 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Slow-stálking camels, ín this wilderness-march,
Bearing all burdens; wreathe down their long necks,
To crop the sere herb or each wilderness bush,
As they breast forth.
Bearing all burdens; wreathe down their long necks,
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As they breast forth.
The foremost now arrive:
They couch them stiffly, ón a sun-baked grit.
Gaunt knees push out, to settle their huge bulks;
And so remáin. House-wives dismount, unload;
And busy them, to build anew their booths.
Each one her tent-cloth spreads; beats in the pegs,
With some wild stone; stakes undersets; and stayed
With worsted cords, her new homestead uprears.
They couch them stiffly, ón a sun-baked grit.
Gaunt knees push out, to settle their huge bulks;
And so remáin. House-wives dismount, unload;
And busy them, to build anew their booths.
Each one her tent-cloth spreads; beats in the pegs,
With some wild stone; stakes undersets; and stayed
With worsted cords, her new homestead uprears.
To-day this wandering herdfolks sojourning place;
Is by a square-mouthed well, unwonted great;
Men digged of yore, upbuilt of dry stone-work;
And scored by generations' twisted ropes.
Is by a square-mouthed well, unwonted great;
Men digged of yore, upbuilt of dry stone-work;
And scored by generations' twisted ropes.
Camels stand thereby, stámping ín the sludge,
Their great pad-feet, for flies. Be gathered soon,
Young men girt, wíth their tackle, tó thís task.
They busily draw now, sweating in the Sun;
From the four brinks: And that, with hardy foot,
As where no curb-stone is, hide-buckets up:
Keeping the while loud chant of manly throats;
They vary at their list.
Their great pad-feet, for flies. Be gathered soon,
Young men girt, wíth their tackle, tó thís task.
They busily draw now, sweating in the Sun;
From the four brinks: And that, with hardy foot,
As where no curb-stone is, hide-buckets up:
Keeping the while loud chant of manly throats;
They vary at their list.
The hour gainst Noon:
Now the more tardy sheep-flocks be led in.
To wait their turn, they in dry bed, lie down
Of seldom-falling rains' brief winter-stream,
Worn in that desert sand.
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To wait their turn, they in dry bed, lie down
Of seldom-falling rains' brief winter-stream,
Worn in that desert sand.
A maiden nighs,
Leading barefoot in, her lambs' little troop:
For poor she is, though of regardful House.
Shaped by the Hand Divine, her stature is like
A palm-stem by the waters; as she stays;
One comeliest, mongst the daughters of her Tribe;
Like to the desert roes, of gentle mould.
Leading barefoot in, her lambs' little troop:
For poor she is, though of regardful House.
Shaped by the Hand Divine, her stature is like
A palm-stem by the waters; as she stays;
One comeliest, mongst the daughters of her Tribe;
Like to the desert roes, of gentle mould.
She looketh forth maídenly, confident, blithe of mood.
For this is She, that ín dark day of strife,
In wíldernéss, wíth her Tribes enemies;
In all mens', aye, and in their foemens' sight!
Stout-hearted maid, an Ornament is of Grace.
For this is She, that ín dark day of strife,
In wíldernéss, wíth her Tribes enemies;
In all mens', aye, and in their foemens' sight!
Stout-hearted maid, an Ornament is of Grace.
Her Tribefolks Banner; ín deckt camel-crate;
'Tis She, that prowdly seated thus on height;
Warbles shrill battle-note, éntering ínto fight;
Kindling, this hour of trial, of her Tribes
Bold sons, (her brethrén,) every manly heart;
To leap, midst flame of spears, in her loved sight;
To worthy deeds, deeds even to thé black death.
'Tis She, that prowdly seated thus on height;
Warbles shrill battle-note, éntering ínto fight;
Kindling, this hour of trial, of her Tribes
Bold sons, (her brethrén,) every manly heart;
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To worthy deeds, deeds even to thé black death.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |