that his time is short, that Death's doom above him hangs. But know ye, if 'Abdallah be dead, and his place a void, no weakling unsure of hand, and no holder-back was he! Alert, keen, his loins well girt, his leg to the middle bare, unblemished and clean of limb, a climber to all things high; No wailer before ill-luck; one mindful in all he did to think how his work to-day would live in to-morrow's tale, Content to bear hunger's pain though meat lay beneath his hand— to labor in ragged shirt that those whom he served might rest. If Dearth laid her hand on him, and Famine devoured his store, he gave but the gladlier what little to him they spared. He dealt as a youth with Youth, until, when his head grew hoar, and age gathered o'er his brow, to lightness he said, "Begone!" Yea, somewhat it soothes my soul that never I said to him "thou liest," nor grudged him aught of mine that he sought of me!



ASH-SHANFARA OF AZD

A picture of womanhood, from the 'Mufaddaliyat': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

Alas, Umm 'Amr set her face to depart and went: gone is she, and when she sped, she left with us no farewell. Her purpose was quickly shaped—no warning gave she to friends, though there she had dwelt, hard-by, her camels all day with ours. Yea, thus in our eyes she dwelt, from morning to noon and eve— she brought to an end her tale, and fleeted and left us lone. So gone is Umaimah, gone! and leaves here a heart in pain: my life was to yearn for her; and now its delight is fled. She won me, whenas, shamefaced—no maid to let fall her veil, no wanton to glance behind—she walked forth with steady tread; Her eyes seek the ground, as though they looked for a thing lost there; she turns not to left or right—her answer is brief and low. She rises before day dawns to carry her supper forth to wives who have need—dear alms, when such gifts are few enow! Afar from the voice of blame, her tent stands for all to see, when many a woman's tent is pitched in the place of scorn. No gossip to bring him shame from her does her husband dread— when mention is made of women, pure and unstained is she. The day done, at eve glad comes he home to his eyes' delight: he needs not to ask of her, "Say, where didst thou pass the day?"— And slender is she where meet, and full where it so beseems, and tall and straight, a fairy shape, if such on earth there be. And nightlong as we sat there, methought that the tent was roofed above with basil-sprays, all fragrant in dewy eve— Sweet basil, from Halyah dale, its branches abloom and fresh, that fills all the place with balm—no starveling of desert sands.



ZEYNAB AT THE KA'BAH

From 'Umar ibn Rabi'a's 'Love Poems': Translation of W. Gifford Palgrave

Ah, for the throes of a heart sorely wounded! Ah, for the eyes that have smit me with madness! Gently she moved in the calmness of beauty, Moved as the bough to the light breeze of morning. Dazzled my eyes as they gazed, till before me All was a mist and confusion of figures. Ne'er had I sought her, ne'er had she sought me; Fated the love, and the hour, and the meeting. There I beheld her as she and her damsels Paced 'twixt the temple and outer inclosure; Damsels the fairest, the loveliest, gentlest, Passing like slow-wandering heifers at evening; Ever surrounding with comely observance Her whom they honor, the peerless of women. "Omar is near: let us mar his devotions, Cross on his path that he needs must observe us; Give him a signal, my sister, demurely." "Signals I gave, but he marked not or heeded," Answered the damsel, and hasted to meet me. Ah, for that night by the vale of the sandhills! Ah, for the dawn when in silence we parted! He whom the morn may awake to her kisses Drinks from the cup of the blessed in heaven.



THE UNVEILED MAID

From 'Umar ibn Rabi'a's 'Love Poems': Translation of W. Gifford Palgrave

In the valley of Mohassib I beheld her where she stood: Caution bade me turn aside, but love forbade and fixed me there. Was it sunlight? or the windows of a gleaming mosque at eve, Lighted up for festal worship? or was all my fancy's dream? Ah, those earrings! ah, that necklace! Naufel's daughter sure the maid, Or of Hashim's princely lineage, and the Servant of the Sun! But a moment flashed the splendor, as the o'er-hasty handmaids drew Round her with a jealous hand the jealous curtains of the tent. Speech nor greeting passed between us; but she saw me, and I saw Face the loveliest of all faces, hands the fairest of all hands. Daughter of a better earth, and nurtured by a brighter sky; Would I ne'er had seen thy beauty! Hope is fled, but love remains.



FROM THE DIWAN OF AL-NABIGHAH

A eulogy of the valor and culture of the men of Ghassan, written in time of the poet's political exile from them: Translation of C. J. Lyall.

Leave me alone, O Umaimah—alone with my sleepless pain— alone with the livelong night and the wearily lingering stars; It draws on its length of gloom; methinks it will never end, nor ever the Star-herd lead his flock to their folds of rest;— Alone with a breast whose griefs, that roamed far afield by day, the darkness has brought all home: in legions they throng around. A favor I have with 'Amr, a favor his father bore toward me of old; a grace that carried no scorpion sting. I swear (and my word is true—an oath that hath no reserve, and naught in my heart is hid save fair thought of him, my friend)— If these twain his fathers were, who lie in their graves; the one al-Jillik, the others al-Saida, by Harib's side, And Harith, of Jafnah's line, the lord of his folk of old— yea, surely his might shall reach the home of his enemy! In him hope is sure of help when men say—"The host is sped, the horsemen of Ghassan's line unblemished, no hireling herd, His cousins, all near of kin, their chief 'Amr, 'Amir's son— a people are they whose might in battle shall never fail!" When goes forth the host to war, above them in circles wheel battalions of eagles, pointing the path to battalions more; Their friendship is old and tried, fast comrades, in foray bred to look unafraid on blood, as hounds to the chase well trained. Behold them, how they sit there, behind where their armies meet, watching with eyes askance, like elders in gray furs wrapt, Intent; for they know full well that those whom they follow, when the clash of the hosts shall come, will bear off the victory. Ay, well is that custom known, a usage that time has proved when lances are laid in rest on withers of steeds arow— Of steeds in the spear-play skilled, with lips for the fight drawn back, their bodies with wounds all scarred, some bleeding and some half-healed. And down leap the riders where the battle is strait and stern, and spring in the face of Death like stallions amid the herd; Between them they give and take deep draughts of the wine of doom as their hands ply the white swords, thin and keen in the smiting-edge. In shards fall the morions burst by the fury of blow on blow, and down to the eyebrows, cleft, fly shattered the skulls beneath. In them no defect is found, save only that in their swords are notches, a many, gained from smiting of host on host: An heirloom of old, those blades, from the fight of Halimah's day, and many the mellay fierce that since has their temper proved; Therewith do they cleave in twain the hauberk of double woof, and kindle the rock beneath to fire, ere the stroke is done. A nature is theirs—God gives the like to no other men— a wisdom that never sleeps, a bounty that never fails. Their home is God's own land, His chosen of old; their faith is steadfast. Their hope is set on naught but the world to come. Their sandals are soft and fine, and girded with chastity, they welcome with garlands sweet the dawn of the Feast of Palms. There greets them when they come home full many a handmaid fine, and ready, on trestles, hang the mantles of scarlet silk. Yea, softly they wrap their limbs, well-knowing of wealth and ease, in rich raiment, white-sleeved, green at the shoulder—in royal guise. They look not on Weal as men who know not that Woe comes, too: they look not on evil days as though they would never mend.

Lo, this was my gift to Ghassan, what time I sought My people; and all my paths were darkened, and strait my ways.



NUSAIB

The poem characterizes the separation of a wife and mother—a slave—from her family: Translation of C.J. Lyall.

