Said Hóseyn, "God gives each man one life, like a lamp, then gives
That lamp due measure of oil; lamp lighted—hold high, wave wide
Its comfort for others to share! once quench it, what help is left?45
The oil of your lamp is your son, I shine while Muléykeh lives.
Would I beg your son to cheer my dark if Muléykeh died?
It is life against life—what good avails to the life-bereft?"
Another year, and—hist! What craft is it Duhl designs?
He alights not at the door of the tent as he did last time,50
But, creeping behind, he gropes his stealthy way by the trench
Half-round till he finds the flap in the folding, for night combines
With the robber—and such is he: Duhl, covetous up to crime,
Must wring from Hóseyn's grasp the Pearl, by whatever the wrench.
"He was hunger-bitten, I heard; I tempted with half my store,55
And a gibe was all my thanks. Is he generous like Spring dew?
Account the fault to me who chaffered with such an one!
He has killed, to feast chance comers, the creature he rode; nay, more—
For a couple of singing-girls his robe has he torn in two—
I will beg! Yet I nowise gained by the tale of my wife and son.60
"I swear by the Holy House, my head will I never wash
Till I filch his Pearl away. Fair dealing I tried, then guile,
And now I resort to force. He said we must live or die;
Let him die, then—let me live! Be bold—but not too rash!
I have found me a peeping-place; breast, bury your breathing while65
I explore for myself! Now, breathe! He deceived me not, the spy!
"As he said—there lies in peace Hóseyn—how happy! Beside
Stands tethered the Pearl; thrice winds her headstall about his wrist;
'Tis therefore he sleeps so sound—the moon through the roof reveals.
And, loose on his left, stands too that other, known far and wide,70
Buhéyseh, her sister born; fleet is she yet ever missed
The winning tail's fire-flash a-stream past the thunderous heels.
"No less she stands saddled and bridled, this second, in case some thief
Should enter and seize and fly with the first, as I mean to do.
What then? The Pearl is the Pearl—once mount her we both escape."75
Through the skirt-fold in glides Duhl—so a serpent disturbs no leaf
In a bush as he parts the twigs entwining a nest; clean through,
He is noiselessly at his work; as he planned, he performs the rape.
He has set the tent-door wide, has buckled the girth, has clipped
The headstall away from the wrist he leaves thrice bound as before,80
He springs on the Pearl, is launched on the desert like bolt from bow.
Up starts our plundered man; from his breast though the heart be ripped,
Yet his mind has the mastery. Behold, in a minute more,
He is out and off and away on Buhéyseh, whose worth we know!
And Hóseyn—his blood turns flame, he has learned long since to ride,85
And Buhéyseh does her part—they gain—they are gaining fast
On the fugitive pair, and Duhl has Ed-Dárraj to cross and quit,
And to reach the ridge El-Sabán—no safety till that be spied!
And Buhéyseh is, bound by bound, but a horse-length off at last,
For the Pearl has missed the tap of the heel, the touch of the bit.90
She shortens her stride, she chafes at her rider the strange and queer:
Buhéyseh is mad with hope—beat sister she shall and must,
Though Duhl, of the hand and heel so clumsy, she has to thank.
She is near now, nose by tail—they are neck by croup—joy! fear!
What folly makes Hóseyn shout, "Dog Duhl, Damned son of the Dust,95
Touch the right ear and press with your foot my Pearl's left flank!"
And Duhl was wise at the word, and Muléykeh as prompt perceived
Who was urging redoubled pace, and to hear him was to obey,
And a leap indeed gave she, and evanished for evermore.
And Hóseyn looked one long last look as who, all bereaved,100
Looks, fain to follow the dead so far as the living may;
Then he turned Buhéyseh's neck slow homeward, weeping sore.