ces Antar became possessed of the noble horse
Abjer, whose equal no prince or emperor could boast of. His
mettle was soon tried in an affray with the tribe of Maan,
headed by the warrior Nakid, who was ferocious as a lion.]

When Nakid saw the battle of Antar, and how alone he stood against five
thousand, and was making them drink of the cup of death and perdition,
he was overwhelmed with astonishment at his deeds. "Thou valiant slave,"
he cried, "how powerful is thine arm--how strong thy wrist!" And he
rushed down upon Antar. And Antar presented himself before him, for he
was all anxiety to meet him. "O thou base-born!" cried Nakid. But Antar
permitted him not to finish his speech, before he assaulted him with the
assault of a lion, and roared at him; he was horrified and paralyzed at
the sight of Antar. Antar attacked him, thus scared and petrified, and
struck him with his sword on the head, and cleft him down the back; and
he fell, cut in twain, from the horse, and he was split in two as if by
a balance; and as Antar dealt the blow he cried out, "Oh, by Abs! oh, by
Adnan! I am ever the lover of Ibla." No sooner did the tribe of Maan
behold Antar's blow, than every one was seized with fear and dismay. The
whole five thousand made an attack like the attack of a single man; but
Antar received them as the parched ground receives the first of the
rain. His eyeballs were fiery red, and foam issued from his lips;
whenever he smote he cleft the head; every warrior he assailed, he
annihilated; he tore a rider from the back of his horse, he heaved him
on high, and whirling him in the air he struck down another with him,
and the two instantly expired. "By thine eyes, Ibla," he cried, "to-day
will I destroy all this race." Thus he proceeded until he terrified the
warriors, and hurled them into woe and disgrace, hewing off their arms
and their joints.

[At the moment of Antar's victory his friends arrive to see
his triumph. On his way back with them he celebrates his love
for Ibla in verses.]

_When the breezes blow from Mount Saadi, their freshness calms the fire
of my love and transports.... Her throat complains of the darkness of
her necklaces. Alas! the effects of that throat and that necklace! Will
fortune ever, O daughter of Malik, ever bless me with thy embrace, that
would cure my heart of the sorrows of love? If my eye could see her
baggage camels, and her family, I would rub my cheeks on t