Would that the Pasha's son had died,
Not our Barmakeh's son and pride!

Then Lemis answers in another song in which they all join:

Ten thousands are thronging together,
The Beg has a feast to-day;
We thought he had gone on a visit,
But alas, he has gone to stay.

Then they all scream, and tear their hair and beat their breasts. Alas,
they have no light beyond the grave. Who could expect them to do
otherwise? The Apostle Paul urges the Christians "not to sorrow even as
others which have no hope!" This is sorrow without hope. The grave is
all dark to them. How we should thank our Saviour for having cast light
on the darkness of the tomb, and given us great consolation in our
sorrows! Here comes a procession of women from Kefr Metta. Hear them
chanting:

I saw the mourners thronging round,
I saw the beds thrown on the ground;
The marble columns leaning,
The wooden beams careening,
My lord and Sheikh with flowing tears,
I asked what was its meaning?
He sadly beckoned me aside,
And said, To-day _my son_ has died!

Then an old woman, a widow, who has been reminded of the death of her
husband, calls out to him:

Oh, Sheikh, have you gone to the land?
Then give my salams to my boy,
He has gone on a long, long journey,
And took neither clothing nor toy.
Ah, what will he wear on the feast days,
When the people their festal enjoy?

Now one of the women addresses the corpse:

Lord of the wide domain,
All praise of you is true.
The women of your hareem,
Are dressed in mourning blue.

Then one sings the mother's wail:

My tears are consuming my heart,
How can I from him bear to part.
Oh raven of death, tell me why,
You betrayed me and left him to die?
Oh raven of death begone!
You falsely betrayed my son!
Oh Milham, I beg you to tell,
Why you've gone to the valley to dwell?
From far, far away I have come,
Who will come now to take me back home?

Then rises such a wail as you never heard before. A hundred women all
screaming together and then men are coming to take it away. The women
hug and kiss the corpse, and try to pull it back, while the men drive
them off, and carry it out to the bier. Some of the women faint away,
and a piercing shriek arises. Then you hear the mother's wail again.

Then one sings the call of the dead man for help:

Oh ransom me, buy me, my fr