“I hear the float
          Of their chant divine;
        Each heavenly note
          Mingles with mine.

        “Can an evil thing
          Make beauty more? 
        Or a sinner bring
          To the heavenly door?

        “’Tis the sun-rays fine
          That sink in the earth,
        And are drunk by the vine,
          For its daughters’ birth.

        “And the liquid light,
          I drink again;
        And it flows in might
          Through the shining brain,

        “Making it know
          The things that are
        In the earth below,
          Or the farthest star.

        “I will not think
          That the Prophet said,
        Ye shall not drink
          Of the flowing Red.

        “For his promise, lo! 
          Shows more divine,
        When the channels o’erflow
          With the singing wine.

        “But if he did, ’tis a small annoy
        To sit in chains for a heavenly joy.”

Away went the song on the light wind borne. 
His head sank down, and a ripple of scorn,
At the irons that fettered his brown limbs’ strength. 
Waved on his lip the dark hair’s length. 
But sudden he lifted his head to the north—­
Like a mountain-beacon his eye blazed forth: 
’Twas a cloud in the distance that caught his eye,
Whence a faint clang shot on the light breeze by;
A noise and a smoke on the plain afar—­
’Tis the cloud and the clang of the Moslem war. 
And the light that flashed from his black eyes, lo! 
Was a light that paled the red wine’s glow;
And he shook his fetters in bootless ire,
And called on the Prophet, and named his sire. 
But the lady of Saad heard the clang,
And she knew the far sabres his fetters rang. 
Oh! she had the heart where a man might rest,
For she knew the tempest in his breast. 
She rose.  Ere she reached him, he called her name,
But he called not twice ere the lady came;
And he sprang to his feet, and the irons cursed,
And wild from his lips the Tecbir burst: 
“Let me go,” he said, “and, by Allah’s fear,
At sundown I sit in my fetters here,
Or lie ’neath a heaven of starry eyes,
Kissed by moon-maidens of Paradise.”

The lady unlocked his fetters stout,
Brought her husband’s horse and his armour out,
Clothed the warrior, and bid him go
An angel of vengeance upon the foe;
Then turned her in, and from the roof,
Beheld the battle, far aloof.

Straight as an arrow she saw him go,
Abu Midjan, the singer, upon the foe. 
Like home-sped lightning he pierced the cloud,
And the thunder of battle burst more loud;
And like lightning along a thunderous steep,
She saw the sickle-shaped sabres sweep,
Keen as the sunlight they dashed away
When it broke against them in flashing spray;
Till the battle ebbed o’er the plain afar,
Borne on the flow of the holy war. 
As sank from the edge the sun’s last flame,
Back to his bonds Abu Midjan came.