They said last night—To-morrow at first of dawning, or maybe at eventide, must Laila go!— My heart at the word lay helpless, as lies a Katā in net night-long, and struggles with fast-bound wing. Two nestlings she left alone, in a nest far distant, a nest which the winds smite, tossing it to and fro. They hear but the whistling breeze, and stretch necks to greet her; but she they await—the end of her days is come! So lies she, and neither gains in the night her longing, nor brings her the morning any release from pain.



VENGEANCE

By al-Find, of the Zimman Tribe: Translation of C.J. Lyall

Forgiveness had we for Hind's sons: We said, "The men our brothers are; The days may bring that yet again They be the folk that once they were."

But when the Ill stood clear and plain, And naked Wrong was bold to brave, And naught was left but bitter Hate— We paid them in the coin they gave.

We strode as stalks a lion forth At dawn, a lion wrathful-eyed; Blows rained we, dealing shame on shame, And humbling pomp and quelling pride.

Too kind a man may be with fools, And nerve them but to flout him more; And Mischief oft may bring thee peace, When Mildness works not Folly's cure.



PATIENCE

From Ibrahim, Son of Kunaif of Nabhan: Translation of C.J. Lyall

Be patient: for free-born men to bear is the fairest thing, And refuge against Time's wrong or help from his hurt is none; And if it availed man aught to bow him to fluttering Fear, Or if he could ward off hurt by humbling himself to Ill, To bear with a valiant front the full brunt of every stroke And onset of Fate were still the fairest and best of things. But how much the more, when none outruns by a span his Doom, And refuge from God's decree nor was nor will ever be, And sooth, if the changing Days have wrought us—their wonted way— A lot mixed of weal and woe, yet one thing they could not do: They have not made soft or weak the stock of our sturdy spear; They have not abased our hearts to doing of deeds of shame. We offer to bear their weight, a handful of noble souls: Though laden beyond all weight of man, they uplift the load. So shield we with Patience fair our souls from the stroke of Shame; Our honors are whole and sound, though others be lean enow.



ABU SAKHR

On a lost love. From the 'Hamasah': Translation of C.J. Lyall

By him who brings weeping and laughter who deals Death and Life as He wills— she left me to envy the wild deer that graze twain and twain without fear! Oh, love of her, heighten my heart's pain, and strengthen the pang every night; oh, comfort that days bring, forgetting —the last of all days be thy tryst! I marveled how swiftly the time sped between us, the moment we met; but when that brief moment was ended how wearily dragged he his feet!

AN ADDRESS TO THE BELOVED

By Abu l-'Ata of Sind. From the 'Hamasah': Translation of C.J. Lyall

Of thee did I dream, while spears between us were quivering— and sooth, of our blood full deep had drunken the tawny shafts! I know not—by Heaven I swear, and here is the word I say!— this pang, is it love-sickness, or wrought by a spell from thee? If it be a spell, then grant me grace of thy love-longing— if other the sickness be, then none is the guilt of thine!

A FORAY

By Ja'far ibn 'Ulbah. From the 'Hamasah': Translation of C.J. Lyall

That even when, under Sabhal's twin peaks, upon us drave the horsemen, troop upon troop, and the foeman pressed us sore— They said to us, "Two things lie before you; now must ye choose the points of the spears couched at ye; or if ye will not, chains!" We answered them, "Yea this thing may fall to you after the fight, when men shall be left on ground, and none shall arise again; But we know not, if we quail before the assault of Death, how much may be left of life—the goal is too dim to see." We rode to the strait of battle; there cleared us a space, around the white swords in our right hands which the smiths had furbished fair. On them fell the edge of my blade, on that day of Sabhal date; And mine was the share thereof, wherever my fingers closed.

FATALITY

By Katari, ibn al-Fuja'ah, ibn Ma'zin. From the 'Hamasah': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

I said to her, when she fled in amaze and breathless before the array of battle, "Why dost thou tremble? Yea, if but a day of Life thou shouldst beg with weeping, beyond what thy Doom appoints, thou wouldst not gain it! Be still, then; and face the onset of Death, high-hearted, for none upon earth shall win to abide forever. No raiment of praise the cloak of old age and weakness; none such for the coward who bows like a reed in the tempest. The pathway of death is set for all men to travel. the crier of Death proclaims through the earth his empire. Who dies not when young and sound, dies old and weary— cut off in his length of days from all love and kindness; And what for a man is left of delight of living,— past use—flung away—a worthless and worn-out chattel?"

IMPLACABILITY

By al-Fadl, ibn al-Abbas, ibn Utbah. From the 'Hamasah': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

Sons of our uncle, peace! Cousins of ours, be still! drag not to light from its grave the strife that we buried there. Hope not for honor from us, while ye heap upon us shame, or think that we shall forbear from vexing when ye vex us. Sons of our uncle, peace! lay not our rancor raw; walk now gently awhile, as once ye were wont to go. Ay, God knows that we, we love you not, in sooth! and that we blame ye not that ye have no love for us. Each of us has his ground for the loathing his fellow moves: a grace it is from the Lord that we hate ye—ye us!

PARENTAL AFFECTION

A poem by Hittan ibn al-Mu'alla of Tayyi. From the 'Hamasah': Translation of C.J. Lyall.

Fortune has brought me down—her wonted way— from stature high and great, to low estate; Fortune has rent away my plenteous store; of all my wealth, honor alone is left. Fortune has turned my joy to tears—how oft did Fortune make me laugh with what she gave! But for these girls, the kata's downy brood, unkindly thrust from door to door as hard— Far would I roam, and wide, to seek my bread, in earth, that has no lack of breadth and length. Nay, but our children in our midst, what else but our hearts are they, walking on the ground? If but the breeze blow harsh on one of them, mine eye says "no" to slumber, all night long!



A TRIBESMAN'S VALOR

Poem by Sa'd, son of Malik, of the Kais Tribe: Translation of C. J. Lyall

How evil a thing is war, that bows men to shameful rest! War burns away in her blaze all glory and boasting of men: Naught stands but the valiant heart to face pain—the hard-hoofed steed The ring-mail set close and firm, the nail-crowned helms and the spears; And onset, again after rout, when men shrink from the serried array— Then, then, fall away all the vile, the hirelings! and shame is strong! War girds up her skirts before them, and evil unmixed is bare. For their hearts were for maidens veiled, not for driving the gathered spoil: Yea, evil the heirs we leave, sons of Yakshar and al-Laksh!

But let flee her fires who will, no flinching for me, son of Kais! O children of Kais! stand firm before her! gain peace or give! Who seeks flight before her fear, his Doom stands and bars the road. Away! Death allows no quitting of place, and brands are bare! What is life for us, when the uplands and valleys are ours no more? Ah, where are the mighty now? the spears and generous hands?



