TO ADVERSITY[31]

  Hail, chastening friend Adversity!  ’Tis thine
  The mental ore to temper and refine,
  To cast in virtue’s mould the yielding heart,
  And honor’s polish to the mind impart. 
  Without thy wakening touch, thy plastic aid,
  I’d lain the shapeless mass that nature made;
  But form’d, great artist, by thy magic hand,
  I gleam a sword to conquer and command.

Abou Menbaa Carawash.

[31] The life of this prince was checkered with various adventures;
     he was perpetually engaged in contests either with the neighboring
     sovereigns, or the princes of his own family.  After many struggles
     he was obliged to submit to his brother, Abou Camel, who
     immediately ordered him to be seized, and conveyed to a place
     of security.

ON THE INCOMPATIBILITY OF PRIDE AND TRUE GLORY[32]

  Think not, Abdallah, pride and fame
    Can ever travel hand in hand;
  With breast oppos’d, and adverse aim,
    On the same narrow path they stand.

  Thus youth and age together meet,
    And life’s divided moments share;
  This can’t advance till that retreat,
    What’s here increas’d, is lessen’d there.

  And thus the falling shades of night
    Still struggle with the lucid ray,
  And e’er they stretch their gloomy flight
    Must win the lengthen’d space from day.

Abou Alola.

[32] Abou Alola is esteemed as one of the most excellent of the
     Arabian poets.  He was born blind, but this did not deter him from
     the pursuit of literature.  Abou Alola died at Maara in the year
     449, aged eighty-six.

THE DEATH OF NEDHAM ALMOLK

  Thy virtues fam’d thro’ every land,
    Thy spotless life, in age and youth,
  Prove thee a pearl, by nature’s hand,
    Form’d out of purity and truth.

  Too long its beams of Orient light
    Upon a thankless world were shed;
  Allah has now reveng’d the slight,
    And call’d it to its native bed.

Shebal Addaulet.

LINES TO A LOVER

  When you told us our glances soft, timid and mild,
    Could occasion such wounds in the heart,
  Can ye wonder that yours, so ungovern’d and wild,
    Some wounds to our cheeks should impart?

  The wounds on our cheeks are but transient, I own,
    With a blush they appear and decay;
  But those on the heart, fickle youths, ye have shown
    To be even more transient than they.

Waladata.

VERSES TO MY DAUGHTERS[33]

  With jocund heart and cheerful brow
    I used to hail the festal morn—­
  How must Mohammed greet it now?—­
    A prisoner helpless and forlorn.