Meskin Aldaramy.

 [6] These lines are also from the Hamasa.

ON TEMPER[7]

  Yes, Leila, I swore by the fire of thine eyes,
    I ne’er could a sweetness unvaried endure;
  The bubbles of spirit, that sparkling arise,
    Forbid life to stagnate and render it pure.

  But yet, my dear maid, tho’ thy spirit’s my pride,
    I’d wish for some sweetness to temper the bowl;
  If life be ne’er suffer’d to rest or subside,
    It may not be flat, but I fear ’twill be foul.

Nabegat Beni Jaid.

 [7] There have been several Arabian poets of the name of Nabegat.  The
     author of these verses was descended from the family of Jaid.  As
     he died in the fortieth year of the Hegira, aged one hundred and
     twenty, he must have been fourscore at the promulgation of Islamism;
     he, however, declared himself an early convert to the new faith.

THE SONG OF MAISUNA[8]

  The russet suit of camel’s hair,
    With spirits light, and eye serene,
  Is dearer to my bosom far
    Than all the trappings of a queen.

  The humble tent and murmuring breeze
    That whistles thro’ its fluttering wall,
  My unaspiring fancy please
    Better than towers and splendid halls.

  Th’ attendant colts that bounding fly
    And frolic by the litter’s side,
  Are dearer in Maisuna’s eye
    Than gorgeous mules in all their pride.

  The watch-dog’s voice that bays whene’er
    A stranger seeks his master’s cot,
  Sounds sweeter in Maisuna’s ear
    Than yonder trumpet’s long-drawn note.

  The rustic youth unspoilt by art,
    Son of my kindred, poor but free,
  Will ever to Maisuna’s heart
    Be dearer, pamper’d fool, than thee.

 [8] Maisuma was a daughter of the tribe of Calab; a tribe, according
     to Abulfeda, remarkable both for the purity of dialect spoken in
     it, and for the number of poets it had produced.  She was married,
     whilst very young, to the Caliph Mowiah.  But this exalted situation
     by no means suited the disposition of Maisuna, and amidst all the
     pomp and splendor of Damascus, she languished for the simple
     pleasures of her native desert.

TO MY FATHER[9]

  Must then my failings from the shaft
    Of anger ne’er escape? 
  And dost thou storm because I’ve quaff’d
    The water of the grape?

  That I can thus from wine be driv’n
    Thou surely ne’er canst think—­
  Another reason thou hast giv’n
    Why I resolve to drink.

  ’Twas sweet the flowing cup to seize,
    ’Tis sweet thy rage to see;
  And first I drink myself to please;
    And next—­to anger thee.

Yezid.