We return to our families at the hour of halt, On a new camping ground, free from pollution. The earth exhales the odour of musk,[67] But purer than it, It has been cleansed by the rains Of evening and morning. We pitch our tents in circular groups; The earth is covered with them, as is the firmament with stars. They of old time have said, who are no more, but our fathers have repeated it, And we say as they did, for truth is always truth: Two things are beautiful in this world, Beautiful verses and beautiful tents. In the evening, our camels come up to us; At night the voice of the male is heard like distant thunder. Light ships of the land, Safer than ships, For a ship is inconstant; Our _maharis_[68] rival in speed the _maha_.[69] And our horses—is there a glory like unto theirs? Always saddled for the fight, When any one invokes our aid, They are the promise of victory. Our enemies have no place of refuge against our blows, For our coursers, celebrated by the Prophet, swoop upon them like the vulture. Our coursers have the purest milk to drink, The milk of the camel, more precious than that of the cow. Our first care is to divide the booty we have taken from the enemy. Equity presides at the distribution. Every one receives the due reward of his valour. We have sold our rights of citizenship. We have no reason to regret the bargain. We have gained honour, of which the _hader_ knows nothing. We are Kings. There is none to be compared with us. Is it life to undergo humiliation? We suffer not the insults of the unjust. We leave him and his land. True happiness is in wandering life. If contact with our neighbour annoys us, We withdraw from him—neither he, nor we, have anything to complain of. What fault, then, hast thou to find with the _bedoui_? Nothing but his love of glory, and his liberality that knows no stint. Under the tent, the fire of hospitality is kindled for the traveller. He finds, whoever he may be, a sure remedy against cold and hunger. Ages have told of the salubrity of the Sahara. All disease and sickness dwell only beneath the roof of cities. In the Sahara, whoever is not reaped by the sword sees days without number; Our old men are the most aged of all men. THE RAZZIA.