Note 25 — No. VIII.
Reading edition
The original poem as translated, or rather paraphrased, by Prof. J. D. Carlyle, is here subjoined:—
THE CHOICE.
Sabla! thou saw’st th’ exulting foe
In fancied triumphs crown’d:
Thou heard’st their frantic females throw
These galling taunts around:
“Make now YOUR CHOICE—the terms we give,
Desponding victims, hear!
These fetters on your hands receive,
Or in your hearts the spear.”
“And is the conflict o’er,” we cried,
And lie we at your feet,
“And dare you vauntingly decide
The fortune we must meet?
“A brighter day we soon shall see,
Tho’ now the prospect lowers,
And Conquest, Peace, and Liberty
Shall gild our future hours.”
The foe advanc’d—in firm array
We rush’d o’er Sabla’s sands,
And the red sabre mark’d our way
Amidst their yielding bands.
Then as they writh’d in death’s cold grasp,
We cried, “Our choice is made!
These hands the sabre’s hilt shall clasp,
Your hearts shall have the blade!”
As Carlyle’s version is although a spirited not a faithful one, the Editor is induced to present a literal translation, from Translations of Ancient Arabian Poetry, by C. J. Lyall, 1885, 8vo., p. 10. The contest was not a battle but one of the frequent skirmishes between neighbouring clans. Sabla is Carlyle’s rendering of Sahbal a Wady, in Arabia, overlooked by twin peaks.