The Mesnevi :: THE BOOK OF THE MESNEV?

THE BOOK OF THE MESNEV?

OF
MEVLANA JELALU-’d-DIN, MUHAMMED, ER-RUMI,
OF QONYA.

PREFACE.

This is the book of the Rhymed Couplets (Mathnawi, Mesnevi). It contains the roots of the roots of the roots of the (one true) Religion (of Islam); and treats of the discovery of the mysteries of reunion and sure knowledge. It is the Grand Jurisprudence of God, the most glorious Law of the Deity, the most manifest Evidence of the Divine Being. The refulgence thereof “is like that of a lantern in which is a lamp”37 that scatters beams more bright than the morn. It is the paradise of the heart, with springs and foliage. One of those springs is “the fount named Salsabil”38 by the brethren of this religious order (of mystical devotees known as the Mevlevi or Dancing Dervishes); but, by saints and the miraculously endowed, it is called “the Good Station”39 and “the Best Resting-place.”40 The just shall eat and drink therein, and the righteous shall rejoice and be glad thereof. Like the Egyptian Nile, it is a beverage for the patient, but a delusion to the people of Pharaoh and to blasphemers; even as God, whose name be glorified, hath said: “He misleads therewith many, and He guides therewith many; but He misleads not therewith (any), save the wicked.”41 It is a comfort to men’s breasts, an expeller of cares. It is an exposition of the Qur’an, an amplification of spiritual aliments, and a dulcifier of the disposition; written “by the hands of honorable scribes,”42 who inscribe thereon the prohibition: “Let none touch it save the purified.”43 It is (a revelation) “sent down (from on high) by the Lord of (all) the worlds,44 which vanity approacheth not from before, nor from behind,”45 which God watches over and observes, He being “the best as a Preserver,”46 and “the Most Compassionate of the merciful ones,”47 unto whom pertain (many) titles, His utmost title being God, whose name be exalted.

We have been brief in (stating) this little; for a little is an index to much, and a mouthful may point out a pond, as a handful may serve as a sample for a whole threshing-floor, however large.

Thus saith the feeble servant, in need of the mercy of God, whose name be extolled, Muhammed son of Muhammed son of Huseyn, of (the city of) Balkh,48 of whom may God accept it: “I have exerted myself to enlarge this book of poetry in rhyming couplets, which contains strange and rare narratives, beautiful sayings, and recondite indications, a path for the devout, and a garden for the pious, short in its expressions, numerous in their applications. This have I done at the instance of my lord and master, my trust, and as the soul in my body, the moral store of my to-day and my morrow, the Sheykh Hasan son of Muhammed son of Hasan, commonly known by the appellation of Akhi-Turk (my brother Turk), a chief of the knowing ones (Gnostics?), a leader of right direction and sure knowledge, a helper of the human race, a confidant of men’s hearts and minds, a charge of God among His creatures, His pure one among His reasoning servants, (a compendium of) His commandments to His Prophet, of His mysteries with His chosen one, a key to the treasures of the throne, a custodian of the riches of the extended earth, a man of excellencies, a sharp sword for the severance of truth and religion (from falsehood and blasphemy),49 the Bayezid50 of the age, the Juneyd51 of the period, the true friend son of a true friend son of a true friend, may God be pleased with him and with them, originally from the town of Urmiyya,52 and related to the venerated Sheykh,53 as he himself expressed it: ‘I was a Kurd one evening, and was an Arabian in the morning.’54 May God sanctify his spirit, and the spirits of his successors! Blessed is such a predecessor; blessed are such successors! He was descended from a line on which the sun had cast its lustrous mantle, and personal nobility such that the stars shed their lights around it. May their courtyard ever be a centre to which the sons of saints will turn, and a temple of hopes about which embassies of spotless men will circulate. May it not cease to be thus while a constellation rises and a sparkling orb appears above the horizon in the east; so that it may be a thing held to by those who are possessed of insight, the godly, the spiritual, the heavenly, the celestial, the men of light, who keep silence and observe, who are absent though present, who are kings clothed in rags, the nobles of nations, endowed with virtues, the lights of guidances. Amen, O Lord of (all) the worlds. And this is a prayer not to be rejected; for it is a prayer joined in by all the good. And glory be to God in His unity. And may God pronounce blessings on our lord, Muhammed, and on his family and kin, the good, the clean!”

THE BOOK OF THE MESNEVI.

IN THE NAME OF GOD,
THE ALL-MERCIFUL, THE VERY-COMPASSIONATE.

Proem. The Reed-Flute.

From reed-flute55 hear what tale it tells;

What plaint it makes of absence’ ills:

“From jungle-bed since me they tore,

Men’s, women’s, eyes have wept right sore.

My breast I tear and rend in twain,

To give, through sighs, vent to my pain.

Who’s from his home snatched far away,

Longs to return some future day.

I sob and sigh in each retreat,

Be’t joy or grief for which men meet.5

They fancy they can read my heart;

Grief’s secrets I to none impart.

My throes and moans form but one chain,

Men’s eyes and ears catch not their train.

Though soul and body be as one,

Sight of his soul hath no man won.

A flame’s the flute’s wail; not a breath,

That flame who feels not, doom him death.

The flame of love, ’tis, prompts the flute,

Wine’s ferment, love; its tongue not mute.10

The absent lover’s flute’s no toy;

Its trills proclaim his grief, his joy.

Or bane, or cure, the flute is still;

Content, complaining, as you will.

It tells its tale of burning grief;

Recounts how love is mad, in brief.

The lover lover’s pangs best knows;

As ear receives tongue’s plaint of woes.

Through grief, his day is but a dawn;

Each day of sorrow, torment’s pawn.15

My days are waste; take thou no heed,

Thou still are left; my joy, indeed.

Whole seas a fish will never drown;

A poor man’s day seems all one frown.

What boot from counsel to a fool?

Waste not thy words; thy wrath let cool.

Cast off lust’s bonds; stand free from all.

Slave not for pelf; be not greed’s thrall.

Pour rivers into one small gill,

It can but hold its little fill.20

The eye’s a vase that’s ne’er content;

The oyster’s filled ere pearl is sent.56

The heart that’s bleeding from love’s dart,

From vice of greed is kept apart.

Then hie thee, love, a welcome guest;—

Physician thou to soothe my breast.

Thou cure of pride and shame in me;

Old Galen’s skill was nought to thee!

Through love, this earthly frame ascends

To heaven; a hill, to skip pretends.25

In trance of love, Mount Sinai shakes,

At God’s descent; ‘and Moses quakes.’57

Found I the friend on whom I dote,

I’d emulate flute’s dulcet note.

But from my love, while torn away,

Unmeaning words alone I say.

The spring is o’er; the rose is gone;

The song of Philomel is done.

His love was all; himself, a note.

His love, alive; himself, dead mote.30

Who feels not love’s all-quick’ning flame,

Is like the bird whose wing is lame.

Can I be quiet, easy, glad,

When my delight’s away? No! Sad.

Love bids my plaint all bonds to burst.

My heart would break, with silence curst.

A mirror best portrays when bright;

Begrimed with rust, its gleam grows slight.

Then wipe such foul alloy away;

Bright shall it, so, reflect each ray.”35

Thou’st heard what tale the flute can tell;

Such is my case; sung all too well.

I.
The Prince and the Handmaid.

A prince there was, long since in time it is.

Of Church and State the power and wealth were his.

The chase on horse one day to follow, bent;

With pompous courtier-train afield he went.

A handmaid58 fair was wand’ring near a grove.

Her he espied, and straightway fell in love.

His heart was snared; her form its cage, its stall.

He lavished gold; and made her thus his thrall.

But now, behold the wayward spite of fate!

The maid fell sick, this prince’s joy to bate.5

An ass had Hodge; no saddle to the fore.

A saddle bought; a wolf straight Jacky tore.

A jug had Dick; the well, alas, was dry.

The well then filled; the jug was broke hard by.

Now leeches called the prince, from left, from right.

“Two lives,” quoth he, “depend upon your might.

My health is naught; she’s life of life to me.

I’m sad at heart; my sov’reign balm is she.

Who finds a remedy to save her life,

Much gold, with jewels, his; and thanks more rife.”10

All promised marvels; each, to use his skill;

To search the case; to ease the maiden’s ill.

“Each one of us has Jesu’s59 healing power.

Of all their ills we cure men every hour.”

Through pride, “God willing” said they not, I trow.60

Man’s nothingness, in them the Lord would show.

That is to say—to leave out this good word

Is sin; said by mere rote, it will not please the Lord,

How many shrink from tonguing it aloud,

Whose hearts each action with “God willing” shroud.15

The doctors now prescribe full many a drug.

In vain they ponder, vain their shoulders shrug.

The maid a very skeleton became;

The prince’s tears their want of skill did blame.

