oting how the sun
Flared nigh, and fearing prayer might be begun;
Yet no command upraising, no harsh cry
To stand aside;--because the dignity
Of silver hairs is much, and morning praise
Was precious to the Jew, too. Thus their ways
Wended the pair; Great Ali, sad and slow,
Following the greybeard, while the East, a-glow,
Blazed with bright spears of gold athwart the blue,
And the Muezzin's call came "_Illahu!
Allah-il-Allah!_"

In the mosque, our Lord
(On whom be peace!) stood by the Mehrab-board
In act to bow, and _Fatihah_ forth to say.
But as his lips moved, some strong hand did lay
Over his mouth a palm invisible,
So that no voice on the Assembly fell.
"_Ya! Rabbi 'lalamina_" thrice he tried
To read, and thrice the sound of reading died,
Stayed by this unseen touch. Thereat amazed
Our Lord Muhammed turned, arose, and gazed;
And saw--alone of those within the shrine--
A splendid Presence, with large eyes divine
Beaming, and golden pinions folded down,
Their speed still tokened by the fluttered gown.
GABRIEL he knew, the spirit who doth stand
Chief of the Sons of Heav'n, at God's right hand:
"Gabriel! why stayest thou me?" the Prophet said,
"Since at this hour the _Fatihah_ should be read."

But the bright Presence, smiling, pointed where
Ali towards the outer gate drew near,
Upon the threshold shaking off his shoes
And giving "alms of entry," as men use.
"Yea!" spake th' Archangel, "sacred is the sound
Of morning-praise, and worth the world's wide round,
Though earth were pearl and silver; therefore I
Stayed thee, Muhammed, in the act to cry,
Lest Ali, tarrying in the lane, should miss,
For his good deed, its blessing and its bliss."

Thereat th' Archangel vanished:--and our Lord
Read _Fatihah_ forth beneath the Mehrab-board.

_PROVERBIAL WISDOM_

FROM THE

_SHLOKAS OF THE HITOPADESA_.

DEDICATION

(_TO FIRST EDITION_)

_To you, dear Wife--to whom beside so well?--
True Counsellor and tried, at every shift,
I bring my "Book of Counsels:" let it tell
Largeness of love by littleness of gift;_

_And take this growth of foreign skies from me,
(A scholar's thanks for gentle help in toil,)
Whose leaf, "though dark," like Milton's Hoemony,
"Bears a bright golden flower,