| |
| “ONWARD, my camel!—on, though slow; | |
| Halt not upon these fatal sands! | |
| Onward, my constant camel, go,— | |
| The fierce simoom hath ceased to blow, | |
| We soon shall tread green Syria’s lands! | 5 |
| |
| “Droop not, my faithful camel! Now | |
| The hospitable well is near! | |
| Though sick at heart and worn in brow, | |
| I grieve the most to think that thou | |
| And I may part, kind comrade, here! | 10 |
| |
| “O’er the dull waste a swelling mound, | |
| A verdant paradise, I see; | |
| The princely date-palms there abound, | |
| And springs that make it sacred ground | |
| To pilgrims like to thee and me!” | 15 |
| |
| The patient camel’s filmy eye, | |
| All lustreless, is fixed in death! | |
| Beneath the sun of Araby | |
| The desert wanderer ceased to sigh, | |
| Exhausted on its burning path. | 20 |
| |
| Then rose upon the wilderness | |
| The solitary driver’s cry; | |
| Thoughts of his home upon him press, | |
| As, in his utter loneliness, | |
| He sees his burden-bearer die. | 25 |
| |
| Hope gives no echo to his call,— | |
| Ne’er from his comrade will he sever! | |
| The red sky is his funeral pall; | |
| A prayer, a moan,—’t is over, all,— | |
| Camel and lord now rest forever! | 30 |
| |
| A three-hours’ journey from the spring | |
| Loved of the panting caravan, | |
| Within a little sandy ring, | |
| The camel’s bones lie whitening, | |
| With thine, old, unlamented man! | 35 |
| |
