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| TO Cairo city, one hot afternoon, | |
| In the midsummer, came an anchorite, | |
| Pale, shrunk as any corpse, thin, lean, and blanched, | |
| From dwelling in the tombs deep from the light: | |
| Tall, gaunt, and wan, across the desert sand | 5 |
| He strode, trampling on avarice; by his side, | |
| Licking his hands, two dappled panthers paced, | |
| With lolling tongues, and dark and tawny hide. | |
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| The gilded domes of Cairo blazed and shone, | |
| The minarets arose like long keen spears | 10 |
| Planted around a sleeping Arab’s tent. | |
| The saint’s attendants pricked their spotted ears | |
| When the muezzin, with his droning cry, | |
| Summoned to prayers, and frightened vultures screamed, | |
| Swooping from the gilt roof that glittered in the sky, | 15 |
| Or the tall parapet that o’er it gleamed. | |
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| The hermit came to where the traders sat, | |
| Grave turbaned men, weighing out heaps of pearls, | |
| Around a splashing fountain; wafts of myrrh | |
| Rose to the curtained roof in wreathing curls, | 20 |
| And Abyssinian slaves, with sword and bow, | |
| Watched at the doorway, while a dervish danced | |
| In giddy circles, chanting Allah’s name, | |
| With long, lean arms outstretched and eyes entranced. | |
| |
| St. Vitus spurned the gold and pearls away, | 25 |
| And struck the dervish silent with a blow | |
| That loosened half his teeth, (the infidel!) | |
| And tossed the censers fiercely to and fro; | |
| Then sang, defiant of the angry men, | |
| “How long, O Lord, how long?” and raised his eyes | 30 |
| To the high heaven, praying God to send | |
| Some proof to them from out those burning skies. | |
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| And when their knives flew out, and eunuchs ran, | |
| With steel and bowstring, swift to choke and bleed, | |
| The saint drew forth from underneath his robe | 35 |
| A Nubian flute, carved from a yellow reed; | |
| Then put it to his lips, and music rose, | |
| So wild and wayward that, on either hand, | |
| Straightway perforce the turbaned men began | |
| To whirl and circle like the wind-tossed sand. | 40 |
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| And so the saint passed on, until he reached | |
| A mosque, with many domes and cupolas, | |
| And roof hung thick with lamps and ostrich-eggs, | |
| And round the walls a belt of crescent stars. | |
| Towards the Mecca niche the worshippers | 45 |
| Bent altogether in a turbaned row; | |
| So, seeing this idolatry, the saint | |
| Struck the chief reader twice a sturdy blow. | |
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| Then they howled all at once, and many flew, | |
| With sabres drawn, upon the holy man, | 50 |
| To toss him to the dogs. The panthers still | |
| Kept them at bay until the saint began | |
| Upon his flute to breathe his magic tune, | |
| Such as the serpent-charmers use to charm | |
| The sand-asps forth, and straightway priests and flock | 55 |
| Began to circle round; and free from harm | |
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| He glided forth on to the caliph’s house, | |
| Where in divan he and the vizier were, | |
| Girt with the council of the rich and wise, | |
| And all the Mullahs who his secrets share. | 60 |
| There he raised up the crucifix on high, | |
| Spat on the Koran, cursed Mohammed’s name, | |
| Took the proud caliph’s turban from his head, | |
| And threw it to his panthers. Fire and flame | |
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| Broke forth around him, as when in a mine | 65 |
| The candle comes unguarded; swords flashed out | |
| By twenties, and from inner court to court | |
| Ran the alarm, the clamor, and the shout. | |
| The saint, unmoved, drew forth his magic flute | |
| (It was the greatest miracle of all), | 70 |
| And, lo! the soldiers, counsellors, and slaves | |
| Swept dancing, fever-stricken, round the hall. | |
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| Round went the caliph with his shaven head, | |
| Round went the vizier, raging as he danced. | |
| Round went the archers, and the sable crew | 75 |
| Tore round in circles, every one entranced | |
| By that sweet mystic music Heaven sent; | |
| Round, round in ceaseless circles, swifter still,— | |
| Till dropped each sword, till dropped each bow unbent. | |
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| And then the saint once more into the street | 80 |
| Glided unhurt, and sought the market-place, | |
| Where dates rolled forth from baskets, and the figs | |
| Were purple ripe, and every swarthy face | |
| Was hot with wrangling; and he cursed Mahound | |
| Loud in the midst, and set up there his cross, | 85 |
| O’er the mosque gate, and wailed aloud a psalm,— | |
| “Let God arise, and all his foes confound.” | |
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| But the fierce rabble hissed, and throwing stones, | |
| Shouted, “Slay, slay the wretch!” and “Kill, kill, kill!” | |
| And some seized palm-tree staves and jagged shards; | 90 |
| In every eye there was a murderous will, | |
| Until the saint drew forth again his flute, | |
| And all the people drove to the mad dance, | |
| With nodding heads and never-wearying feet, | |
| And leaden eyes fixed in a magic trance. | 95 |
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| And so he left them dancing: one by one | |
| They fell in swoons and fevers, worn and spent. | |
| Then the stern anchorite took his magic flute, | |
| And broke it o’er his knee, and homeward went, | |
| Tossing the useless tube, now split and rent, | 100 |
| Upon the sand; then through the desert gate | |
| Passed, with his panthers ever him beside; | |
| And raised his hands to heaven and shouted forth, | |
| “Amen, amen! God’s name be glorified!” | |
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