THE HORSE GARRAVEEN


Now, they descended leisurely the slopes of the mountain, and when they
were again in the green of its base, Noorna called to the Ass, 'Ho!
Karaz! Sniff now the breezes, for the end of our journey by night is the
meadows of Melistan. Forward in thy might, and bray not when we are in
them, for thy comfort's sake!'

The Ass sniffed, turning to the four quarters, and chose a certain
direction, and bore them swiftly over hills and streans eddying in
silver; over huge mounds of sand, where the tents of Bedouins stood in
white clusters; over lakes smooth as the cheeks of sleeping loveliness;
by walls of cities, mosques, and palaces; under towers that rose as an
armed man with the steel on his brows and the frown of battle; by the
shores of the pale foaming sea it bore them, going at a pace that the
Arab on his steed outstrippeth not. So when the sun was red and the dews
were blushing with new light, they struggled from a wilderness of barren
broken ground, and saw beneath them, in the warm beams, green, peaceful,
deep, the meadows of Melistan. They were meadows dancing with flowers,
as it had been fresh damsels of the mountain, fair with variety of
colours that were so many gleams of changing light as the breezes of the
morn swept over them; lavish of hues, of sweetness, of pleasantness, fir
for the souls of the blest.