With oxymel, through fate, did bile increase;

E’en almond oil ran dry where rubbed as grease.

Lax myrobalans act as nutgalls first;

As naphtha feeds a fire, drinks brought but thirst.

The prince no sooner saw their art was vain,

Than barefoot sped, heaven’s worship-house61 to gain.20

The holy altar, there, he bowed before;

With flood of tears he bathed its sacred floor.

Then, heart-relieved with sorrow’s fierce outbreak,

’Mid praise and blessing, thus his suit he spake:

“To Thee, whose meanest gift is world-wide sway,

Who know’st each secret wish, why need I pray?

Our refuge art Thou in our every need;

We’ve erred again; do Thou in mercy lead.

’Tis Thy behest, to whom all thoughts are known,

That man with words approach Thy awful throne.”25

His humble supplication proffered so,

Sweet mercy’s fount at once did overflow.

His tears undried, deep slumber on him fell,

And heavenly-dulcet tones he heard thus tell:

“Glad tidings, prince, to thee this day I bring:

Next daydawn at thy gate a guest shall ring;

A heav’n-sent stranger, versed in healing art,

In him have faith; he’s true in speech and heart.

Imagine not his treatment magic’s spell;

God’s power alone can make thy maiden well.”30

The promised hour at hand, the daydawn broke;

The sunbeams paled the stars; the prince awoke.

An outlook sought he, whence to watch the way,

And first th’ expected stranger to survey.

One he espied of most majestic mien,

Of radiance mild,—as sun, dark clouds between;

Or moon at full;—so seem’d he from afar.

Mere fancy’s pictures ever objects mar.

Things non-existent often frenzy paints;

We see mankind deluded over feints.35

Their peace, their war, not seldom for a sham;

Their pride, their shame, some sorry epigram.

But visions, such as blessed saints entrance,

Reflections are from heaven’s inhabitants.

The semblance by our prince seen in his swoon,

The features wore that now in flesh are shown.

The prince, in lieu of ushers, forward came,

To meet the heaven-sent guest, in his own name.

Their trains one column formed from mingling bands;

Their hearts united, fettered not their hands.40

The prince: “Would thou’dst my soul enslaved; not she!

But here below effect a cause must see.

Be my Muhammed! I thy ‘Umar stand,

With girded loins awaiting thy command.”

Pray God to grant thee ever meek respect;

The puffed-up fool’s remote from Heaven’s elect.

A shameless monarch to himself’s a curse,

A firebrand to his realm; nay, even worse.

Food in the wilderness by God was sent;

Food without toil, food gratis, without stint.45

Some graceless scoffers out of Moses’ host

Dared to demand the onions, lentils lost.62

Such toilless food then ceased to fall from Heaven;

To dig, to sow, to reap, in lieu is given.

Fresh suit, much later, Jesus made; God willed;

Again food rife became; men’s dishes filled.

That food’s a gift from Heaven is clearly said,

In Jesu’s prayer: “Give us our daily bread.”63

Men’s bold presumption Heaven again incensed,

When basketsful to beggars were dispensed.50

Jesus proclaimed the miracle would last;—

That food would never lack as in the past.

Men doubted, asked for more to store away;

They trusted not God’s word for bread each day.

Importunate those suitors, full of greed;

Heaven’s gate of mercy closed against their breed.

Withheld is rain when alms have ceased to flow;

Where fornication reigns, black death will grow.

Whatever grief and sorrow’s on us sent,

Of wickedness and guilt’s a punishment.55

The hardened sinner, who his God offends,

A ruthless robber is; he spoils his friends.

He who is shameless in his words and deeds,

Despair from disappointment is his meed.

Yon orbs of heaven obey their Maker’s word;

The holy angels meekly serve the Lord.

The sun’s eclipse is but a check to pride;

E’en Satan’s fall presumption caused to tide.

Return we now the sequel to attest,

Of what befell our prince with his new guest.60

His circling arms the welcome form embraced,

And, lover-like, with joy his neck enlaced.

Kisses bestowed he on his hand and brow;

Hoped kindly he’d fared well from home till now.

His health and welfare asking, led him in.

“Its own reward is patience,” thought he then.

Patience at first is bitter; but at length

Its fruit is sweet. It gives us heart’s content.

Then he aloud: “A gift from God thou’rt come,

The proverb’s pith: ‘By patience overcome.’65

This meeting’s the reward of all my prayer;

Thou’lt solve the riddle of my dark despair.

Th’ expounder, thou, of all my soul’s desires,

Thou’lt extricate me from despond’s deep mires.

Be welcome, then; a very friend in need;

Hadst thou delayed, my case were sad indeed.

Prince of physicians! Who’d not welcome thee,

Deserves rejection. Do his eyes not see?”

Urbanity’s requirements thus bested,

Our prince the stranger to a chamber led.70

The maiden’s tale and case he there unfolds.

The patient, next, unveiled, the guest beholds.

Complexion, pulse, egesta, all are seen;

Disposing causes, symptoms, sought, I ween.

Then he: “The remedies till now adduced,

Have detrimental been, no good produced.

The case has been from first misunderstood.

Protect us, Heaven! A blundering brotherhood!”

He saw her trouble; thence divined her ill.

Her secret kept he; hidden held it still.75

The sickness was not caused by bile or spleen.

The scent of perfume’s better smelt than seen.

He traced her suffering to a mind oppressed;

Her body sound, her soul a wish suppressed.

Her hesitations made him guess her love;

The symptoms plain,—her heart was sick, poor dove!

A lover’s smart is not from fleshly pine;

A probe is love; it sounds hearts’ depths, divine.

Let love proceed from this or other cause,

It matters not; heavenward it mortals draws.80

However well we strive love to portray,

We blush thereat, when love our hearts doth sway.

Words make most matters plain and manifest;

But love unspoken speaks whole volumes best.

When pen took up from zeal the writing trade,

In love’s description, oh! such blots it made!

Our wits in love’s affairs stand sore perplexed;

Love only can elucidate love’s text.

The sun alone can well explain the sun.

Wilt see’t expounded? Turn to him alone.85

A shade, ’tis true, of him gives some small hint;

The shining sun surpasses all comment.

A shade, like evening chitchat, sends to sleep,

From sun’s effulgence does full knowledge leap.

That day-orb, still, each eve sets, here below;

The soul-sun, God, shines in eternal glow.

’Mong things extern that orb has not a peer;

But mock suns we can make, our nights to cheer.

On heart unless the soul-sun cast a ray,

No thought, no picture can its sheen portray.90

Can mind His glorious essence comprehend?

His presence, then, to image who’ll pretend?

Of poet’s verse when God’s the holy theme,

Its minished head the sun may hide, ’twould seem.

At mention of His name each breast must find,

A duty ’tis His grace to call to mind.

The breath of life He to this body gave,

With Him to reunite, should mercy save.

These years I’ve conversed with Him. Life serene!

One repetition more! O blissful scene!95

How pleasant heaven and earth their smiling hold!

He offers soul, mind, eye, a hundredfold!

Beyond my strength, O try me not these days!

My reason ’d fail to falter forth Thy praise.

The song of man, when uninspired by Thee,

Mere fulsome, flattering trash is seen to be.

Bid me describe, whose every nerve is seared,

A lover’s woe, whom mistress never cheered.

His lonesomeness, the anguish of his breast,

Not here I’ll paint; elsewhere it may be best.100

He cries: “O succour me; I faint, I pant;

And quickly; lest delay the dagger plant!”

The Mystic64 true relieves each moment’s need;

“To-morrow” ’s not a point in his pure creed.

Art not persuaded so? The proverb scan:

“Delay’s the thief of time;” say: “bane of man.”

Love’s sweetest favours are conferred by stealth;

Its darksome hints are treasured mines of wealth.

The tale’s most pleasant to a lover’s ears,

That tells of joys he’s tasted, ills he fears.105

Speak, meddler, then, in plain, unvarnished guise;

No subterfuge employ; deal not in lies.

The veil tear off, dissimulation lost:

“When unadorned, beauty’s adorned the most.”

Should my sweet love unveil’d her charms display,

Thy smirks and smiles would all be borne away.

Thy suit prefer; use moderation still:

A blade of grass ne’er overturns a hill.

The sun that lights and warms this nether world,

If brought too near, had all to ruin hurled.110

Seek not to sow dissension in the earth;

Vaunt not the Sun of Tebriz’65 holy birth.

Contention’s never-ending. Better far,

Commit to memory this wordy war.

The guest, convinced that love had caused her ill,

Proceeded next the prince’s mind to still.

“These chambers clear of every mortal soul;

Leave me alone the patient to control.

No prying ear may linger in the hall;

I’ve things to ask may not be heard by all.”115

The place was cleared; no soul remained within,

Save leech and patient; other, none was seen.

In gentlest tones he asked: “Where was thy home?

