I hear a voice declare thy name shall be
Forever on the lips of fighting men
A battle-cry, and that in times of peace
Even the winds, unsteady passengers
And lawless though they are, shall take and blow
It up and down the world a melody
Of bugles. Up—up to the storied plains
Of glory thine forewritten 'tis to climb;
And bending ear, and listening wistfully,
I hear the music thence of horns and drums,
And cymbals ringing, and the high acclaims
Of countless men in arms; and if I look,
It is at thee enthroned on battle-fields,
And conquered cities crowding with their keys
On golden plates, and clamorous to buy
Thy better will. And yet, alas! I dare
Not speak the word besought. In truth, it is
Thy destiny I fear. When greatness cloaks
Thee like a tabard more than courtly dight,
What then of Malkatoon ? Mayhap, 'twill be
For me, O son of Ertoghrul, to seek
A lion's den or eagle's nest for lamb
Alive or dove unharmed, and fail as thou
Hast failed. A question—one; then peace to thee,
And all of thine. Where doth that holy thing,
A trusting woman's simple love, fare worst ?
And I will tell: Tis in the heart by years
Of kingly usage into marble turned—
Thou hast my answer.'
"And with that he took
The young man's hand in both of his, and held
It tenderly, as loath to let him go
So sadly burdened; then when he had back
His voice, he said, 'The Wilderness hath- kept
Itself unlocked, and rendered thee the Tribe
In sacred trust for Allah; whence 'tis thine
To wait on it, and bend its stubborn will
To honor Him. The truest blades are those
Most frequent in the fire, and thus may He
Be chastening thee. Thy faith to this hath been
In purity like pearls in Heaven's gate.
Forget not now that all the times are His,
The morrows and the years, in which to send
The sign I ask.'
"He turned, but at the door,
The inner door of heavy camel's-hair,
He left the parting speech. 'A woman dead,
And in her grave, but with a promise had,
May hold a man when even Allah's word
Hath spent its force with him. Now, good my lord
In going ponder this: The world is old,
And there were loves and lovers ere thou earnest.'
"The daylight, gray along the cavern floor,
Went out on Othman, yet, with upraised face,
He prayed— 'O Allah ! To a moon's scant breadth
The sky is shrunk; for I am in a well,
And darkness, cold as water, covers me
Still sinking. Atnin ! Thou didst dig the deeps,
Or else there were no heights; and I will find
Thee at the bottom.'
"Then a lightning flashed
Within his mind, that he alone might see
The answer Allah made—A woman dead,
And in her grave, but oh ! so beautiful,
And so like Malkatoon ! Her hair as dark,
Her face as oval, with a brow as white,
And even in its childishness her form
The very same! And he began to shake
With mighty madnesses of word and act,
Thinking it was indeed his love he saw
There lying lost to him; but he was saved
From them; for it is as the saintly say,
They to whom Heaven kindly sends a light
Not only see but understand as well.
And he was glad, and shouted so the birds
Nest-keeping in the leafage of the door
Affrighted sprang to wing, and Darkness leaped
Into the grave and bore away the ghost—
So loud he cried, 'O Dervish, peace to thee!
And all the charmed sweetnesses of peace
To thine! Be Allah praised, for He but now
Laid bare the narrow room where, as in life,
And wanting only breath to be alive,
The woman sleeps who holds thee promise-bound;
And while I looked at her, I heard thee say
Again, The world is old, and there were loves
And lovers ere I came. And then I knew
Thy meaning. (Ah, never was selfish youth
So gently chidden !) And now, clothed all
In patience, and with my hand in the hand
Of Faith, I go.'
Othman and His Tribe
"And home again, from good
Sheik Ertoghrul our Othman had a gift
Of hill-lands rich with groves of terebinth,
And brooks which, flitting down by tangled glades,
And babbling over beds of marble float,
Did often pause in open pools to mock
The skies above with bluer skies below.
And there in one dowar, most like a town
Of many brown-black tents, he drew his Tribe,
That' they might learn how pleasant are the ways
Of peace, and that an hundred spears may gain,
And safely keep, what ten were sure to lose.
"And next he built a Mosque of unhewn stone,
But with a tall and stately minaret;
Then with the help of holy men he taught
His children of the Wilderness the creed—
Allah-il-Allah —simple to the ear,
Yet deep in meaning—deeper than the earth
Hangs swinging 'neath the amethystine floor
Of Paradise. And shortly they could give
The Fah-hat, word and rik-rath, and salute
With hand on brow and breast; then in their midst