“And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, And through it there roll’d not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beaten surf.
“And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
“And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!”
The bleakness of the scenery from Lachish to Gaza is relieved by groves of palms, olives, and willows, together with the gardens which surround the half dozen intervening villages. The peasants of these towns are industrious, and the glee of the children indicated their happiness, notwithstanding their nudity. The road crosses diagonally several deep torrent beds, which drain the upland country, and which continue their courses through the white sand downs to the sea. The approach to Gaza is among sand-hills and through olive-groves, and, after a ride of twelve miles from Lachish, the traveler finds himself in this renowned Philistine city. Situated three miles from the sea, Gaza is a city of 15,000 inhabitants, 300 of whom are Christians and the rest Moslems. Around it, like a green belt, are gardens of apricots, mulberries, and palms. On its western side runs the same road which was trodden by the Pharaohs thousands of years ago, and which leads to the pasture-fields of Gerar. Between the town and the sea is a range of hills, of drifting sand, two miles wide. On the east of the city are barren hills, the highest of which is crowned with a Mohammedan wely, and is probably the hill to the top of which Samson carried the gates of Gaza.
Rising from amid the rude buildings of the town is the great mosque, which was once a Christian church, and dedicated to John the Baptist. It has a peaked roof and an octagonal minaret. The interior is 130 feet long, and is divided into a nave and two aisles by rows of Corinthian columns. Modern Gaza has neither walls, gates, nor fortifications of any kind. Though thus exposed to the attacks of the predatory bands of Bedouins, yet the inhabitants are seldom molested, for no other reason, perhaps, than the fact that they themselves in part are freebooters.
