Above the rest, young Melleff's form
Towered high, as doth the forest tree
Over the brushwood, though the storm
May bow its head full heavily.
His foot is lingering, and his eye
Turned backward to the Northern sky ;
For each reluctant step removes
Him further from the home he loves.
Alas ! he may no more delay ;
The caravan is on its way !
Allah hoo akbar ! how the ery
Swells upward, as 'twould rend the sky !
Now, now, must friends their farewells speak,
Not wives — they make the heart too weak.
Sadly the parting words are said,
Sires bless their sons, with hands outspread,
Mothers and sisters weeping loud,
With their full pitchers, through the crowd
Are hurrying, water fresh to throw
Upon the camels ere they go ;