An old Arabian tale the truth conveys,
That, honor's passion avarice outweighs.
* * * * *
Brave Achmed owned a mare of wondrous speed;
He prized her much above his wife or creed.
And lest some one should steal that precious mare,
He guarded her with unremitting care.
He tied her every night before his tent;
The fastening-cord then round his pillow went.
When all in slumber lay, the robber crept,
Unloosed the cord, and on the courser leapt.
"Wake up!" he cries,—"'tis I, the thief, who call;
See now if she in flight is chief of all!"
Mount Achmed and his tribe in wrath and shame,
And chase him as a tempest chases flame.
Hot Achmed nearly to the robber came,
When thus he thought: "My mare will lose her fame.
"If I o'ertake her, she is then outrun;
But if I reach her not, I am undone.