"They brought me word, O King, thou blamedst me; For this am I o'erwhelmed with grief and care. I passed a sick man's night: the nurses seemed, Spreading my couch, to have heaped up briars there. Now (lest thou cherish in thy mind a doubt) Invoking our last refuge, God, I swear That he, whoever told thee I was false, Is the more lying and faithless of the pair. Exiled perforce, I found a strip of land Where I could live and safely take the air: Kings made me arbiter of their possessions, And called me to their side and spoke me fair-- Even as thou dost grace thy favourites Nor deem'st a fault the gratitude they bear.[247] O leave thine anger! Else, in view of men A mangy camel, smeared with pitch, I were. Seest thou not God hath given thee eminence Before which monarchs tremble and despair? All other kings are stars and thou a sun: When the sun rises, lo, the heavens are bare! A friend in trouble thou wilt not forsake; I may have sinned: in sinning all men share. If I am wronged, thou hast but wronged a slave, And if thou spar'st, 'tis like thyself to spare." It is pleasant to record that Nábigha was finally reconciled to the prince whom he loved, and that Ḥíra again became his home. The date of his death is unknown, but it certainly took place before Islam was promulgated. Had the opportunity been granted to him he might have died a Moslem: he calls himself 'a religious man' (_dhú ummatin_),[248] and although the tradition that he was actually a Christian lacks authority, his long residence in Syria and ‘Iráq must have made him acquainted with the externals of Christianity and with some, at least, of its leading ideas. [Sidenote: A‘shá.] The grave and earnest tone characteristic of Nábigha's poetry seldom prevails in that of his younger contemporary, Maymún b. Qays, who is generally known by his surname, al-A‘shá--that is, 'the man of weak sight.' A professional troubadour, he roamed from one end of Arabia to the other, harp in hand, singing the praises of those who rewarded him; and such was his fame as a satirist that few ventured to withhold the bounty which he asked. By common consent he stands in the very first rank of Arabian poets. Abu ’l-Faraj, the author of the _Kitábu ’l-Aghání_, declares him to be superior to all the rest, adding, however, "this opinion is not held unanimously as regards A‘shá or any other." His wandering life brought him into contact with every kind of culture then existing in Arabia. Although he was not an avowed Christian, his poetry shows to what an extent he was influenced by the Bishops of Najrán, with whom he was intimately connected, and by the Christian merchants of Ḥíra who sold him their wine. He did not rise above the pagan level of morality.