Now is the strife renewed! thick fall the blows! And riven corslets leave the bosom bare, As cleft beneath the ruthless stroke they fall, Those bright arms sounding on the startled soil. The frequent hoof-clang bids the scared earth tremble As the proud war-horse, thundering, spurns the field; The sharp lance revels in the quivering flesh; The sword drinks deep of gore, and mid the waves Of that red lake the warriors plunge amain (As camels, mad with thirst, invade the streams) Seeking to quench their rage amidst the flow That gushes ceaseless forth from gaping wounds, Oped by the ruthless blade and ready lance.
But theirs is thirst that not the night's cool dews Avail to quench; the drops that fall in blessing On the fair flowering mead, do but offend Their hot and dust-soiled lips; for now the rage Is that of hungry and ferocious wolves Contending with the fierce and sullen bear. Blind with their fury, where they plant the foot They reck not, they! and on the faithless sward Of that red field they fall amidst the gore!
The Christians near the lofty tents, and now Through many a noble heart the lances pierce Their eager way; high waves the flashing sword; Confusion reigns around! Nor force avails, Nor well-planned stratagem, that oft hath changed The face of many a battle, seeming lost- Yet turned by timely craft to victory.
Nor thou, my king, believe that wiles of war Are less than laudable. The foe to blind By well-feigned arts is not a worthless skill, But hath been ever used, and ever praised, Since battle raged on earth. The leader sage And practised in the sanguinary game Of glorious war, yea, captains great as thou, Have still invented such, and ever sought The aid of stratagem. O thou! the bravest Of all the brave who joy in thy command, Hear me, and let my feeble voice expound The lessons that experience wise hath taught!
Few are thy years, but every one brings light; To-day thou art more wise than yesterday, And each new day shall see thy worth increase, Adding a power to that its eve beheld.
Be ever of the bravest and most practised In all the terrors and the toils of war.
The more conspicuous ensigns of thy state Do not thou wear in battle, Oh, my king: Suffice it thee that thou art known to those Of thine immediate following, and the few
Who bear thy high commandments through the host.
Hast thou the greater power, then hide thou that From the proud foe. But is his might the greater, Seek to deceive him, and beware of ambush. For much doth love the Infidel the wiles Of that deceit.
Ere the stern fight begins
Look well to what is in thy rear. Deep marshes And fordless rivers never can be there
But to thy peril. See too that no fort Restricts thy backward path, and in retreat Let the firm rear-guard well perform its task. For he who holds compact his force, retiring Shalt oft become the assailant, and again Facing the enemy, ensure defeat
To him who thought the victory in his hand, As oft our noble captains well have proved.
When, doubtful of thy force, thou seest the issue Of battle menacing, and canst not hope To call thyself the conqueror, let delay, Concealed with art, assist thee. Show no terror, But lingering long till evening hours approach Then first begin the fight. When once engaged Let no weak fears be visible. Faint heart Let none detect in thee: for if thy fears
Be marked by those thou leadest, be thou sure That blank dismay shall seize them, and thy bands Routed shall fly the field. If in deep ways
And narrow defiles thou thy foe engage, Keep well thy ranks together, the last files Holding compact: thus the determined fight Equal shalt thou maintain. Let blow on blow
Fall fast and fierce; let thousand deaths surround thee; Yet blench not thou. Nay, fan the fierce flame higher, As whirlwinds raise the clouds to heaven. Thy swords Let them be gleams of lightning, and thy lances Cease not from piercing hearts. Now rage the warriors Tearing each other as do ravening wolves
Or bears in maddest fury. Thou meanwhile,
Thy watchful eye well guarding every point,
Shalt care for all, and that which best shall aid them Provide with steady forethought, swift, and sure.
So shalt thou win the general's highest name, And so arrive at that which is the summit Of hope, fair Victory, aim of thy desire.
If in the fight some fault hath been committed, But not with ill intent, let not the man
Who thus hath erred in service, feel thine anger; And show him not those looks that wound the heart.
His general's glance of anger deeply grieves
The brave man's soul, but if no act of mark
Thou more canst hope from him who once hath failed thee, Confide the work to hands of greater power, But never let those darkened looks appear Which tell too clearly of a mind disturbed.
When these the general shows, his prudent followers
Note them, and there are those who with sharp words, That wound as keenest swords, will scornful say,
"Hast thou the leader's troubled aspect marked ?"
Yet thou, O noble race of old Zanhaga,
When hath thy heart known fear? when hath base thought Of terror found an entrance to thy breast?
