The chase is o'er, the fiery day
To night's cool splendors fast gives way.
Aali commands his weary train
To seek Sheikh Moosa's tents again ;
There yesternoon the generous chief
To every want gave prompt relief,
And there the pacha will abide
Till the red flush of morning-tide.
Didst e'er tnose valleys green behold,
Of Desert Araby the pride.
By glowing hills encircled wide,
Like emeralds set in chiselled gold ?
Didst ever there at evening lie
And watch, beneath a royal palm,
How the great moon came up the sky
In all her majesty of calm.
Yet shedding beams as bright as those
Shot from Prince Arthur's flaming shield,