The poems of Madison Cawein

Against each prince now she had held her own,
An easy victor for the seven years
O'er kings and sons of kings—Eddetma, she,
Who, when much sought in marriage, hating men,
Espoused their ways to win beyond their strength
Through martial exercise and hero deeds:
She, who, accomplished in all warlike arts,
Had heralds cry through every kingdom known—
“Eddetma weds with none but him who proves
Himself her master in the test of arms;
Her suitors' foeman she. And he who fails,
So overcome of woman, woman-scorned,
Disarmed, dishonored, yet shall he depart,
Brow-bearing, forehead-stigmatized with fire,
The branded words, ‘Eddetma's freedman this!’”
And many princes came to woo with arms,

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Whom her high maiden prowess put to shame;
Pretentious courtiers small in thew and thigh,
Proud-palanquined from principalities
Of Irak and of Hind and farther Sind.
Though she was womanly as that Empress of
The proud Amalekites, Tedmureh, and
More beautiful, yet she had held her own.

To Behram of the Territories, one
Son of a Persian monarch swaying kings,
Came bruit of her and her great victories,
Her maiden beauty and her warrior strength.
Eastward he journeyed from his father's Court,
With men and steeds and store of wealth and arms,
To the rich city where her father reigned,
Its seven citadels set above the sea,
Like seven Afrits, threatening all the world;
And messengered the monarch with a gift
Of savage vessels wroughten out of gold,
Of foreign fabrics stiff with gems and gold.
Vizier-ambassadored the old king gave
His answer to the suitor:—

“I, my son,—
What grace have I beyond the grace of God?
What power is mine but a material?

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What rule have I but a mere temporal?
Me, than the shadow of the Prophet's shade
Less, God invests with power but of man;
Yea! and man's right is but the right of God;
His the dominion of the secret soul—
And His her soul! Now hath my daughter sworn,
By all her vestal soul, that none shall know
Her but her better in the listed field,
Determining spear and sword. Grant Fate thy trust.
She hangs her hand upon to-morrow's joust.—
Allah is great!—My greeting and farewell.”

And so the lists of war and love arose,
Wherein Eddetma with her suitor strove.
Mailed in Chorasmian armor, helm and spur,
On a great steed she came; Davidean crest
And hauberk one fierce blaze of gems. The prince,
Harnessed in scaly gold Arabian, rode
To meet her; on his arm a mighty shield
Of Syrian silver high embossed with gold.
So clanged the prologue of the battle. As
Closer it waxed, Prince Behram, who a while
Withheld his valor,—in that she he loved
Opposed him and beset him, woman whom

479

He had not scathed for the Chosroës' wealth,—
Beheld his folly: how he were undone
With shining shame unless he strove withal,
Whirled fiery sword and smote the bassinet
That helmed the haughty face that long had scorned
The wide world's vanquished royalty, and so
Rushed on his own defeat. For, like unto
A cloud, that caverned the bright moon all eve,
That thunder splits and, virgin triumph, there
She sails a silver aspect, so the helm,
Hurled from her head, unhusked her golden hair,
And glorious, glowing face. By his own blow
Was Behram vanquished. All his wavering strength
Swerved from its purpose. With no final stroke
Stunned stood he and surrendered: stared and stared,
All his strong life absorbed into her face,
All the wild warrior arrowed by her eyes,
Tamed and obedient to her word and look.
Then she on him, as eagle on a kite,
Plunged pitiless and beautiful and fierce,
On trophy more to added victories:
Haled off his mail, amazement dazing him;

480

Seized steed and arms, confusion filling him;
And scoffed him forth brow-branded with his shame.

Dazzled, six days he sat, a staring trance;
But on the seventh, casting stupor off,
Rose, and the straitness of the case, that held
Him as with manacles of knitted fire,
Considered—and decided on a way . . .

