Behind him trailed the lengthening caravan— The slow, weird camels, with monotonous pace; Before him, lifted in the clear, far space, From east to west the towers of his city ran!
Impatiently he scanned the darkening sky; Then girding in hot haste, “What ho!” cried he, “Bring the swift steed Abdallah unto me! As rode his Bedouin master, so will I!”
Soon like a bird across the waste he flew, Nor drew his rein till at the massive gate That guards the citadel’s supremest state He paused a moment, slowly entering through.
Then down the shadowy, moonlit streets he sped; The city slept; but like a burning star, Where his own turret-chamber rose afar, A clear, strong light its steady radiance shed!
Into his court he rode with sudden clang. The startled slaves bowed low, but spake no word; By no quick tumult was the midnight stirred, No shouts of welcome on the night air rang!
But with slow footsteps down the turret-stairs, With trembling lips that hardly breathed his name, And sad, averted eyes, his fair wife came— The lady Judith—wan with tears and prayers.
Then swift he cried out, less in wrath than fear, “Now, by my beard! is this the way ye keep My welcome home? Go! wake my sons from sleep, And let their glad tongues break the silence here!”
“Not so, my dear lord! Let them rest,” she said. “Young eyes need slumber. But come thou with me. I have a trouble to make known to thee Ere I before thee can lift up my head.”
Into an inner chamber led she him, And with her own hands brought him meat and wine, A purple robe, and linen pure and fine. He half forgot that her sweet eyes were dim!
“Now for thy trouble!” cried he, laughing loud. “Hast torn thy kirtle? Are thy pearls astray? What! Tears? My camels o’er yon desert way Bring treasures that had made Queen Esther proud!”