Now Sa'yd, always deep in love with thee, Shall never see thee more! The memory Of thy dear name fills all his heart, my sweet. Oh, pardon, God compassionate, forgive Us all. Sa'yd is sad, he weeps for one Dear as his soul. Forgive this love, Lord! Hyzyya--join them in his sleep, O God most high. Forgive the author of these verses here! It is Mahomet that recites this tale. O Thou who hast the future in thy hand, Give resignation to one mad with love! Like one exiled from home, I weep and mourn. My enemies might give me pity now. All food is tasteless, and I cannot sleep. I write this with my love but three days dead. She left me, said farewell, and came not back. This song, O ye who listen, was composed Within the year twelve hundred finished now, The date by adding ninety-five years more. [1295.] This song of Ould-es-Serge we have sung In Ayd-el-Rebye, in the singing month, At Sydy-Khaled-ben Sinan. A man, Mahomet ben Guytoun, this song has sung Of her you'll never see again alive. My heart lies there in slim Hyzyya's tomb. THE AÏSSAOUA IN PARIS[A] Come, see what's happened in this evil year. The earthquake tumbled all the houses down, Locusts and crickets have left naught behind. Hear what has happened to those negro scamps, Musicians--rogues, and Aïssaoua. They spoke of nothing but their project great. Bad luck to him who lacks sincerity! On learning of the tour of Rayyato They all began to cry and run about, Half with bare feet, although the rest were shod. The Lord afflicts them much in this our world. 'Twas only negroes, poor house-colorers, Who did not follow them about in crowds. The Christian Salvador put them on ship. One felt his breast turn and exclaimed, "I'm sick." A wench poured aromatics on the fire, And thus perfumed the air. For Paris now They're off, to see the great Abd-el-Azyz. The Christians packed them like a cricket-swarm, Between the sea and church, upon the wharf He drew them, wonders promising, and led Them but to beggary. He takes them to His land to show them to the chief of all His masters, to the Emperor. He hopes To get a present and thus pay them back, Retaining all the money he advanced. [A] Former student of the Medersa of Algiers, bookbinder, lutemaker, and copier of manuscripts, Qaddour ben Omar ben Beuyna, best known among his coreligionists as Qaddour el Hadby (the hunchback), who died during the winter of 1897-1808, has sung for thirty years about all the notables of his city. This lively poem was composed by him on they occasion of the departure for Paris of a band of musicians, singers, and Aissaoua, who figured at the Exposition of 1867, under the direction of a professor of music named Salvador Daniel. The original is in couplets of six hemistichs.