FROM THE QU'RAN

Translation of George Sale

CHAPTER XXXV.: INTITLED "THE CREATOR." REVEALED AT MECCA

In the name of the most merciful GOD. Praise be unto GOD, the creator of heaven and earth; who maketh the angels his messengers, furnished with two, and three, and four pair of wings: GOD maketh what addition he pleaseth unto his creatures; for GOD is almighty. The mercy which GOD shall freely bestow on mankind, there is none who can withhold; and what he shall withhold, there is none who can bestow, besides him: and he is the mighty, the wise. O men, remember the favor of GOD towards you: is there any creator, besides GOD, who provideth food for you from heaven and earth? There is no GOD but he: how therefore are ye turned aside from acknowledging his unity? If they accuse thee of imposture, apostles before thee have also been accused of imposture; and unto GOD shall all things return. O men, verily the promise of GOD is true: let not therefore the present life deceive you, neither let the deceiver deceive you concerning GOD: for Satan is an enemy unto you; wherefore hold him for an enemy: he only inviteth his confederates to be the inhabitants of hell. For those who believe not there is prepared a severe torment: but for those who shall believe and do that which is right, is prepared mercy and a great reward. Shall he therefore for whom his evil work hath been prepared, and who imagineth it to be good, be as he who is rightly disposed, and discerneth the truth? Verily GOD will cause to err whom he pleaseth, and will direct whom he pleaseth. Let not thy soul therefore be spent in sighs for their sakes, on account of their obstinacy; for GOD well knoweth that which they do. It is God who sendeth the winds, and raiseth a cloud: and we drive the same unto a dead country, and thereby quicken the earth after it hath been dead; so shall the resurrection be. Whoever desireth excellence; unto GOD doth all excellence belong: unto him ascendeth the good speech; and the righteous work will he exalt. But as for them who devise wicked plots, they shall suffer a severe punishment; and the device of those men shall be rendered vain. GOD created you first of the dust, and afterwards of seed: and he hath made you man and wife. No female conceiveth, or bringeth forth, but with his knowledge. Nor is any thing added unto the age of him whose life is prolonged, neither is any thing diminished from his age, but the same is written in the book of God's decrees. Verily this is easy with GOD. The two seas are not to be held in comparison: this is fresh and sweet, pleasant to drink; but that is salt and bitter: yet out of each of them ye eat fish, and take ornaments for you to wear. Thou seest the ships also ploughing the waves thereof, that ye may seek to enrich yourselves by commerce, of the abundance of God: peradventure ye will be thankful. He causeth the night to succeed the day, and he causeth the day to succeed the night; and he obligeth the sun and the moon to perform their services: each of them runneth an appointed course. This is GOD, your LORD: his is the kingdom. But the idols which ye invoke besides him have not the power even over the skin of a date-stone: if ye invoke them, they will not hear your calling; and although they should hear, yet they would not answer you. On the day of resurrection they shall disclaim your having associated them with God: and none shall declare unto thee the truth, like one who is well acquainted therewith. O men, ye have need of GOD; but GOD is self-sufficient, and to be praised. If he pleaseth, he can take you away, and produce a new creature in your stead: neither will this be difficult with GOD. A burdened soul shall not bear the burden of another: and if a heavy-burdened soul call on another to bear part of its burden, no part thereof shall be borne by the person who shall be called on, although he be ever so nearly related. Thou shalt admonish those who fear their LORD in secret, and are constant at prayer: and whoever cleanseth himself from the guilt of disobedience, cleanseth himself to the advantage of his own soul; for all shall be assembled before GOD at the last day. The blind and the seeing shall not be held equal; neither darkness and light; nor the cool shade and the scorching wind: neither shall the living and the dead be held equal. GOD shall cause him to hear whom he pleaseth: but thou shalt not make those to hear who are in their graves. Thou art no other than a preacher; verily we have sent thee with truth, a bearer of good tidings, and a denouncer of threats.

There hath been no nation, but a preacher hath in past times been conversant among them: if they charge thee with imposture, they who were before them likewise charged their apostles with imposture. Their apostles came unto them with evident miracles, and with divine writings, and with the Enlightening Book: afterwards I chastised those who were unbelievers; and how severe was my vengeance! Dost thou not see that GOD sendeth down rain from heaven, and that we thereby produce fruits of various colors? In the mountains also there are some tracts white and red, of various colors; and others are of a deep black: and of men, and beasts, and cattle there are whose colors are in like manner various. Such only of his servants fear GOD as are endued with understanding: verily GOD is mighty and ready to forgive. Verily they who read the book of GOD, and are constant at prayer, and give alms out of what we have bestowed on them, both in secret and openly, hope for a merchandise which shall not perish: that God may fully pay them their wages, and make them a superabundant addition of his liberality; for he is ready to forgive the faults of his servants, and to requite their endeavors. That which we have revealed unto thee of the book of the Koran is the truth, confirming the scriptures which were revealed before it: for GOD knoweth and regardeth his servants. And we have given the book of the Koran in heritage unto such of our servants as we have chosen: of them there is one who injureth his own soul; and there is another of them who keepeth the middle way; and there is another of them who outstrippeth others in good works, by the permission of GOD. This is the great excellence. They shall be introduced into gardens of perpetual abode; they shall be adorned therein with bracelets of gold, and pearls, and their clothing therein shall be of silk: and they shall say, Praise be unto GOD, who hath taken away sorrow from us! verily our LORD is ready to forgive the sinners, and to reward the obedient: who hath caused us to take up our rest in a dwelling of eternal stability, through his bounty, wherein no labor shall touch us, neither shall any weariness affect us. But for the unbelievers is prepared the fire of hell: it shall not be decreed them to die a second time; neither shall any part of the punishment thereof be made lighter unto them. Thus shall every infidel be rewarded. And they shall cry out aloud in hell, saying, LORD, take us hence, and we will work righteousness, and not what we have formerly wrought. But it shall be answered them, Did we not grant you lives of length sufficient, that whoever would be warned might be warned therein; and did not the preacher come unto you? Taste therefore the pains of hell. And the unjust shall have no protector. Verily GOD knoweth the secrets both of heaven and earth, for he knoweth the innermost parts of the breasts of men. It is he who hath made you to succeed in the earth. Whoever shall disbelieve, on him be his unbelief; and their unbelief shall only gain the unbelievers greater indignation in the sight of their LORD; and their unbelief shall only increase the perdition of the unbelievers. Say, what think ye of your deities which ye invoke besides GOD? Show me what part of the earth they have created. Or had they any share in the creation of the heavens? Have we given unto the idolaters any book of revelations, so that they may rely on any proof therefrom to authorize their practice? Nay; but the ungodly make unto one another only deceitful promises. Verily GOD sustaineth the heavens and the earth, lest they fail: and if they should fail, none could support the same besides him; he is gracious and merciful. The Koreish swore by GOD, with a most solemn oath, that if a preacher had come unto them, they would surely have been more willingly directed than any nation: but now a preacher is come unto them, it hath only increased in them their aversion from the truth, their arrogance in the earth, and their contriving of evil; but the contrivance of evil shall only encompass the authors thereof. Do they expect any other than the punishment awarded against the unbelievers of former times? For thou shalt not find any change in the ordinance of GOD; neither shalt thou find any variation in the ordinance of GOD. Have they not gone through the earth, and seen what hath been the end of those who were before them; although they were more mighty in strength than they? GOD is not to be frustrated by anything either in heaven or on earth; for he is wise and powerful. If GOD should punish men according to what they deserve, he would not leave on the back of the earth so much as a beast; but he respiteth them to a determined time; and when their time shall come, verily GOD will regard his servants.

