Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
Abdel-Hassan
By AnonymousA
Many a richly laden camel, many a faithful serving-man.
For the power of Abdel-Hassan was the wonder of the East.
Abdel-Hassan and his servants to the long-expected spring.
And at evening, faint and weary, on a waste of desert lay.
For the water-skins were empty, and the dates were nearly spent.
Nothing broke the lifeless silence but the throbbing of his heart;
Watched the shining constellations wheeling onward through the skies.
Abdel-Hassan called his servants, and devoutly knelt to pray.
“Thirty men and eighty camels, Haroun, in thy care remain.
God is great! His name is mighty! I, alone, will seek the spring.”
While his faithful followers watched him passing in the blaze of day,
Where the fiery skies were sweeping down to meet the burning sand.
They alone, with Arab patience, lay within its flaming zone.
Day by day, in feebler accents, called on Allah’s holy name.
But in weakness or in frenzy slaked their burning thirst in blood.
While with pious care the dying struggled to entomb the dead.
For his latest dead companion scoop sepulture in the sand.
Moved by her divine compassion, did the same kind thing for him.
While the hot winds of the desert piled the sand above his breast.
Yielding to the camel’s instinct, halting not, by night or day,
With her eye upon the palm-trees rising o’er the lonely well:
While her still surviving master lay unconscious by her side.
From the dead encumbering camel brought to life the dying man.
“All is lost, for all have perished! they are numbered with the dead.
Now my life and poor subsistence to a stranger’s bounty owe.
Stripped of pride and power and substance, he hath left me faith and life.”
Saved him from the burning desert, lived and prospered in the land;
For his loss fourfold returned him, and a mighty length of days.
Sons and daughters brought him honor with his riches and renown.
And in peace he dwelt with strangers, in the fulness of his fame.
Still to die among his kindred, ending life where it began.
“Go and gather all our substance; we depart from out the land.”
To his old nomadic instinct trusting life and wealth again.
On the great wind of the desert, driving o’er that arid land;
None could see his nearest fellow in the stifling blast of death.
And within the barrier herded, on the hot, unstable ground.
From the hot drifts dug the camels and resumed their way again.
While around the weakest fainted and the strongest waxéd weak;
From the faint, bewildered servants through the straggling caravan:—
From our pleasant wells of water came we here to die of thirst?”
“God is great,” he said, devoutly,—“when he wills it, we shall die.”
And along the far horizon saw the green crest of the palm.
And around it, faint and panting, in a grateful tumult fell.
Abdel-Hassan pondered deeply that strange bond which held him there.
And when each had each saluted, Abdel-Hassan thus began:—
And he answered: “From the highway thou art distant many days.
Once the desert swept unbroken in a waste of burning sand;
All along the arid valley where thou seest this well to-day.
With his servants and his camels, here, amidst his riches, died.
Here I saw them, beasts and masters, in a common burial lie;
And we gathered up their treasure, spices, precious stones, and gold;
With a friendly care we finished what the winds had well begun.
Long I waited for his kindred, but no kindred ever came.
When around this spot were scattered whitened bones of beasts and men;
Lo! the little palms were springing, which to-day are great and old.
Breaking to new forms of being, through that tender herbage ran.
Till their germs of life commanded larger life from that decay;
While beneath, the hidden moisture gathered to each wandering root.
And we digged this well beneath them, where thou seest it, fresh and clear.
Like the fruitage of these palm-trees and the blossom of the thorn;
Springs the life to save the living, many a weak, despairing man.”
Asked, in accents slow and broken, “Knowest thou that master’s name?”
But the proud have often fallen, and, as he, the great have died!”
With his aged hands extended, trembling, to the lonely well,—
Named the servants and the camels,—summoned Haroun from the dead,—
And before him, in their order, rose his buried train again.
“What affects the man of sorrow? Speak,—for speaking is relief.”
“Thou beholdest Abdel-Hassan! They were mine, and I am he!”
While, amidst them, Abdel-Hassan lifted up his voice and wept.
Refluent on his patient spirit rolled the tide of sixty years.
In his own life’s compensation, Nature’s universal law.
By this great and crowning lesson, in the evening of my days.
Life ascend, through change and evil, to that perfect life to be,—
Joy and hope from fear and sorrow, rest and peace from toil and pain.
For he bringeth Good from Evil, and from Death commandeth Life!”