The conquests made by the successors of the Prophet brought enormous wealth into Mecca and Medína, and Music and song in the Holy Cities. when the Umayyad aristocracy gained the upper hand in ‘Uthmán's Caliphate, these towns developed a voluptuous and dissolute life which broke through every restriction that Islam had imposed. The increase of luxury produced a corresponding refinement of the poetic art. Although music was not unknown to the pagan Arabs, it had hitherto been cultivated chiefly by foreigners, especially Greek and Persian singing-girls. But in the first century after the Hijra we hear of several Arab singers,450 natives of Mecca and Medína, who set favourite passages to music: henceforth the words and the melody are inseparably united, as we learn from the Kitábu ’l-Agháníor 'Book of Songs,' where hundreds of examples are to be found. Amidst the gay throng of pleasure-seekers women naturally played a prominent part, and love, which had hitherto formed in most cases merely the conventional prelude to an ode, now began to be sung for its own sake. In this Peninsular school, as it may be named in contrast with the bold and masculine strain of the great Provincial poets whom we are about to mention, the palm unquestionably belongs to ‘Umar b. Abí Rabí‘a (õ 719 a.d.), ‘Umar b. Abí Rabí‘a. the son of a rich Meccan merchant. He passed the best part of his life in the pursuit of noble dames, who alone inspired him to sing. His poetry was so seductive that it was regarded by devout Moslems as "the greatest crime ever committed against God," and so charming withal that ‘Abdulláh b. ‘Abbás, the Prophet's cousin and a famous authority on the Koran and the Traditions, could not refrain from getting by heart some erotic verses which ‘Umar recited to him.451 The Arabs said, with truth, that the tribe of Quraysh had won distinction in every field save poetry, but we must allow that ‘Umar b. Abí Rabí‘a is a clear exception to this rule. His diction, like that of Catullus, has all the unaffected ease of refined conversation. Here are a few lines:—

"Blame me no more, O comrades! but to-dayQuietly with me beside the howdahs stay.Blame not my love for Zaynab, for to herAnd hers my heart is pledged a prisoner.Ah, can I ever think of how we metOnce at al-Khayf, and feel no fond regret?My song of other women was but jest:She reigns alone, eclipsing all the rest.Hers is my love sincere, 'tis she the flameOf passion kindles—so, a truce to blame!"452

We have no space to dwell on the minor poets of the same school, al-‘Arjí (a kinsman of the Umayyads), al-Aḥwaṣ, and many others. It has been pointed out by Dr. C. Brockelmann that the love-poetry of this epoch is largely of popular origin; e.g., the songs attributed to Jamíl, in which Buthayna is addressed, and to Majnún—the hero of countless Love-ballads. Persian and Turkish romances which celebrate his love for Laylá—are true folk-songs such as occur in the Arabian Nights, and may be heard in the streets of Beyrout or on the banks of the Tigris at the present day. Many of them are extremely beautiful. I take the following verses from a poem which is said to have been composed by Jamíl:—

"Oh, might it flower anew, that youthful prime,And restore to us, Buthayna, the bygone time!And might we again be blest as we wont to be,When thy folk were nigh and grudged what thou gavest me! Shall I ever meet Buthayna alone again,Each of us full of love as a cloud of rain?Fast in her net was I when a lad, and tillThis day my love is growing and waxing still. I have spent my lifetime, waiting for her to speak,And the bloom of youth is faded from off my cheek;But I will not suffer that she my suit deny,My love remains undying, though all things die!"453

The names of al-Akhṭal, al-Farazdaq, and Jarír stand out pre-eminently in the list of Umayyad poets. They were men Poetry in the provinces. of a very different stamp from the languishing Minnesingers and carpet-knights who, like Jamíl, refused to battle except on the field of love. It is noteworthy that all three were born and bred in Mesopotamia. The motherland was exhausted; her ambitious and enterprising youth poured into the provinces, which now become the main centres of intellectual activity.

