Onward in his fiery travel Abdel-Hassan held his way, Yielding to the camel's instinct, halting not, by night or day, 'Till the faithful beast, exhausted in her fearful journey, fell, With her eye upon the palm-trees rising o'er the lonely well: With a faint, convulsive struggle, and a feeble moan, she died, While her still surviving master lay unconscious by her side. So he lay until the evening, when a passing caravan From the dead incumbering camel brought to life the dying man. Slowly murmured Abdel-Hassan, as they bathed his fainting head, "All is lost, for all have perished!--they are numbered with the dead! "I, who had such power and treasure but a single moon ago, Now my life and poor subsistence to a stranger's bounty owe. "God is great! His name is mighty! He is victor in the strife! Stripped of pride and power and substance, He hath left me faith and life."-- Sixty years had Abdel-Hassan, since the stranger's friendly hand Saved him from the burning Desert, lived and prospered in the land; And his life of peaceful labor, in its pure and simple ways, For his loss fourfold returned him, and a mighty length of days. Sixty years of faith and patience gave him wisdom's mural crown; Sons and daughters brought him honor with his riches and renown. Men beheld his reverend aspect, and revered his blameless name; And in peace he dwelt with strangers, in the fulness of his fame. But the heart of Abdel-Hassan yearned, as yearns the heart of man, Still to die among his kindred, ending life where it began. So he summoned all his household, and he gave the brief command,-- "Go and gather all our substance;--we depart from out the land." Then they journeyed to the Desert with a great and numerous train, To his old nomadic instinct trusting life and wealth again. It was now the sixth day's journey, when they met the moving sand, On the great wind of the Desert, driving o'er that arid land; And the air was red and fervid with the Simoom's fiery breath;-- None could see his nearest fellow in the stifling blast of death. Blinded men from prostrate camels piled the stores to windward round, And within the barrier herded, on the hot, unstable ground. 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."