The whole ballad would not bear translation--for English ears,--and the scanty portion which may be given has lost its rhythm and cadence by the change, for Arabic is very soft and beautiful to those who understand it. The time has come when Azîzah, having quarrelled with Si Marzak in a fit of perhaps too well-founded jealousy, desires to "make it up again," and thus addresses her beloved--
"Oh, how I have followed thy attractiveness, And halted between give and take! Oh, how I'd from evil have protected thee By my advice, hadst thou but heeded it! Yet to-day taste, O my master, Of the love that thou hast taught to me!
"Oh, how I have longed for the pleasure of thy visits, And poured out bitter tears for thee; Until at last the sad truth dawned on me That of thy choice thou didst put me aside! Yet to-day taste, O my master, Of the love that thou hast taught to me!
"Thou wast sweeter than honey to me, But thou hast become more bitter than gall. Is it thus thou beginnest the world? Beware lest thou make me thy foe! Yet to-day taste, O my master, Of the love that thou hast taught to me!
"I have hitherto been but a name to thee, And thou took'st to thy bosom a snake, But to-day I perceive thou'st a fancy for me: O God, I will not be deceived! Yes, to-day taste, O my master, Of the love that thou hast taught to me!
"Thou know'st my complaint and my only cure: Why, then, wilt thou heal me not? Thou canst do so to-day, O my master, And save me from all further woe. Yes, to-day taste, O my master, Of the love that thou hast taught to me!"
To which the hard-pressed swain replies--
"Of a truth thine eyes have bewitched me, For Death itself is in fear of them: And thine eyebrows, like two logs of wood, Have battered me each in its turn. So if thou sayest die, I'll die; And for God shall my sacrifice be!
"I have neither yet died nor abandoned hope, Though slumber at night I ne'er know. With the staff of deliverance still afar off, So that all the world knows of my woe. And if thou sayest die, I'll die, But for God shall my sacrifice be!"
While the singing was proceeding Sáïd and Drees had been indulging in a game of draughts, and as it ceased their voices could be heard in eager play. "Call thyself a Mallem (master). There, thy father was bewitched by a hyena; there, and there again!" shouted Sáïd, as he swept a first, a second and a third of his opponent's pieces from the board.