"Would that we had instead of ‘Amr A milch-ewe bleating round our tent!"
Shortly afterwards he happened to be seated at table opposite the king's sister. Struck with her beauty, he exclaimed—
"Behold, she has come back to me, My fair gazelle whose ear-rings shine; Had not the king been sitting here, I would have pressed her lips to mine!"
‘Amr b. Hind was a man of violent and implacable temper. Ṭarafa's satire had already been reported to him, and this new impertinence added fuel to his wrath. Sending for Ṭarafa and Mutalammis, he granted them leave to visit their homes, and gave to each of them a sealed letter addressed to the governor of Baḥrayn. When they had passed outside the city the suspicions of Mutalammis were aroused. As neither he nor his companion could read, he handed his own letter to a boy of Ḥíra214 and learned that it contained orders to bury him alive. Thereupon he flung the treacherous missive into the stream and implored Ṭarafa to do likewise. Ṭarafa refused to break the royal seal. He continued his journey to Baḥrayn, where he was thrown into prison and executed.
Thus perished miserably in the flower of his youth—according to some accounts he was not yet twenty—the passionate and eloquent Ṭarafa. In his Mu‘allaqahe has drawn a spirited portrait of himself. The most striking feature of the poem, apart from a long and, to us who are not Bedouins, painfully tedious description of the camel, is its insistence on sensual enjoyment as the sole business of life:—
"Canst thou make me immortal, O thou that blamest me so For haunting the battle and loving the pleasures that fly? If thou hast not the power to ward me from Death, let me go To meet him and scatter the wealth in my hand, ere I die. Save only for three things in which noble youth take delight, I care not how soon rises o'er me the coronach loud: Wine that foams when the water is poured on it, ruddy, not bright. Dark wine that I quaff stol'n away from the cavilling crowd; "And second, my charge at the cry of distress on a steed Bow-legged like the wolf you have startled when thirsty he cowers; And third, the day-long with a lass in her tent of goat's hair To hear the wild rain and beguile of their slowness the hours."215
Keeping, as far as possible, the chronological order, we have now to mention two Mu‘allaqaswhich, though not directly related to each other,216 are of the same period—the reign of ‘Amr b. Hind, King of Ḥíra (554-568 a.d.). Moreover, their strong mutual resemblance and their difference from the other Mu‘allaqas, especially from typical qaṣídas like those of ‘Antara and Labíd, is a further reason for linking them together. Their distinguishing mark is the abnormal space devoted to the main subject, which leaves little room for the subsidiary motives.
‘Amr b. Kulthúm belonged to the tribe of Taghlib. His mother was Laylá, a daughter of the famous poet and warrior Muhalhil. That she was a woman of heroic ‘Amr b. Kulthúm. mould appears from the following anecdote, which records a deed of prompt vengeance on the part of ‘Amr that gave rise to the proverb, "Bolder in onset than ‘Amr b. Kulthúm"217:—
One day ‘Amr. b. Hind, the King of Ḥíra, said to his boon-companions, "Do ye know any Arab whose mother would disdain to serve mine?" They answered, "Yes, the mother of ‘Amr b. Kulthúm." "Why so?" asked the king. "Because," said they, "her father is Muhalhil b. Rabí‘a and her uncle is Kulayb b. Wá’il, the most puissant of the Arabs, and her husband is How ’Amr avenged an insult to his mother. Kulthúm b. Málik, the knightliest, and her son is ‘Amr, the chieftain of his tribe." Then the king sent to ‘Amr b. Kulthúm, inviting him to pay a visit to himself, and asking him to bring his mother, Laylá, to visit his own mother, Hind. So ‘Amr came to Ḥíra with some men of Taghlib, and Laylá came attended by a number of their women; and while the king entertained ‘Amr and his friends in a pavilion which he had caused to be erected between Ḥíra and the Euphrates, Laylá found quarters with Hind in a tent adjoining. Now, the king had ordered his mother, as soon as he should call for dessert, to dismiss the servants, and cause Laylá to wait upon her. At the pre-arranged signal she desired to be left alone with her guest, and said, "O Laylá, hand me that dish." Laylá answered, "Let those who want anything rise up and serve themselves." Hind repeated her demand, and would take no denial. "O shame!" cried Laylá. "Help! Taghlib, help!" When ‘Amr heard his mother's cry the blood flew to his cheeks. He seized a sword hanging on the wall of the pavilion—the only weapon there—and with a single blow smote the king dead.218
