“Servant of Hell! die thou!” quoth Thalaba.
And leaning on his bow
He fitted the loose string,
And laid the arrow in its resting-place.
“Bow of my Father, do thy duty now!”
He drew the arrow to its point,
True to his eye it fled,
And full upon the breast
It smote the wizard man.
Astonished Thalaba beheld
The blunted point recoil.
A proud and bitter smile
Wrinkled Lobaba’s cheek,
“Try once again thine earthly arms!” he cried.
“Rash Boy! the Power I serve
“Abandons not his votaries.
“It is for Allah’s wretched slaves, like thou,
“To serve a master, who in the hour of need
“Forsakes them to their fate!
“I leave thee!”... and he shook his staff, and called
The Chariot of his Charms.
Swift as the viewless wind,
Self-moved, the Chariot came,
The Sorcerer mounts the seat.
“Yet once more weigh thy danger!” he exclaimed,
“Ascend the car with me,
“And with the speed of thought
“We pass the desert bounds.”
The indignant youth vouchsafed not to reply,
And lo! the magic car begins its course!
Hark! hark!... he screams.... Lobaba screams!
What wretch, and hast thou raised
The rushing Terrors of the Wilderness
To fall on thine own head?
Death! death! inevitable death!
Driven by the breath of God
A column of the Desert met his way.