Ode LXVII: It is not my wont to

It is not my wont to chant the praises of one who dies, or utter the cry of woe beneath pain that Fortune brings :

But, sooth, he whom al-Minhal enshrouded as dead he lay — no glutton at eve was he, a warrior keen of heart!

No niggard, to whose wife bring the women their offerings, what time in the winter wind the tent of stiff leather creaks :

A wise man, but one whose wisdom hindered not generous hand : a pasture of plenty to which in famine the starvelings flocked.

Thou sawest him, keen as a sword, most eager and quick to give, whenas men of dull cold heart spent nothing to stay thy need ;

And if on a day thy foes beset thee with stifling press, if he was thine aid, thy cause was not that which lost the fight ;

And if mid the roystering band thou earnest on Malik there, no foul speech or cross-grained word he uttered, nor stirred up strife ;

And if on the tribe a raid fell sudden and sharp, 'twas he that stood in defence as keen, a glorious chief of men.

Not he to hold back, what time the cavalry wavered and blenched : no weakling in fight, none thrust him aside as of no account.

Not blunt were his weapons when the enemy met his steel in light-equipped ranks on foot, or clad in full panoply.

Nay, why weep ye not, mine eyes, for Malik, when howls the wind and casts down the wattled screen that shelters the cowering herds:

When drinkers assemble : when the need comes for one to stand a champion fit to face the bravest of all our foes :

When seeking for tents at night the guest makes his camel roar : when captives have lain in bonds till shrunken and stiff their limbs :

When brings in her need the widow her starveling shag-pate child, its head like a bustard's chick with feathers all disarrayed?

When forth from their bag men brought the arrows, and heaped the fire with faggots, 'twas he that bore the charge when the partners failed ;

And so, when the game went on, not he one to stint the meat, or sit by the offal where the butchers cut up the joints.

Whereso falls my gaze, I see what thrills me, and shatters all my patience — with Malik gone, an end of all bonds for me!

I call thee — no answer comes ! ah, when did I call before upon thee for help, and missed the cheer of thy quick reply?

Ay, goodly our twinned life! yet before us the stroke of Doom has fallen on mighty kings, on Kisra and Himyar's Lord.

Long fared we like those twain, King Jadhimah's two boon-fellows, so close-knit that none could think that parting would ever come:

But now are we sundered, and it seems as though Malik's hand, for all the long days of love, had ne'er lain a night in mine !

And if now between us Fate has set up the wall of Death, at least, when my brother went, he carried with him fair fame !

I say, while the flashes light the cloud-fringe below the black, and down from the dark mass pours the rain in a scattering flood :

' May God grant the land where lies the grave of my brother dear the blessing of showers at dawn, and cover the ground with green,

' And bring to the Twin Dales' torrent water to fill its stream shall feed the first sprouting grass, and lift it up lush and strong!

' May floods stand about the skirts of Shari', and may the rain soak well all the mountain-sides of Dalfa' and Qaryatan ! '

It is not because I love the land that I pray this boon, but only that rain may quicken the earth where my Darling lies.

A greeting from me to him, though his body lies far away and crumbles to dust, while above the waste stretches void and bare.

The Daughter of 'Amrites asks — ' What ails thee, thou who but now wast cheerful and glad of heart, and tossedst thy flowing hair?'

I answered her : ' Long grieving, the burning of loss within — what wouldst thou? — has left my face dark, stript of all comeliness:

'The loss of my mother's sons who trod one the other's steps to death: yet I stoop not after them, nor abase myself.

'Not I one, when Fortune strikes some new stroke of bitter loss, to burden my kinsfolk, humbling myself to beg for their help ;

' Nor, if on a day some turn of Fate brings prosperity, exult I, nor, when it goes, mourn I or lament the change.

' No ! straight do I tread my path and forward press on my way, though many there" be who shrink and cower in face of fight.

'Yea, though thou canst jest, and I answer lightly, a weight of woe has stricken me, well might bring the hardest to melt in tears.

'The change which thou seest was wrought by that which destroyed my kin-together they fell — Qais, Malik, 'Amr, on Mushaqqar's Day —

' And that which destroyed Yazid, my comrade and boon-fellow — ah, would that with wealth or kin I could buy back his company !

'So prithee, in God's name, stay the burthen of thy reproach, and strip not the half-healed skin to torture again my heart.

' Enough ! I was present there — but nought could I find to do whereby with my hands to turn from them the assault of Doom.'

If that which I suffer had befallen Mutali's mount or Salma's far-spreading base, they surely had crumbled down !

And no, not the bitter pain when three foster-camels find the place where their nurseling, dragged to ground, was devoured by wolves —

They call to the mourner's mind the grief that lies hid within : one leads with her cry, then all join voices in wailing loud ;

The oldest of them stands plaining, trilling her yearning cry : her grief makes the whole herd weep, and spreads through the couching line —

No greater that than my pain the day that my Malik died, and one clear of voice proclaimed our parting for evermore.

Has nought reached your chief men's ears of the doings of al-Muhill — a tidings, in sooth, to anger any with heart to feel! —

How evil his joy when death fell sudden on Malik's head, how there he stood by, and left uncared-for the thing he saw?

Thou broughtest thy ragged clout and stuffed camel-cushion home, and couldst not spare them for Malik's corse, but didst haste away.

One day mayst thou have no joy with that which befalls thyself! for Death, see, impends o'er all, and most o'er the valiant man.

Mayhap an Event one day shall draw nigh to thee, a Thing shall leave thee with nose cropped, earless, facing the scorn of men.

Thou toldest us of his death who, had it been thy flesh lay before him, had given it rest, whole were it or mangled sore.

May Malik's decease bring no good luck to the back-biters ! Who hated him, safe came home, and left the dead lying there.