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Mine is a Chief who reached most haught estate, * Treading the

pathways of the good and great: His justice makes all regions

safe and sure, * And against froward foes bars every gate: Bold

lion, hero, saint, e'en if you call * Seraph or Sovran [FN#493]

he with all may rate! The poorest suppliant rich from him

returns, * All words to praise him were inadequate. He to the day

of peace is saffron Morn, * And murky Night in furious warfare's

bate. Bow 'neath his gifts our necks, and by his deeds * As King

of freeborn [FN#494] souls he 'joys his state: Allah increase for

us his term of years, * And from his lot avert all risks and

fears!