[Poet, philosopher, and philologist. He wrote gracefully in Arabic and Hebrew. He was born about 1070 at Granada, and died in the first half of the twelfth century. His best works are still in manuscript, but even his published books show him to have been a man of great talent. His poetry was chiefly praised for the beauty and polish of its diction. Judah ha-Levi addressed several panegyrics to him.]
1. Dirge on the Death of His Brother[106]
Oh mourn, my soul, and with a mourning cloak be clad, and put ropes upon thy sackcloth; be gathered to go to the right and left, awake to wail and to strip off thy train. Sell thy joy forever; it shall never be redeemed, nor shall it have a jubilee. Write a bill of divorce to rejoicing, take wailing instruments instead of harps. No longer shalt thou dread the wrath of time, nor fear the burning anger of the world; for what more can it do to thee? It has harmed thee grievously, and brought thee dire distress! Now that my brother is fallen, time is powerless to do me good, or to wound me. It smote, and did not spare; it broke all thy strength and glory, as a vessel made of clay. It hurled down thy height with wrath; how canst thou say that thy lot is cast in pleasantness?
Since my brother is gone my world is no more wide; it is a prison, and the earth is like shackles. He that upheld the glory of all things, how is it that his back is now burdened with dust? Because he is gone the sun is the companion of jackals, the moon is the brother of mourning since his death.
Now shall all understand that heaven’s host will fade and shrivel as a withering bud (all this shall vanish as a clod of earth, and yet the memory of his glory never shall grow old). When my brother went to the grave, I knew that all creation is but vanity.
2. Poem Addressed to One of His Noblest Friends[107]
A prisoner,[108] whose heart is made to boil like a pot by a burning flame, and whose eyes are laden with a cloud of tears! He thought to relieve his illness with his tears, but when he shed them, lo, it was rain making things to grow: a smoking furnace which, without a hand, sprinkles soot upon the brightness of his face and forehead. From his scalding tears the mountains crumble, just as when he roars the raging seas are calmed. In Edom’s field he wanders without pasture (regarded by none), like lost sheep which a lion thrust aside.
For him the daughters of the Great Bear moan, for him Orion makes baldness like an eagle. The hand of time went forth against him for evil, until with wrath it banished him out of the West.
How long shall he traverse the surface of the earth? how long shall he not loose his girdle and his belt? His brothers stood at a distance to gloat over him in his distress, and all his friends broke their covenant. With willful hand they shed his blood, and how could they have thought to cover it on a rock? But when God saw his strength was spent, He appointed thy right hand, O my lord, to shelter and to cover him. In his misty night thou didst shine as a star, and he beheld the light of companionship in the gloom of exile. His feet had slipped, but when he saw thy dwelling-place, they stood up firmly as in strongholds and on rocks. He came to the midst of the garden, and through thy sweet words his soul was made secure on fields of ease. Thou art honey to the palate, sunlight to the eye of him that looks, and myrrh unto the nostril of him that smells. Thou art the foundation of kindness, glory’s pillar, and art the plank and bar of the abode of truth. Ere thou hadst knowledge to cry: ‘My father’, and ‘My mother’, thy Maker caused thee to delight in the fear of God. Thou hast prudent counsels, wherewith thou annoyest thine enemies and gladdenest the souls of thy friends. With the breath of thy mouth thou makest the foolish wise, and with thy pen’s fluid washest off the blood of time’s ignorance. Thou art like a cedar that grew high in wisdom’s garden, so that the other shoots set forth their meditations unto thee. They are like an airy dream, like flying chaff, but thou renewest thy strength, and buddest by the glorious waters. Thy hand built for thee dominion with hewn stones, while other rulers plastered it with vanity. Thou art generous like thy fathers, and how pleasant it is to eat the second growth with grace, when the first is gone! Thou turnest thy right hand’s rivers as a honey stream, and makest them flow into the mouths of them that ask. Thou softenest thy generous heart toward the needy, but hardenest it like flint[109] against thy wealth. Thy soul urges thee to make the indigent rich, so that thou causest the name of poor to be forgotten. The sorrow-stricken man cheers up, on seeing thee: his wish is granted, when he calls thee by thy name.