For each town’s folk a different cure must come.

What friends, what family hast left behind,—

Companions, playmates, who to thee were kind?”

On pulse his finger. He then, one by one,

Inquired anew each point, omitting none.

So he whose foot is wounded with a thorn,

Upon his knee doth take the limb that’s torn.120

With needle’s point he seeks the intrusive dart;

Not finding it, from lip he soothes the smart.

If thorn in foot is thus a task to find,

Judge what must be a rankling pang of mind.

Could every chance observer spy those ills,

Where’d be the cankering care, the grief that kills?

Boys place a thorn beneath an ass’s tail;

The cure Ned knows not; jumping’s no avail.

Whisking’s still worse; it deeper drives the dart.

’Tis reason’s task to ease the burning smart.125

The ass, if sharper grow the throbs and pains,

Kicks, plunges, rolls, his hide with gore bestains.

Our doctor’s mind, by art full well prepared,

With gentle measures sought the ill he feared.

Once more, with tact, he bids fresh memories come,

And leads the maid again to talk of home.

The spring once tapped, the stream began to flow;

She told th’ inquirer much he wished to know.

He lends his ear as she each scene displays;

His finger notes her pulse, as on she strays;130

To learn if any name should raise a start,

And thus betray the secret of her heart.

Anew he mentions every friend, each place;

Repeated such as gave of hope a trace.

He asked: “On quitting, thou, thy native town,

Where first was it thy guardians set thee down?”

A place she named, and on to others passed;

Nor blush, nor pulse gave sign, or notice massed.

Of lords and citizens she gave report,

Of festivals, and seats of gay resort.135

Town after town, house after house, by name,

She spoke about; no blush, no throb still came.

Her pulse retained its normal ebb and flow.

Till Samarqand’s name made her cheeks to glow,

Her pulse beat high, her colour went and came;

Of goldsmith youth she there had been the flame.

This point drawn forth,—this secret once confessed,

More easily our leech the sequel guessed.

“O maiden, let me know this youth’s abode.”

“At Holywell, near Bridge-end’s public road.”140

“I knew,” said he, “at once, thy case was such.

Now trust me. Thee to serve I will do much.

Make thyself happy. Cast away all care,

As showers cheer meadows, thee I’ll greatly spare.

I’ll prove thy guardian angel; never fear;

Thy father’s place I’ll take;—thy burden bear.

Tell not this secret unto mortal soul,

However much the prince may thee cajole.

Keep safe this knowledge in thy own heart’s core;

So mayest thou, lass, thy lover see once more.145

Our holy Prophet’s sacred maxim ’twas:

‘Who keeps his secret, speedy success has.’

The seed to earth committed sure must be,

Ere field or garden’s pride men may it see.

If gold and silver were not hard to find,

How could they grow?66 They soon would be out-mined.”

The good physician’s soothing words perceived,

Our maiden’s mind from carking care’s relieved.

Some promises are truly meant, sincere;

Others are merely made to cheat the ear.150

A good man’s promise is a gem of price;

Rely not on the words of sons of vice.

Our doctor, now, with subtle speech and wiles,

The maiden’s grief had turn’d to sunny smiles.

He leaves her then; seeks out the prince; and tells

The news he’d learnt, the source of all her ills.

“What’s now to do?” the prince’s care inquired;

“Delay is dangerous; patience may grow tired.”

The doctor then: “Send for him; come he must,

From his far home to fill some post of trust.155

Invite him here; a dress of honour give;

On him shower gold; new life ’twill make him live.”

The prince assented; took the doctor’s plan;

Thought it was sound and wise from such a man.

Two trusty messengers he quickly sent,

Sedate, fair-spoken, loved where’er they went.

To Samarqand they journeyed, prompt and sure.

The goldsmith found; the prince’s message bore.

“Great man of art, the marvels of thy skill,

Are viewed with rapture, or with envy still.160

Our prince has need of thee, his mint to guide;

For none like thee is heard of, far and wide.

This dress of honour, yonder gold he sends;

Requests thou’lt come, and be his best of friends.”

The gold and dress of honour won his heart;

Good-bye to home he said, with them to start.

He travels joyous; thinks his luck is great;

And never dreams of what’s to be his fate.

An Arab charger proudly bore him on;

He recked not at what price all this was won.165

O fatuous fool! Thou hastest to thy doom.

The post thou dream’st of, soon will be thy tomb.

His fancy webs of power and fame did weave;

Death’s angel thundered: “Come, and all this leave!”

Arrived betimes at his long journey’s end,

The doctor led him to the prince, his friend.

Most nobly was he there received in turn.

One trims the lampwick, still, to make it burn.

The prince addressed him; bade him welcome there;

Mint-master nam’d him, treasurer, and mayor.170

Our doctor once again his counsel gave:

“The damsel to this youth for service leave.

United to him, she’ll her health regain;

Love’s fever will subside with absence’ pain.”

The prince bestows the sick one on her mate.

United were the two in solemn state.

Six months they feasted on love’s joys so sweet;

The handmaid’s health from day to day more meet.

The doctor, now, a potion mixed for him.

His health declines; he every day grows slim.175

The coin that passes much from hand to hand

Soon loses currency, has no demand.

So he, when beauty no more graced his cheek,

Began to lack worth with the handmaid sleek.

All love that’s built on outer skin-deep charms,

Is not true love. At length shame ’tis that warms.

Would it were shame alone that pricks him now!

He’d not been victimised and brought thus low.

His eyes pour forth two streams of bitter tears;

His altered features the worst foe he fears.180

The peacock’s enemy his plumage call.

The monarch bleeds whose splendours neighbours gall.

The musk-deer for the musk-pod still is slain;

His blood for that alone the ground will stain.

The marten for its fur is trapped, surprised,

And strangled. Kings its pelt have prized.

The elephant, sagacious creature, dies,

For iv’ry pierced with weapons as he flies.

“He who slays me for what I leave behind,

Reflects not: ‘Blood that’s spilt demands its kind.’185

To-day ’tis I; to-morrow ’twill be thou;

Who’ll be most loser? ’Tis not I, all know.

The shadow of a wall, ’tis true, is wide;

The sun revolves; the shadow’s turn’d aside.

The world’s a mountain; all our works, a voice;

Our voice goes forth; its echo has no choice.”

Reflecting thus, the goldsmith breath’d his last;

The handmaid’s love and grief behind her cast.

A dead mate’s love can never more be shown;

A dead mate’s voice will never more be known;190

Love for the living, in the heart and eyes,

Will ever spring; the dead no more can rise.

One Living is there, deat h that never knows;

Love Him! The life from Him alone still flows.

Love Him, whom saints and prophets all have loved;

Through whom alone we all have lived and moved.

Say not thou canst not to His throne approach;

He’s gracious. His rich grace bears no reproach!

The goldsmith’s death through lethal drugs, be sure,

Was not from hope, or fear, or baser lure.195

The doctor kill’d him, not to please our prince;

Him some divine suggestion did convince.

The story of the child by angel slain67

Cannot be fully grasped by minds too plain.

A saint that acts on Heaven’s high behest,

Can never do amiss; ’tis always best.

He who can pardon, he may also doom;

He’s God’s vicegerent; acts in Heaven’s room.

As IshmaËl beneath his father’s knife,68

Do thou for such a prince lay down thy life;200

Thus may thy soul, in future blessed abode,

Muhammed-like, in peace be with thy God.

His lovers joyful are, most, when they slay

Their worldly joys with their own hands, as play.

Our prince took not the goldsmith’s life through lust.

Chase such suspicion from thy mind thou must.

Imagine not he’d stoop to mortal sin.

Can holy saint have tainted heart within?

The trial of the fire, and of the flame,

Is but to cleanse pure gold from every blame.205

So too, temptation on us all is sent,

To part the good from those of bad intent.

Had he not acted thus by God’s command,

No prince, a wolf he’d been, rav’ning the land.

From lust, greed, foul caprice, his soul was free;

So did God will, whate’er the cause may be.

Elias sank his ship in full design;69

That wreck to future blessings was the sign.

Moses was shock’d thereat, with all his skill

And inspiration. Thou must needs judge ill.210

A blood-red rose call not by murder’s name;

Just retribution see thou do not blame.

Had righteous blood been shed by him as naught,

Blasphemer were I to extol him aught.

Praise of the wicked God with horror views;

The good contemn all flatterers of sin’s crews.

Our prince was kind and virtuous, wise and just,

A man God-fearing, and in God’s full trust.

A victim put to death by such a friend,

Is slain in error, or for some wise end.215

Did not our God mean mercy in His wrath,

How could the Lord of Mercies thunder forth?

A child may tremble at the lancet’s smart;

His mother knows there’s healing in the dart.

It may half kill him, but restores sound life;

So God’s great mercies far surpass our strife.

Men judge of what they see by what they think.

