aws away from such
snares the nearer he gets to them. And these lusty Syrians could not
repel the magnetic attraction of the polypiosis of what Shakib likens
to the _aliat_ (fattail) of our Asiatic sheep. Surely, there be more
devils under such an _aliat_ than under the hat of a Jesuit. And
Khalid is the first to discover this. Both have been ensnared,
however, and both, when in the snare, have been infernally inspired.
What Khalid wrote, when he was under the influence of feminine curves,
was preserved by Shakib, who remarks that one evening, after returning
from the Park, Khalid said to him, 'I am going to write a poem.' A
fortnight later, he hands him the following, which he jealously kept
among his papers.

I dreamt I was a donkey-boy again.
Out on the sun-swept roads of Baalbek, I tramp behind my
burro, trolling my _mulayiah_.
At noon, I pass by a garden redolent of mystic scents and
tarry awhile.
Under an orange tree, on the soft green grass, I stretch my
limbs.
The daisies, the anemones, and the cyclamens are round me
pressing:
The anemone buds hold out to me their precious rubies; the
daisies kiss me in the eyes and lips; and the cyclamens
shake their powder in my hair.
On the wall, the roses are nodding, smiling; above me the
orange blossoms surrender themselves to the wooing
breeze; and on yonder rock the salamander sits, complacent
and serene.
I take a daisy, and, boy as boys go, question its
petals:
Married man or monk, I ask, plucking them off one by one,
And the last petal says, Monk.
I perfume my fingers with crumpled cyclamens, cover my
face with the dark-eyed anemones, and fall asleep.
And my burro sleeps beneath the wall, in the shadow of
nodding roses.
And the black-birds too are dozing, and the bulbuls flitting
by whisper with their wings, 'salaam.'
Peace and salaam!
The bulbul, the black-bird, the salamander, the burro, and
the burro-boy, are to each other shades of noon-day sun:
Happy, loving, generous, and free;--
As happy as each other, and as free.
We do what we please in Nature's realm, go where we
please;
No one's offended, no one ever wronged.
No sentinels hath Nature, no police.
But lo, a goblin as I sleep comes forth;--
A goblin taller than the tallest poplar, who carries me