“God is great!
O Arabs, never yet since Mahmoud rode
The sands of Yemen, and by Mecca’s gate
That wingéd steed bestrode, whose mane of fire
Blazed up the zenith, when, by Allah called,
He bore the Prophet to the walls of Heaven,
Was like to Kubleh, Sofuk’s wondrous mare:
Not all the milk-white barbs, whose hoofs dashed flame
In Bagdad’s stables, from the marble floor—
Who, swathed in purple housings, pranced in state