My deep poetic art the blind have eyes to see, My verses ring in ears as deaf as deaf can be. They wander far abroad while I am unaware, But men collect them watchfully with toil and care. Oft hath my laughing mien prolonged the insulter's sport, Until with claw and mouth I cut his rudeness short. Ah, when the lion bares his teeth, suspect his guile, Nor fancy that the lion shows to you a smile. I have slain the man that sought my heart's blood many a time, Riding a noble mare whose back none else may climb, Whose hind and fore-legs seem in galloping as one; Nor hand nor foot requireth she to urge her on. And O the days when I have swung my fine-edged glaive Amidst a sea of death where wave was dashed on wave! The desert knows me well, the night, the mounted men, The battle and the sword, the paper and the pen!"[567] Finally an estrangement arose between Mutanabbí and Sayfu ’l-Dawla, in consequence of which he fled to Egypt and attached himself to the Ikhshídite Káfúr. Disappointed in his new patron, a negro who had formerly been a slave, the poet set off for Baghdád, and afterwards visited the court of the Buwayhid ‘Aḍudu ’l-Dawla at Shíráz. While travelling through Babylonia he was attacked and slain by brigands in 965 A.D. The popularity of Mutanabbí is shown by the numerous commentaries[568] and critical treatises on his _Díwán_. By his countrymen he is generally regarded as one of the greatest of Arabian poets, while not a few would maintain that he ranks absolutely first. Abu ’l-‘Alá al-Ma‘arrí, himself an illustrious poet and man of letters, confessed that he had sometimes wished to alter a word here and there in Mutanabbí's verses, but had never been able to think of any improvement. "As to his poetry," says Ibn Khallikán, "it is perfection." European scholars, with the exception of Von Hammer,[569] have been far from sharing this enthusiasm, as may be seen by referring to what has been said on the subject by Reiske,[570] De Sacy,[571] Bohlen,[572] Brockelmann,[573] and others. No doubt, according to our canons of taste, Mutanabbí stands immeasurably below the famous Pre-islamic bards, and in a later age must yield the palm to Abú Nuwás and Abu ’l-‘Atáhiya. Lovers of poetry, as the term is understood in Europe, cannot derive much æsthetic pleasure from his writings, but, on the contrary, will be disgusted by the beauties hardly less than by the faults which Arabian critics attribute to him. Admitting, however, that only a born Oriental is able to appreciate Mutanabbí at his full worth, let us try to realise the Oriental point of view and put aside, as far as possible, our preconceptions of what constitutes good poetry and good taste. Fortunately we possess abundant materials for such an attempt in the invaluable work of Tha‘álibí, which has been already mentioned.[574] Tha‘álibí (961-1038 A.D.) was nearly contemporary with Mutanabbí. He began to write his _Yatíma_ about thirty