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STRANGER came one night to Yussouf's tent, Saying, "Behold one outcast and in dread, Against whose life the bow of power is bent, Who flies, and hath not where to lay his head; I come to thee for shelter and for food,

To Yussouf, called through all our tribes 'The Good.'"

"This tent is mine," said Yussouf, "but no more
Than it is God's; come in, and be at peace;
Freely shalt thou partake of all my store
As I of His who buildeth over these

Our tents his glorious roof of night and day,
And at whose door none ever yet heard Nay."

So Yussouf entertained his guest that night,
And, waking him ere day, said: "Here is gold,
My swiftest horse is saddled for thy flight;
Depart before the prying day grow bold."
As one lamp lights another, nor grows less,
So nobleness enkindleth nobleness.

That inward light the stranger's face made grand Which shines from all self-conquest; kneeling low,

He bowed his forehead upon Yussouf's hand,
Sobbing: "O Sheik, I cannot leave thee so;
I will repay thee; all this thou hast done
Unto that Ibrahim who slew thy son!"

"Take thrice the gold," said Yussouf, "for with thee

Into the desert, never to return,

My one black thought shall ride away from me. First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn, Balanced and just are all of God's decrees; Thou art avenged, my first-born, sleep in peace!” LOWELL (Yussouf).

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OKMAN the Wise, therefore the Good (for wise

L. Is but sage good, seeing with final eyes),

Was slave once to a lord, jealous though kind, Who, piqued sometimes at the man's master mind,

Gave him, one day, to see how he would treat So strange a grace, a bitter gourd to eat.

With simplest reverence, and no surprise, The sage received what stretched the donor's eyes;

And, piece by piece, as though it had been food To feast and gloat on, every morsel chewed; And so stood eating, with his patient beard, Till all the nauseous favor disappeared.

Vexed, and confounded, and disposed to find Some ground of scorn on which to ease his mind, "Lokman!" exclaimed his master, "in God's name,

Where could the veriest slave get soul so tame?

Have all my favors been bestowed amiss?

Or could not brains like thine have saved thee this?"

Calmly stood Lokman still, as duty stands-
"Have I received," he answered, "at thine hands
Favors so sweet they went to mine heart's root,
And could I not accept one bitter fruit?"

"O Lokman!" said his lord (and as he spoke, For very love his words in softness broke), "Take but this favor yet: -Be slave no more; Be, as thou art, my friend and counsellor. Oh be; nor let me quit thee, self-abhorred: "Tis I that am the slave, and thou the lord." LEIGH HUNT (The Bitter Gourd).

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AINT PATRICK, slave to Milcho of the herds

SAD

Of Ballymen, awakened with these words: "Arise, and flee

Out from the land of bondage, and be free!"

Glad as a soul in pain who hears from heaven The angels singing of his sins forgiven,

And, wondering, sees

His prison opening to their golden keys,

He rose a man who laid him down a slave, Shook from his locks the ashes of the grave, And outward trod

Into the glorious liberty of God.

He cast the symbols of his shame away;
And, passing where the sleeping Milcho lay,
Though back and limb

Smarted with wrong, he prayed, "God pardon him!"

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