Among the tales, wherein it hath been told,
In golden letters in a book of gold,
Of Hatim Tai's hospitality,
Who, substanceless and dead and shadowy,
Made men his guests upon a mountain top
Whereon his tomb grayed from a thistle crop;--
A tomb of rock where women, hewn of stone,
Rude figures, spread dishevelled hair, whose moan
From dark to daybreak made the silence sigh,
At which the camel-drivers, tented nigh,
"Ghouls or hyenas" shuddering would say,
But only granite women find at day:--
Among such tales--who questions of their truth?--
One tale still haunts me from my earliest youth;
Of that lost city, Sheddad son of Aad
Built 'mid the Sebaa sands,--a king who had
Dominion over many lands and kings,--
That city, built in pride and pow'r, of things
Unstable of the earth. For he had read
Of Paradise and to himself had said,
"Now in this life the like of Paradise
I'll build me and the Prophet's may despise,
Having no need of that he promises."
So for this city taxed the lands and seas,
And columned Irem, on a blinding height,
Blazed in the desert like a chrysolite;
The manner of its building, it is told,
Alternate bricks of silver and of gold.
But Sheddad with his women and his slaves,
His thousand viziers, armored troops, as waves
Of ocean countless, God with awful flame--
Shot sheer in thunder on him--overcame,
Confounded, and abolished; (ere his eyes
Had glimpsed bright follies of that paradise)
And blotted to a wilderness the land
Wherein accursed it lies and lost in sand.--
Sad tales and glad; and 'mid them one, in sooth,
That is recorded of an Arab youth.
The Khalif Hisham ben Abdulmelik,
Hunting one day, through some unusual freak
Rode, parted from his retinue, and gave
Chase to an antelope. Without a slave,
Vizier or amir to a pasture place
Of sheep he came, where dark, in tattered grace,
Watched one, an Arab youth. And as it came
The antelope drew off, with words of flame,
On fire with rage, unto the youth he turned,
Shouting, "Thou slave! ho, hast thou not discerned
The antelope escapes me? Up, dog, run!
Head him back this way!"
Rising in the sun,
The Arab flamed, "O ignorant of worth!
Unworthy of respect!--though high thy birth,--
In that thou look'st upon me,--vile of heart!--
As one fit for contempt, thou lack'st no part
Of my disdain!--Allah! I would not own
A dog of thine for friend, no other known!
Poor though I be, thou tyrant mixed with ass!"
And flung him, rags and rage, into the grass.
Incensed, astonished, frowning furiously,
Said Hisham, "Slave! thou know'st me not, I see!"
Calmly the youth, "Aye, verily I know!--
O mannerless! _who_ would command me so,
_Except thyself_, ere he said 'Peace to thee'?
Well art thou known, aye! all too well of me!"
"O dog! I am thy Khalif! by a hair
Thy life hangs raveling."
"Though it dangle there
And rot to nothing, still upon thy head
Would curses shower!--Of thy dwelling place
Would Allah be forgetful!--Go thy ways,
Hisham ben Merwan, king of many words,
Few generosities!"...
A flash of swords
In drifts of dust and, lo! the Khalif's troops
Around them rode.--As when a merlin stoops
Some stranger quarry, prey that swims the wind,
Heron or eagle; kenning not its kind
There, whence 'tis cast, until it, towering, feels
An eagle's tearing talons, and still deals
Blow upon blow, though hopeless;--so the youth,--
An Arab, fearless as the face of Truth,
Of all that made him certain of his death,--
Waited with eyes indifferent, equal breath.
The palace reached, "Bring me the prisoner,"
Commanded Hisham. And he came as were
He in no wise concerned; with eyes intent
On some far thing; and on the floor a bent
Dark gaze of scornful freedom unafraid,
Till at the Khalif's throne his steps were stayed:
And, unsaluting, standing head held down,
An armed attendant blazed him with a frown,
"Dog of a Bedouin! may thy eyes rot out!
Insulter! art thou blind? and must I shout
'Thou stand'st before the Sultan! bend thy knee'?"
To him the Arab, sneering, "Verily,
Packsaddle of an ass! it well may be!
I kneel to none but God."
The Khalif's rage
Exceeded now, and, "By my realm and age!
Arab, thy hour is come, thy very last!"
Then said, "Call in the headsman.--Fool, thou hast
Cast thy young life away. Its thread is past."
The shepherd answered, "Aye?--by Allah, then,
If through thy means it might be stretched again,
Unscissored of what Destiny ordain,
Back in thy face I'd fling it as in vain."
Then the chief Chamberlain: "O vilest one
Of all the Arabs! wilt thou not be done
Bandying thy baseness with the Ruler of
The Faithful? thou, with wordy filth enough
Within thy madman mouth to fill a jakes!
Viler than dirt that one from out it rakes,
Here's more for thee!" and spat into his face.
And the dark Arab, with that last disgrace
All fire, answered: "Thou, perhaps, hast heard
The Koran text that says--'tis God's own word!--
'The day will come when each soul shall be prompt
To bow before Me and to give accompt.'"
Then wroth indeed was Hisham: fiercely said,
"He braves us!--Headsman, ho! his peevish head!
See: canst thou medicine its speech anew;
Doctor its multiplying words to few:
Divorce them well."
So, where the Arab stood,
Bound him; made kneel upon the cloth of blood.
With curving sword the headsman leaned, at pause,
And,--as 'tis custom, made of Moslem laws,--
To the descendant of the Prophet quoth,
"O Khalif, shall I strike?"
"By Iblis' oath!
Strike!" answered Hisham. But again the slave
Questioned; and yet again the Khalif gave
His nodded "yea"; and for the third time then
He asked: and knowing neither men nor Jinn
Might save him if the Khalif spake assent,
Signalled the sword, the youth with body bent
Laughed--till the wang-teeth of each jaw appeared;
Laughed--as with scorn the King of kings he'd beard,
Deriding Death. So, with redoubled spleen,
Roared Hisham, rising, "It is truly seen
This one is mad who mocks at Azrael!"
Then said the Arab: "Listen!--Once befell,
Commander of the Faithful, that a hawk,
A hungry hawk, pounced on a sparrow-cock;
And winging nestward with his meal in claw,
To him the sparrow,--for the creature saw
The hawk's conceit,--addressed this slyly, 'Oh,
Most great, most royal, there is not, I know,
Aught in me that will stay thy stomach's stress:
I am too paltry for thy mightiness!'
With which the hawk was pleased, and flattered so
That, in a while, he let the sparrow go."
Then smiled the Khalif Hisham: and a sign
Staying the scimitar, that hung malign,
A threatening crescent, said: "God bless, preserve
The Prophet whom all true believers serve!--
Now, by my kinship to the Prophet! and
Had he at first but spake us thus this hand
Had ne'er been wrathful; and, instead of hate,
He had had all--except the Khalifate."
Bade stuff his mouth with jewels and entreat
Him courteously, then from the palace beat.