Mahomet's Song.

See the rock-born stream!     Like the gleam     Of a star so bright     Kindly spirits     High above the clouds     Nourished him while youthful     In the copse between the cliffs.     Young and fresh.     From the clouds he danceth     Down upon the marble rocks;     Then tow'rd heaven     Leaps exulting.     Through the mountain-passes     Chaseth he the colour'd pebbles,     And, advancing like a chief,     Tears his brother streamlets with him     In his course.     In the valley down below     'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers,     And the meadow     In his breath finds life.     Yet no shady vale can stay him,     Nor can flowers,     Round his knees all-softly twining     With their loving eyes detain him;     To the plain his course he taketh,     Serpent-winding,     Social streamlets     Join his waters. And now moves he     O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,     And the plain in him exults,     And the rivers from the plain,     And the streamlets from the mountain,     Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,     Brother, take thy brethren with thee,     With thee to thine aged father,     To the everlasting ocean,     Who, with arms outstretching far,     Waiteth for us;     Ah, in vain those arms lie open     To embrace his yearning children;     For the thirsty sand consumes us     In the desert waste; the sunbeams     Drink our life-blood; hills around us     Into lakes would dam us! Brother,     Take thy brethren of the plain,     Take thy brethren of the mountain     With thee, to thy father's arms!     Let all come, then!     And now swells he     Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people     Bears his regal flood on high!     And in triumph onward rolling,     Names to countries gives he, cities     Spring to light beneath his foot.     Ever, ever, on he rushes,     Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,     Marble palaces, the offspring     Of his fullness, far behind.     Cedar-houses bears the Atlas     On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring     In the breeze far, far above him     Thousand flags are gaily floating,     Bearing witness to his might.     And so beareth he his brethren,     All his treasures, all his children,     Wildly shouting, to the bosom     Of his long-expectant sire.