CHAPTER LV.: INTITLED "THE MERCIFUL." REVEALED AT MECCA

In the name of the most merciful GOD. The Merciful hath taught his servant the Koran. He created man: he hath taught him distinct speech. The sun and the moon run their courses according to a certain rule: and the vegetables which creep on the ground, and the trees submit to his disposition. He also raised the heaven; and he appointed the balance, that ye should not transgress in respect to the balance: wherefore observe a just weight; and diminish not the balance. And the earth hath he prepared for living creatures: therein are various fruits, and palm-trees bearing sheaths of flowers; and grain having chaff, and leaves. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? He created man of dried clay like an earthen vessel: but he created the genii of fire clear from smoke. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? He is the LORD of the east, and the LORD of the west. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? He hath let loose the two seas, that they meet each another: between them is placed a bar which they cannot pass. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? From them are taken forth unions and lesser pearls. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? His also are the ships, carrying their sails aloft in the sea like mountains. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Every creature which liveth on the earth is subject to decay: but the glorious and honorable countenance of thy LORD shall remain for ever. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Unto him do all creatures which are in heaven and earth make petition; every day is he employed in some new work. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? We will surely attend to judge you, O men and genii, at the last day. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? O ye collective body of genii and men, if ye be able to pass out of the confines of heaven and earth, pass forth: ye shall not pass forth but by absolute power. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? A flame of fire without smoke, and a smoke without flame shall be sent down upon you; and ye shall not be able to defend yourselves therefrom. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? And when the heaven shall be rent in sunder, and shall become red as a rose, and shall melt like ointment: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) On that day neither man nor genius shall be asked concerning his sin. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? The wicked shall be known by their marks; and they shall be taken by the forelocks, and the feet, and shall be cast into hell. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? This is hell which the wicked deny as a falsehood: they shall pass to and fro between the same and hot boiling water. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? But for him who dreadeth the tribunal of his LORD are prepared two gardens: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) In each of them shall be two fountains flowing. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? In each of them shall there be of every fruit two kinds. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? They shall repose on couches, the linings whereof shall be of thick silk interwoven with gold; and the fruit of the two gardens shall be near at hand to gather. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Therein shall receive them beauteous damsels, refraining their eyes from beholding any besides their spouses: whom no man shall have deflowered before them, neither any Jinn: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) Having complexions like rubies and pearls. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Shall the reward of good works be any other good? Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? And besides these there shall be two other gardens: (Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny?) Of a dark green. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? In each of them shall be two fountains pouring forth plenty of water. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? In each of them shall be fruits, and palm-trees, and pomegranates. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Therein shall be agreeable and beauteous damsels: Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Whom no man shall have deflowered before their destined spouses, nor any Jinn. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Therein shall they delight themselves, lying on green cushions and beautiful carpets. Which, therefore, of your LORD'S benefits will ye ungratefully deny? Blessed be the name of thy LORD, possessed of glory and honor!

CHAPTER LXXXIV.: INTITLED "THE RENDING IN SUNDER." REVEALED AT MECCA

In the name of the most merciful GOD. When the heaven shall be rent in sunder, and shall obey its LORD, and shall be capable thereof; and when the earth shall be stretched out, and shall cast forth that which is therein, and shall remain empty, and shall obey its LORD, and shall be capable thereof: O man, verily laboring thou laborest to meet thy LORD, and thou shalt meet him. And he who shall have his book given into his right hand shall be called to an easy account, and shall turn unto his family with joy: but he who shall have his book given him behind his back shall invoke destruction to fall upon him, and he shall be sent into hell to be burned; because he rejoiced insolently amidst his family on earth. Verily he thought he should never return unto God: yea verily, but his LORD beheld him. Wherefore I swear by the redness of the sky after sunset, and by the night, and the animals which it driveth together, and by the moon when she is in the full; ye shall surely be transferred successively from state to state. What aileth them, therefore, that they believe not the resurrection; and that, when the Koran is read unto them, they worship not? Yea: the unbelievers accuse the same of imposture: but GOD well knoweth the malice which they keep hidden in their breasts. Wherefore denounce unto them a grievous punishment, except those who believe and do good works: for them is prepared a never-failing reward.

THE PRAYER OF AL-HARIRI

From the 'Makamat' of al-Hariri of Basra: Translation of Theodore Preston

We praise thee, O God, For whatever perspicuity of language thou hast taught us, And whatever eloquence thou hast inspired us with, As we praise thee For the bounty which thou hast diffused, And the mercy which thou hast spread abroad: And we pray thee to guard us From extravagant expressions and frivolous superfluities As we pray Thee to guard us From the shame of incapacity and the disgrace of hesitation: And we entreat thee to exempt us from temptation By the flattery of the admirer or connivance of the indulgent, As we entreat thee to exempt us from exposure To the slight of the detractor or aspersion of the defamer: And we ask thy forgiveness Should our frailties betray us into ambiguities, As we ask thy forgiveness Should our steps advance to the verge of improprieties: And we beg thee freely to bestow Propitious succor to lead us aright, And a heart turning in unison with truth, And a language adorned with veracity, And style supported by conclusiveness, And accuracy that may exclude incorrectness, And firmness of purpose that may overcome caprice, And sagacity whereby we may attain discrimination; That thou wilt aid us by thy guidance unto right conceptions, And enable us with thy help to express them with clearness, And thou wilt guard us from error in narration, And keep us from folly even in pleasantry, So that we may be safe from the censure of sarcastic tongues, And secure from the fatal effects of false ornament, And may not resort to any improper source, And occupy no position that would entail regret, Nor be assailed by any ill consequences or blame, Nor be constrained to apology for inconsideration. O God, fulfill for us this our desire, And put us in possession of this our earnest wish, And exclude us not from thy ample shade, Nor leave us to become the prey of the devourer: For we stretch to thee the hand of entreaty, And profess entire submission to thee, and contrition of spirit, And seek with humble supplication and appliances of hope The descent of thy vast grace and comprehensive bounty.



THE WORDS OF HARETH IBN-HAMMAM

From the 'Makamat' of al-Hariri of Barra: Translation of Theodore Preston

On a night whose aspect displayed both light and shade, And whose moon was like a magic circlet of silver, I was engaged in evening conversation at Koufa With companions who had been nourished on the milk of eloquence, So the charms of conversation fascinated us, While wakefulness still prevailed among us, Until the moon had at length disappeared in the West. But when the gloom of night had thus drawn its curtain, And nothing but slumber remained abroad, We heard from the door the low call of a benighted traveler, And then followed the knock of one seeking admission; And we answered, "Who comes here this darksome night?" And the stranger replied:—

"Listen ye who here are dwelling! May you so be kept from ill! So may mischief ne'er befall you, Long as life your breast shall fill! Gloom of dismal night and dreary Drives a wretch to seek your door, Whose disheveled hoary tresses All with dust are sprinkled o'er; Who, though destitute and lonely, Far has roamed on hill and dale, Till his form became thus crooked, And his cheek thus deadly pale; Who, though faint as slender crescent, Ventures here for aid to sue, Hospitable meal and shelter Claiming first of all from you. Welcome then to food and dwelling One so worthy both to share, Sure to prove content and thankful, Sure to laud your friendly care."

Fascinated then by the sweetness of his language and delivery, And readily inferring what this prelude betokened, We hasted to open the door, and received him with welcome, Saying to the servant, "Hie! Hie! Bring whatever is ready!" But the stranger said, "By Him who brought me to your abode, I will not taste of your hospitality, unless you pledge to me That you will not permit me to be an incumbrance to you, Nor impose on yourselves necessity of eating on my account."

* * * * *

Now it was just as if he had been informed of our wishes, Or had shot from the same bow as our sentiments; So we gratified him by acceding to the condition, And highly commended him for his accommodating disposition. But when the servant had produced what was ready, And the candle was lighted up in the midst of us, I regarded him attentively, and lo! it was Abu-Zeid; Whereupon I addressed my companions in these words:— "May you have joy of the guest who has repaired to you: For though the moon of the heavens has set, The full moon of poetry has arisen; And though the moon of the eclipse has disappeared, The full moon of eloquence has shone forth." So the wine of joy infused itself into them, And sleep flew away from the corners of their eyes, And they rejected the slumber which they had contemplated, And began to resume the pleasantry which they had laid aside, While Abu-Zeid remained intent on the business in hand. But as soon as he desired the removal of what was before him, I said to him, "Entertain us with one of thy strange anecdotes, Or with an account of one of thy wonderful journeys." And he said:—"The result of long journeys brought me to this land, Myself being in a state of hunger and distress, And my wallet light as the heart of the mother of Moses; So I arose, when dark night had settled on the world, Though with weary feet, to seek a lodging, or obtain a loaf; Till, being driven on by the instigation of hunger, And by fate, so justly called 'the parent of adventures,' I stood at the door of a house and improvised these words:—

"'Inmates of this abode, all hail! all hail! Long may you live in plenty's verdant vale. Oh, grant your aid to one by toil opprest, Way-worn, benighted, destitute, distrest; Whose tortured entrails only hunger hold (For since he tasted food two days are told); A wretch who finds not where to lay his head, Though brooding night her weary wing hath spread, But roams in anxious hope a friend to meet, Whose bounty, like a spring of water sweet, May heal his woes; a friend who straight will say, "Come in! 'Tis time thy staff aside to lay."'

