To live thus, and thus die! Yet, as I leapt
On shore, so home a feeling greeted me
That I could half believe in Djabal's story,
He used to tempt my father with, at Rennes-
And me, too, since the story brought me here—
Of some Count Dreux and ancestor of ours

Who, sick of wandering from Bouillon's war,
Left his old name in Lebanon.

Long days

At least to spend in the Isle! and, my news known An hour hence, what if Anael turn on me

The great black eyes I must forget?

Why, fool,

Recall them, then? My business is with Djabal, Not Anael! Djabal tarries: if I seek him?— The Isle is brighter than its wont to-day.

ACT II.

Enter DJABAL.

Djabal. That a strong man should think himself a
God!

I-Hakeem? To have wandered through the world,
Sown falsehood, and thence reaped now scorn, now faith,
For my one chant with many a change, my tale
Of outrage, and my prayer for vengeance—this
Required, forsooth, no mere man's faculty,

Nought less than Hakeem's? The persuading Loys

To pass probation here; the getting access

By Loys to the Prefect; worst of all,
The gaining my tribe's confidence by fraud
That would disgrace the very Frank,-a few
Of Europe's secrets which subdue the flame,
The wave,—to ply a simple tribe with these,
Took Hakeem?

And I feel this first to-day!

Does the day break, is the hour imminent

When one deed, when my whole life's deed, my deed

Must be accomplished? Hakeem? Why the God?
Shout, rather, "Djabal, Youssof's child, thought slain
"With his whole race, the Druses' Sheikhs, this Prefect
"Endeavoured to extirpate-saved, a child,

"Returns from traversing the world, a man,
"Able to take revenge, lead back the march
"To Lebanon"-so shout, and who gainsays?
But now, because delusion mixed itself
Insensibly with this career, all's changed!

Have I brought Venice to afford us convoy?

"True-but my jugglings wrought that!" Put I heart Into our people where no heart lurked?-"Ah,

"What cannot an impostor do!"

Not this!

Not do this which I do! Not bid avaunt

Falsehood! Thou shalt not keep thy hold on me!
-Nor even get a hold on me! 'Tis now-
This day-hour-minute-'t is as here I stand
On the accursed threshold of the Prefect,
That I am found deceiving and deceived!
And now what do I?—hasten to the few
Deceived, ere they deceive the many-shout,
"As I professed, I did believe myself!
"Say, Druses, had you seen a butchery-
"If Ayoob, Karshook saw- -Maani there
"Must tell you how I saw my father sink;

My mother's arms twine still about my neck; "I hear my brother shriek, here's yet the scar "Of what was meant for my own death-blow-say, "If you had woke like me, grown year by year "Out of the tumult in a far-off clime,

"Would it be wondrous such delusion grew?

"I walked the world, asked help at every hand; "Came help or no? Not this and this? Which helps "When I returned with, found the Prefect here, "The Druses here, all here but Hakeem's self, "The Khalif of the thousand prophecies, "Reserved for such a juncture,—could I call "My mission aught but Hakeem's? Promised Hakeem "More than performs the Djabal-you absolve?

"-Me, you will never shame before the crowd

"Yet happily ignorant ?-Me, both throngs surround,

"The few deceived, the many unabused,

"-Who, thus surrounded, slay for you and them

"The Prefect, lead to Lebanon? No Khalif,

"T is told! The whole Druse nation knows thee, Hakeem,

As we! and mothers lift on high their babes

Who seem aware, so glisten their great eyes,

Thou hast not failed us; ancient brows are proud;
Our elders could not earlier die, it seems,

Than at thy coming! The Druse heart is thine!

Take it! my lord and theirs, be thou adored!
Djabal [aside]. Adored!—but I renounce it utterly!
Khalil. Already are they instituting choirs
And dances to the Khalif, as of old

'T is chronicled thou bad'st them.

Djabal [aside].

'T is not mine-not for me!

Khalil.

I abjure it!

Why pour they wine

Flavoured like honey and bruised mountain-herbs,

Or wear those strings of sun-dried cedar-fruit?
Oh, let me tell thee-Esaad, we supposed
Doting, is carried forth, eager to see

The last sun rise on the Isle: he can see now!
The shamed Druse women never wept before:

They can look up when we reach home, they say. Smell!-sweet cane, saved in Lilith's breast thus long

Sweet!-it grows wild in Lebanon. And I

Alone do nothing for thee! 'T is my office

Just to announce what well thou know'st-but thus Thou bidst me. At this self-same moment tend The Prefect, Nuncio and the Admiral

Hither by their three sea-paths: nor forget