Sixty years had Abdel-Hassan, since the stranger’s friendly hand
  Saved him from the burning Desert, lived and prospered in the land;

  And his life of peaceful labor, in its pure and simple ways,
  For his loss fourfold returned him, and a mighty length of days.

  Sixty years of faith and patience gave him wisdom’s mural crown;
  Sons and daughters brought him honor with his riches and renown.

  Men beheld his reverend aspect, and revered his blameless name;
  And in peace he dwelt with strangers, in the fulness of his fame.

  But the heart of Abdel-Hassan yearned, as yearns the heart of man,
  Still to die among his kindred, ending life where it began.

  So he summoned all his household, and he gave the brief command,—­
  “Go and gather all our substance;—­we depart from out the land.”

  Then they journeyed to the Desert with a great and numerous train,
  To his old nomadic instinct trusting life and wealth again.

  It was now the sixth day’s journey, when they met the moving sand,
  On the great wind of the Desert, driving o’er that arid land;

  And the air was red and fervid with the Simoom’s fiery breath;—­
  None could see his nearest fellow in the stifling blast of death.

  Blinded men from prostrate camels piled the stores to windward round,
  And within the barrier herded, on the hot, unstable ground.

  Two whole days the great wind lasted, when the living of the train
  From the hot drifts dug the camels and resumed their way again.

  But the lines of care grew deeper on the master’s swarthy cheek,
  While around the weakest fainted and the strongest waxed weak;

  And the water-skins were empty, and a silent murmur ran
  From the faint, bewildered servants through the straggling caravan:—­

  “Let the land we left be blessed!—­that to which we go, accurst!—­
  From our pleasant wells of water came we here to die of thirst?”

  But the master stilled the murmur with his steadfast, quiet eye:—­
  “God is great,” he said, devoutly,—­“when He wills it, we shall die.”

  As he spake, he swept the Desert with his vision clear and calm,
  And along the far horizon saw the green crest of the palm.

  Man and beast, with weak steps quickened, hasted to the lonely well,
  And around it, faint and panting, in a grateful tumult fell.

  Many days they stayed and rested, and amidst his fervent prayer
  Abdel-Hassan pondered deeply that strange bond which held him there.

  Then there came an aged stranger, journeying with his caravan;
  And when each had each saluted, Abdel-Hassan thus began:—­

  “Knowest thou this well of water? lies it on the travelled ways?”
  And he answered,—­“From the highway thou art distant many days.

  “Where thou seest this well of water, where these thorns and
    palm-trees stand,
  Once the Desert swept unbroken in a waste of burning sand;