"I was the wolf
That ran before thee up the mountain side;
'Twas I received thy spear as now thy sword;
And know thou further, Sheik, nor wolf nor man
Am I, nor mortal thing of any kind;
Only a thought of Allah's. Canst thou kill
A thought divine? Not Solomon himself
Could that, except with thought yet more divine.
Yield thee thy rage; and when thou think'st of me
Hereafter, be it as of one, a friend,
Who brought a parable, and made display
Before thee, saying—
"Lo! what Allah wills."
Therewith he dropped a seed scarce visible
Into a little heap of sand and loam
Between them drawn.
"Lo! Allah wills."
And straight
The dust began to stir as holding life.
Again El Jann—
"Behold what Allah wills!"
A tiny shoot appeared; a waxen point
Close shawled in many folds of wax as white,
It might have been a vine to humbly creep—
A lily soon to sunward flare its stars—
A shrub to briefly coquette with the winds.
Again the cabalism—
"Lo! Allah's will."
The apparition budded, leafed, and branched,
And with a flame of living green lit all
The barrenness about. And still it grew—
Until it touched the pillars of the earth,
And lapped its boundaries, the far and near,
And under it, as brethren in a tent,
The nations made their home, and dwelt in peace
Forever.
"Lo!"—
And Ertoghrul awoke.