University of Virginia Library

And Kedron's pilgrims: In review
The wilds receive those guests anew.
Yet ere, the Manger now to win,
Their desert march they re-begin,
Belated leaving Saba's tower;
Reverted glance they grateful throw,
Nor slight the abbot's parting dower
Whose benedictions with them go.

Nor did the sinner of the isle
From friendly cheer refrain, though lax:
“Our Lady of the Vines beguile
Your travel and bedew your tracks!”
Blithe wishes, which slim mirth bestow;
For, ah, with chill at heart they mind
Two now forever left behind.
But as men drop, replacements rule:
Though fleeting be each part assigned,
The eternal ranks of life keep full:
So here—if but in small degree—
Recruits for fallen ones atone;
The Arnaut and pilgrim from the sea
The muster joining; also one
In military undress dun—
A stranger quite.
The Arnaut rode
For escort mere. His martial stud
A brother seemed—as strong as he,
As brave in trappings, and with blood
As proud, and equal gravity,
Reserving latent mettle. Good
To mark the rider in his seat—
Tall, shapely, powerful and complete;
A'lean, too, in an easy way,
Like Pisa's Tower confirmed in place,
Nor lacking in subordinate grace
Of lighter beauty. Truth to say,
This horseman seemed to waive command:
Abeyance of the bridle-hand.
But winning space more wide and clear,
He showed in ostentation here
How but a pulse conveyed through rein
Could thrill and fire, or prompt detain.
On dappled steed, in kilt snow-white,
With burnished arms refracting light,
He orbits round the plodding train.

Djalea in quiet seat observes;
'Tis little from his poise he swerves;
Sedate he nods, as he should say:
“Rough road may tame this holiday
Of thine; but pleasant to look on:
Come, that's polite!” for on the wing,
Or in suspense of curveting
Chiron salutes the Emir's son.