Say, dumb as Pharaoh in his pyramid,
Should suddenly find tongue; and, speaking, bid
The hearers worship me, ... or where, below
There, like a mangled serpent trailing slow,
The camel path twists in and out the rocks,
Yon sandy fissure (which the sly bitch-fox
Would choose well for her yellow nursery)
Gave forth a voice; to every passer-by
Proclaiming me the Appointed One, . . . they all
Would straightway grovel at my feet, and call
Heaven to attest how they believed; each thief
And liar sweating forth his hot belief!
But 'twill not be."

After a little pause,
"Why not?" askt Omar.

"Why not, friend? Because,"
Mohammed answered, " Allah will not bring
His heaven and earth together, just to wring
Credence from things so incapacious, slight,
And void as these. Nor, tho' his own hand write
The wondrous warrant to this life of mine,
Dare I so much as publish the divine
Commission. Still the cautious earth and skies
Keep close the secret. Let who will, be wise!
God shuts me in the hollow of His hand;
Tho' in my heart I read His clear command,
'Go forth, and preach!' " With petulant foot, he
spurn'd
The placid pebbles from him.

Omar turn'd
His forehead, bright with sudden bravery, up;
And all his face flow'd over (as a cup
From which the wine spills) with a rosy thought.
"And God does well!" he murmured, " though by
nought
Mohammed proved a mightier miracle
(And sure, God's gracious gift!) than is the spell
Thou hast to sway to thine my inmost heart,
Do I, undoubtingly, believe thou art
The Man Appointed; yet, indeed, for such
As these of whom thou speakest, needing much
More gross and vulgar warrant for belief,
Incompetent to see in thee the chief
Of Prophets, by the palely-dominant brow,
And eyes from which the ministrant seraphs bow
Their brows abasht, wherefore need God send
A miracle more mighty than a Friend
Who loves . . ."

"A friend?"

—"I say, what miracle
Diviner than the heart that can love well?"
"So well?" Mohammed faltered. " Even so,"
Said Omar, drooping faint his head, as though
The effort to uplift that heavy weight
Of his devoted passion proved too great,
And dragg'd him down to earth.

Mohammed sat
Gasping against the silence: staring at
The man before him, with a smouldering eye:
Whilst his hand shut and opened silently,
As though the fiend's black forelock, slipping thro'
His clammy clutch, just foil'd him: and the hue
Waxed into whiteness on his swarthy cheek.
Then Omar, when Mohammed would not speak,
Rais'd up his eyes, and lookt as tho' in doubt
Of what strange thing the silence was about.

And Omar said, " Mohammed, let thy slave
Find favour in thy sight! albeit I have
No wit in council. Get thee privily
Again to Mecca. Leave this night to me.
To-morrow stand up in the market-place
And plead against the people, face to face,
And call them hither; prophesying they,
By signs and miracles along the way,
Shall know The Man Appointed. I, meanwhile,
Will creep into yon crevice—Ha! dost smile
Mohammed? dost approve the thing I mean?
Will creep into the crevice; and, unseen,
Await the multitude, which must come by,
Thou guiding. Unto whom a voice shall cry,
This is Mohammed! I, the Lord of Heaven,
Make known to all this people I have given
To him to preach My law, that he should be
My prophet to all nations under Me.'
Smile! smile again, Mohammed! only smile
Less terribly upon me! of the vile
The vilest, yet thy servant, awful one!
Less terribly, Mohammed!—Then, anon
When all the place is silent, the crowd far,
Far out of sight, and nothing save yon star
To witness, I will steal out of the cave"
'Ha?"

"O Mohammed, am I not thy slave?
Look not so fiercely on me! And far off
Follow the silly people. Who will scoff,
Who will misdoubt thee, then? . . . Mohammed,
speak!"

Mohammed spoke not. All the Prophet's cheek
Was wan with supernatural ravage; down
In curdling wrinkles crept a heavy frown,
That heap'd the throbbing bases of his brow
With horror; his hard eyes seemed settling slow
On what they only saw, ... or Gabriel
With warning hand, or Iblis hot from hell,
With glowing finger: then, a shudder past
Over his face, and left it calm at last
As battle-fields where battles have been won,
Or lost, and Death lies smiling.

"Be it, my son,
As thou hast spoken. This is God's command,"
Mohammed said, and laid a heavy hand
On Omar's shoulder. " I to Mecca go
This night: at dawn, as thou hast said, so do."

And all night long, over the silent sand,
Under the silent stars, across the land
Mohammed fled; as though he heard the feet
Of Iblis following, and a voice repeat,
Close at his ear, monotonous and slow,
Thou wouldst have had this man trust thee; but
now,
Mohammed, thou thyself must trust to him!"
And the voice ceased not, nor the feet; till, dim
At first, then flaring in a stormy sky.
God's Dawn came out upon him angrily.

That day he stood up in the market-place,
And pleaded with the people face to face;
Pouring from urns of solitary thought
A piercing eloquence upon them; brought,
Word after word, by wondrous spirits from far,
Shrill with the music of the morning star,
Weighty with thunder. Some averr'd they saw
The light that lighted Moses (when the Law
On Sinai from God's finger he received)
Enhalo all his brow. The noon achieved
The dawn's desire. They follow'd him by flocks
On to the desert, in and out the rocks.

And ever as they journey'd, in their van
A thunder-cloud, which since the dawn began
Had labour'd to demolish half the sky,
Travell'd to reach Mount Kara, and there die.
And still the people follow'd; and, beside
The mountain halting, heard a voice which cried
(Out of a rocky fissure, the ground story
Of some wild coney's dusty dormitory),