—when you (ʿUmar) pointed to having his two front teeth pulled out on the day he was taken captive at Badr—did he ﷺ not say, “Perhaps he will one day stand in a position for which you will not reproach him”?[1]

I say: Very soon, if Allah wills, we shall relate in detail what occurred after the death of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ—how many tribes among the Arabs apostatized; what befell with Musaylimah ibn Ḥabīb, the self-proclaimed prophet of Yamāmah, and with al-Aswad al-ʿAnsī in Yemen; and how matters unfolded until the people came back, repented to Allah, and abandoned the gross folly and profound ignorance into which Satan had lured them, whereupon Allah granted them victory, steadied their hearts, and returned them to His true religion at the hands of the truthful Caliph, Abū Bakr—may Allah be pleased with him. All of this will appear, fully laid out and explained, if Allah wills.

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Ibn Isḥāq and others have cited several elegies by Ḥassān ibn Thābit—may Allah be pleased with him—on the passing of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Among the most elevated, eloquent, and magnificent of them is what ʿAbd al-Malik ibn Hishām—may Allah have mercy on him—narrated from Abū Zayd al-Anṣārī, that Ḥassān ibn Thābit—may Allah be pleased with him—said, lamenting the Messenger of Allah ﷺ:

From the Ṭawīl metre

In Ṭaybah[2] a trace and a covenant of the Messenger remain—
a radiant site, though landmarks fade and ruins wane.

The signs will never be effaced from that inviolable abode,
Where stands the pulpit of the Guide from which his counsel flowed.

Clear proofs endure, the markers stay; a courtyard, mosque, and prayer‐site too,
Where once he stood to lead the ranks, their every path in view.

There are the chambers where he dwelt; within them shone a light from Allah—
a lamp by which the seekers’ way grew evident and bright.

Their features time has not erased; though age has touched them, still they shine;
Indeed, with every passing year their meanings only climb.

There I discerned the Prophet’s trace, his covenant and his tomb,
Enclosed within the tender earth, a niche within its womb.

I lingered there, weeping for the Prophet; then kindly tears replied,
And other eyes, like mine, poured forth the sorrow they would hide.

They call to mind the Prophet’s gifts—no reckoner can count them all;
My very soul, benumbed, admits it cannot bear that haul.

Bereaved, my soul is melted thin by Ahmad’s loss profound;
So still it counts his favors vast, recounting them around.

Yet not a tenth of all his grace have I been able to relate;
Still, for my soul, what grief remains is heavy, deep, and great.

Long did she stand, her tears released with all the strength they own,
Over the relic of that grave wherein lies Ahmad alone.[3]