From judging justice, men of sense will shrink.219

II.
The Oilman and the Parrot.

An oilman there was, who a parrot possessed,

Soft-voiced, and green-coated; could talk with the best.

The oilshop her charge when the man was away;

The customers coaxed she the whole live-long day.

Her speech was quite human, her words full of sense,

In all parrot-tricks she was void of offence.

One day the man popped out, on bus’ness intent;

The parrot, as usual, had charge while he went.

A cat, as it chanced, of a mouse in full chase

Bounced into the shop. This poor Poll could not face.5

From perch away flew she; took refuge on shelf;

Some jars she knocked over; the oil spread itself.

The master returning, first sat himself down,

As lord of the manor; the shop was his own.

The oil-pools he spied, and then Polly’s wet coat;

A blow on the head made her feathers drop out.

In silence some days Polly brooded, from grief;

The oilman’s bereft of his wits, to be brief.

He plucked at his beard; he heaved a deep sigh;

“Alas!” then, he shrieked out, “day’s darkened on high10

My hand, would it withered had, ere I’d struck Poll;

I’ve silenced her prattle that always was droll!”

His alms now he showers on each passing scamp,

In hopes Poll her chatter ’d get back by some tramp.

Three days and three nights in this guise did he pass,

Despair at his heart, like a lorn lovesick lass;

Incessantly sobbing and sighing, his word

Was: “Pray now, will speech e’er return to my bird?”

A bare-headed mendicant happened to pass;

Whose scalp was close shaved, smooth and shining as glass.15

At once our Poll-parrot her silence forswore,

Screamed after the mendicant: “Poor head! Sore! Sore!

Old bald-pate! old bald-pate! What is it thou’st done?

Upset some one’s oil jar? The oil is’t all gone?”

The passers-by smiled all at Polly’s mistake,

’Tween bald-head and bare-head no diff’rence to make.

So thou, my dear friend, think thyself not a saint;

A quean to a queen bears resemblance, but faint.

Mankind on this point in great error still stands;

Th’ elect of the Lord are ignored on all hands.20

The equals of prophets acknowledged they be;

Of saints they’re the brethren, as all men agree.

Fools say: “The elect are but human, you see;

To eat and to sleep they’re constrained, just as we.”

Through blindness they miss the real point of the strife,

The diff’rence between them’s immense all through life.

The wasp and the bee eat and drink from the fields;

The one stings, the other sweet honey still yields.

The deer of both sorts browse the same mountain’s side;

The one gives rich musk; dung the other; go, hide.25

The canes of two species in one land may grow;

Quite empty that one; from this, sugar will flow.

By thousands, examples of pairs thus are known,

Which differ as much as does cheese from the moon.

Our bread, in one case, turns to dirt in our meat;

Another produces the mind, God’s own seat.

His food the one man swells with envy and greed;

By like means another gains virtue indeed.

One soil is productive; one barren and salt;

One angel’s in heaven; the other’s at fault.30

In form, many pairs may appear as though one,

Clear water is sometimes as hard as a stone.

Excepting the taster by practice, who knows

The wholesome from unwholesome water that flows?

Supposing saints’ miracles tricks, magic-wrought,

They fancy them both the result of deep thought.

Magicians, at bidding of Pharaoh, did cast

Their wands down, to Moses’ rod as a repast.

From his rod to their wands a chasm there must be;

From his act to theirs we an interval see.35

God’s curse on their witchcraft and devilish art!

His blessing on Moses, who chose the best part!

To me, like as apes are man’s miscreants all;70

To speak of them causes me, straight, sick to fall!

Whatever men practise, apes will copy still;

Our actions they mimic; of thought they know nil.

They cunningly do what they’ve seen that man did;

The reason they seek not; from them that is hid.

A man acts from reason; an ape from mere whim.

Perdition may seize all such actors, and him!40

The hypocrite71 worships72 as aping the saint,

For form’s sake, or worse. His religion’s mere feint.

In pilgrimage, worship, and fasting, and alms,73

Believers and hypocrites vie, as in psalms.

Believers shall win in the last judgment day;

The hypocrites then shall receive their due pay.

The two are contending one great game of deeds,

As factions of Mervites and Razites74 with creeds.

They each shall go there, where their party shall stand;

And each shall be classed as their actions demand.7545

Just style these “Believers” their hearts fill with glee;

But dub them all “Hypocrites,” rage then thou’lt see.

The first one’s ashamed of the last one’s true self;

This last-named’s a plague to the first, like an elf.

No virtue in mere words or letters is found;

“Believer”’s a word in itself but a sound.

If “Hypocrite!” cast in their teeth be at last,

As scorpion’s sting to their souls it clings fast.

If “Hypocrite”’s name be not product of hell,

So bitter at all times why does its sound tell?50

This name’s great repulsion is not in its form;

The bitter it smacks of is not from a corm.

The word’s but a vase; ’tis its sense is the wine;

The sense of a book in the title may shine.

Sweet lakes and salt seas do we find here on earth;

The barrier between them: “Thus far; go not forth!”

They both, in their origin, flow from one source;

Look not at their severance; it’s matter of course.

The touchstone’s the test by the which thou must try

If gold be quite pure, or debased with alloy.55

The touchstone of conscience, where planted by God,

What’s certain, what’s doubtful, makes plain without nod.

A fishbone that sticks in the throat of a man

No ease ever gives till it’s coughed out again.

In ten thousand mouthfuls should one bone be found,

As soon as perceived, it’s spit out on the ground.

Perception of things mundane guides here below;

Religion’s keen sense leads where God’s glories glow.

The health of his senses man asks of the leech;

Religion’s sound sense from the Lord we beseech.7660

For healthy perceptions, our frame must be sound;

Religion’s enjoyments through suff’rings are found.

The health of the soul’s through a waste of the flesh,

But after much searching it builds up afresh.

How blest is the soul that, for love of its God,77

Has flung away wealth, health, e’en life, as a sod!

Has pulled down its house a hid treasure to find,

And built it again from that treasure refined!

Who cuts off the streamlet to clear out its bed;

Then turns on the water with which it is fed!65

Who gashes his skin to extract the spear-head!

(The skin may now heal, for the irritant’s fled.)

Who wrecks a strong castle to drive out the foe,

Then rears it still stronger, to hold evermo’!

The will of Almighty God who shall control?

These sentences written are parables all.

Sometimes in one way, in another sometimes,

Religion confuses before it sublimes.

Not terror, bewilderment, loathing, dismay;

But ecstacy, rapture, love, come into play.70

In trance of love fixed, one contemplates the Lord,

Another, self losing, unites with his God.

Observe the rapt features of that one, of this;

Perchance by such watching thy soul may gain bliss.

Too numerous demons in human form walk;

Beware, then, with whom thou engagest in talk.

The fowler his whistle may ply in the field,

To lure the poor birds, saying: “Come and be killed.”

Each songster conceives ’tis the voice of its mate,

Descends from the air, and meets with its fate.75

The sinner, in pious cant, uses a wile,

To trap the unwary who ponders no guile.

The upright deal faithfully, truly, in trust;

The wicked imagine but fraud and distrust.

A lion of wool is a beggar’s device;78

Musaylama’s named Muhammed in a trice.79

Musaylama liar, deceiver we know,

Muhammed was faithful in weal and in woe.

The wine of God’s love was the food of his soul.

The wine that inebriates dash from thy bowl.80

III.

The Jewish King, Persecutor of the Christians.80

A certain Jewish King, in savage, brutal scenes,

From hate of Jesus, persecuted Nazarenes.

’Twas Jesu’s age, when he the Gospel first did teach;

In Jesus, Moses, and in Moses, Jesus preach.

That King God made squint-eyed; things straight he could not see.

A King and squint-eyed? Ah! that one the two should be!

A master once a squint-eyed slave commanded so:

“Come here; that bottle from its shelf, go, fetch me; go.”

The squint-eye straightway asked: “Which, master, of the two?81

The case explain; clear up the doubt, and truly show.”5

His master answered: “Two there’s not; there is but one;

Put off thy strabism; with stupidity have done.”

“Good master,” quoth he, “chide me not; ’tis nature’s fault.”

The master quick rejoined: “Look now; break one; halt! halt!”

As soon as one was broken, both were gone from sight.

Poor squint-eye nearly lost his wits in childish fright.

There was but one; his eyes were cause that he saw two.

The one away, the other consequently was gone too.

Desire or rage, at times, makes people double see.

The mind’s distortion brings the eyes perverse to be.10

From passion’s mists our reason ever blinded lies.

The heart its clouds sends up; the mind’s eye’s vision flies.

The judge to taking bribes who basely bends himself,

Can never well discern the right and wrong, from pelf.

Our King through Israelitish rancour grew so blind,

As nothing to distinguish in his rage of mind.

By thousands, faithful seekers of God’s will he slew.

