hundred plans;
  Direct thy flight toward the fount,
  To Tanina and Cherifa.
  "Speak to the eyelash-darkened maid,
  To the beautiful one of the pure, white throat;
  With teeth like milky pearls.
  Red as vermillion are her cheeks;
  Her graceful charms have stol'n my reason;
  Ceaselessly I see her in my dreams."⁸
  "A woman with a pretty nose
  Is worth a house of solid stone;
  I'd give for her a hundred reaux,⁹
  E'en if she quitted me as soon.
  "Arching eyebrows on a maid,
  With love the genii would entice,
  I'd buy her for a thousand reaux,
  Even if exile were the price.
  "A woman neither fat nor lean
  Is like a pleasant forest green,
  When she unfolds her budding charms,
  She gleams and glows with springtime sheen."¹⁰

The same sentiment inspires the Touareg songs, among which tribe women enjoy much greater liberty and possess a knowledge of letters greater than that of the men, and know more of that which we should call literature, if that word were not too ambitious:

  "For God's sake leave those hearts in peace,
  'Tis Tosdenni torments them so;
  She is more graceful than a troop
  Of antelopes separated from gazelles;
  More beautiful than snowy flocks,
  Which move toward the tents,
  And with the evening shades appear
  To share the nightly gathering;
  More beautiful than the striped silks
  Enwrapped so closely under the haiks,
  More beautiful than the glossy ebon veil,
  Enveloped in its paper white,
  With which the young man decks himself,
  And which sets off his dusky cheek."¹¹

The poetic talent of the Touareg women, and the use they make of this gift--which they employ to celebrate or to rail at, with the accompaniment of their one-stringed violin, that which excites their admiration or inspires them with disdain--is a stimulant for warriors:

  "That which spurs me to battle is a word of scorn,
  And the fear of the eternal malediction
  Of God, and the circles of the young
  Maidens with their violins.
  Their disdain is for those men
  Who care not for their own good names.¹²
  "Noon has come, the meeting's sure.
  Hearts of wind love not the battle;
  As though they had no fear of the violins,
  Which are on the knees of painted women--
  Arab women, who were not fed on sheep's milk;
  There is but camel's milk in all their land.
  More than one other has preceded thee and is widowed,
  For that in Amded, long since,
  My own heart was burned.
  Since you were a young lad I suffered--
  Since I wore the veil and wrapped
  My head in the folds of the haik."¹³

War, and the struggle of faction against faction, of tribe against tribe, of confederation against confederation, it is which, with love, above all, has inspired the Berber men. With the Khabyles a string of love-songs is called "Alamato," because this word occurs in the first couplet, always with a belligerent inspiration:

  "He has seized his banner for the fight
  In honor of the Bey whose cause he maintains,
  He guides the warriors with their gorgeous cloaks,
  With their spurs unto their boots well fastened,
  All that was hostile they destroyed with violence;
  And brought the insurgents to reason."

This couplet is followed by a second, where allusion is made to the snow which interrupts communication:

  "Violently falls the snow,
  In the mist that precedes the lightning;
  It bends the branches to the earth,
  And splits the tallest trees in twain.
  Among the shepherds none can pasture his flock;
  It closes to traffic all the roads to market.
  Lovers then must trust the birds,
  With messages to their loves--
  Messages to express their passion.
  "Gentle tame falcon of mine,
  Rise in thy flight, spread out thy wings,
  If thou art my friend do me this service;
  To-morrow, ere ever the rise of the sun,
  Fly toward her house; there alight
  On the window of my gracious beauty."¹⁴

With the Khabyles of the Jurgura the preceding love-songs are the particular specialty of a whole list of poets who bear the Arab name of T'eballa, or "tambourinists." Ordinarily they are accompanied in their tours by a little troop of musicians who play the tambourine and the haut-boy. Though they are held in small estimation, and are relegated to the same level as the butchers and measurers of grain, they are none the less desired, and their presence is considered indispensable at all ceremonies--wedding fêtes, and on the birth of a son, on the occasion of circumcision, or for simple banquets.

Another class, composed of Ameddah, "panegyrists," or Fecia, "eloquent men," are considered as much higher in rank. They take part in all affairs of the country, and their advice is sought, for they dispense at will praise or blame. It is they who express the national sentiment of each tribe, and in case of war their accents uplift warriors, encourage the brave, and wither the cowardly. They accompany themselves with a Basque drum. Some, however, have with them one or two musicians who, after each couplet, play an air on the flute as a refrain.¹⁵

In war-songs it is remarkable to see with what rapidity historical memories are lost. The most ancient lay of this kind does not go beyond the conquest of Algiers by the French. The most recent songs treat of contemporary events. Nothing of the heroic traditions of the Berbers has survived in their memory, and it is the Arab annalists who show us the role they have played in history. If the songs relating to the conquest of Algeria had not been gathered half a century ago, they would doubtless have been lost, or nearly so, to-day. At that time, however, the remembrance was still alive, and the poets quickly crystallized in song the rapidity of the triumph of France, which represents their civilization:

  "From the day when the Consul left Algiers,
  The powerful French have gathered their hosts:
  Now the Turks have gone, without hope of return,
  Algiers the beautiful is wrested from them.
  "Unhappy Isle that they built in the desert,
  With vaults of limestone and brick;
  The celestial guardian who over them watched has withdrawn.
  Who can resist the power of God?
  "The forts that surround Algiers like stars,
  Are bereft of their masters;
  The baptized ones have entered.
  The Christian