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THE ARAB WARRIOR.
FROM THE ARABIC.
Go, ask of men that know my name,
And they the truth will speak, That I'm the terror of the strong,
The helper of the weak.
My spear has made the dragon brood
Succumb to galling bands,
The forage he demands.
I steer my horse through stormy fights,
As a seaman steers his craft; My joy, to splinter on my breast
The foeman's flying shaft.
I am the latest laid to rest,
The earliest in the fight, And while the others idly feast
I rub my harness bright.
And while the booty they divide
I heap the ranks of slain, And when they scorn my poverty,
I scorn their greed of gain.
6 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 : Whose ear is open to hear their need.
The sun is sunken ; no vapor mars
I bend the knee and I stretch the hand,
Not for my father, for he is dead ;
God is Great, and God is Just :
My sword is keen and my arm is strong
God, let me wait for year on year,
Once let me strike till he is slain ;
Till then, I wander to and fro,
Better than Stamboul's courts of gold,