“Vouchsafe us help, O God of Moses, Jesus too!”

He had a Vazir, brigandlike for craft and force.

In knavish stratagems he had no peer; of course.15

He whispered to the King: “These Christians, as in hives,

All keep their faith a mystery, to save their lives.

To kill them thus is profitless. Give breathing-time,

Religion can’t be smelt out just like musk or thyme.

A secret ’tis, well wrapped in many folds of guile.

In outward show, as friends, perfidiously they smile.”

The King, with grimace fierce: “What have we then to do?

What remedy proposest thou to make them rue?

I will not leave alive one Christian in the land,

Whose faith is shown to all, or in his bosom banned.”20

The Vazir to him: “King, my hands and ears cut off;

My nose and lips the same. Give orders; let them scoff.

Unto the gallows send me; I’ll of all be seen.

Then let an intercessor plead,—some prince,—your queen.

Let all this happen where some spacious public place

May let all see, that all may know of my disgrace.

Then drive me forth; away from thee in exile sent;

And they’ll receive me, under feint of sorrow bent.

‘In secret,’ I’ll pretend, ‘a Christian I’m at heart;

Call God to witness how my faith has worked my hurt.25

The King a knowledge gained of zeal in me that burned;

Its flame to put out quite, his anger on me turned.

I strove to hide my faith, my leaning to keep hid;

Affected still to be, think, act, just as he bid.

Suspicion crossed his mind; my secret he espied;

All I could plead for nothing went; he said I lied.

“Thy specious words,” quoth he, “are needles in a loaf;82

My eye, as through a glass, sees all thy thoughts; thou oaf!

No curtain of thy trickeries can veil thy faith from me;

I’m proof against thy knaveries; thy cunning I can see.”30

Were not the faith of Jesus the refuge of my heart,

He’d not have mutilated me in this sad sort.

For love of Jesus, head and life I will lay down;

All persecution suffer to gain a martyr’s crown.

My life I will not grudge to lose for Jesus’ sake.

His faith I hold from point to point without mistake.

I dread his doctrine’s fall to uninstructed guides.

The truth from their bad teaching still to ruin glides.

Thanks be to God, to Jesus thanks, who me have made

A teacher perfect of the faith so free from shade.35

The Jew and Judaism I have forsworn in sooth;

About my loins the sacred cord83 I wear; ’tis truth.

This age the age of Jesus is; O men, give ear!

His doctrine take to heart; nought else have you to fear.’”

The Vazir having laid this plot before the King,

All shame and scruple vanished; ’twas a perfect thing.

In presence of the public, nose, ears were cut off.

The rabble wondered greatly; now’s the time to scoff.

He fled unto the Christians; begged them him to hear;

And straightway set up preaching; saintlike was he there.40

The Christians soon with one accord accepted him,

In multitudes they round him flocked, all meek and prim.

The Gospel’s holy words, the prayer, the cord, he’d preach;

The mysteries of all of these to them he’d teach.

To outward view a guide to sanctity was he;

In very truth, a trap and fowler’s whistle; see.

Of such effect his wiles, disciples were deceived;

From Jesu’s teaching fell, and in this cheat believed.

It is so. Often does the flesh, for selfish end,

Intrude itself across the soul’s most fervent trend.45

Meek virtue was not what they sought to gain the most;

Of him they learned to ferret out new sins, and boast.

Hair-splitting casuists, point by point they sin dissect;

They grow too wise; ’twixt rose and garlic links detect.

Of such avail’s the subtle cunning of these men,

That honest teachers oft are made to swerve by them.

The Christian folk in him their confidence thus place.

Gregarious, like sheep, ’s the mob of every race.

A gen’ral favourite was he; all loved him well;

Christ’s vicar called they him; as who the truth could tell.50

This cursed Antichrist, so full of fraud and wile!

Grant help, O God! ’Tis Thou alone canst curb such guile.

The devil’s snares are spread abroad in tempting guise,

Their baits are various; we, like birds, shut fast our eyes.

If saved from one, another tempts; we thither stray;

Like hawks and eagles, heinous sins make us their prey.

Thou shieldest us, O gracious God! But ever still,

With froward hearts and minds we counteract Thy will.

This world’s a granary, of which we steal the corn.

The wheat is there all garnered; we it spoil in scorn.55

We take no heed of future life in what we do;

Sly mice still help us to consume the fruits that grow,

Those mice a road have found to reach our winter store.

Through their inroads our victual spoils; it is no more.

First stop mouse-holes; make safe thy granary, O man!

Thy wheat then garner safely; winter’s at our van.

Give ear to what he’s said, the Lord’s own Chief of Chiefs:84

“No perfect worship’s needed, save in war’s reliefs.”85

If mice there be not to destroy our garnered meeds,

Where is our wheat, the fruit of fifty summers’ deeds?60

To shreds all nibbled lie the products of our days;

No stores accumulate for provend on our ways.

How many sparks of fire from flint and steel have flown!

How many hearts, like tinder, make those sparks their own!

But in the dark some thief his finger presses there;

And ev’ry train puts out that has been lighted here.

Extinguished if those sparks were not, a flame would rise;

A burning light be kindled, flashing ’yond the skies.

A thousand snares are laid to catch our tripping feet;

But, Lord, if us Thou shield, harm never shall us meet.65

If but Thy grace will guide us, lead us on our way,

No thief can steal our peace of mind, our light of day.

Each night Thou settest free the soul from trap of flesh,

To scan and learn the hidden records of Thy wish.86

Each night the soul is like a bird from cage set free,

To wander. Judge and judgment, then, it does not see.

By night the pris’ner loses sense of bars, of chains;

By night the monarch knows no state, no pomp retains;

The merchant counts no more, in sleep, his gains and loss;

The prince and peasant, equal, on their couches toss.70

The Gnostic87 is so e’en by day, when wide awake;

For God hath said: “Let quietude care of him take.”88

Asleep to all the things of earth by night, by day,

As pen in writer’s hand he doth his guide obey.

Whoever sees not in the lines the writer’s hand,

May fancy ’tis the pen alone has all command.

Of this, the Gnostic’s privilege, a trace ’d suffice

To rob of sleep and reason vulgar souls of ice.

His spirit wanders in the groves of th’ absolute.

His soul is easy; body, still, calm, quiet, mute.75

The two absolved from greed, lust, sense, care, fear also;

Each, like a bird uncaged, is free; roams to and fro.89

Should he, birdlike, be whistled back to trap of sense,

Again he sinks, the slave of every vile pretence.

When light of dawn paints bright the blushing sky with red,

Ere orb of day comes forth as bridegroom from his bed,

Shrill chanticleer, as though it were last judgment’s trump,

Calls back to consciousness the sleepers. Up they jump.

The souls return their bodies to inhabit, then;

Each body fraught with thoughts, and words, and deeds again.80

The soul turned loose, without the body’s cares or ken,

Attests the truth: “Sleep is death’s brother,”90 to all men.

But lest it should escape, and not come back at call,

A tether to it’s bound; it’s not quite free withal.

It must come back by day from roaming where it wills,

The cares of life to bear;—a burthen that soon kills.

O! Would, O God, Thou’d keep my soul in Thy own hand,

As Sleepers in the Grotto;91 Noah’s ark once to land!

Then had I ’scaped the tempest waking thoughts aye raise;

My mind, eyes, ears, had rested; all my task Thy praise!85

Sev’n Sleepers?—Many are there of them in this world,

Before, behind me, right and left; they’re round me hurl’d!

My “Cave”92 art Thou; my “Mate” art Thou; O God, my friend!

Men’s eyes and ears are sealed; they know not where they wend.

A Caliph asked of LaylÀ: “Art thou really she

For whom poor Majnun went distracted? For I see,

Than other beauties thou art not so passing fair.”

Said she: “Be silent! Thou’rt not Majnun; nor his pair.”

A man awake is sound asleep; more, he can’t be.

His watchfulness is worse than sleep; how should he see?90

Our souls, if not awake to God’s most holy truth,

Are not awake. We’re slaves to them. The greater ruth!

The soul all day is buffeted by fancy’s whims;

Of loss or profit, life or death, as frenzy swims.

No peace enjoyed; no dignity remains in hand;

No vigour to attempt a flight to heaven’s strand.

Asleep is he who’s slave to every sordid wish;

Who begs of fancy; parleys with it, even. Pish!

A demon in his sleep he sees; an angel deems.93

Through lust he swoons with sensual pleasure as he dreams.95

His seed he sows in sandy, salt, and desert land;

And wakes to find no harvest’s ripened to his hand.

A headache, with a beating heart, is all he feels;

“Alas!” he sobs, “that treach’rous gnome! My whole frame reels!”

A bird flies in the air; its shadow flits on earth;

A second bird it seems to be, though nothing worth.

