Among Daughters of the Desert (LXXVI

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"Go not away!" said then the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra's shadow, "abide with us—otherwise the old gloomy affliction might again fall upon us

Now hath that old magician given us of his worst for our good, and lo! the good, pious pope there hath tears in his eyes, and hath quite embarked again upon the sea of melancholy

Those kings may well put on a good air before us still: for that have THEY learned best of us all at present! Had they however no one to see them, I wager that with them also the bad game would again commence,—

—The bad game of drifting clouds, of damp melancholy, of curtained heavens, of stolen suns, of howling autumn-winds

—The bad game of our howling and crying for help! Abide with us, O Zarathustra! Here there is much concealed misery that wisheth to speak, much evening, much cloud, much damp air!

Thou hast nourished us with strong food for men, and powerful proverbs: do not let the weakly, womanly spirits attack us anew at dessert!

Thou alone makest the air around thee strong and clear! Did I ever find anywhere on earth such good air as with thee in thy cave?

Many lands have I seen, my nose hath learned to test and estimate many kinds of air: but with thee do my nostrils taste their greatest delight!

Unless it be,—unless it be—, do forgive an old recollection! Forgive me an old after-dinner song, which I once composed amongst daughters of the desert:—

For with them was there equally good, clear, Oriental air; there was I furthest from cloudy, damp, melancholy Old-Europe!

Then did I love such Oriental maidens and other blue kingdoms of heaven, over which hang no clouds and no thoughts

Ye would not believe how charmingly they sat there, when they did not dance, profound, but without thoughts, like little secrets, like beribboned riddles, like dessert-nuts—

Many-hued and foreign, forsooth! but without clouds: riddles which can be guessed: to please such maidens I then composed an after-dinner psalm."

Thus spake the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra's shadow; and before any one answered him, he had seized the harp of the old magician, crossed his legs, and looked calmly and sagely around him:—with his nostrils, however, he inhaled the air slowly and questioningly, like one who in new countries tasteth new foreign air. Afterward he began to sing with a kind of roaring

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THE DESERTS GROW: WOE HIM WHO DOTH THEM HIDE!
—Ha!
Solemnly!
In effect solemnly!
A worthy beginning!
Afric manner, solemnly!
Of a lion worthy
Or perhaps of a virtuous howl-monkey—
—But it's naught to you
Ye friendly damsels dearly loved
At whose own feet to me
The first occasion
To a European under palm-trees
A seat is now granted. Selah

Wonderful, truly!
Here do I sit now
The desert nigh, and yet I am
So far still from the desert
Even in naught yet deserted:
That is, I'm swallowed down
By this the smallest oasis—:
—It opened up just yawning
Its loveliest mouth agape
Most sweet-odoured of all mouthlets:
Then fell I right in
Right down, right through—in 'mong you
Ye friendly damsels dearly loved! Selah

Hail! hail! to that whale, fishlike
If it thus for its guest's convenience
Made things nice!—(ye well know
Surely, my learned allusion?)
Hail to its belly
If it had e'er
A such loveliest oasis-belly
As this is: though however I doubt about it
—With this come I out of Old-Europe
That doubt'th more eagerly than doth any
Elderly married woman
May the Lord improve it!
Amen!

Here do I sit now
In this the smallest oasis
Like a date indeed
Brown, quite sweet, gold-suppurating
For rounded mouth of maiden longing
But yet still more for youthful, maidlike
Ice-cold and snow-white and incisory
Front teeth: and for such assuredly
Pine the hearts all of ardent date-fruits. Selah

To the there-named south-fruits now
Similar, all-too-similar
Do I lie here; by little
Flying insects
Round-sniffled and round-played
And also by yet littler
Foolisher, and peccabler
Wishes and phantasies,—
Environed by you
Ye silent, presentientest
Maiden-kittens
Dudu and Suleika
—ROUNDSPHINXED, that into one word
I may crowd much feeling:
(Forgive me, O God
All such speech-sinning!)
—Sit I here the best of air sniffling
Paradisal air, truly
Bright and buoyant air, golden-mottled
As goodly air as ever
From lunar orb downfell—
Be it by hazard
Or supervened it by arrogancy?
As the ancient poets relate it
But doubter, I'm now calling it
In question: with this do I come indeed
Out of Europe
That doubt'th more eagerly than doth any
Elderly married woman
May the Lord improve it!
Amen

This the finest air drinking
With nostrils out-swelled like goblets
Lacking future, lacking remembrances
Thus do I sit here, ye
Friendly damsels dearly loved
And look at the palm-tree there
How it, to a dance-girl, like
Doth bow and bend and on its haunches bob
—One doth it too, when one view'th it long!—
To a dance-girl like, who as it seem'th to me
Too long, and dangerously persistent
Always, always, just on SINGLE leg hath stood?
—Then forgot she thereby, as it seem'th to me
The OTHER leg?
For vainly I, at least
Did search for the amissing
Fellow-jewel
—Namely, the other leg—
In the sanctified precincts
Nigh her very dearest, very tenderest
Flapping and fluttering and flickering skirting
Yea, if ye should, ye beauteous friendly ones
Quite take my word:
She hath, alas! LOST it!
Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu!
It is away!
For ever away!
The other leg!
Oh, pity for that loveliest other leg!
Where may it now tarry, all-forsaken weeping?
The lonesomest leg?
In fear perhaps before a
Furious, yellow, blond and curled
Leonine monster? Or perhaps even
Gnawed away, nibbled badly—
Most wretched, woeful! woeful! nibbled badly! Selah

Oh, weep ye not
Gentle spirits!
Weep ye not, ye
Date-fruit spirits! Milk-bosoms!
Ye sweetwood-heart
Purselets!
Weep ye no more
Pallid Dudu!
Be a man, Suleika! Bold! Bold!
—Or else should there perhaps
Something strengthening, heart-strengthening
Here most proper be?
Some inspiring text?
Some solemn exhortation?—
Ha! Up now! honour!
Moral honour! European honour!
Blow again, continue
Bellows-box of virtue!
Ha!
Once more thy roaring
Thy moral roaring!
As a virtuous lion
Nigh the daughters of deserts roaring!
—For virtue's out-howl
Ye very dearest maidens
Is more than every
European fervour, European hot-hunger!
And now do I stand here
As European
I can't be different, God's help to me!
Amen!
THE DESERTS GROW: WOE HIM WHO DOTH THEM HIDE!