O'er wide Arabian deserts toiling slow,
With heat and travel spent,
With fever parched, our zemzemieh* low,
Day after day we went.
Till now at Sinai's granite foot we lay,
The noontide sun beat sore ;
Then we arose and took our weary way
Through sand and flints once more.
Close was the rugged valley, dry and bare,
Walled in with adamant,
Whose sides reverberant, with blinding glare,
Hurled back each sun-dart slant.
* Name given to the leathern water-bottle used in the East.