Some simpleton runs after it; to catch it tries;

Himself tires out; meanwhile the creature safely flies.

The fool still knows not ’tis a shadow he pursues,

Its substance where to seek he has no power to muse.100

He shoots his arrows at the fleeting, mocking shade;

His quiver emptied, he returns; no booty made.

Our life’s our quiver. When our years are vainly spent

In chasing phantoms, grief will one day have its vent.

Let God’s protection mercifully on us rest,

All fancies and all phantoms stand at once confest.

God’s servants are His shadows here below on earth;

To this world dead, but living in a second birth.

To their skirts cling; from them thy soul’s nutrition seek.

So may’st thou ’scape the perils of this scene’s last week.105

The holy text of: “How He stretcheth forth the shade!”94

Of saints gives notice. Them his glory doth pervade.

Without their guidance venture not to thread this maze;

Like Ab’ram answer: “Fading things do not me please!”95

In days of trouble, consolation’s sun seek out.

The skirts of “Tebriz’ Sun” will wipe out care, no doubt.96

Know’st not the road to that good man, and grief survene?

Inquire of his and my friend, great Husamu-’d-Din.97

While on thy way, should envy seize thee by the throat,

Know, Satan’s sin was envy; malice made him gloat.110

He envied Adam’s rise to such sublime estate.

He wars with all who’re good, through envy and through hate.

No mountain-pass as this life’s progress is so steep;

Let envy not increase thy load; thou canst but creep.

The flesh a hot-bed is of envy and of strife.

These soil the soul; for envy’s bane of mortal life.

Should envy seek thy soul to kill, invoke the Lord,

The God of mercy thee can save, with His true Word.

“Make clean My house, ye two,” did Ab’ram’s God once say.98

His house our frame; a house of glory, though of clay.115

Should envy fill thy breast ’gainst one that envies not,

Foul stains ensue; thy heart’s impure; all good’s forgot.

Prostrate thyself, then, at the feet of holy men;

Cast dust upon thy head, God’s pardon to attain.

The Vazir of our Jewish king was envy’s self;

His nose and ears he sacrificed, as ’twere but pelf,

In hopes the sting of envy ’d find an easy way,

To pour the selfsame wounds he ’d open lay.

His nose, from envy, in the air, who carries high,

His ears and nose to envy ’d give without a sigh.120

The nose the organ is by which we trace a scent;

The scent then guides to where the odour finds its vent.

Who has no sense of smell is truly minus nose,

Its odour we should trace to where religion blows.

To scent religion’s fragrance, not returning thanks,

Ingratitude is. Nose to lose merit such pranks.

Be grateful, thou; and venerate all grateful men;

Abase thyself; a champion be of theirs. Amen.

Be not a cut-throat, like that Vazir, of men’s faith;

Seek not to turn believing souls from what God saith.125

That Vazir seemed a pastor of the truth, in sham;

As one who bitter aloes mixed in sweet plum jam.

Some men of sense discernment used, his ways to scan,

His honied phrases smacked to them of knavish plan.

Refined truisms, double-meaning, he’d deal out,

Like syrup into which some mortal poison’s put.

Be thou not caught with knavery’s fairly-spoken word;

A hidden meaning it may have. Be on thy guard.

Of evil-minded men the speech is never good;

Their hearts are dead and putrid; life cannot there brood.130

A man’s an offset from a man, by nature’s law,

As sure as cake of bread is bread, and not mere straw.

God’s Lion,99 ‘Ali, saith: “All words in folly made,

As weeds on dunghills, crowd apace; as quickly fade.”100

He who would rashly, thoughtlessly, repose thereon,

Begrimed will be, befouled, befooled, and spat upon.

He that gives vent to wind, mere wind, is bound to wash;

His worship else is vain; pollution doth it quash.101

The Vazir’s talk was all: “Be diligent in pray’r.”

His acts proclaimed aloud: “Of duty never care.”135

In surface silver’s white and glittering to the eye;

With friction, hands and purse it soils, though e’er so dry.

A fire is jocund to the view; its flame may please.

But venture not too near it; black is its surcease.

The lightning flashes brightly, shining as it flies;

But oft, alas, it strikes man blind, or dead he lies.

Be wise betimes; for “he that’s void of common sense,

Is like the ox with yoke on neck.” So ‘Ali,—Hence!

For six years was the Vazir absent from the king;

Disciple seemed of Jesu’s faith; bad news to bring.140

Their hearts and faith the people all pinned on to him;

At his command they every one would change each whim.

His purpose all the time was fraud and gross deceit;

He pondered naught but wiles, to compass their defeat.

By secret message, with the king he held converse.

The king to him fair gratulations sent, diverse.

A missive came to him at length: “My faithful son,

’Tis time my heart was set at rest. What hast thou done?”

His answer was: “The thing’s prepared; have patience yet;

The Christian folk to puzzle soon, we’ll not forget.”145

The Christians portioned were, for purposes of war,

In legions twelve; to each, a captain void of fear.

The men of every legion to their captain bound

By ties of trust and confidence, in each heart found.

These legions and those captains twelve, to that bad man

Had yielded up their every thought;—as mankind can.

Should he command to die, not one of them would fail

To give his life right joyfully,—without one wail.

A volume he prepared in name of each of them;

The matter of these registers not all the same.150

The style of every one was in a different guise;

From end to end each book’s contents were forgeries.

In one, the pangs of hunger mortified the flesh;

With penitence, with fasting made, and prayer, to clash.

A second taught that fasting did no good at all;

That charity, beneficence, was all in all.

A third explained: “Thy fasting,—charity itself,—

Syntheism102 is. With God, thou deifiest thyself.

To trust with resignation’s all religion’s plan.

In weal and woe are springs to trap the soul of man.”155

A fourth declared: “Faith without works is truly dead.

Alone is service valued; faith’s a sin to dread.”

A fifth laid down: “The Law’s commands and warnings all

Are not for practice; they’re mere symbols of man’s fall.

By showing us man’s weakness, God is made more strong;

The decalogue this purpose serves; the rest’s all wrong.”

The sixth, again: “For man to talk of weakness here,

Ingratitude is, simply; God’s grace is so clear;

Think, now, how wonderful is man; how great; how wise;

’Tis God has made him thus; to thank Him in us lies.”160

A seventh suggests: “Leave power and weakness unto Me;

They’re idols, both, as also are all things ye see.”

An eighth contends: “Put not thy light behind a shade.

Let all men see thy light; to glad their eyes ’ ;twas made.

Removed from sight if ’tis, an evil thence will loom.

Thou, too, wilt be removed at midnight from the groom.”

A ninth expounds: “Put out the light; thou’lt have more joy.

The sense of sight is one: joy’s feelings, many; boy.

Put out the light. The sense of touch thou may’st then use.

The bride is timid; in the dark she’ll not refuse.165

Renunciation of the world’s a very farce.

Renounce. The world, and more, thou’lt dream of in thy trance.”

A tenth assures: “That which the Lord hath given to man,

God hath made pleasant to the eyes. Deny, who can.

Take what is thine. Avert thee not; ’tis folly still

To take to groaning, moaning, when all’s at thy will.”

Another yet: “Forsake all things thou hast possessed.

Retention of them by thee baseness is, confessed.

How many roads diverse traced for their feet men deem;

Each one to one sole “church” the only road doth seem.170

If way there were secure, for hitting out the truth,

The Jews and Magi surely ’d not missed it, forsooth.”

Again another: “Moral food makes heart to live.

We see this clearly; every hour a proof doth give.

Enjoyments sensuous, fleshly, when to fade they haste,

Leave no result behind; they’re desert mirage, waste.

Regret’s their only issue, grief for loss of time;

A bankrupt’s stock; their commerce gives no gain, no prime.

Pursuit of them has never ended in success;

Dire failure still must be the fruit of recklessness.175

Distinguish thou betimes the foolish from the wise;

The end of each scan well; ’tis there the difference lies.”

And still one more: “True wisdom strive thou to find out.

True wisdom’s not the fruit of noble birth. Poor lout!

Each ‘church’ has had in view to gain a happy end.

But one and all have failed and could but fail. God send!

To palm off jugglers’ tricks is not true wisdom’s part,

Or man had never seen so many faiths take start.”

And one again: “True wisdom thou hast surely found.

Thou knowest men of wisdom;—wisdom’s safest ground.180

Be manful. Let not men by fraud make mock of thee.

Thy own path choose; turn not from it for aught thou see.”

To one he said: “Thy unity is all in all;

Besides thee, aught existence never had, nor shall.”

One volume taught: “The universe is unity.

Who teaches two exist, is but a squint-eye, he.”

The last gave out: “A hundred really are but one.”

Unless a madman, whom could have such doctrines won?

In them these paradoxes fitly found their place,

In words and sense his doctrines lacked all claim to grace.185

Each volume was the antithesis of the next;

If one was honey, poison was the other’s text.

