“O Take These Purple Robes Away,
Give Back My Cloak Of Camel’S Hair,
And Bear Me From This Tow’
Ring pile
To where the Black Tents flap i’ the air.
The camel’s colt with falt’ring tread,
The
Dog that bays at all but me,
Delight me more than ambling mules—
Than every art of minstrelsy;
And any cousin, poor but free,
Might take me, fatted ass! from thee.[FN#26]”
[p.191] The old man, delighted, clapped my shoulder, and exclaimed,
“Verily, O Father of Mustachios, I will show thee the black tents of my
tribe this year!”
At length night came, and we threw ourselves upon our rugs, but not to
sleep. Close by, to our bane, was a prayerful old gentleman, who began
his devotions at a late hour and concluded them not before dawn. He
reminded me of the undergraduate my neighbour at Trinity College,
Oxford, who would spout Aeschylus at two A.M. Sometimes the chant would
grow drowsy, and my ears would hear a dull retreating sound; presently,
as if in self-reproach, it would rise to a sharp treble, and proceed at
a rate perfectly appalling. The coffee-houses, too, were by no means
silent; deep into the night I heard the clapping of hands accompanying
merry Arab songs, and the loud shouts of laughter of the Egyptian
hemp-drinkers. And the guards and protectors of the camp were not
“Charleys” or night-nurses.
[FN#1] Pilgrims who would win the heavenly reward promised to those who
walk, start at an early hour.
[FN#2] The true Badawi, when in the tainted atmosphere of towns, is
always known by bits of cotton in his nostrils, or by his kerchief
tightly drawn over his nose, a heavy frown marking extreme disgust.
[FN#3] Anciently called Hira.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 241 of 630
Words from 64934 to 65237
of 175520
