Thy way unto the Sun the spaces through
Where king Orion’s black-eyed huris slew
The Mother of Night to guide the Wings that bear
The flame divine hid in a drop of dew.
LXXX
Hear ye who in the dust of ages creep,
And in the halls of wicked masters sleep:—
Arise! and out of this wan weariness
Where Allah’s laughter makes the Devil weep.