COMMODUS & THE WOOING OF MALKATOON (Illustrated). Lew Wallace

       "'Thou black-browed son of Islam, go thy way,

       For 'tis the fool's, and thou becomest it,

       A torch not more the night. Thou not to know

       That every sense we have is but a gate,

       An airy gate on downy hinges hung,

       For Love to come and go! Keep the way; pave

       It end to end with fantasies in rhyme,

       And dreams of Allah, and Edebali,

       And Malkatoon, and, with thy comrade fools,

       Chatter and sing, and plague the fainting sky

       With beat of drums and flaunt of flags; nor leave

       Behind the combings of the Wilderness

       Thou callest thy Tribe. And I will to the cave;

       And should the Dervish give the girl to me,

       Vex not the sun or moon or tender stars

       With antics of a child. I had not loved

       Her but for thee.'