Bedawin remedy
for cleansing his head. On inquiring what it was, he declared he would
rather have the disease than the remedy! After his return to his village
in Lebanon, he spent several days in ablutions and purifications before
venturing to bring me his report. The Sitt Harba gave him a collection
of the nursery rhymes which she and the Bedawin women sing to their
little brown babies, and some of them will be found in the "Children's
Chapter" of this volume. The Sheikh Mohammed, who can neither read nor
write, repeated to Ali the following Kosideh or Song, which he composed
in Arabic poetry, after his victory over Feisal, of the Ruella tribe, in
1866. The Ruellas had previously driven Mohammed's tribe from one of the
finest pasture regions in Howian, and Ed Dukhy regained it after a
desperate struggle.
Oh fair and beautiful plain, oh rich green Bedawin pasture.
We had left you, too often stained, with the blood of violent
battle;
Ah, dark disastrous day, when brother abandoned his brother,
Though riding the fleetest of mares, and safe from pursuit of the
foeman,
He never once turned to inquire, though we tasted the cup of
destruction.
Oh fair and beautiful plain, we yesterday fought and regained thee!
I praise and honor His name, who only the victory giveth!
O, Feisal, we've meted to you your deserts in royal measure;
With our spears so burning and sharp, we cut off the necks of your
Arabs,
O, Shepherd of Obaid, you fled deserting your pastures,
Biting your finger in pain and regret for your sad disasters--
Savage hyena, come forth, from your lair in the land of Jedaileh,
Howl to your fellow-beasts, in the distant land of Butina;
Come and eat your fill of the dead in the Plain of Fada,
O, fair and beautiful plain, you belong to the tribe of the victor;
But Feisal is racked with pain, when he hears the battle story,
Our right-handed spearmen have palsied his arm is its strength and
power;
A blow fell hard on his breast, from the hand of our Anazy warriors;
Come now, ye who wish for peace, we are ready in honor to meet you!
_Our_ wrongs are all avenged, and our arms are weary of battle.
The Arabic original of these lines breathes the true spirit of poetry,
and shows that the old poetic fire still burns in the desert. Feisal now
lives in the region adjacent to Mohammed Dukhy, and they leave a s
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