| And went up to him very politely, And asked what his name was and cried: “My lad, if I judge of you rightly, You’re the son of my brother who died— My poor Mustafa!”—and he sighed. “Ah, yes, Mustafa was my father,” Aladdin cried back, “and he’s dead!” “Well, then, both yourself and your mother I will care for forever,” he said, “And you never shall lack wine nor bread.” And thus did the wily old wizard Deceive with his kindness the two For a deed of dark peril and hazard He had for Aladdin to do, At the risk of his life, too, he knew. |
| Far down in the earth’s very centre There burned a strange lamp at a shrine; Great stones marked the one place to enter; Down under t’was dark as a mine; What further—no one could divine! And that was the treasure Aladdin Was sent to secure. First he tore The huge stones away, for he had in An instant the strength of a score; Then he stepped through the cavern-like door. Down, down, through the darkness so chilly! On, on, through the long galleries! Coming now upon gardens of lilies, And now upon fruit-burdened trees, Filled full of the humming of bees. |
But, ah, should one tip of his finger
Touch aught as he passed, it was death!
Not a fruit on the boughs made him linger,
Nor the great heaps of gold underneath.
But on he fled, holding his breath,
| Until he espied, brightly burning, The mystical lamp in its place! He plucked the hot wick out, and, turning, With triumph and joy in his face, Set out his long way to retrace. At last he saw where daylight shed a Soft ray through a chink overhead, Where the crafty Magician was ready To catch the first sound of his tread. “Reach the lamp up to me, first!” he said. |
Aladdin with luck had grown bolder,
And he cried, “Wait a bit, and we’ll see!”