His knightly devoir, and on the morrow started
for Ammoria with seventy thousand men, each mounted on a piebald
charger. Having taken the place, he entered it, exclaiming, “Labbayki,
Labbayki!”—“Here am I at thy call!” He struck off the caitiff’s head, released
the lady with his own hands, ordered the cupbearer to bring the sealed
bowl, and drank from it, exclaiming, “Now, indeed, wine is good!”
To conclude this part of the subject with another far-famed instance.
When Al-Mutanabbi, the poet, prophet, and warrior of Hams (A.H. 354)
started together with his
[p.97] son on their last journey, the father proposed to seek a place
of safety for the night. “Art thou the Mutanabbi,” exclaimed his slave, “who
wrote these lines,—
“‘I am known to the night, the wild, and the steed,
To the guest, and the sword, to the paper and reed[FN#29]’?”
The poet, in reply, lay down to sleep on Tigris’ bank, in a place haunted
by thieves, and, disdaining flight, lost his life during the hours of
darkness.
It is the existence of this chivalry among the “Children of Antar” which
makes the society of Badawin (“damned saints,” perchance, and “honourable
villains,”) so delightful to the traveller who[,] like the late Haji Wali
(Dr. Wallin), understands and is understood by them.
