by Isa Craig.
Originally published in The Argosy (Strahan & Co.) vol.1 #6 (May 1866).
Up on the terrace Sheik Hamil lay,
In the fort of El-Hamëd, hot in the sun;
But he heeded not the heat of the day
Nor how much of its course had run.
The bleat of the sheep came up to his ear,
Now a camel would cry, now a horse would snort,
And the tongues of the women he could hear,
As they moved about in the court.
At length there softened and died away
The grind of the mill and the fountain's gush;
No one moved in the heat of the day,
And there fell on the fort a hush.
All the more that the master there,
Under the shadow by Asrael cast,
Had sat apart since the hour of prayer,
And had not broken his fast.
Nore to Sheik Hamil went near on the days
When his household knew that his soul was sad;
Though they ceased not to shake the head in amaze
When such dolorous days he had.
But cause for his grief that day there was—
The wife of his youth had ta'en her leave:
If e'er he had sorrowed without a cause,
Now he had cause to grieve.
Fatima, wife of his youth, was dead—
Of slaves he had many, of wives but one—
"There is but one God for the soul," he said,
"And but one moon for the sun."
Now on the terrace he lay and gazed
Afar, where the sky and the desert meet;
Beyond the fields where his cattle grazed,
And the gardens stretched at his feet.
Burning and bright was the golden sand,
Burning and blue was the sapphire sky;
And where they met on the verge-of the land,
Infinity touched infinity.
Sheik Hamil went up at the hour of prayer,
And there he had wept till the hour of noon,
And what with the weeping and fasting there,
His senses began to swoon.
Then he thought, "On the eye and the head!
I will go down and strengthen mine heart,
I will enter my house and there eat bread,
And take my horse and depart.
"Joy of the desert will fill me then,
And make mine eyes from their weeping cease;
The name of God be praised among men,
For my soul shall thus have peace."
As he had thought, Sheik Hamil did,
Or ever the hour had run its course—
Entered his house and ate, and bid
Them saddle his swiftest horse.
As he had thought, lo! it was done,
The horse was brought, and mounted; and sped
In the very hour of the sun which shone,
From the gate of El-Hamëd.
Into the desert, as he had thought,
Straight he darted and, in the race,
Past the wind on its way he shot,
And he turned to look in its face.
The fort had vanished! for lo! between
The horse had measured a mighty space.
Such riding Sheik Hamil had not seen,
And still they went on apace.
Then he looked down, and not from the stall
Had come the steed which he now bestrode:
"God is God," he breathed, "over all—"
The horse of his youth he rode:
The horse that had hasted to die for him,
When they reached the wells, and the wells had dried
On whose neck he had wept, when his eye grew dim,
At the water's brink where he died.
Had he lived to taste the stream that day?
He knew not—but stooping, he kissed his neck,
And with long light bounds he bore him away
With a speed that knew no check.
Then the delight of the desert filled
Sheik Hamil's soul, and he drank new wine,
And his heart beat high, and his grief was stilled,
And he breathed a life divine.
They journeyed far, and they journeyed fast—
Hamil the Sheik, on that mighty horse,
Saw that the groves and the wells were past,
And that still they held on their course.
At length they came to a shining wall,
And the horse stood still and turned his head,
And spoke—"My master, may good befall;
But I leave thee here," he said.
The wall was of ruby in mighty blocks,
And over it, blowing through fountains fair,
Came breezes perfumed like scented locks;
But never a gate was there.
And the horse had vanished, and lo, he stood
Ankle deep in the drifting sand,
Alone, and famished for lack of food,
By the wall of this watered land.
"An entrance hither thou shalt not win,
If thou seek for a gate these thousand years,
Save by naming a name and entering in
When a cleft in the wall appears."
He named the name that is over all,
And falling forward in fainting pain,
He touched, with a touch, the ruby wall,
And it cleft, at his touch, in twain.
And he entered in, and of sweets distilled
By the trees of God—whose name be praised—
He ate, and drank till his soul was filled,
And his heart to heaven was raised.
Then the old sadness, the old unrest,
That ever and ever Sheik Hamil drove
Into the desert, woke in his breast,
And he hurried from grove to grove.
Seeking, yet knowing not what he sought,
To an ivory palace at length he came,
And the doors were a thousand, of silver wrought,
Yet not one door was the same.
"Only one will open to thee,
And thou may'st not ask, is it this, or this?
But unto none other, by God's decree,
Will it open, if thou shouldst miss."
Thus said the voice; and he, if he missed,
Knew he must die of his longing sore;
"God is God," he said, as he kissed,
And opened the silver door!
And the hand that drew him within and led
To the ivory seats with cushions of silk,
By the silver fountain with perfume fed,
Was Fatima's hand of milk.
And there she unveiled to him her face,
Fair as the moon and clear as the day,
And there on his breast, the filled full of grace,
The best, the beloved, lay.
It was she who arose and led him still
Through other chambers of life and bliss,
Set forth with all fruits his soul to fill,
And opening all at her kiss.
At length they came to another door,
And, "Here I must enter alone," she said—
And her eyes looked not the same as before
As she kissed, and veiled her head.
And she entered in, and he saw her not,
In the dread of the darkness behind that door,
And he felt his feet cleave fast to the spot,
And he swooned on the marble floor.
And lo! he lay on the drifting sand,
Where a wall of sapphire rose to the sky;
And beyond the wall was a shining land,
And he saw the beloved fly—
Fly on wings, like the wings of a dove;
Changed to a dove, with her wings of white!
Leaving him, faint with the longing of love,
Unable to follow her flight.
And the voice he had heard, holding far aloof,
Said, "Feet may not follow where she has fled—"
And he woke, and a dove rose up from the roof,
And the wife of his youth was dead.