VIII.

"Thou seem'st to see, indeed!" roared Ahmed back. "Were I but once across this plaguy stream, With a stout sapling in my hand, one whack On those lank ribs would rid thee of that Dream! Thy Brahma-blasphemy is ipecac To my soul's stomach; could'st thou grasp the scheme Of true redemption, thou would'st know that Deity Whirls by a kind of blessed spontaneity.