ver the
shoulders of Abou Mohammed, and ordering him a present of an hundred
thousand dirhems.

TO MY MISTRESS[16]

Ungenerous and mistaken maid,
To scorn me thus because I'm poor!
Canst thou a liberal hand upbraid
For dealing round some worthless ore?

To spare's the wish of little souls,
The great but gather to bestow;
Yon current down the mountain rolls,
And stagnates in the swamp below.

_Abou Teman Habib_.

[16] Abou Teman is considered the most excellent of all the Arabian
poets. He was born near Damascus A.H. 190, and educated in Egypt;
but the principal part of his life was spent at Bagdad, under the
patronage of the Abasside Caliphs.

TO A FEMALE CUP-BEARER[17]

Come, Leila, fill the goblet up,
Reach round the rosy wine,
Think not that we will take the cup
From any hand but thine.

A draught like this 'twere vain to seek,
No grape can such supply;
It steals its tint from Leila's cheek,
Its brightness from her eye.

_Abd Alsalam Ben Ragban_.

[17] Abd Alsalam was a poet more remarkable for abilities than morality.
We may form an idea of the nature of his compositions from the
nickname he acquired amongst his contemporaries of Cock of the
Evil Genii. He died in the 236th year of the Hegira, aged near
eighty.

MASHDUD ON THE MONKS OF KHABBET[18]

Tenants of yon hallow'd fane!
Let me your devotions share,
There increasing raptures reign--
None are ever sober there.

Crowded gardens, festive bowers
Ne'er shall claim a thought of mine;
You can give in Khabbet's towers--
Purer joys and brighter wine.

Tho' your pallid faces prove
How you nightly vigils keep,
'Tis but that you ever love
Flowing goblets more than sleep.

Tho' your eye-balls dim and sunk
Stream in penitential guise,
'Tis but that the wine you've drunk
Bubbles over from your eyes.

[18] The three following songs were written by Mashdud, Rakeek, and
Rais, three of the most celebrated improvisators in Bagdad, at an
entertainment given by Abou Isy.

RAKEEK TO HIS FEMALE COMPANIONS

Tho' the peevish tongues upbraid,
Tho' the brows of wisdom scowl,
Fair ones here on roses laid,
Careless will we quaff the bowl.

Let the cup, with nectar crown'd,
Thro' the grove its beams display,
It can shed a lustre round,
Brighter than the torch of day.