_To Sir Alexander Duff Gordon_.
_March_ 10, 1863.

'If in the street I led thee, dearest,
Though the veil hid thy face divine,
They who beheld thy graceful motion
Would stagger as though drunk with wine.

Nay, e'en the holy Sheykh, while praying
For guidance in the narrow way,
Must needs leave off, and on the traces
Of thine enchanting footsteps stray.

O ye who go down in the boats to Dumyat,
Cross, I beseech ye, the stream to Budallah;
Seek my beloved, and beg that she will not
Forget me, I pray and implore her by Allah.

'Fair as two moons is the face of my sweetheart,
And as to her neck and her bosom--Mashallah.
And unless to my love I am soon reunited
Death is my portion--I swear it by Allah.'

Thus sings Ali Asleemee, the most _debraille_ of my crew, a _hashshash_,
{48} but a singer and a good fellow. The translation is not free, though
the sentiments are. I merely rhymed Omar's literal word-for-word
interpretation. The songs are all in a similar strain, except one funny
one abusing the 'Sheykh el-Beled, may the fleas bite him.' Horrid
imprecation! as I know to my cost, for after visiting the Coptic monks at
Girgeh I came home to the boat with myriads. Sally said she felt like