“Allah!” Fawwâz punctuated the stanza.
“Not from idle lips was gathered the wisdom I sing....”
“God forbid!” exclaimed Fawwâz, leaning forward eagerly.
“In the whole wide plain she has not met with her peer.”
“Mâshallah! it is so! it is the truth, oh lady!” said Ḥussein.
“I did not quite understand it all,” said I humbly, feeling rather like Alice in Wonderland when Humpty Dumpty recited his verses to her. “Perhaps you will help me to write it down this evening.”
So that night, with the assistance of Fawwâz, who had a bowing acquaintance with letters, we committed it to paper, and I now know how the masterpieces of the great singers were received at the fair of ’Ukâẓ in the Days of Ignorance.
“The truth! it is the truth!” shouted the tribes between each couplet. “Eh by Al Lât and by Al ’Uzzah!”
Three hours from Abu Jîr we cantered down to the Wâdî Themail and saw some black tents pitched by a tell on the farther side. Flocks of goats were scattered over the plain; the shepherds, when they perceived our party, drew them together and began to drive them towards the tents. At this Muḥammad pulled up, rose in his stirrups, and waved a long white cotton sleeve over his head—a flag of truce.
“They take us for raiders,” said he, laughing. “Wallah, in a moment we should have had their rifles upon us.”