my dim fading vision, the pang were nothing. Farewell,
Miriam! my heart is with thee by thy fountain's side. Fatal blast,
bear her my dying words, my blessing. And ye too, friends, whose too
neglected love I think of now, farewell! Farewell, my uncle; farewell,
pleasant home, and Hamadan's serene and shadowy bowers! Farewell,
Jabaster, and the mighty lore of which thou wert the priest and I the
pupil! Thy talisman throbs on my faithful heart. Green earth and golden
sun, and all the beautiful and glorious sights ye fondly lavish on
unthinking man, farewell, farewell! I die in the desert: 'tis bitter. No
more, oh! never more for me the hopeful day shall break, and the fresh
breeze rise on its cheering wings of health and joy. Heaven and earth,
water and air, my chosen country and my antique creed, farewell,
farewell! And thou, too, city of my soul, I cannot name thee, unseen
Jerusalem----'

Amid the roar of the wind, the bosom of the earth heaved and opened,
swift columns of sand sprang up to the lurid sky, and hurried towards
their victim. With the clang of universal chaos, impenetrable darkness
descended on the desert.

CHAPTER V.

_Lord Honain Rescues Alroy_

NOW our dreary way is over, now the desert's toil is past. Soon the
river broadly flowing, through its green and palmy banks, to our
wearied limbs shall offer baths 'which caliphs cannot buy. Allah-illah,
Allah-hu. Allah-illah, Allah-hu.'

'Blessed the man who now may bear a relic from our Prophet's tomb;
blessed the man who now unfolds the treasures of a distant mart,
jewels of the dusky East, and silks of farthest Samarcand. Allah-illah,
Allah-hu. Allah-illah, Allah-hu.'

'Him the sacred mosque shall greet with a reverence grave and
low; him the busy Bezestein shall welcome with confiding smile. Holy
merchant, now receive the double triumph of thy toil. Allah-illah,
Allah-hu. Allah-illah, Allah-hu.'

'The camel jibs, Abdallah! See, there is something in the track.'

'By the holy stone,[16] a dead man. Poor devil! One should never make
a pilgrimage on foot. I hate your humble piety. Prick the beast and he
will pass the corpse.'

'The Prophet preaches charity, Abdallah. He has favoured my enterprise,
and I will practise his precept. See if he be utterly dead.'

It was the Mecca caravan returning to Bagdad. The pilgrims were within
a day's journey of the Euphrates, and welcomed their approach to fertile
earth with a triumphant chorus. Far as