Classic Poem

Upon a day in Ramadan —
When sunset brought an end of fast,
And in his station every man
Prepared to share the glad repast —
Sate Mohtasim in royal state,
The pillaw smoked upon the gold;
The fairest slave of those that wait
Mohtasim's jewelled cup did hold.

Of crystal carven was the cup,
With turquoise set along the brim,
A lid of amber closed it up;
'Twas a great king that gave it him.
The slave poured sherbet to the brink,
Stirred in wild honey and pomegranate,
With snow and rose-leaves cooled the drink,
And bore it where the Caliph sate.

The Caliph's mouth was dry as bone,
He swept his beard aside to quaff: —
The news-reader beneath the throne,
Went droning on with ghain and kaf. —
The Caliph drew a mighty breath,
Just then the reader read a word —
And Mohtasim, as grim as death,
Set down the cup and snatched his sword.

" Ann' amratan shureefatee! "
" Speak clear! " cries angry Mohtasim;
" Fe lasr ind' ilj min ulji, " —
Trembling the newsman read to him
How in Ammoria, far from home,
An Arab girl of noble race
Was captive to a lord of Roum;
And how he smote her on the face,

And how she cried, for life afraid,
" Ya, Mohtasim! help, O my king! "
And how the Kafir mocked the maid,
And laughed, and spake a bitter thing,
" Call louder, fool! Mohtasim's ears
Are long as Barak's — if he heed —
Your prophet's ass; and when he hears,
He'll come upon a spotted steed! "

The Caliph's face was stern and red,
He snapped the lid upon the cup;
" Keep this same sherbet, slave, " he said,
" Till such time as I drink it up.
Wallah! the stream my drink shall be,
My hollowed palm my only bowl,
Till I have set that lady free,
And seen that Roumi dog's head roll. "

At dawn the drums of war were beat,
Proclaiming, " Thus saith Mohtasim,
" Let all my valiant horsemen meet,
And every soldier bring with him
A spotted steed." " So rode they forth,
A sight of marvel and of fear;
Pied horses prancing fiercely north;
The crystal cup borne in the rear!

When to Ammoria he did win,
He smote and drove the dogs of Roum,
And rode his spotted stallion in,
Crying, " Labbayki! I am come! "
Then downward from her prison-place
Joyful the Arab lady crept;
She held her hair before her face,
She kissed his feet, she laughed and wept.

She pointed where that lord was laid:
They drew him forth, he whined for grace:
Then with fierce eyes Mohtasim said —
" She whom thou smotest on the face
Had scorn, because she called her king:
Lo! he is come! and dost thou think
To live, who didst this bitter thing
While Mohtasim at peace did drink? "

Flashed the fierce sword — rolled the lord's head;
The wicked blood smoked in the sand.
" Now bring my cup! " the Caliph said.
Lightly he took it in his hand,
As down his throat the sweet drink ran
Mohtasim in his saddle laughed,
And cried, " Taiba asshrab alan!
By God! delicious is this draught! "