TALES AND LEGENDS. THE STAG-EYED LADY. A MOORISH TALE. Scheherazade immediately began the following story. ALI BEN ALI (did you never read His wondrous acts that chronicles relate- The sack of Troy?) Magnificent he sate Ali was cruel—a most cruel one! 'Tis rumored he had strangled his own motherHowbeit such deeds of darkness he had done, 'Tis thought he would have slain his elder brother And sister too-but happily that none Did live within harm's length of one another, Else he had sent the Sun in all its blaze To endless night, and shortened the Moon's days. Despotic power, that mars a weak man's wit, And makes a bad man-absolutely bad, Made Ali wicked-to a fault:-'tis fit Monarchs should have some check-strings; but he had No curb upon his will-no, not a bit Wherefore he did not reign well-and full glad His slaves had been to hang him-but they faltered, And let him live unhanged-and still unaltered. Until he got a sage bush of a beard, Wherein an Attic owl might roost-a trail Mingling with duskier brown its warnings pale; Comes like Jack Frost, and whitens it in rime. Ben Ali took the hint, and much did vex No living child of the more noble sex, To stand in his Morocco shoes-not one To make a negro-pollard-or tread necks When he was gone-doomed, when his days were done, To leave the very city of his fame Without an Ali to keep up his name. Therefore he chose a lady for his love, Singling from out the herd one stag-eyed dear; So called, because her lustrous eyes, above All eyes, were dark, and timorous, and clear; Then, through his Muftis piously he strove, And drummed with proxy-prayers Mohammed's ear, Knowing a boy for certain must come of it, Or else he was not praying to his Profit. Beer will grow mothery, and ladies fair Will grow like beer; so did that stag-eyed dame: Ben Ali, hoping for a son and heir, Boyed up his hopes, and even chose a name He made so certain ere his chicken came : To-morrow came, and with to-morrow's sun Brought on another, like a pair of twins: Their little wits and scare them from their skins, To hear their father stamp, and curse and swear, Pulling his beard because he had no heir. Then strove their stag-eyed mother to calm down But not her words, or e'en her tears, could slack Wherein a woman might be poked—a few At this sad order; but their slaveships knew When any dared demur, his sword so bending Cut off the head and front of their offending." 66 |