"But there came out to me a boy in a short tunic, who said:—

"'By Him who hospitable rites ordained, And first of all, and best, those rites maintained, I swear that friendly converse and a home Is all we have for those who nightly roam."

"And I replied, 'What can I do with an empty house, And a host who is himself thus utterly destitute? But what is thy name, boy? for thy intelligence charms me.' He replied, 'My name is Zeid, and I was reared at Faid; And my mother Barrah (who is such as her name implies), Told me she married one of the nobles of Serong and Ghassan, Who deserted her stealthily, and there was an end of him.' Now I knew by these distinct signs that he was my child, But my poverty deterred me from discovering myself to him."

Then we asked if he wished to take his son to live with him; And he replied, "If only my purse were heavy enough, It would be easy for me to undertake the charge of him." So we severally undertook to contribute a portion of it, Whereupon he returned thanks for this our bounty, And was so profusely lavish in his acknowledgments, That we thought his expression of gratitude excessive. And as soon as he had collected the coin into his scrip, He looked at me as the deceiver looks at the deceived, And laughed heartily, and then indited these lines:—

"O thou who, deceived By a tale, hast believed A mirage to be truly a lake, Though I ne'er had expected My fraud undetected, Or doubtful my meaning to make!

I confess that I lied When I said that my bride And my first-born were Barrah and Zeid; But guile is my part, And deception my art, And by these are my gains ever made.

Such schemes I devise That the cunning and wise Never practiced the like or conceived; Nor Asmai nor Komait Any wonders relate Like those that my wiles have achieved.

But if these I disdain, I abandon my gain, And by fortune at once am refused: Then pardon their use, And accept my excuse, Nor of guilt let my guile be accused."

Then he took leave of me, and went away from me, Leaving in my heart the embers of lasting regret.



THE CALIPH OMAR BIN ABD AL-AZIZ AND THE POETS

A Semi-Poetical Tale: Translation of Sir Richard Burton, in 'Supplemental Nights to the Book of The Thousand Nights and A Night'

It is said that when the Caliphate devolved on Omar bin Abd al-Aziz, (of whom Allah accept!) the poets resorted to him, as they had been used to resort to the Caliphs before him, and abode at his door days and days; but he suffered them not to enter till there came to him 'Adi bin Artah, who stood high in esteem with him. Jarir [another poet] accosted him, and begged him to crave admission for them to the presence; so 'Adi answered, "'Tis well," and going in to Omar, said to him, "The poets are at thy door, and have been there days and days; yet hast thou not given them leave to enter, albeit their sayings abide, and their arrows from the mark never fly wide." Quoth Omar, "What have I to do with the poets?" And quoth 'Adi, "O Commander of the Faithful, the Prophet (Abhak!) was praised by a poet, and gave him largesse—and in him is an exemplar to every Moslem." Quoth Omar, "And who praised him?" And quoth 'Adi, "Abbas bin Mirdas praised him, and he clad him with a suit and said, 'O Generosity! Cut off from me his tongue!'" Asked the Caliph, "Dost thou remember what he said?" And 'Adi answered, "Yes." Rejoined Omar, "Then repeat it;" so 'Adi repeated:—

"I saw thee, O thou best of the human race, Bring out a book which brought to graceless, grace. Thou showedst righteous road to men astray From right, when darkest wrong had ta'en its place:— Thou with Islam didst light the gloomiest way, Quenching with proof live coals of frowardness: I own for Prophet, my Mohammed's self, and men's award upon his word we base. Thou madest straight the path that crooked ran Where in old days foul growth o'ergrew its face. Exalt be thou in Joy's empyrean! And Allah's glory ever grow apace!"

"And indeed," continued 'Adi, "this Elegy on the Prophet (Abhak!) is well known, and to comment on it would be tedious."

Quoth Omar, "Who [of the poets] is at the door?" And quoth 'Adi, "Among them is Omar ibn Rabi'ah, the Korashi;" whereupon the Caliph cried, "May Allah show him no favor, neither quicken him! Was it not he who spoke impiously [in praising his love]?—

'Could I in my clay-bed [the grave] with Ialma repose, There to me were better than Heaven or Hell!'

Had he not [continued the Caliph] been the enemy of Allah, he had wished for her in this world; so that he might, after, repent and return to righteous dealing. By Allah! he shall not come in to me! Who is at the door other than he?"

Quoth 'Adi, "Jamil bin Ma'mar al-Uzri is at the door." And quoth Omar, "'Tis he who saith in one of his love-Elegies:—

'Would Heaven, conjoint we lived! and if I die, Death only grant me a grave within her grave! For I'd no longer deign to live my life If told, "Upon her head is laid the pave."'

Quoth Omar, "Away with him from me! Who is at the door?" And quoth 'Adi, "Kutthayir 'Azzah": whereupon Omar cried, "'Tis he who saith in one of his [impious] Odes:—

'Some talk of faith and creed and nothing else, And wait for pains of Hell in prayer-seat; But did they hear what I from Azzah heard, They'd make prostration, fearful, at her feet.'

Leave the mention of him. Who is at the door?" Quoth 'Adi, "Al-Ahwas al-Ansari." Cried Omar, "Allah Almighty put him away, and estrange him from His mercy! Is it not he who said, berhyming on a Medinite's slave girl, so that she might outlive her master:—

Allah be judge betwixt me and her lord Whoever flies with her—and I pursue.'

He shall not come in to me! Who is at the door other than he?" 'Adi replied, "Hammam bin Ghalib al-Farazdak." And Omar said, "Tis he who glories in wickedness.... He shall not come in to me! Who is at the door other than he?" 'Adi replied, "Al-Akhtal al-Taghlibi." And Omar said, "He is the [godless] miscreant who saith in his singing:—

'Ramazan I ne'er fasted in lifetime; nay I ate flesh in public at undurn day! Nor chid I the fair, save in word of love. Nor seek Meccah's plain in salvation-way: Nor stand I praying, like rest, who cry, "Hie salvation-wards!" at the dawn's first ray....'

By Allah! he treadeth no carpet of mine. Who is at the door other than he?" Said 'Adi, "Jarir Ibn al-Khatafah." And Omar cried, "Tis he who saith:—

'But for ill-spying glances, had our eyes espied Eyes of the antelope, and ringlets of the Reems! A Huntress of the eyes, by night-time came; and I cried, "Turn in peace! No time for visit this, meseems."'

But if it must be, and no help, admit Jarir." So 'Adi went forth and admitted Jarir, who entered saying:—

'Yea, He who sent Mohammed unto men. A just successor of Islam assigned. His ruth and his justice all mankind embrace. To daunt the bad and stablish well-designed. Verily now, I look to present good, for man hath ever transient weal in mind.'

Quoth Omar, "O Jarir! keep the fear of Allah before thine eyes, and say naught save the sooth." And Jarir recited these couplets:—

'How many widows loose the hair, in far Yamamah land, How many an orphan there abides, feeble of voice and eye, Since faredst thou, who wast to them instead of father lost when they like nestled fledglings were, sans power to creep or fly. And now we hope—since broke the clouds their word and troth with us— Hope from the Caliph's grace to gain a rain that ne'er shall dry.'

