See where the pilgrim bound for Mecca's shrine
Yon weary steps and way-worn robes proclaim,
Is not his pilgrimage akin to mine?
Is not our errand somewhat of the same?
For not even Mecca's venerated name
Nor yet Medina where the prophet lies,
Receives the homage, nor can boast the fame
Of those dim tombs that now before me rise.
Alas! proud city--and is this the sight
That first attracts the distant stranger's gaze?
Nor fort, nor palace, tells the Moslem's might;
Alone the giant tombs of other days,
Obscure and shadowy in the early light,
As clouds on the horizon he surveys.
Yon weary steps and way-worn robes proclaim,
Is not his pilgrimage akin to mine?
Is not our errand somewhat of the same?
For not even Mecca's venerated name
Nor yet Medina where the prophet lies,
Receives the homage, nor can boast the fame
Of those dim tombs that now before me rise.
Alas! proud city--and is this the sight
That first attracts the distant stranger's gaze?
Nor fort, nor palace, tells the Moslem's might;
Alone the giant tombs of other days,
Obscure and shadowy in the early light,
As clouds on the horizon he surveys.