Fain would I speak more of thee, but tempestuous is the sea of exile—who shall make its waves subside? I long to see the image of thy features in my dream, if only my pain allowed me to sleep! Thou art a garden of delights, but closed are its openings, that I should not smell the myrrh thereof. Time is thy slave, and yet it sends against me, day by day, the indignation and wrath of men. Hadst thou rebuked it, thou wouldest have pacified its wrath and its fierce anger, and it would have ceased to vex me.
My words have reached thee; command thou thy bounty that it should judge between me and between thy slave.[110] Here is the song, it is perfumed oil; take it, I pray, O man that art to be anointed with it now! A necklace! a word of glory on thy golden checker work, a speech on thy variegated chain.
3. Poem in Honor of the Wedding of Solomon b. Matir[111]
Is it a scent of myrrh, which pervades the air; or a breeze, which shakes the myrtles? A cloud, or a great mass of spicery? Lightning, or the sparkling of wine cups? Is it the clouds that pour out perfumes, or do the drops come from the myrtle tops? Is it the mouthless mountains that burst forth with joy, or doves and birds on boughs? The clothing of the earth is inwrought with gold, its coats are made of variegated silk. Its paths are straight to him that treads on them, and mountain-ridges have become like plains. The houses jubilantly shout, and the stone from the wall and the wooden beams respond. The erstwhile gloomy faces are now clad with joy, and men of grief are merry and exult. The lips of stammerers now plainly speak, to build the house of mirth that was destroyed. Indeed the mysterious wonders now appear, that have been hidden in the heart of time. The tent of glory has now been coupled, hooks have been placed into the loops of praises. The days have brought together bone to bone, and separated bodies are now joined together. Upon the mounts of myrrh have joys been set high, they are assembled on the hills of frankincense.
On morning’s wings a voice proclaims unto the world (not on swift runners, nor on horses): ‘Solomon has lovingly betrothed a noble maid,’ as though the moon and sun had been betrothed.
Upon the path of prudence are his steps, his feet walk and tread upon instruction. From early youth his thoughts were on the skies, his meditations were borne onto the constellations. He excels all men of his own age, as sons of men excel all beasts and worms. His deeds are far more precious than theirs, as rubies are more precious than clay. They run to reach the dust of his feet—how can a sparrow pursue the hawks?
Oh answer: how can Orion meet Pleiades on earth, while none inquires, nor takes notice? Is this not so? Are not their radiant wings spread upon their charming countenances? How did they steal the light of the stars? Were men ever seen robbing and despoiling heaven’s lights?
O all his friends, make haste to drink to-day the wine of friendship in the bowls of joy. Be ready to increase your merriment, and open ye the store-houses of ease. The goblets are like frozen water, and the burning coals have been dissolved in their midst. Drink now as he appointed in his house; drink ye at your desire, without being forced.
O youth, rejoice in the lovely hind, and sing ye both in ecstasies of joy. Delight thou in a figure graceful as a palm-tree and lithe as the myrtle-twigs. Fear not the sound of her neck’s ornaments, at twilight, nor the rustling of her veils. And be not terrified by dove-like eyes, drunk with the wine of passion’s violence. Take courage, when embraced by arms bedecked with bracelets and with bangles of pure gold. Nor shouldst thou shun the snake-like locks that fall on a face bathed in maiden modesty; indeed, they come to thee in peace, though they conceal and hide the splendor of her face.[112]
And know that time is the slave of thy desire, assembled are its sons to do thy wish: they hasten to bring near what thou seekest, but drive away the sorrows of thy heart.
This song is from a friend whose heart rejoices in thee, whose thoughts fly and hasten to thee; it is a glorious robe which shall never grow old, till the foundations of the world are demolished. Indeed the water of his friendship is as pure as snow and is not fouled by feet; if in my heart it is concealed from thee, it is to be sought in the gardens of thy mind. For rubies are for men of intellect, while for the vain are fatlings of lambs; the brave men crave for words of eloquence, but fools hunger after fattened geese.
O noble scion, live at ease with the daughter of nobles, sheltered under the shadow of the Almighty!
