Upon them looks down the Minaret of Abu Haggag; and as I sat in
the sunshine, the warmth of which began to lessen, I saw upon its lofty
circular balcony the figure of the muezzin. He leaned over, bending
toward the temple and the statues of Rameses II. and the happy dancers
on the wall. He opened his lips and cried to them:
"God is great. God is great . . . I bear witness that there is no god
but God. . . . I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of God. . . .
Come to prayer! Come to prayer! . . . God is great. God is great. There
is no god but God."
He circled round the minaret. He cried to the Nile. He cried to the
Colossi sitting in their plain, and to the yellow precipices of the
mountains of Libya. He cried to Egypt:
"Come to prayer! Come to prayer! There is no god but God. There is no
god but God."
The days of the gods were dead, and their ruined temple echoed with the
proclamation of the one god of the Moslem world. "Come to prayer! Come
to prayer!" The sun began to sink.
"Sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me."
The voice of the muezzin died away. There was a silence; and then, as if
in answer to the cry from the minaret, I heard the chime of the angelus
bell from the Catholic church of Luxor.
"Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark."
I sat very still. The light was fading; all the yellow was fading, too,
from the columns and the temple walls.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55