Wouldst thou escape his honey and his poison too,

Forsake thou not the holy word of scripture true.

Twelve volumes thus were writ with fraudulent research,

By that Vaz?r, the hidden foe of Jesu’s church.

Jesu’s one-mindedness for him had no perfume;

The wine of Jesu’s jar no bouquet to his grume.

A many-coloured garment washed in that pure wine,

As snowy white comes out, and clear as is sunshine.190

Not faded or plain-coloured, such as gives offence;

But clear as crystal water, in which fishes glance.

Dry land, chameleon-like, gay-coloured scenes displays;

But fishes dry land shun; they love clear water’s sprays.

What is the fish, and what the water, in my tale,

That they should symbolise God’s kingdom on small scale?

Whole shoals of fishes, great and small, the water’s realm,

In adoration mute, with praise to God o’erwhelm.

What showers of bounty from God’s outstretched hand

Have made the seas with pearls of price to deck the strand!195

What brilliant suns of brightest goodness must have shone,

Ere clouds and sea could have produced the matchless stone!103

What rays of wisdom poured on water and on land

Ere earth could nourish seed, yield corn to our demand!

The earth, a faithful trustee, gives back what we sow,

No fraud, embezzlement, in its trust do we know.

This faithfulness to trust arises, with time’s run,

From generous warmth infused by glow of justice’ sun.

Whene’er God’s symbol quickening summer back doth bring,

The mysteries of the earth straight from her bosom spring.

Th’ All-Bountiful, who gave to senseless earth, of grace,

This faithfulness, trustworthiness, in every place,200

In mercy plans forth inorganic matter’s course.

In wrathful wisdom’s counsel blinds man to its source.

Our hearts and souls have not the grace to understand.

To whom address me? Not one ear’s at my command!

Who lends his ear, shall also quickly find an eye.

Whose ear’s, like stone, to counsel deaf, shall surely die.

Of wond’rous power is God possessed. What’s magic’s skill!

Miraculous works He enacts. Where’s witchery’s spell!

To sing His praise in me a want of feeling shows.

It proves I breathe. To breathe, to live, breaks true love’s laws.205

In His existence let my being sink, quite lost.

To be, is to be blind and blear-eyed at the most.

If blind I were not, swooned, unconscious should I be.

The Sun of Glory’s might and power then could I see.

Were not my sight grown blear, through weeping in my dreams,

Had I stood, ice-like, frozen, ’neath His mercy’s beams?

Just like his king, this Vaz?r was shortsighted seen.

The Ancient, ’twas, of Days, he wrestled ’gainst, I ween.

Th’ Almighty One, who with one breath, one word, did bring

Ten thousand worlds from naught to join in being’s ring.210

Like firewood in a furnace have I wept; still prayed.

Henceforward I shall sit on Jesu’s own right hand,

In highest heaven enthroned, blest Paradise’s strand.”

The legion-captains now he called to him apart;

But one by one, in secret, counsels to impart.

To ev’ry one he said: “Successor thee I name,

The faith of Jesus to uphold and keep from shame.

All other captains thy commands will have to hear;

’Tis Jesus thus appoints thee others’ loads to bear.340

Should any one against thee neck rebellious raise,

Him kill, imprison, or in exile end his days.

But while I live divulge not what to thee I’ve told,

Keep secret till my death this charge thou hast to hold.

Let no one know till then ’tis thou art chosen out,

Proclaim not thou thyself a king or prince devout.

Behold this scroll; take, study it; thyself instruct,

’Tis Jesu’s doctrine pure; from this His Church construct.”

Thus one by one their minds prepared were to be chief:

“’Tis thou’rt the chosen one; all else would be a thief.”345

He named them each successor; made them so to feel.

Whate’er he told to one, to each did he reveal.

He gave to each a volume, writ from end to end;

No two alike; each different, and hard to blend.112

Their doctrines various, of every changing hue;

Diverse in sense, as objects’ forms exposed to view.

Their precepts and commands a very maze of guile,

Their sentiments impossible to reconcile.

The Vaz?r now delayed another forty days;

Then slew himself,—set free his soul from earth’s affrays.350

The people, hearing of his death, were sorely grieved;

Around his corpse collected; eyes, ears, scarce believed.

With many bitter moans to sorrow they gave vent;

Their breasts they beat, their hair they tore, their clothing rent.

To count their multitudes is in God’s power alone;

Turks, Arabs, Kurds, and Romans,113 men of every zone.

They scattered o’er their heads the dust from his last home;

To mourn for him was balm, all ills to overcome.

They wept. Their bitter, briny tears they shed in floods;

His grave a pool; those tears, as streamlets from the woods.355

To lose him was a grief unspeakable that fell

On rich and poor, on high and low, too sad to tell.

A month of mourning past, the people sought to know

Whom he’d appointed in his place their way to show.

Whom must we recognise successor to our saint?

Into whose hands commit the task of our restraint?

He was a sun of light; his fire hath turned to fume,

A candle now we need our darkness to illume.

Our friend is gone,—is lost to our inquiring eyes.

A substitute we seek,—memorial we may prize.360

Our rose is withered;—rosebush leaves all blown away,

Which vase holds now the rose-scent in its perfumed clay?”

God is invisible to weakly mortal sight,

His prophets are a need, to guide His Church aright.

No! That’s not right! That phrase is sadly incorrect.

A prophet’s one with God; not two. Think well! Reflect!

They are not two; they’re one. Thou blind materialist!

With God they’re one; their forms but make Him manifest.

Thou seest the form alone; thy two eyes are at fault.

Look with thy soul; thou’lt see as God from heaven’s vault.365

Thy two sights will united be straightway in one,

When thou behold’st the Light of God’s eternal throne.

Set up ten burning candles in one selfsame place,

A separate body, each, diffuses light and grace.

Their powers combine in one, to brighten that retreat;

Distinction now there’s none; one light alone we meet.

Count out a hundred apples, quinces, pears, or plums;

When mashed together, all their juice, their pulp, their scums.

Things spiritual division, number, parts, know not,

They split not into fractions, form no separate lot.370

’Tis sweet when friends with friends together come and meet.

Trust then the spirit. “’Tis the letter kills”—repeat.

Thy body mortify; thy flesh consume with pains.

Behind it hid thou’lt find God’s unity—thy gains.

If thou the body vex not,—bring not low betimes,

The flesh will thee destroy, my friend, in fiery flames.

The flesh it is that shows itself to human heart;

The flesh it is demands asceticism’s sharp smart.

We simple were; one essence was the source of all.

Nor head, nor foot had we; one pristine lot did fall.375

One substance held us; we were clear as is the sun;

No knots or gnurs within us, free as water’s run.

On taking fleshly form, that simple essence, then,

Became divided, split, like shadows in each glen.

Make low the hills and hillocks, level make the plain;

No shadow’s left; the whole becomes one scene again.

With pleasure I’d this matter clearer put, and joy.

But tender consciences I seek not to annoy.

Abstruser points there are, as keen as sword in fight.

If reason’s shield thou hast not, refuge take in flight.380

My arguments contest not, unless well prepared.

Sharp blade will cut; it pities not; no life is spared.

I sheathe my sword of argument,—will not make assault.

Lest muddlers read me wrong, and say ’tis I’m at fault.

We come now back again, to follow up our tale,

To keep our faith with readers, feminine and male;

And say again, the people rose up as one man,

Demanding who should work out our dead Vaz?r’s plan.

One legion-captain forward

IV.
Another Jewish King, Persecutor of Christians.

A second Jewish king, descendant of the first,

To persecute the Christians showed hate’s fiercest thirst.

If information’s sought about this wicked king,

That chapter of the Qur’an read: “Heaven’s Girdle-Ring.”121

A sorry rite it was the first had introduced;

With cruel zeal this wicked rite the last abused.

The introducer of a rule that tends to ill,

Draws on his head deep curses, morn and even, still.

The good decease; their bright example serves as guide;

The wicked soon decay; their name all men deride.5

The children of those sinners, till the trump of doom,

Are cursed as soon as born; no lot more full of gloom.

How many springs burst forth, one salt, the other sweet;

Their savour changes, while the days and nights compete.

The good are promised their inheritance aloft,

Of waters sweet;122 in Scripture mentioned oft and oft.123

The seeker’s wish, if rightly we consider it,

A scintillation is of flame from holy writ.

No flame exists apart from body whence it burns;

Where’er the burning body hies, the flame, too, turns.10

A window-light will wander all around a room;

Because the rising sun to sunset tends, and gloom.

That which to any constellation’s stars pertains,

Must move with it, rise, set, south, as its place ordains.

The man who under Venus’ influence was born

Is joyous, amorous, ambitious, with greed torn.

If Mars his planet be, his temper’s bellicose;

War, scandal, litigation,—these he most does choose.