Sons of the Desert! are ye not as lions
Who roam the waste with watchful eyes, and guard
With equal care green vale and dusky wood?
What, then, hath seized the King? Have ye, then, failed In aught that duty craves, or to his banners
Proved treacherous, that his eyes are frowning thus ?"
The prudent general sees, but shows not all: The valiant leader forms the quick resolve,- And his resolves are firm. He knows no fear, Nor will he turn his back in shameless flight. But evil chance may well befall the bravest ; Nay doth, as late we proved. Man, who is mortal, Cannot be always happy. One alone, Thy grandsire Juzef, held the power to chain Unstable fortune: on his banners only Hath victory hung unmoved, until the day When Allah granted equal fate to him, Aly thy father, but to none beside.
Of this there still are memories, such as time Can ne'er efface. But wherefore hast thou failed, The brave and generous Taxfin-changeful Fortune? The noble, liberla, humane, and just,
Beneficent to all, and ever good,
How couldst thou fly, capricious power, and turn
To grace his enemy, who in our loss
Hath found advantage? E'en thine eyes should weep
For his misfortune; since his heart hath found
Strength to subdue the suffering it hath felt, And thou hast not beheld the grief he bears!
Who but must marvel at an age so tender To find so much of force? The grievous chance Of fell defeat, the combat wild and fierce, The cruel carnage, have not power to move His constant heart. With aspect still serene, And firmest will, he gives his high commands, Disposing all things in those moments dread As in the calm of sweet security.
Yet all the pressure of the stern occasion He saw, and felt, and mourned. Its perils all, And grave results in future times, lay clear Before his ken; yet left him unappalled.
Then too, when all was ended, to the guilty A generous pardon did he not extend? Proof of his soul's true greatness: who save he Had shunned to meet the justly earned reproof, Whose righteousness the sufferer's self must own?
One word of counsel more. Oh, noble Taxfin, Well doth it suit the purposes of war
At times to send false summons through thy camp Of force superior in the foe, of wiles That he prepares to practise, of attacks Nightly to be expected, of surprises
And fierce assaults in darkness; for thy people, Accustomed thus to thought of constant peril, Shall learn to brave the danger when it comes In truth and presence. When the night obscure Brings the fierce enemy around thy camp, They who might else have filled thy soldiers' hearts With dread and fear, now, meeting brave repulse, And, in their turn assailed, shall fly dismayed From thy brave troopers, and their lances' point Shall mark the shoulders of the baffled train.
And now bethink thee; hast thou not full oft Wrung victory from the banners of the foe? Hast thou not called thyself lord of his holds, And made his land thy conquest. Of his captains
Hast thou not seen the bravest flee before thee, And brought his most renowned and noblest leaders To yield them to thy sword? Yea, and full oft!
Illustrious youth, thou art our best of blessings; Thy life is all our hope; thy future triumphs And radiant victories make glad the hearts Of all who love thee. Thou, and only thou, Art the delight and treasure of thy people; In thee we find our best and firmest bold.
Joy to the world, and to the nations joy! For thou art safe. We offer gratulations To all for that great blessing. Thou art safe! And lo! methinks I see the enemy
Already changed in fate! Who shall declare
That yet he may not yield? The rocks and mountains May well fall on him; eagles and fierce vultures May fitly tear the heart of him who fain Would bring our country to the dismal plight That not in all the land of Spain should breathe One soul to sound the praises of our God.
Thrice noble Taxfin, Allah grants that thou Shalt still remain to be thy people's hope, Their shield, and the protection of His Law. May God preserve thee-may the mighty hand Which guardeth all who well invoke His aid, Placing in Him alone their trust and hope, Be still thy guard, Oh joy of all thy people!"
CHAP. XXXIII.-WARS IN AFRICA BETWEEN THE ALMOHADES AND THE ALMORAVIDES. WARS IN SPAIN BETWEEN THE MOSLEMAH AND THE CHRISTIANS. EULOGIUM OF THE ALMORAVIDES AND THEIR CHIEFS.
IN the year 524, and in the moon Xaban of that year, Abu Meruan Abdelmelic, called Amad Dolah, King of Saragossa, died in his fortress of Rot-Alyehud, which is situate in the East of Spain. That inaccessible stronghold, the asylum and common retreat of the kings his ancestors, had long been the residence of Amad-Dolah, who was utterly abhorred by his subjects, on account of the compact and alliance into which he had entered with the King of the Christians,
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