"Under the arch of Life where love and death,
Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I saw
Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe
I drew it in as simply as my breath."
We were bound for Ammân, not more than between five and six hours' ride away, and our horses, refreshed by their rest, went gaily along the gently undulating plain. Somewhat north we came in sight of Castal, a Roman fortress, on a hill westward, which some of the party—the Sportsmen, and the Doctor—had visited yesterday, and which Tristram, its discoverer, considered different in character, as well as superior in size, to the usual castle of lookout and defence to be found all over districts where Roman colonies and roads may have needed protection and supervision. Although the place is not mentioned in Eusebius, either in the Itineraries or the Notitia, its name is obviously Roman, and its size, for it is capable of accommodating some twelve hundred cavalry, speaks for its importance. It contains many fragments of fine white marble, not indigenous. There appear to have been two castles: the main building, on the crest of the hill, 84 yards square, of which only the lower storey remains, and a smaller building, northward, of superior workmanship, with a balustrade of fluted Corinthian squared pilasters. The ancient city, which includes remains which may be Greek, stands N.W. of the castle. During the last five years it has been occupied by Bedu, very greatly to its injury.
We had exchanged our escort, as the officer granted by the Pasha for our safe conduct was not responsible for us after we had reached Madaba. We had, accordingly, bidden him farewell before leaving, and had been touched by the fact that he had positively declined to receive a present, alleging that to do so would detract from the honour which he had enjoyed in being permitted to accompany so distinguished a person as the Professor. The member of our party who best knew the country, cynically observed that he must have seen more profit in refusal than in acceptance! He had a good voice, and, though Arab music is certainly an acquired taste, had given us pleasure, and contributed variety to the al-fresco concerts we occasionally enjoyed. Among other songs had been one composed by a certain poet Nimr, whose grave we were to visit later. Silence is impossible to an Arab, and when they are not talking they sing. Our mukaris also sang, the words often being improvised out of some passing circumstance, and with nonsense rhymes.
Whether the following was the actual air or only another exactly like it, it would be impossible to say. For this we are indebted to Dr Schumacher, who found it among the 'Anazeh tribe of Bedu, said to be especially fond of both music and poetry, and who relates that, "walking in the caravan of camels, his mantle or sheepskin thrown over one shoulder and an old musket or a huge stick carried on the other, the Bedawin is heard continually chanting the following monotonous song":—
Ya yab a ah yeh | ya hala aleh
Ya yab a ah yeh | âh ya ha lâ leh | oooh!