| |
| “La illah il’ Allah!” the muezzin’s call | |
| Comes from the minaret, slim and tall, | |
| That looks o’er the distant city’s wall. | |
| |
| “La illah il’ Allah!” the Faithful heed, | |
| With God and the Prophet this hour to plead: | 5 |
| Whose ear is open to hear their need. | |
| |
| The sun is sunken; no vapor mars | |
| The path of his going with dusky bars. | |
| The silent desert awaits the stars. | |
| |
| I bend the knee and I stretch the hand, | 10 |
| I strike my forehead upon the sand, | |
| And I pray aloud, that He understand. | |
| |
| Not for my father, for he is dead; | |
| Not in my wandering brothers’ stead,— | |
| For myself alone I bow the head. | 15 |
| |
| God is Great, and God is Just: | |
| He knoweth the hearts of the children of dust,— | |
| He is the Helper; in him I trust. | |
| |
| My sword is keen and my arm is strong | |
| With the sense of unforgotten wrong, | 20 |
| And the hate that waits and watches long. | |
| |
| God, let me wait for year on year, | |
| But let the hour at last appear, | |
| When Vengeance makes my honor clear. | |
| |
| Once let me strike till he is slain; | 25 |
| His blood will cleanse my sabre’s stain, | |
| And I shall stand erect again. | |
| |
| Till then, I wander to and fro, | |
| Wide as the desert whirlwinds go, | |
| And seek, by the sun and stars, my foe. | 30 |
| |
| Better than Stamboul’s courts of gold, | |
| Whose harems the Georgian girls infold, | |
| Whiter than snow, but not so cold; | |
| |
| Better than Bagdad’s garden bowers, | |
| Or fountains that play among Persian flowers; | 35 |
| Better than all delights and powers, | |
| |
| The deed God’s justice will abide,— | |
| The stern atonement, long denied, | |
| That righteous Vengeance gives to Pride. | |
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