From the Arabic

When Allah's breath created first The noble Arab steed,— The conqueror of all his race In courage and in speed,—

To the South-wind He spake: From thee A creature shall have birth, To be the bearer of my arms And my renown on earth.

Then to the perfect horse He spake: Fortune to thee I bring; Fortune, as long as rolls the earth, Shall to thy forelock cling.

Without a pinion winged thou art, And fleetest with thy load; Bridled art thou without a rein, And spurred without a goad.