“Now Rabîah was feeble.
“Some months before he had borne away from the tents of the Otèbah, Selma, the pearl of the tribe; her form was like the Egyptian willow, her face like the full moon in its brightness, her eyes were those of the antelope, and her teeth pearls set between two cushions of rose-leaves, her neck was a pillar of camphor,[[43]] and her breasts two pomegranates rivalling each other in rounded beauty.
“But Selma’s eyes were averted, as if in scorn; and while Rabîah was consumed by the fire of love, her heart was a locked casket whose contents none might know.
“The season was spring, and the tribe, with their warriors and tents, their flocks and herds, had moved on to a higher region. Rabîah, retarded by his wounds, had remained behind, keeping with him only a few followers, his sister, and Selma; but anxiety came upon his mind, and he said, ‘Let us go to join the tribe.’
“So they went, the two maidens riding in a musàttah,[[44]] and he on a shibriah,[[45]] and thus they journeyed, and Rabîah sung in a feeble voice the following words:—
‘Alas, my heart is bleeding! the arrows of the Otèbah have tasted my blood;
But their hurt is nothing: it is the glance of Selma’s eye that hath pierced my heart.’
“The maidens heard the song, but Selma spoke not, and his sister wept for his wounds, but more for his unrequited love.
“On the second day they passed a mountain, and, reaching a sandy plain, journeyed slowly across it.
“Suddenly a cloud of dust appeared in the distance, and one of the followers sped on a swift horse to see whence it arose. The maidens trembled like willow-leaves in the morning breeze, but Rabîah slept. The man soon returned with a loosened rein and bloody heel, shouting—