Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, IN PRAISE OF THE KING, by IBN AMMAR



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

IN PRAISE OF THE KING, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Pass round the bowl; the breeze of morn
Last Line: The brazier of my thought?
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens


Pass round the bowl; the breeze of morn
Is blowing free and wide,
The nightbound stars, now travel-worn,
Have tossed their reins aside.

Behold how yonder camphor, our
Great gift from rising dawn,
Gleams, as from heaven night her dower
Of amber has withdrawn.

The meadow, that fair maiden, wears
Her robe of every hue
The flowers, and a necklace bears
Bejewelled all with dew.

The roses, like some modest girl's
Shy blushes, blossom red;
The tossing myrtles hang like curls
About her lovely head.

Against the garden's gown of green
A silver wrist doth gleam:
In virgin purity serene
Flows on the silent stream.

Now as the breeze its surface bright
Disturbs, there seems to glow
My monarch's sword, that puts to flight
The legions of his foe.

Abbad's great son, whose bounteous hand
Alleviates all lack,
Keeps ever green the grateful land
Although the skies be black.

And he bestows, for virtue's meed,
A pure and lovely maid,
A horse of mettle and of breed,
A gem-encrusted blade.

A monarch he who, when the kings
Of earth come down to drink,
They dare not venture to the springs
Until he leaves their brink.

More fresh than dew his bounty lies
Upon the hearts of those
Who weary, sweeter to the eyes
Than slumberful repose.

He strikes the flint of ardent fame;
The fire of battle he
Quits never, save to light the flame
Of hospitality.

A king as virtuous as wise,
As charming as discreet,
A garden lovely to the eyes
With fruitfulness replete.

The Kauthar of his gifts to me
Is boundless; I know well
That with his liberality
In Paradise I dwell.

Since fruitful branches most delight,
As you observe most clear,
Their monarchs' heads you featly smite
To fructify your spear.

Observing beauty evermore
In scarlet robes arrayed
Most sweetly, with their champions' gore
Your breastplate you have sprayed.

Accept this tribute, if it please,
A garden drenched with showers
And visited by morning's breeze,
Until it bore these flowers.

I wove for their embroidery
Your fame, a golden thread,
And o'er my verses cunningly
Your fragrant praise I shed.

Who dares contend with me thereon,
Since I your name have brought
For aloes-wood, to lay upon
The brazier of my thought?





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