Now the courses were laid and the corner-piece

fitted;

And the butments and set-stones were shapen and knitted,

When lo! on a sudden the Caliph heard frown

ing,

That the river had swelled, and the workmen were drowning.

Then the Caliph was stirred, and he flushed in his ire as

He sent forth his word from Teheran to Shiraz; And the workmen came new, and the palace, built faster,

From the bases up-grew unto arch and pilaster.

And the groinings were traced, and the archheads were chasen,

When lo! in hot haste there came flying a

mason,

For a cupola fallen had whelmed half the work

men;

And Hamet the chief had been slain by the Turc'men.

Then the Caliph's beard curled, and he foamed in his rage as

Once more his scouts whirled from the Tell to the Hedjaz;

"Is my word not my word?" cried the Caliph

Though he spoke in his haste like King David before him,

Yet he felt as he spoke that a something stole o'er him;

And his soul grew as glass, and his anger passed from it

As the vapours that pass from the Pool of Mahomet.

And the doom seemed to hang on the palace no longer,

Like a fountain it sprang when the sources feed stronger;

Shaft, turret, and spire leaped upward, diminished,

Like the flames of a fire,-till the palace was finished!

Without price, without flaw. And it lay on the

azure

Like a diadem dropped from an emperor's

treasure;

And the dome of pearl white and the pinnacles fleckless,

Flashed back to the light, like the gems in a necklace.

So the Caliph looked forth on the turret-tops gilded;

And he said in his pride, "Is my palace not builded?

Who is more great than I that his word can avail if

My will is my will," said Abdallah the Caliph.

But lo! with the light he repented his scorning, For an earthquake had shattered the whole ere the morning;

Of the pearl-coloured dome there was left but a ruin,

But an arch as a home for the ring-dove to coo in.

Shaft, turret, and spire-all were tumbled and crumbled;

And the soul of the Caliph within him was humbled;

And he bowed in the dust :-"There is none great but Allah!

I will build Him a Mosque," said the Caliph Abdallah.

And the Caliph has gone to his fathers for ever, But the Mosque that he builded shines still by the river;

And the pilgrims up-stream to this day slacken sail if

They catch the first gleam of the "Mosque of

the Caliph."

IN THE BELFRY

WRITTEN UNDER RETHEL'S "DEATH, THE 99 FRIEND

TOLL! Is it night, or daylight yet?

Somewhere the birds seem singing still, Though surely now the sun has set.

Toll! But who tolls the Bell once more?
He must have climbed the parapet.
Did I not bar the belfry door?

Who can it be?-the Bernardine,
That wont to pray with me of yore?
No,-for the monk was not so lean.

This must be He who, legend saith, Comes sometimes with a kindlier mien And tolls a knell.-This shape is Death!

Good-bye, old Bell! So let it be.

How strangely now I draw my breath!
What is this haze of light I see?...
IN MANUS TUAS, DOMINE!