Cleaving the seadrift through the starlit night, We left the barren Patmian isle behind, And scudding northward with a favoring wind, Lay anigh Chios at the dawn of light. The shore, the tree-set slopes, the rugged height, Clear in the morning’s roseate air outlined,— This was his birthplace who, albeit blind, Saw tall Troy’s fall, and sang the tragic sight. Resting within the roadstead, while the day Grew into gradual glory, on the ear Continuous broke the surge-song of the brine; And as we marked it rise, or die away To rise again, it seemed that we could hear The swell and sweep of Homer’s mighty line. Mr. Scollard’s musical and finely descriptive poem, “As I Came Down From Lebanon,” has become a favorite with the readers of his verse; but while it has great charm, it is not as strong a piece of work as are many other of the Oriental poems, contained in his later volumes, _The Lutes of Morn_ and _Lyrics of the Dawn_, nor as that realistic poem, “Khamsin,” which appeared in the same collection. Here indeed is the breath of the sirocco: Oh, the wind from the desert blew in! Khamsin, The wind from the desert blew in! It blew from the heart of the fiery south, From the fervid sand and the hills of drouth, And it kissed the land with its scorching mouth; The wind from the desert blew in! It blasted the buds on the almond bough, And shrivelled the fruit on the orange-tree; The wizened dervish breathed no vow, So weary and parched was he. The lean muezzin could not cry; The dogs ran mad, and bayed the sky; The hot sun shone like a copper disk, And prone in the shade of an obelisk The water-carrier sank with a sigh, For limp and dry was his water-skin; And the wind from the desert blew in. * * * * * Into the cool of the mosque it crept, Where the poor sought rest at the prophet’s shrine; Its breath was fire to the jasmine vine; It fevered the brow of the maid who slept, And men grew haggard with revel of wine. The tiny fledglings died in the nest; The sick babe gasped at the mother’s breast. Then a rumor rose and swelled and spread From a tremulous whisper, faint and vague, Till it burst in a terrible cry of dread, _The plague! the plague! the plague!_— Oh the wind, Khamsin, The scourge from the desert blew in!