And now the warlike Druzes, who are old friends of Shaheen and his father, wish to show their good will by singing a wedding song, which they have borrowed from the old wild inhabitants of this land of Canaan: O brother of the bride, your mare has gnawed her bridle, Run for the blacksmith, do not be idle. She has run to the grave where are buried your foes, And pawed out their hearts with her iron shoes! But the time has come for the procession to move, and we go along slowly enough. The bride rides a mare, led by one of Shaheen's brothers, and as we pass the fountain, the people pour water under the mare's feet as a libation, and Handumeh throws down a few little copper coins to the children. The women in the company set up the zilagheet, a high piercing trill of the voice, and all goes merry as a marriage bell. When we reach the house of Shaheen, he keeps out of sight, not even offering to help his bride dismount from her horse. That would never do. He will stay among the men, and she in a separate room among the women, until the hour of the ceremony arrives. But the women are singing again, and this time the song is really beautiful in Arabic, but I fear I have made lame work of it in the translation: Allah, belaly, belaly, Allah, belaly, belaly, May God spare the life of your sire, Our lovely gazelle of the valley! May Allah his riches increase He has brought you so costly a dowry; The moonlight has gone from his house, The rose from his gardens so flow'ry. Run away, rude men, turn aside, Give place to our beautiful bride: From her sweet perfumes I am sighing, From the odor of musk I am dying. Come and join us fair maid, they have brought you your dress, Leave your peacocks and doves, give our bride a caress; Red silk! crimson silk! the weaver cries as he goes: But our bride's cheeks are redder blushing bright as the rose. Dark silk! black silk! hear him now as he sings: But our bride's hair is black, like the raven's dark wings; With the light of our eyes with our Handumeh sweet No maid of the Druzes can ever compete. She is worth all the wealth of the Lebanon domain, All the vineyards and olives, the silk worms and grain. And no maids of the Christians can with her compare Tho' shining with pearls and with jewels so rare.