When the Caliph heard this, he said, "By Allah, O Jarir! Omar possesseth but an hundred dirhams. Ho boy! do thou give them to him!" Moreover, he gifted Jarir with the ornaments of his sword; and Jarir went forth to the other poets, who asked him, "What is behind thee?" ["What is thy news?"] and he answered, "A man who giveth to the poor, and who denieth the poets; and with him I am well pleased."



DOMINIQUE FRANCOIS ARAGO

(1786-1853)

BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN

Dominique Francois Arago was born February 26th, 1786, near Perpignan, in the Eastern Pyrenees, where his father held the position of Treasurer of the Mint. He entered the Ecole Polytechnique in Paris after a brilliant examination, and held the first places throughout the course. In 1806 he was sent to Valencia in Spain, and to the neighboring island of Iviza, to make the astronomical observations for prolonging the arc of the meridian from Dunkirk southward, in order to supply the basis for the metric system.



Here begin his extraordinary adventures, which are told with inimitable spirit and vigor in his 'Autobiography.' Arago's work required him to occupy stations on the summits of the highest peaks in the mountains of southeastern Spain. The peasants were densely ignorant and hostile to all foreigners, so that an escort of troops was required in many of his journeys. At some stations he made friends of the bandits of the neighborhood, and carried on his observations under their protection, as it were. In 1807 the tribunal of the Inquisition existed in Valencia; and Arago was witness to the trial and punishment of a pretended sorceress,—and this, as he says, in one of the principal towns of Spain, the seat of a celebrated university. Yet the worst criminals lived unmolested in the cathedrals, for the "right of asylum" was still in force. His geodetic observations were mysteries to the inhabitants, and his signals on the mountain top were believed to be part of the work of a French spy. Just at this time hostilities broke out between France and Spain, and the astronomer was obliged to flee disguised as a Majorcan peasant, carrying his precious papers with him. His knowledge of the Majorcan language saved him, and he reached a Spanish prison with only a slight wound from a dagger. It is the first recorded instance, he says, of a fugitive flying to a dungeon for safety. In this prison, under the care of Spanish officers, Arago found sufficient occupation in calculating observations which he had made; in reading the accounts in the Spanish journals of his own execution at Valencia; and in listening to rumors that it was proposed (by a Spanish monk) to do away with the French prisoner by poisoning his food.

The Spanish officer in charge of the prisoners was induced to connive at the escape of Arago and M. Berthemie (an aide-de-camp of Napoleon); and on the 28th of July, 1808, they stole away from the coast of Spain in a small boat with three sailors, and arrived at Algiers on the 3d of August. Here the French consul procured them two false passports, which transformed the Frenchmen into strolling merchants from Schwekat and Leoben. They boarded an Algerian vessel and set off. Let Arago describe the crew and cargo:—

"The vessel belonged to the Emir of Seca. The commander was a Greek captain named Spiro Calligero. Among the passengers were five members of the family superseded by the Bakri as kings of the Jews; two Maroccan ostrich-feather merchants; Captain Krog from Bergen in Norway; two lions sent by the Dey of Algiers as presents to the Emperor Napoleon; and a great number of monkeys."

As they entered the Golfe du Lion their ship was captured by a Spanish corsair and taken to Rosas. Worst of all, a former Spanish servant of Arago's—Pablo—was a sailor in the corsair's crew! At Rosas the prisoners were brought before an officer for interrogation. It was now Arago's turn. The officer begins:—

"'Who are you?'

"'A poor traveling merchant.'

"'From whence do you come?'

"'From a country where you certainly have never been.'

"'Well—from what country?'

"I feared to answer; for the passports (steeped in vinegar to prevent infection) were in the officer's hands, and I had entirely forgotten whether I was from Schwekat or from Leoben. Finally I answered at a chance, 'I am from Schwekat;' fortunately this answer agreed with the passport.

"'You're from Schwekat about as much as I am,' said the officer: 'you're a Spaniard, and a Spaniard from Valencia to boot, as I can tell by your accent.'

"'Sir, you are inclined to punish me simply because I have by nature the gift of languages. I readily learn the dialects of the various countries where I carry on my trade. For example, I know the dialect of Iviza.'

"'Well, I will take you at your word. Here is a soldier who comes from Iviza. Talk to him.'

"'Very well; I will even sing the goat-song.'

"The verses of this song (if one may call them verses) are separated by the imitated bleatings of the goat. I began at once, with an audacity which even now astonishes me, to intone the song which all the shepherds in Iviza sing:—

Ah graciada Senora, Una canzo bouil canta, Be be be be. No sera gaiva pulida, Nose si vos agradara, Be be be be.

"Upon which my Ivizan avouches, in tears, that I am certainly from Iviza. The song had affected him as a Switzer is affected by the 'Ranz des Vaches.' I then said to the officer that if he would bring to me a person who could speak French, he would find the same embarrassment in this case also. An emigre of the Bourbon regiment comes forward for the new experiment, and after a few phrases affirms without hesitation that I am surely a Frenchman. The officer begins to be impatient.

"'Have done with these trials: they prove nothing. I require you to tell me who you are.'

"'My foremost desire is to find an answer which will satisfy you. I am the son of the innkeeper at Mataro.'

"'I know that man: you are not his son.'

"'You are right: I told you that I should change my answers till I found one to suit you. I am a marionette player from Lerida.'

"A huge laugh from the crowd which had listened to the interrogatory put an end to the questioning."

Finally it was necessary for Arago to declare outright that he was French, and to prove it by his old servant Pablo. To supply his immediate wants he sold his watch; and by a series of misadventures this watch subsequently fell into the hands of his family, and he was mourned in France as dead.

After months of captivity the vessel was released, and the prisoner set out for Marseilles. A fearful tempest drove them to the harbor of Bougie, an African port a hundred miles east of Algiers. Thence they made the perilous journey by land to their place of starting, and finally reached Marseilles eleven months after their voyage began. Eleven months to make a journey of four days!

The intelligence of the safe arrival, after so many perils, of the young astronomer, with his packet of precious observations, soon reached Paris. He was welcomed with effusion. Soon afterward (at the age of twenty-three years) he was elected a member of the section of Astronomy of the Academy of Sciences, and from this time forth he led the peaceful life of a savant. He was the Director of the Paris Observatory for many years; the friend of all European scientists; the ardent patron of young men of talent; a leading physicist; a strong Republican, though the friend of Napoleon; and finally the Perpetual Secretary of the Academy.

In the latter capacity it was part of his duty to prepare eloges of deceased Academicians. Of his collected works in fourteen volumes, 'Oeuvres de Francois Arago,' published in Paris, 1865, three volumes are given to these 'Notices Biographiques.' Here may be found the biographies of Bailly, Sir William Herschel, Laplace, Joseph Fourier, Carnot, Malus, Fresnel, Thomas Young, and James Watt; which, translated rather carelessly into English, have been published under the title 'Biographies of Distinguished Men,' and can be found in the larger libraries. The collected works contain biographies also of Ampere, Condoreet, Volta, Monge, Porson, Gay-Lussac, besides shorter sketches. They are masterpieces of style and of clear scientific exposition, and full of generous appreciation of others' work. They present in a lucid and popular form the achievements of scientific men whose works have changed the accepted opinion of the world, and they give general views not found in the original writings themselves. Scientific men are usually too much engrossed in advancing science to spare time for expounding it to popular audiences. The talent for such exposition is itself a special one. Arago possessed it to the full, and his own original contributions to astronomy and physics enabled him to speak as an expert, not merely as an expositor.

