and rains.  And the Knight of Abs assaulted them likewise, anxious to try his sword, the famous Dhami.  And Antar fought with Gheidac, and wearied him, and shouted at him, and filled him with horror; then assailed him so that stirrup grated stirrup; and he struck him on the head with Dhami.  He cleft his visor and wadding, and his sword played away between the eyes, passing through his shoulders down to the back of the horse, even down to the ground; and he and his horse made four pieces; and to the strictest observer, it would appear that he had divided them with scales.  And God prospered Antar in all that he did, so that he slew all he aimed at, and overthrew all he touched.

“Nobility,” said Antar, “among liberal men, is the thrust of the spear, the blow of the sword, and patience beneath the battle-dust.  I am the physician of the tribe of Abs in sickness, their protector in disgrace, the defender of their wives when they are in trouble, their horseman when they are in glory, and their sword when they rush to arms.”

[This was Antar’s speech to Monzar, King of the Arabs, when he was in search of Ibla’s dowry.  He found it in the land of Irak, where the magnificent Chosroe was ready to reward him even to the half of his kingdom, for his victory over the champion of the Emperor of Europe.]

“All this grandeur, and all these gifts,” said Antar, “have no value to me, no charm in my eyes.  Love of my native land is the fixed passion of my soul.”

“Do not imagine,” said Chosroe, “that we have been able duly to recompense you.  What we have given you is perishable, as everything human is, but your praises and your poems will endure forever.”

[Antar’s wars made him a Nocturnal Calamity to the foes of his tribe.  He was its protector and the champion of its women, “for Antar was particularly solicitous in the cause of women.”  His generosity knew no bounds.  “Antar immediately presented the whole of the spoil to his father and his uncles; and all the tribe of Abs were astonished at his noble conduct and filial love.”  His hospitality was universal; his magnanimity without limit.  “Do not bear malice, O Shiboob.  Renounce it; for no good ever came of malice.  Violence is infamous; its result is ever uncertain, and no one can act justly when actuated by hatred.  Let my heart support every evil, and let my patience endure till I have subdued all my foes.”  Time after time he won new dowries for Ibla, even bringing the treasures of Persia to her feet.  Treacheries without count divided him from his promised bride.  Over and over again he rescued her from the hands of the enemy; and not only her, but her father and her hostile kinsmen.

     At last (in the fourth volume, on the fourteen hundred and
     fifty-third page) Antar makes his wedding feasts.]

“I wish to make at Ibla’s wedding five separate feasts; I will feed the birds and the beasts, the men and the women, the girls and the boys, and not a single person shall remain in the whole country but shall eat at Ibla’s marriage festival.”