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Anonymous

"Moorish Literature"

We saddle up at dawn,
Just when the breeze begins. Our halting-place,
Sydy Mehammed, decks this peaceful earth.
From there the litters seek El Mekheraf.
My charger gray straight as an eagle goes.
I wend to Ben Seryer with my love,
Of tattooed arms. When we had crossed Djedy
We passed the wide plain, and we spent the night
At Rous-et-toual, near the gleaming sands.
Ben Djellal was our next day's resting-place;
And, leaving there, I camped at El Besbas,
And last at El-Herymek, with my love.
How many festivals beheld us then!
In the arena my good steed of gray
Fled like a ghost. And sweet Hyzyya there,
Tall as a flagstaff, bent her gaze on me,
Her smile disclosing teeth of purest pearl.
She spoke but in allusions, causing thus
That I should understand whate'er she meant.
Hamyda's daughter then might be compared
Unto the morning-star or a tall palm,
Alone, erect among the other trees.
The wind uprooted it, and dashed it down.
I did not look to see it fall, this tree
I hoped forever to protect. I thought
That God, divinely good, would let it live.


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