The extracts are from his admirable estimate of Laplace, which he prepared in connection with the proposal, before him and other members of a State Committee, to publish a new and authoritative edition of the great astronomer's works. The translation is mainly that of the 'Biographies of Distinguished Men' cited above, and much of the felicity of style is necessarily lost in translation; but the substance of solid and lucid exposition from a master's hand remains.

Arago was a Deputy in 1830, and Minister of War in the Provisional Government of 1848. He died full of honors, October 2d, 1853. Two of his brothers, Jacques and Etienne, were dramatic authors of note. Another, Jean, was a distinguished general in the service of Mexico. One of his sons, Alfred, is favorably known as a painter; another, Emmanuel, as a lawyer, deputy, and diplomat.



LAPLACE

The Marquis de Laplace, peer of France, one of the forty of the French Academy, member of the Academy of Sciences and of the Bureau of Longitude, Associate of all the great Academies or Scientific Societies of Europe, was born at Beaumont-en-Auge, of parents belonging to the class of small farmers, on the 28th of March, 1749; he died on the 5th of March, 1827. The first and second volumes of the 'Mecanique Celeste' [Mechanism of the Heavens] were published in 1799; the third volume appeared in 1802, the fourth in 1805; part of the fifth volume was published in 1823, further books in 1824, and the remainder in 1825. The 'Theorie des Probabilites' was published in 1812. We shall now present the history of the principal astronomical discoveries contained in these immortal works.

Astronomy is the science of which the human mind may justly feel proudest. It owes this pre-eminence to the elevated nature of its object; to the enormous scale of its operations; to the certainty, the utility, and the stupendousness of its results. From the very beginnings of civilization the study of the heavenly bodies and their movements has attracted the attention of governments and peoples. The greatest captains, statesmen, philosophers, and orators of Greece and Rome found it a subject of delight. Yet astronomy worthy of the name is a modern science: it dates from the sixteenth century only. Three great, three brilliant phases have marked its progress. In 1543 the bold and firm hand of Copernicus overthrew the greater part of the venerable scaffolding which had propped the illusions and the pride of many generations. The earth ceased to be the centre, the pivot, of celestial movements. Henceforward it ranged itself modestly among the other planets, its relative importance as one member of the solar system reduced almost to that of a grain of sand.

Twenty-eight years had elapsed from the day when the Canon of Thorn expired while holding in his trembling hands the first copy of the work which was to glorify the name of Poland, when Wuertemberg witnessed the birth of a man who was destined to achieve a revolution in science not less fertile in consequences, and still more difficult to accomplish. This man was Kepler. Endowed with two qualities which seem incompatible,—a volcanic imagination, and a dogged pertinacity which the most tedious calculations could not tire,—Kepler conjectured that celestial movements must be connected with each other by simple laws; or, to use his own expression, by harmonic laws. These laws he undertook to discover. A thousand fruitless attempts—the errors of calculation inseparable from a colossal undertaking—did not hinder his resolute advance toward the goal his imagination descried. Twenty-two years he devoted to it, and still he was not weary. What are twenty-two years of labor to him who is about to become the lawgiver of worlds; whose name is to be ineffaceably inscribed on the frontispiece of an immortal code; who can exclaim in dithyrambic language, "The die is cast: I have written my book; it will be read either in the present age or by posterity, it matters not which; it may well await a reader since God has waited six thousand years for an interpreter of his works"?

These celebrated laws, known in astronomy as Kepler's laws, are three in number. The first law is, that the planets describe ellipses around the sun, which is placed in their common focus; the second, that a line joining a planet and the sun sweeps over equal areas in equal times; the third, that the squares of the times of revolution of the planets about the sun are proportional to the cubes of their mean distances from that body. The first two laws were discovered by Kepler in the course of a laborious examination of the theory of the planet Mars. A full account of this inquiry is contained in his famous work, 'De Stella Martis' [Of the Planet Mars], published in 1609. The discovery of the third law was announced to the world in his treatise on Harmonics (1628).

To seek a physical cause adequate to retain the planets in their closed orbits; to make the stability of the universe depend on mechanical forces, and not on solid supports like the crystalline spheres imagined by our ancestors; to extend to the heavenly bodies in their courses the laws of earthly mechanics,—such were the problems which remained for solution after Kepler's discoveries had been announced. Traces of these great problems may be clearly perceived here and there among ancient and modern writers, from Lucretius and Plutarch down to Kepler, Bouillaud, and Borelli. It is to Newton, however, that we must award the merit of their solution. This great man, like several of his predecessors, imagined the celestial bodies to have a tendency to approach each other in virtue of some attractive force, and from the laws of Kepler he deduced the mathematical characteristics of this force. He extended it to all the material molecules of the solar system; and developed his brilliant discovery in a work which, even at the present day, is regarded as the supremest product of the human intellect.

The contributions of France to these revolutions in astronomical science consisted, in 1740, in the determination by experiment of the spheroidal figure of the earth, and in the discovery of the local variations of gravity upon the surface of our planet. These were two great results; but whenever France is not first in science she has lost her place. This rank, lost for a moment, was brilliantly regained by the labors of four geometers. When Newton, giving to his discoveries a generality which the laws of Kepler did not suggest, imagined that the different planets were not only attracted by the sun, but that they also attracted each other, he introduced into the heavens a cause of universal perturbation. Astronomers then saw at a glance that in no part of the universe would the Keplerian laws suffice for the exact representation of the phenomena of motion; that the simple regular movements with which the imaginations of the ancients were pleased to endow the heavenly bodies must experience numerous, considerable, perpetually changing perturbations. To discover a few of these perturbations, and to assign their nature and in a few rare cases their numerical value, was the object which Newton proposed to himself in writing his famous book, the 'Principia Mathematica Philosophiae Naturalis' [Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy], Notwithstanding the incomparable sagacity of its author, the 'Principia' contained merely a rough outline of planetary perturbations, though not through any lack of ardor or perseverance. The efforts of the great philosopher were always superhuman, and the questions which he did not solve were simply incapable of solution in his time.

Five geometers—Clairaut, Euler, D'Alembert, Lagrange, and Laplace—shared between them the world whose existence Newton had disclosed. They explored it in all directions, penetrated into regions hitherto inaccessible, and pointed out phenomena hitherto undetected. Finally—and it is this which constitutes their imperishable glory—they brought under the domain of a single principle, a single law, everything that seemed most occult and mysterious in the celestial movements. Geometry had thus the hardihood to dispose of the future, while the centuries as they unroll scrupulously ratify the decisions of science.

If Newton gave a complete solution of celestial movements where but two bodies attract each other, he did not even attempt the infinitely more difficult problem of three. The "problem of three bodies" (this is the name by which it has become celebrated)—the problem of determining the movement of a body subjected to the attractive influence of two others—was solved for the first time by our countryman, Clairaut. Though he enumerated the various forces which must result from the mutual action of the planets and satellites of our system, even the great Newton did not venture to investigate the general nature of their effects. In the midst of the labyrinth formed by increments and diminutions of velocity, variations in the forms of orbits, changes in distances and inclinations, which these forces must evidently produce, the most learned geometer would fail to discover a trustworthy guide. Forces so numerous, so variable in direction, so different in intensity, seemed to be incapable of maintaining a condition of equilibrium except by a sort of miracle. Newton even suggested that the planetary system did not contain within itself the elements of indefinite stability. He was of opinion that a powerful hand must intervene from time to time to repair the derangements occasioned by the mutual action of the various bodies. Euler, better instructed than Newton in a knowledge of these perturbations, also refused to admit that the solar system was constituted so as to endure forever.

