Therefore come I with my torrents,
    Shaking castle, crag, and town;
  Therefore, with the shout of thunder,
    Sweep I herd and herdsman down;
  Therefore leap I to thy bosom,
    With a loud triumphal roar—­
  Greet me, greet me, Father Euxine,
    I am Christian stream no more!”

THE SCHEIK OF SINAI IN 1830

FROM THE GERMAN OF FREILIGRATH

  I.

  “Lift me without the tent, I say,—­
    Me and my ottoman,—­
  I’ll see the messenger myself! 
    It is the caravan
      From Africa, thou sayest,
        And they bring us news of war? 
  Draw me without the tent, and quick! 
    As at the desert well
  The freshness of the purling brook
    Delights the tired gazelle,
      So pant I for the voice of him
        That cometh from afar!”

  II.

  The Scheik was lifted from his tent,
    And thus outspake the Moor:—­
  “I saw, old Chief, the Tricolor
    On Algiers’ topmost tower—­
      Upon its battlements the silks
        Of Lyons flutter free. 
  Each morning, in the market-place,
    The muster-drum is beat,
  And to the war-hymn of Marseilles
    The squadrons pace the street. 
      The armament from Toulon sailed: 
        The Franks have crossed the sea.”

  III.

  “Towards the south, the columns marched
    Beneath a cloudless sky: 
  Their weapons glittered in the blaze
    Of the sun of Barbary;
      And with the dusty desert sand
        Their horses’ manes were white. 
  The wild marauding tribes dispersed
    In terror of their lives;
  They fled unto the mountains
    With their children and their wives,
      And urged the clumsy dromedary
        Up the Atlas’ height.”

  IV.

  “The Moors have ta’en their vantage-ground,
    The volleys thunder fast—­
  The dark defile is blazing
    Like a heated oven-blast;
      The lion hears the strange turmoil,
        And leaves his mangled prey—­
  No place was that for him to feed;
    And thick and loud the cries,
  Feu!—­Allah!  Allah!—­En avant! 
    In mingled discord rise;
      The Franks have reached the summit—­
        They have won the victory!”

  V.

  “With bristling steel, upon the top
    The victors take their stand: 
  Beneath their feet, with all its towns,
    They see the promised land—­
      From Tunis, even unto Fez,
        From Atlas to the seas. 
  The cavaliers alight to gaze,
    And gaze full well they may,
  Where countless minarets stand up
    So solemnly and gray,
      Amidst the dark-green masses
        Of the flowering myrtle-trees.”

  VI.