Two whole days the great wind lasted, when the living of the train
From the hot drifts dug the camels and resumed their way again.
But the lines of care grew deeper on the master's swarthy cheek,
While around the weakest fainted and the strongest waxéd weak;
And the water-skins were empty, and a silent murmur ran
From the faint, bewildered servants through the straggling caravan:—
"Let the land we left be blessed!—that to which we go, accurst!—
From our pleasant wells of water came we here to die of thirst?"
But the master stilled the murmur with his steadfast, quiet eye:—
"God is great," he said, devoutly,—"when He wills it, we shall die."
As he spake, he swept the Desert with his vision clear and calm,
And along the far horizon saw the green crest of the palm.
Man and beast, with weak steps quickened, hasted to the lonely well,
And around it, faint and panting, in a grateful tumult fell.
Many days they stayed and rested, and amidst his fervent prayer
Abdel-Hassan pondered deeply that strange bond which held him there.
Then there came an aged stranger, journeying with his caravan;
And when each had each saluted, Abdel-Hassan thus began:—
"Knowest thou this well of water? lies it on the travelled ways?"
And he answered,—"From the highway thou art distant many days.