Once when Eddetma with an houri band
Of high-born damsels, under eunuch guard,
In the walled palace pleasaunce took her ease,
Under a myrrh-bush by a fountain side,—
Where marble Peris poured a diamond rain
In scooped cornelian,—one, a dim, hoar head,—
A patriarch 'mid gardener underlings,—
Bent spreading gems and priceless ornaments
Of jewelled amulets of hollow gold
Sweet with imprisoned ambergris and musk;
Symbolic stones in sorcerous carcanets;
Gem talismans in cabalistic gold.
Whereon the princess marvelled and bade ask—
What did the ancient with his riches there?
Who, questioned, mumbled in his bushy beard,

481

“To buy a wife withal;” whereat they laughed
As oafs when wisdom stumbles. Quoth a maid,
With orient midnight in her starry eyes,
And tropic music on her languid tongue,
“And what if I should wed with thee, O beard
Grayer than my great-grandfather, what then?”—
“One kiss, no more; and, child, thou were divorced,”
He; and the humor took them till, like birds
That sing among the spice-trees and the palms,
The garden pealed with maiden merriment.

Then quoth the princess, “Thou wilt wed with him,
Ansada?” mirth in her gazelle-like eyes,
And gravity sage-solemn in her speech;
And took Ansada's hand and laid it in
The old man's staggering hand, and he unbent
His crookéd back and on his staff arose
Wrinkled and weighed with many heavy years,
And kissed her, leaning on his shaking staff,
And heaped her bosom with an Amir's wealth,
And left them laughing at his foolish beard.

482

Now on the next day, as she took her ease
With her glad troop of girlhood,—maidens who
So many royal tulips seemed,—behold,
Bowed with white years, upon a flowery sward
The ancient with new jewelry and gems
Wherefrom the sun coaxed wizard fires and lit
Glimmers in glowing green and pendent pearl,
Ultramarine and beaded, vivid rose.
And so they stood and wondered; and one asked,
As yesternoon, wherefore the father there
Displayed his Sheikh locks and the genie gems.—
“Another marriage and another kiss?—
What! doth the tomb-ripe court his youth again?
O aged one, libertine in hope not deed!
O prodigal of wives as well as wealth!
Here stands thy damsel,” trilled the Peri-tall
Diarra with the midnight in her hair,
Two lemon-blossoms blowing in her cheeks;
And took the dotard's jewels with the kiss
In merry mockery.

Ere the morrow's dawn
Bethought Eddetma: “Shall my handmaidens,

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Humoring a gray-beard's whim, for wrinkled smiles
And withered kisses still divide his wealth?
While I stand idle, lose the caravan
Whose least is notable?—I too will wed,
Betide me what betides.”

And with the morn
Before the man,—for privily she came,—
Stood habited, as were her tire-maids,
In humbler raiment. Now the ancient saw
And knew her for the princess that she was,
And kindling gladness of the knowledge made
Two sparkling forges of his deep-set eyes
Beneath the ashes of his priestly brows.
Not timidly she came; but coy approach
Became a maiden of Eddetma's suite.
She, gazing on the jewels he had spread
Beneath the rose-bower by the fountain, said:—
“The princess gave me leave, O grandfather.
Here is my hand in marriage, here my lips.
Adorn thy bride; then grant me my divorce.”
And humbly answered he, “With all my heart!”—
Responsive to her quavering request,—
“The daughter of the king did give thee leave?

484

And thou wouldst wed?—Then let us not delay.—
Thy hand! thy lips!” So he arose and heaped
Her with barbaric jewelry and gems,
And took her hand and from her lips the kiss.
Then from his age, behold, the dotage fell,
And from the man all palsied hoariness.
Victorious-eyed and amorous, a youth,
A god in ardent capabilities,
Resistless held her; and she, swooning, saw,
Transfigured and triumphant bending o'er,
Gloating, the branded brow of Prince Behram.

University of Virginia Library

BEHRAM AND EDDETMA