Paus'd with reluctant pity: but he saw
His comrade's red and painful countenance,
And his own burning breath came short and quick,
And at his feet the gasping beast

Lies, over-worn with want.

Then from his girdle Thalaba took the knife
With stern compassion, and from side to side
Across the Camel's throat,

Drew deep the crooked blade.

Servant of man, that merciful deed
For ever ends thy suffering; but what doom
Waits thy deliverer! "Little will thy death
"Avail us!" thought the youth,

As in the water-skin he pour'd

The Camel's hoarded draught:

It gave a scant supply,

The poor allowance of one prudent day.

Son of Hodeirah, though thy steady soul
Despair'd not, firm in faith,

Yet not the less did suffering Nature feel
Her pangs and trials. Long their craving thirst

Struggled with fear, by fear itself inflam'd;

But drop by drop, that poor,

That last supply, is drain'd!

Still the same burning sun! no cloud in heaven! The hot air quivers, and the sultry mist

Floats o'er the desert, with a show

Of distant waters, mocking their distress!

The youth's parch'd lips were black,
His tongue was dry and rough,

His eye-balls red with heat.

His comrade gaz'd on him with looks That seem'd to speak of pity, and he said "Let me behold thy Ring;

"It may have virtue that can save us yet!"

With that he took his hand

And view'd the writing close,

Then cried with sudden joy,

"It is a stone, that whoso bears,

"The Genii must obey!

"Now raise thy voice, my Son,

"And bid them in his name that here is written

"Preserve us in our need."

"Shall I distrust the providence of God? "Is it not He must save?

"If Allah wills it not,

"Vain were the Genii's aid."

Whilst he spake, Lobaba's eye,
Full on the distance fix'd,
Attended not his speech.
Its fearful meaning drew

The looks of Thalaba.

Columns of sand came moving on,

Red in the burning ray,

Like obelisks of fire,

They rush'd before the driving wind.

Vain were all thoughts of flight!

They had not hop'd escape,

Could they have backed the Dromedary then, Who in his rapid race

Gives to the tranquil air a drowning force.

High.. high in heaven upcurl'd

The dreadful sand-spouts mov'd,

Swift as the whirlwind that impell'd their way, They rush'd toward the travellers!

The old Magician shriek❜d,

And lo! the foremost bursts,

Before the whirlwind's force,

Scattering afar a burning shower of sand.
"Now by the virtue of the Ring,
Save us!" Lobaba cried.

"While yet thou hast the power,
"Save us! O save us! now!"
The youth made no reply,

Gazing in aweful wonder on the scene.

Why dost thou wait?" the Old Man exclaim'd, "If Allah and the Prophet will not save,

"Call on the Powers that will!"

"Ha! do I know thee, Infidel accurst ?” Exclaim'd the awaken'd youth.

"And thou hast led me hither, Child of Sin! "That fear might make me sell

"Fool that thou art!" Lobaba cried,

"Call upon him whose name

"Thy charmed signet bears,

"Or die the death thy foolishness deserves !"

"Servant of Hell! die thou!" quoth Thalaba. And leaning on his bow

He fitted the loose string,

And laid the arrow in its resting-place.

"Bow of my Father, do thy duty now!"
He drew the arrow to its point,
True to his eye it fled,
And full upon the breast
It smote the wizard man.
Astonished, Thalaba beheld

The blunted point recoil.

A proud and bitter smile

Wrinkled Lobaba's cheek.

Try once again thine earthly arms!" he cried. "Rash Boy! the Power I serve

"Abandons not his votaries.

"It is for Allah's wretched slaves, like thou,

"To serve a master, who in the hour of need

"Forsakes them to their fate!