A net for fishes there is spread,
The moth's wings burn in bright flame hot;
A sprightly maiden wouldst thou wed,
But thee the maiden chooseth not.
The Shaïr.—The shaïr is very different from the pantun; the latter is lyric, the former epic in its nature; the shaïr may be heroic or romantic, the pantun never. However, it employs the same measure as the pantun, but all the lines of each stanza rhyme, instead of by pairs, as in the quatrains of the lyric verse. It is to the shaïr that we must look for the really great works of Malay poetry, where some are bold enough to declare we may find passages of Homeric beauty. The most famous works of this nature are Radin Mantri, Kin Tambouhan, and Bidasari. The first two of these tell the story of the love of a prince of the royal house of Nigara for a maiden of his mother's court. It is a beautiful tale, abounding in parts of striking eloquence and pathos, and the characters are strong and well portrayed.
The Bidasari is the longest poem in the language, and typically Malayan. Its author is unknown, likewise the time and place of its composition. The only hint as to the writer is in the opening lines:
"… Listen to this story of the history of a king in a province of Kambayat. A fakir has turned the narrative into a poem."
And again at the conclusion, where it says:
"This poem is weak and faulty because my knowledge is imperfect. My heart was troubled—for that reason have I written it. I have not made it long, because I was sad; but I have finished it and thereby obtained many blessings."
Internal evidence, however, indicates that the poem is old, of a time long before the Europeans first came to the East, possibly before the Mohammedan conquest. It shows plainly the influence of Hindu theology, yet in the customs and scenes described, and the mode of life and the manner of thinking, it is essentially Malay, and so worthy, perhaps, of a somewhat extended notice.
"There was once a king, a sultan, handsome, learned, perfect; he was of the race of noble kings; he caused the land of merchants and strangers to be swallowed up. From what people of his time say of him he was a valorous prince who had never yet been thwarted. But to-morrow and the day after to-morrow are uncertain." Such is the beginning of Canto I, as given in the French translation by Louis de Backer. The king marries, but just as joy and happiness are to be his, a griffinlike garuda sweeps down upon his land and ravages it. Terrified, the monarch deserts his throne, takes his royal consort and flees for his life. On the flight the queen gives birth to a child, which, however, must be deserted, much to the mother's grief.
