BEN YOUSSUF, bound to Mecca, day by day
Toiled bravely o’er the desert’s fiery way,
Till its hot sands and flint-sown courses sore
Pressed on the broidered sandals which he wore,
Scorching and cutting! at the last they fell
Loosely abroad;–he seemed to fare through hell,
So blistering now, the flame-hued rocks and dust:–
“O mighty Allah! “cried he, “art thou just,
To let thy faithful pilgrim, serving thee,
Pass onward, thus, in nameless agony?”
With bitter thoughts and half-rebellious mind
He left, at length, the desert sands behind,
And still in that dark temper–far from grace–
Went where his brethren midst the holy place
Kneeled, by the Ca
(Paul Hamilton Hayne)
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