Farazdaq and Jarír are intimately connected by a peculiar rivalry—" Arcades ambo— id est, blackguards both." For many years they engaged in a public scolding-match ( muháját), and as neither had any scruples on the score of decency, the foulest abuse was bandied to and fro between them—abuse, however, which is redeemed from vulgarity by its literary excellence, and by the marvellous skill which the satirists display in manipulating all the vituperative resources of the Arabic language. Soon these 'Flytings' ( Naqá’iḍ) The Naqá’iḍof Jarír and Farazdaq. were recited everywhere, and each poet had thousands of enthusiastic partisans who maintained that he was superior to his rival.454 One day Muhallab b. Abí Sufra, the governor of Khurásán, who was marching against the Azáriqa, a sect of the Khárijites, heard a great clamour and tumult in the camp. On inquiring its cause, he found that the soldiers had been fiercely disputing as to the comparative merits of Jarír and Farazdaq, and desired to submit the question to his decision. "Would you expose me," said Muhallab, "to be torn in pieces by these two dogs? I will not decide between them, but I will point out to you those who care not a whit for either of them. Go to the Azáriqa! They are Arabs General interest in poetry. who understand poetry and judge it aright." Next day, when the armies faced each other, an Azraqite named ‘Abída b. Hilál stepped forth from the ranks and offered single combat. One of Muhallab's men accepted the challenge, but before fighting he begged his adversary to inform him which was the better poet—Farazdaq or Jarír? "God confound you!" cried ‘Abída, "do you ask me about poetry instead of studying the Koran and the Sacred Law?" Then he quoted a verse by Jarír and gave judgment in his favour.455 This incident affords a striking proof that the taste for poetry, far from being confined to literary circles, was diffused throughout the whole nation, and was cultivated even amidst the fatigues and dangers of war. Parallel instances occur in the history of the Athenians, the most gifted people of the West, and possibly elsewhere, but imagine British soldiers discussing questions of that kind over the camp-fires!

Akhṭal joined in the fray. His sympathies were with Farazdaq, and the naqá’iḍwhich he and Jarír composed against each other have come down to us. All these poets, like their Post-islamic brethren generally, were professional encomiasts, greedy, venal, and ready to revile any one who would not purchase their praise. Some further account of them may be interesting to the reader, especially as the anecdotes related by their biographers throw many curious sidelights on the manners of the time.

The oldest of the trio, Akhṭal (Ghiyáth b. Ghawth) of Taghlib, was a Christian, like most of his tribe—they had Akhṭal. long been settled in Mesopotamia—and remained in that faith to the end of his life, though the Caliph ‘Abdu ’l-Malik is said to have offered him a pension and 10,000 dirhems in cash if he would turn Moslem. His religion, however, was less a matter of principle than of convenience, and to him the supreme virtue of Christianity lay in the licence which it gave him to drink wine as often as he pleased. The stories told of him suggest grovelling devoutness combined with very easy morals, a phenomenon familiar to the student of mediæval Catholicism. It is related by one who was touring in Syria that he found Akhṭal confined in a church at Damascus, and pleaded his cause with the priest. The latter stopped beside Akhṭal and raising the staff on which he leaned—for he was an aged man—exclaimed: "O enemy of God, will you again defame people and satirise them and caluminate chaste women?" while the poet humbled himself and promised never to repeat the offence. When asked how it was that he, who was honoured by the Caliph and feared by all, behaved so submissively to this priest, he answered, "It is religion, it is religion."456 On another occasion, seeing the Bishop pass, he cried to his wife who was then pregnant, "Run after him and touch his robe." The poor woman only succeeded in touching the tail of the Bishop's ass, but Akhṭal consoled her with the remark, "He and the tail of his ass, there's no difference!"457 It is characteristic of the anti-Islamic spirit which appears so strongly in the Umayyads that their chosen laureate and champion should have been a Christian who was in truth a lineal descendant of the pagan bards. Pious Moslems might well be scandalised when he burst unannounced into the Caliph's presence, sumptuously attired in silk and wearing a cross of gold which was suspended from his neck by a golden chain, while drops of wine trickled from his beard,458 but their protests went unheeded at the court of Damascus, where nobody cared whether the author of a fine verse was a Moslem or a Christian, and where a poet was doubly welcome whose religion enabled him to serve his masters without any regard to Muḥammadan sentiment; so that, for example, when Yazíd I wished to take revenge on the people of Medína because one of their poets had addressed amatory verses to his sister, he turned to Akhṭal, who branded the Anṣár, the men who had brought about the triumph of Islam, in the famous lines—