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is empty now of all the reverence And overflowing love it held for you.
I	go! But I will teach my little Ishmael To hate his father for his mother's sake;
His bow shall be the truest bow that flies Its arrows through the desert air. His feet,
The fleetest on the desert's sands;
Aye! Hagar's son a desert prince shall be, Whose hands shall be against all other men;
And he shall rule a fierce and mighty tribe, Whose fiery hearts and supple limbs will scorn The chafing curb of bondage, like the fleet Wild horses of Arabia. I go!
But like this loaf that you have given me,
So shall your bread taste bitter with my hate; and like the water in this jug, my lord,
So shall the sweetest water that you draw From Canaan's wells, taste salty with my tears.
Farewell! I go, but Egypt's mighty gods Will go with me, and my revenge will be,
And in whatever distant land your God,
Your cruel God of Israel, is known,
There, too, the wrongs that you have done this day To Hagar and your first-born, Ishmael,
Shall waken and uncoil themselves, and hiss Like adders at the name of Abraham.