And of that city, Sheddad son of Aad
Built mid the Sebaa sands.—A king who had
Dominion of the world and many kings.—
Builded in pride and power out of things
Unstable of the earth. For he had read
Of Paradise, and to his soul had said,
"Now in this life the like of Paradise
I 'll build me and the Prophet's may despise,
Knowing no need of that he promises."
So for this city taxed the lands and seas,
And Columned Irem, on a blinding height,
Blazed in the desert like a chrysolite;
The manner of its building, it is told,
Alternate bricks of silver and of gold:
How Sheddad with his women and his slaves,
His thousand viziers, armored troops as waves
Of ocean countless, God with awful flame—
Shot sheer in thunder on him—God, his shame
Confounded and abolished, ere his eyes
Had glimpsed bright follies of that Paradise;
Lay blotted to a wilderness the land
Accurséd, and the city lost in sand:
Among such tales—who questions of their sooth?—
One is recorded of an Arab youth:
The Khalif Hisham ben Abdulmelik
Hunting one day, by some unwonted freak
Rode parted from his retinue and gave
Chase to an antelope. Without or slave,
Amir or vizier to a pasture place
Of sheep he came, where dark, in tattered grace,
Watched one, an Arab youth. And as it came
The antelope drew off, with mouth of flame
And tongue of fire to the youth he turned
Shouting, "Ho! fellow! in what school hast learned!
Seest not the buck escapes me? worthless one!
O desert dullard!"
Rising in the sun,
"O ignorant," he said, "of that just worth
Of those the worthy of our Muslim earth!
In that thou look'st upon me—what thou art!—
As one fit for contempt, thou lack'st no part
Of my disdain?—Allah! I would not own
A dog of thine for friend no other known—
Of speech a tyrant, manners of an ass!"
And flung him, rags and rage, into the grass.
Provoked, astonished, wrinkled angrily,
Hissed Hisham, "Slave! thou know'st me not I see!"
Calmly the youth, "Aye, verily I know,
O mannerless! thy tongue hath told me so,
Thy tongue commanding ere it spake me peace—
Soon art thou known, nor late may knowledge cease."
"O dog! I am thy Khalif! by a hair
Thy life hangs rav'ling."
"May it dangle there
Till thou art rotted!—Whiles, upon thy head
Misfortunes shower!—Of his dwelling place,
Allah, be thou forgetful!—What! his grace
Hisham ben Merwan, king of many words—
Few generosities!"...
A flash of swords
In drifts of dust and lo! the Khalif's troops
Surrounding ride. As when a merlin stoops
Some stranger quarry, prey that swims the wind,
Heron or eagle; kenning not its kind
There whence 'tis cast until it, towering, feels
An eagle's tearing talons, falling reels
In broken circles downward—so the youth,
An Arab fearless as the face of Truth
Of all that made him instant of his death,
Waited with eyes indifferent, equal breath.
The palace reached, "Bring in the prisoner
Before the Khalif," and he came as were
He in no wise concerned: unquestioning went
Chin bowed on breast, and on his feet a bent
Dark gaze of scornful freedom unafraid,
Till at the Khalif's throne his steps were staid;
And unsaluting, standing head held down,
An armed attendant blazed him with a frown,
"Dog of the Bedouins! thy eyes rot out!
Insulter! must the whole big world needs shout
'Commander of the Faithful,' so thou see?"
To him the Arab sneering, "Verily,
Packsaddle of an ass."
The Khalif's rage
Exceeded now, and, "By my realm and rage!
Arab, thy hour is come, thy very last;
Thy hope is vanished and thy life is past."
The shepherd answered, "Aye?—by Allah, then,
O Hisham, if my time be stretched again,
Unscissored of what Destiny ordain,
Little or great, thy words give little pain."