Lincoln High School - Quill Yearbook (Jersey City, NJ)

Page 109 text:

And thus enriched toward home they turn to feast And o'er their prize and victory exult. Now nearing camp upon their noble steeds, These tribesmen bold are met with loud acclaim. And in dismounting they the air confuse With dust and rousing cheers and clam'rous cries. And in the tumult all dash here and there In hurried effort to display with pride The spoils of victory. Far from the stir and bustle of the camp, Far from distraction and disturbance harsh, With bowed head in pensive mood he sat Upon a far off desert rock, alone, The Poet of the tribe of Beni-Sakr. That morning long before the star of day Dispersed the stars of night upon their way, Up from his sandy bed so cold he rose And in the distance left the slumb'ring tents. For in the night some dead'ning force unknown Had o'er his body crept and seized his limbs. And now his heart did burn and yearn to write The mighty epic of the world and man. His back was to the fiery eastern hillsg He did not see the sun in splendor rise, Nor did he feel the icy chill of night Turn warm beneath Aurora'a piercing beams. He did not see the dewy-covered stones With sorrow yield to Heaven, Heaven's dew. He'd wandered far beyond all earthly boundsg Through unexplored lands he longed to stroll, To tread the labyrinth of realms unknown, To tread where mortal had not trod before. All earth and all its joys in vain did tug, Did tug upon his snow-white cotton robe. But what can all the strength of world avail Against the gentle pull of the Eterne? He did not see his shadow smaller grow, As through the azure vault the sun did roll, He did not feel the burning heat withoutg He did not feel his burning heart within. And as the sun approached above his head 107

Page 108 text:

412111, rp-MJD '9 ffffff' ,,,.ni ., 11 for U., I 51' 1 f 7 1 I' 1 Y. revenues ,wwf-vw' 12 1 1 If 1 f,!i5f 2,ff.7 ,i.:,:,1-I , ff , , ' 'ff' 1 1, 0' 1 4 Unhappy are the wise, even in the paradise created by their wisdomg while happy are the ignorant in their hopelessness. Despondency can seize a man until he longs for death and seeks in it a cure for all his troubles. So xaifb al-Muhmabbi. A POET Far from the stir and bustle of the camp, Where desert riders borne on thund'ring steeds Alight in joy to tell of valiant deeds, Of booty won and castle walls destroyed, The poet of the tribe of Beni-Sakr Upon some noble theme did meditate. From out the camp the tribesmen bold had poured To Batra's mighty walls and palace gatesg For Batra's ruler rash had dared attack This Bedouin tribe that widely overroamed Arabian wastes of barren patched sands- The tribe of Beni-Sakr, none greater be. Thus by this deed of insolence inflamed, Upon the battlements made they assault And unopposed in triumph entry made. The foolish king they with no harm inflict, But through resplendent chambers make their way. All that with favor strikes the eye they seize: Bright carpets picked with red and gold and blueg Rich tapestries of glowing saffron hue That to the cold gray walls adornment gaveg And priceless carved chests of teak that came From far-off forests in Malayan islesg Mosaics of ivory white and shining gold And iridescent shells and colored stonesg True blades and sabers of Damascus steel In precious gem-encrusted scabbards sheathed. The stables of the king they raid and find Pure-blooded stallions and a camel herd. 106

Page 110 text:

And looked upon this youth, it shrank with fear And drew away unto the western sea. The vulture, flying through the empty sky, In journey made its halt, about to pounce Upon its prey: but in amazement stared Into the poet's blazing eyes entranced- Those eyes undaunted e'en by desert's glare- And thus in terror fluttered fast away. Slow sank the sun into the golden sea And in its trail did leave the fulgent sky. And meanwhile at the feasting camp, amid The dancing and the playing of guitars, Uprose the sheik Mithgal and spake them thus, Where is the poet of this mighty tribe? Perhaps secluded he does meditate. Go forth, O noble Ahmed, 'pon they steed, Go forth and seek upon the desert plains The poet of the tribe of Beni-Sakr, That he may come and in immortal verse Extol the exploits of this famous day. And now the earth by sable night enveiled, Sharp winds begin to blow above the sands. And Ahmed by the icy air benumbed The warmth and comfort of the camp desired, And so abandoned he the useless search And turned again toward scenes of revelry. The poet still in thought remained unmoved, Unmind-ful of the raging elements, And motionless he sat defying all, just as the Sphinx in Egypt's desert sits And coldly looks into measured space, To combat calling Time and Universe. Through whirling sands did strike his pallid face. He did not move. The icy wind in vain Did try to kill the raging fire within. Up toward the starry heavens gazed his eyes, Viewed he the sparkling orbs? He looked beyond Into the dark abyss of nothingness That separates the starry worlds . . . 108