Thou shalt have thy share of dates, my beauty! 
    And thou know’st my water-skin is free;
  Drink and welcome, for the wells are distant,
    And my strength and safety lie in thee.

  Bend thy forehead now, to take my kisses! 
    Lift in love thy dark and splendid eye: 
  Thou art glad when Hassan mounts the saddle,—­
    Thou art proud he owns thee:  so am I.

  Let the Sultan bring his boasted horses,
    Prancing with their diamond-studded reins;
  They, my darling, shall not match thy fleetness
    When they course with thee the desert plains!

  Let the Sultan bring his famous horses,
    Let him bring his golden swords to me,—­
  Bring his slaves, his eunuchs, and his harem;
    He would offer them in vain for thee.

  We have seen Damascus, O my beauty! 
    And the splendor of the Pashas there: 
  What’s their pomp and riches?  Why, I would not
    Take them for a handful of thy hair!

Another stirring poem of the East is “Tyre.”

  The wild and windy morning is lit with lurid fire;
  The thundering surf of ocean beats on the rocks of Tyre,—­
  Beats on the fallen columns and round the headlands roars,
  And hurls its foamy volume along the hollow shores,
  And calls with hungry clamor, that speaks its long desire: 
  “Where are the ships of Tarshish, the mighty ships of Tyre?”

In his “L’Envoi” at the end of these poems, Bayard Taylor gives us a hint of his meaning when he spoke of his “southern nature” as distinguished from his “northern nature.”

  I found, among those Children of the Sun,
    The cipher of my nature,—­the release
  Of baffled powers, which else had never won
    That free fulfillment, whose reward is peace.

  For not to any race or any clime
    Is the complete sphere of life revealed;
  He who would make his own that round sublime,
    Must pitch his tent on many a distant field.

  Upon his home a dawning lustre beams,
    But through the world he walks to open day,
  Gathering from every land the prismal gleams,
    Which, when united, form the perfect ray.

CHAPTER XII

BAYARD TAYLOR’S FRIENDSHIPS

A biography of Bayard Taylor would not be complete without some account of his friendships.  He was always on the best of terms with all living beings, and this subtle attraction of his nature was an important part of his greatness.

In “Views Afoot” he tells of a charming little incident which is enough in itself to make us love the man.  It occurred in Florence, Italy, where he was a stranger, a foreigner; and this makes the incident in itself seem the more wonderful.  “I know of nothing,” he writes, “that has given me a more sweet and tender delight than the greeting of a little child, who, leaving his noisy playmates, ran across the street to me, and taking my hand, which he could barely clasp in both his soft little ones, looked up in my face with an expression so winning and affectionate that I loved him at once.”