The Four Favours.

A poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

That Arabs through the realms of space

May wander on, light-hearted,
Great Allah hath, to all their race,

Four favours meet imparted.

The turban first that ornament

All regal crowns excelling;
A light and ever-shifting tent,

Wherein to make our dwelling;

A sword, which, more than rocks and walls

Doth shield us, brightly glistening;
A song that profits and enthrall,

For which the maids are list'ning!

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