Sixty years had Abdel-Hassan, since the stranger's friendly hand
Saved him from the burning Desert, lived and prospered in the land;
And his life of peaceful labor, in its pure and simple ways,
For his loss fourfold returned him, and a mighty length of days.
Sixty years of faith and patience gave him wisdom's mural crown;
Sons and daughters brought him honor with his riches and renown.
Men beheld his reverend aspect, and revered his blameless name;
And in peace he dwelt with strangers, in the fulness of his fame.
But the heart of Abdel-Hassan yearned, as yearns the heart of man,
Still to die among his kindred, ending life where it began.
So he summoned all his household, and he gave the brief command,—
"Go and gather all our substance;—we depart from out the land."
Then they journeyed to the Desert with a great and numerous train,
To his old nomadic instinct trusting life and wealth again.
It was now the sixth day's journey, when they met the moving sand,
On the great wind of the Desert, driving o'er that arid land;
And the air was red and fervid with the Simoom's fiery breath;—
None could see his nearest fellow in the stifling blast of death.
Blinded men from prostrate camels piled the stores to windward round,
And within the barrier herded, on the hot, unstable ground.