Never did a greater philosophical question offer itself to the inquiries of mankind. Laplace attacked it with boldness, perseverance, and success. The profound and long-continued researches of the illustrious geometer completely established the perpetual variability of the planetary ellipses. He demonstrated that the extremities of their major axes make the circuit of the heavens; that independent of oscillation, the planes of their orbits undergo displacements by which their intersections with the plane of the terrestrial orbit are each year directed toward different stars. But in the midst of this apparant chaos, there is one element which remains constant, or is merely subject to small and periodic changes; namely, the major axis of each orbit, and consequently the time of revolution of each planet. This is the element which ought to have varied most, on the principles held by Newton and Euler. Gravitation, then, suffices to preserve the stability of the solar system. It maintains the forms and inclinations of the orbits in an average position, subject to slight oscillations only; variety does not entail disorder; the universe offers an example of harmonious relations, of a state of perfection which Newton himself doubted.

This condition of harmony depends on circumstances disclosed to Laplace by analysis; circumstances which on the surface do not seem capable of exercising so great an influence. If instead of planets all revolving in the same direction, in orbits but slightly eccentric and in planes inclined at but small angles toward each other, we should substitute different conditions, the stability of the universe would be jeopardized, and a frightful chaos would pretty certainly result. The discovery of the actual conditions excluded the idea, at least so far as the solar system was concerned, that the Newtonian attraction might be a cause of disorder. But might not other forces, combined with the attraction of gravitation, produce gradually increasing perturbations such as Newton and Euler feared? Known facts seemed to justify the apprehension. A comparison of ancient with modern observations revealed a continual acceleration in the mean motions of the moon and of Jupiter, and an equally striking diminution of the mean motion of Saturn. These variations led to a very important conclusion. In accordance with their presumed cause, to say that the velocity of a body increased from century to century was equivalent to asserting that the body continually approached the centre of motion; on the other hand, when the velocity diminished, the body must be receding from the centre. Thus, by a strange ordering of nature, our planetary system seemed destined to lose Saturn, its most mysterious ornament; to see the planet with its ring and seven satellites plunge gradually into those unknown regions where the eye armed with the most powerful telescope has never penetrated. Jupiter, on the other hand, the planet compared with which the earth is so insignificant, appeared to be moving in the opposite direction, so that it would ultimately be absorbed into the incandescent matter of the sun. Finally, it seemed that the moon would one day precipitate itself upon the earth.

There was nothing doubtful or speculative in these sinister forebodings. The precise dates of the approaching catastrophes were alone uncertain. It was known, however, that they were very distant. Accordingly, neither the learned dissertations of men of science nor the animated descriptions of certain poets produced any impression upon the public mind. The members of our scientific societies, however, believed with regret the approaching destruction of the planetary system. The Academy of Sciences called the attention of geometers of all countries to these menacing perturbations. Euler and Lagrange descended into the arena. Never did their mathematical genius shine with a brighter lustre. Still the question remained undecided, when from two obscure corners of the theories of analysis, Laplace, the author of the 'Mecanique Celeste,' brought the laws of these great phenomena clearly to light. The variations in velocity of Jupiter, Saturn, and the moon, were proved to flow from evident physical causes, and to belong in the category of ordinary periodic perturbations depending solely on gravitation. These dreaded variations in orbital dimensions resolved themselves into simple oscillations included within narrow limits. In a word, by the powerful instrumentality of mathematical analysis, the physical universe was again established on a demonstrably firm foundation.

Having demonstrated the smallness of these periodic oscillations, Laplace next succeeded in determining the absolute dimensions of the orbits. What is the distance of the sun from the earth? No scientific question has occupied the attention of mankind in a greater degree. Mathematically speaking, nothing is more simple: it suffices, as in ordinary surveying, to draw visual lines from the two extremities of a known base line to an inaccessible object; the remainder of the process is an elementary calculation. Unfortunately, in the case of the sun, the distance is very great and the base lines which can be measured upon the earth are comparatively very small. In such a case, the slightest errors in the direction of visual lines exercise an enormous influence upon the results. In the beginning of the last century, Halley had remarked that certain interpositions of Venus between the earth and the sun—or to use the common term, the transits of the planet across the sun's disk—would furnish at each observing station an indirect means of fixing the position of the visual ray much superior in accuracy to the most perfect direct measures. Such was the object of the many scientific expeditions undertaken in 1761 and 1769, years in which the transits of Venus occurred. A comparison of observations made in the Southern Hemisphere with those of Europe gave for the distance of the sun the result which has since figured in all treatises on astronomy and navigation. No government hesitated to furnish scientific academies with the means, however expensive, of establishing their observers in the most distant regions. We have already remarked that this determination seemed imperiously to demand an extensive base, for small bases would have been totally inadequate. Well, Laplace has solved the problem without a base of any kind whatever; he has deduced the distance of the sun from observations of the moon made in one and the same place.

The sun is, with respect to our satellite the moon, the cause of perturbations which evidently depend on the distance of the immense luminous globe from the earth. Who does not see that these perturbations must diminish if the distance increases, and increase if the distance diminishes, so that the distance determines the amount of the perturbations? Observation assigns the numerical value of these perturbations; theory, on the other hand, unfolds the general mathematical relation which connects them with the solar distance and with other known elements. The determination of the mean radius of the terrestrial orbit—of the distance of the sun—then becomes one of the most simple operations of algebra. Such is the happy combination by the aid of which Laplace has solved the great, the celebrated problem of parallax. It is thus that the illustrious geometer found for the mean distance of the sun from the earth, expressed in radii of the terrestrial orbit, a value differing but slightly from that which was the fruit of so many troublesome and expensive voyages.

The movements of the moon proved a fertile mine of research to our great geometer. His penetrating intellect discovered in them unknown treasures. With an ability and a perseverance equally worthy of admiration, he separated these treasures from the coverings which had hitherto concealed them from vulgar eyes. For example, the earth governs the movements of the moon. The earth is flattened; in other words, its figure is spheroidal. A spheroidal body does not attract as does a sphere. There should then exist in the movement—I had almost said in the countenance—of the moon a sort of impress of the spheroidal figure of the earth. Such was the idea as it originally occurred to Laplace. By means of a minutely careful investigation, he discovered in its motion two well-defined perturbations, each depending on the spheroidal figure of the earth. When these were submitted to calculation, each led to the same value of the ellipticity. It must be recollected that the ellipticity thus derived from the motions of the moon is not the one corresponding to such or such a country, to the ellipticity observed in France, in England, in Italy, in Lapland, in North America, in India, or in the region of the Cape of Good Hope; for, the earth's crust having undergone considerable upheavals at different times and places, the primitive regularity of its curvature has been sensibly disturbed thereby. The moon (and it is this which renders the result of such inestimable value) ought to assign, and has in reality assigned, the general ellipticity of the earth; in other words, it has indicated a sort of average value of the various determinations obtained at enormous expense, and with infinite labor, as the result of long voyages undertaken by astronomers of all the countries of Europe.

Certain remarks of Laplace himself bring into strong relief the profound, the unexpected, the almost paradoxical character of the methods I have attempted to sketch. What are the elements it has been found necessary to confront with each other in order to arrive at results expressed with such extreme precision? On the one hand, mathematical formulae deduced from the principle of universal gravitation; on the other, certain irregularities observed in the returns of the moon to the meridian. An observing geometer, who from his infancy had never quitted his study, and who had never viewed the heavens except through a narrow aperture directed north and south,—to whom nothing had ever been revealed respecting the bodies revolving above his head, except that they attract each other according to the Newtonian law of gravitation,—would still perceive that his narrow abode was situated upon the surface of a spheroidal body, whose equatorial axis was greater than its polar by a three hundred and sixth part. In his isolated, fixed position he could still deduce his true distance from the sun!