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| WHEN first the Prophet’s standard rested on | |
| The land that once was Greece and still was Rome, | |
| We deemed that his and our dominion | |
| Was there as sure as in our Eastern home: | |
| We never thought a single hour to pause | 5 |
| Till the wide West had owned Mohammed’s laws. | |
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| How could we doubt it? To one desert tribe | |
| The truth revealed by one plain-seeming man | |
| Cut off the cavil, thundered down the gibe, | |
| And formed a nation to its lofty plan; | 10 |
| What barrier could its wave of victory stem? | |
| Not thy religious walls, Jerusalem! | |
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| The impious wars that stained the faithful host | |
| Might for some years the ripe success delay; | |
| But when we once stood firm on Europe’s coast, | 15 |
| ’T was as the dawning of that final day | |
| That could not close till Islam’s flag was furled | |
| O’er the last ruins of the Roman world. | |
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| For History is not silent what we did, | |
| Long ere we crushed to dust the Grecian name: | 20 |
| It was no Western to whom Bajazid | |
| Surrendered his long heritage of fame; | |
| The shame of Hungary was not less sure, | |
| Because your victor crouched before Timour. | |
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| Hard was the penalty of broken faith, | 25 |
| By Ladislaus paid on Varna’s plain; | |
| For many a Knight there met unhonored death, | |
| When, like a god of vengeance, rose again | |
| Old Amurath from his far home, and cried, | |
| “Now Jesus combats on Mohammed’s side!” | 30 |
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| Nor was the mission of our Master stayed, | |
| When seated safe on this imperial throne; | |
| Witness the wonders wrought before Belgrade, | |
| The fields whose very loss none blushed to own; | |
| Witness St. John’s proud island-chevaliers, | 35 |
| Thrust from their lordship of two hundred years. | |
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| Thus did we justify the faith by works; | |
| And the bright Crescent haunted Europe’s eye, | |
| Till many a pope believed the demon Turks | |
| Would scour the Vatican, ere he could die: | 40 |
| Why was our arm of conquest shortened? Why? | |
| Ask him whose will is o’er us, like the sky. | |
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| The dome to heavenly wisdom consecrate | |
| Still echoes with the Muslim’s fervent prayers; | |
| The just successor of the Khaleefate | 45 |
| Still on his brow the sign of empire wears; | |
| We hold our wealth without reserve or fear, | |
| And yet we know we are but tented here. | |
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| Millions of Christians bend beneath our rule, | |
| And yet these realms are neither theirs nor ours, | 50 |
| Sultan and subject are alike the tool | |
| Of Europe’s ready guile or banded powers; | |
| Against the lords of continent and sea | |
| What can one nation do, one people be? | |
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| Therefore regardless of the moment’s shame, | 55 |
| Of wives’ disdain, and children’s thoughtless woe, | |
| Of Christian triumph o’er the Prophet’s name, | |
| Of Russia’s smile beneath her mask of snow, | |
| Let us return to Asia’s fair domain, | |
| Let us in truth possess the East again! | 60 |
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| Men of the West! Ye understand us not, | |
| We you no more: ye take our good for ill; | |
| Ye scorn what we esteem man’s happiest lot,— | |
| Perfect submission to creative will; | |
| Ye would rejoice to watch from us depart | 65 |
| Our ancient temperance, our peace of heart. | |
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| Let us return! if long we linger here, | |
| Ye will destroy us, not with open swords, | |
| Not with such arms as brave men must not fear, | |
| But with the poisoned shafts of subtle words; | 70 |
| Your blank indifference for our living creed | |
| Would make us paltry Infidels indeed. | |
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| What can ye give us for a faith so lost? | |
| For love of duty, and delight in prayer? | |
| How are we wiser that our minds are tost | 75 |
| By winds of knowledge on a sea of care? | |
| How are we better that we hardly fear | |
| To break the laws our fathers held most dear? | |
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| Aping your customs, we have changed e’en now | |
| The noble garb in nature’s wisdom given, | 80 |
| And turban that, on every Muslim’s brow, | |
| Was as a crown at once for earth and heaven;— | |
| The sword, with which the sire Byzantium won, | |
| Sleeps in yon deep unwielded by the son. | |
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| Let us return! across the fatal strait | 85 |
| Our fathers’ shadows welcome us once more; | |
| Back to the glories of the Khaleefate, | |
| Back to the faith we loved, the dress we wore, | |
| When in one age the world could well contain | |
| Haroòn Er-Rasheed and your Charlemagne! | 90 |
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