Shields now some Mussulman of lowly strain;
Yet, though he knows me not, I can't help feeling
That something of my spirit must remain,
And if, in that rich air the man should mellow
In mind, in soul, and be a better fellow,
I have not lived in vain.
And it may be, when worlds have ceased to wrestle,
I shall go back across the Midland foam
At special rates in some large tourist vessel
To my late hollow in the Sultan's loam,