‘Amr's Mu‘allaqais the work of a man who united in himself the ideal qualities of manhood as these were understood by a race which has never failed to value, even too highly, the display of self-reliant action and decisive energy. And if in ‘Amr's poem these virtues are displayed with an exaggerated boastfulness which offends our sense of decency and proper reserve, it would be a grave error to conclude that all this sound and fury signifies nothing. The Bedouin poet deems it his bounden duty to glorify to the utmost himself, his family, and his tribe; the Bedouin warrior is never tired of proclaiming his unshakable valour and recounting his brilliant feats of arms: he hurls menaces and vaunts in the same breath, but it does not follow that he is a Miles Gloriosus. ‘Amr certainly was not: his Mu‘allaqaleaves a vivid impression of conscious and exultant strength. The first eight verses seem to have been added to the poem at a very early date, for out of them arose the legend that ‘Amr drank himself to death with unmixed wine. It is likely that they were included in the original collection of the Mu‘allaqát, and they are worth translating for their own sake:—-
"Up, maiden! Fetch the morning-drink and spare not The wine of Andarín, Clear wine that takes a saffron hue when water Is mingled warm therein. The lover tasting it forgets his passion, His heart is eased of pain; The stingy miser, as he lifts the goblet, Regardeth not his gain. Pass round from left to right! Why let'st thou, maiden, Me and my comrades thirst? Yet am I, whom thou wilt not serve this morning, Of us three not the worst! Many a cup in Baalbec and Damascus And Qáṣirín I drained, Howbeit we, ordained to death, shall one day Meet death, to us ordained."219
In the next passage he describes his grief at the departure of his beloved, whom he sees in imagination arriving at her journey's end in distant Yamáma:—
"And oh, my love and yearning when at nightfall I saw her camels haste, Until sharp peaks uptowered like serried sword-blades, And me Yamáma faced! Such grief no mother-camel feels, bemoaning Her young one lost, nor she, The grey-haired woman whose hard fate hath left her Of nine sons graves thrice three."220
Now the poet turns abruptly to his main theme. He addresses the King of Ḥíra, ‘Amr b. Hind, in terms of defiance, and warns the foes of Taghlib that they will meet more than their match:—
"Father of Hind,221 take heed and ere thou movest Rashly against us, learn That still our banners go down white to battle And home blood-red return. And many a chief bediademed, the champion Of the outlaws of the land, Have we o'erthrown and stripped him, while around him Fast-reined the horses stand. Our neighbours lopped like thorn-trees, snarls in terror Of us the demon-hound;222 Never we try our hand-mill on the foemen But surely they are ground. We are the heirs of glory, all Ma‘add knows,223 Our lances it defend, And when the tent-pole tumbles in the foray, Trust us to save our friend!224 O ‘Amr, what mean'st thou? Are we, we of Taghlib, Thy princeling's retinue? O ‘Amr, what mean'st thou, rating us and hearkening To tale-bearers untrue? O ‘Amr, ere thee full many a time our spear-shaft Has baffled foes to bow;225 Nipped in the vice it kicks like a wild camel That will no touch allow— Like a wild camel, so it creaks in bending And splits the bender's brow!"226
The Mu‘allaqaends with a eulogy, superb in its extravagance, of the poet's tribe:—
"Well wot, when our tents rise along their valleys, The men of every clan That we give death to them that durst attempt us, To friends what food we can; That staunchly we maintain a cause we cherish, Camp where we choose to ride, Nor will we aught of peace, when we are angered, Till we be satisfied. We keep our vassals safe and sound, but rebels We soon force to their knees; And if we reach a well, we drink pure water, Others the muddy lees. Ours is the earth and all thereon: when westrike, There needs no second blow; Kings lay before the new-weaned boy of Taghlib Their heads in homage low. We are called oppressors, being none, but shortly A true name shall it be!227 We have so filled the earth 'tis narrow for us, And with our ships the sea!228