But other stars there are, the planets, seven, beside;

And unto men from them nor good, nor ills betide.15

Revolving in another firmament than they,

Above the spheres that bear the orbs of night and day.

Bright through the moral splendour lent them by the Lord;

Not bound together quite, nor yet in disaccord.

The man whose soul is influenced by one of those,

Like meteors, still shall drive away the spirit’s foes.

His disposition feeleth not the rage of Mars;

He temporises;—meekly acts in prosperous wars.

His light’s triumphant;—darkness it shall never know.

Between two fingers holdeth he the truth, I trow.20

The truth doth shed a shining light on human souls,

Received by heaven’s favourites, in special ghostly strolls.

Illumined with that light, as spangles deck a bride,

They turn their souls to God, contemning all beside.

Who feels not keenly love’s great soul-compelling might,

Is portionless of spangles from truth’s flashing light.

All parts must ever share the nature of their whole,

As nightingale pours out unto one rose its soul.

Whatever property may qualify a thing

Externally, man’s qualities are mind’s offspring.25

From purity, rich colours rise, good qualities;

Stains,—moral, or as dyes,—from gross impurities.

“God’s Baptism” is the name of all that’s good in man;

“The curse of God,” of all that’s evil in our plan.124

In which of these two seas our streamlets may subside,

They but return into the source from whence their tide.

From mountain-tops, swift torrents rushing down apace.

From men’s frames, love-inspired souls, anon the race.

The counsel hear, that now, this Jewish dog did take.

Beside a fire a hideous idol he did make,30

And proclamation ran: “Whoever ’d save his soul,

This idol worships; or in fire he’s burnt to coal.”125

Thus having made his hate an idol to himself,

A second idol straightway he invents, this elf.

The mother of all idols is our fleshly pride.

They’re dragons; this, the egg of cockatrice’s bride.

The flesh is flint and steel; our pride is but its spark.

That pride pervades the flesh as fecundation’s mark.

Can moisture quench the latent spark in flint and steel?

Can man be safe while flesh and pride he lives to feel;35

In flint and steel we know that fire is still alive.

No water’s of avail that fire from them to drive.

With water we put out a fire when burning bright;

The spark in flint and steel is safe from water’s might.

From flint and steel of flesh what burnings still ensue!

Their sparks, the blasphemies of Christian and of Jew!

If water in the jug and pitcher come to end,

On wellspring we must draw, a fresh supply to send.

Our idol is the muddy dregs left in our jug;

The flesh the sewer from whence it filters, spite of plug.40

The graven idol (fed from blackest sewer tide

In flesh, its graver), was as fountain by wayside.

The inward idol, pride, the filthy jug’s black slush;

The prurient flesh, the source from which it had its gush.

A hundred potters’ pitchers one small stone can break;

And spill the cooling water drawn our thirst to slake.

To smash an idol, too, quite easy may appear;

Not easy to root out the flesh; too hard, I fear.

Would see the picture of the flesh, inquiring youths?

Description read of hell, with seven yawning mouths.12645

From each soul’s flesh comes forth a special mode of guile.

Each guile, a whirlpool ready Pharaoh’s hosts to spoil.

In Moses, and in Moses’ God, seek refuge then.

Abandon not God’s faith for Pharaohs and their men.

The one true God adore; in Ahmed’s faith believe.

Thy soul and body save,—from Abu-Jahl retrieve.127

The Jew a Christian mother to that idol brought.

An infant in her arms; the fire with blazes fraught.

“Fall down and worship;” cried he, “senseless stock adore;

The fire shall then not harm thee, now, nor evermore.”50

That mother was a woman firm in true belief;

And thence disdained prostration, though ’t should give relief.

They snatched her infant; next, they dashed it in the flame.

The mother’s spirit quailed to see this deed of shame.

Though not herself, to save her infant, she’d bow down.

But lo! a miracle! The babe cried: “Let alone!

Uninjured am I here. Come in. Be not dismayed.

’Tis cool and pleasant. Cease to feel of fire afraid;—

Mere blinding bandage to the eyes;—naught but a veil.

God’s mercy’s here revealed,—made manifest. All hail!55

Come in, my mother, dear. The truth thou shalt record.

Thou’lt here perceive how saints hold converse with the Lord.

Come in; and witness water blazing high, as fire.

This is a world where flame like water is;—not dire.

Come. Look on miracles for blessed Abr’am wrought;128

Whose furnace changed to gardens, out of firewood brought.

Death then I underwent, when I was born of thee.

The fear of death swept o’er me, ere my eyes could see.

With birth I ’scaped from prison, narrow, dark, and drear;

Emerging to a world, vast, radiant, bright, and clear.60

Alas! that world, you see, is but a second womb.

Joy, comfort, happiness, are found beyond the tomb.

Within this fire a realm of wonders lies around;

Each atom’s here a Jesus;—balm to heal each wound.

This world I’m in’s reality;—not merely form.

The scene I’ve left’s all vanity;—food for the worm.

Come in, my mother; quick! Seize this auspicious hour.

Come in! Let opportunity not ’scape thy pow’r.

Come in; come in; in name of parent’s tenderness.

Come in! This fire has no devouring ruthlessness.65

Come in! Thou’st witnessed all that Jewish dog can move.

Come in! The grace and power of God Almighty prove.

’Tis from my love for thee I thus so much insist;

From pleasure felt by me, for thee I’ve fear dismissed.

Come in; come in! And others call, to follow thee.

The Great King here His bounteous table’s spread for me.

Come in; come in! All of you, saints of God, elect!

Resigned ones!129 Faith’s cup of martyrdom select!

Come in! Flock in; in crowds; as moths around a light!

This year has tens of thousands springs; but not one night.”70

Thus loudly cried the infant from its bed of flame.

Th’ assembled crowds all heard it. All were seized with shame.

A sudden holy impulse urged them to obey.

In crowds those men and women cast their lives away.

No force was needed;—no compulsion;—all was love;

For bitterness is sweet to all whom love doth move.

To such a point it came that guards and soldiers, all,

Were fain to cry: “Withhold! The fire is more than full!”

The Jewish king at sight of all this love and zeal,

Was shamed,—was thunderstruck; his wicked heart did reel.75

He saw that faith can give the lover’s ardent flame.

Self-sacrifice is naught in true devotion’s name.

Thank God! Beelzebub was conquered in that Jew.

Thank God! ’Twas Satan’s self these darksome deeds did rue.

The shame he sought to bring upon the cheeks of some,

A hundredfold was heaped on his own head at home.

He thought from others’ shame the veiling leaf to tear;

He saw them safe, his own foul nakedness laid bare.

A ribald fellow once, by lewdest mob sustained,

Called railing out on Ahmed. Wry his mouth remained.80

He then came begging pity, in the Prophet’s trace:

“Forgive, Muhammed, who’rt endued with wisdom’s grace.

For want of knowing better, insolent I was.

’Tis I that merit scorn and mockery. Alas!”

When God decides to humble any sinner, proud,

A demon stirs this last t’ insult some man of God.

And he whom God elects to cloak where ’tis he halts,

Has grace bestowed on him to cover others’ faults.

Should favour from the Lord in mercy reach a man,

Humility is given him; to pray ’s part of his plan.85

How blessed are the eyes that smart with sorrow’s brine!

How blessed is the heart inflamed with love divine!

Contrition’s tears are ever hallowed by heaven’s smile.

The latter end of all things man should scan awhile.

Wherever water flows, the fields are fresh and green.

Tears followed are by grace;—as all the prophets ween.

Then imitate the water-wheel, that groans and weeps.130

By prayers, and moans, and tears, a man his heart pure keeps.

Wouldst thou shed tears? Feel pity, when thou meetest woe.

Wouldst mercy find? Show mercy, when men bow them low.90

The Jewish king reproached the fire: “O raging thing!

Thy all-destructive might, where is it? Where’s thy sting?

If thou wilt not consume, what quality hast thou?

Or has my fortune veered; and with it, thy dread glow?

Thou sparest not thy worshippers, the Magian race.

Whence comes it; these who spurn thee, Christians, meet with grace?

Thou never wast, O fire, for patience noted here.

Why burn’st thou not? What is there? Hast thou lost thy power?

Is this eye-binding?131 Is it, rather, reason’s blind?

How is’t thy flames consume not all their hated kind?95

Bewitched thee have they? Or is’t magic natural?

Or is’t my fortune wills that thou turn prodigal?”

To him the fire: “O miscreant! I’m still the same.

Come in and try, thou, how thou’lt find my smallest flame.

My nature, as my substance, has not suffered change.

Outside my nature’s limit I’ve no power to range.

At door of Turkman’s tent the savage household dogs

Do wag their tails before a guest, and crouch like logs.

But should a stranger pass by, near the guarded tent,

Him then those dogs assail, with lion-like intent.100

Less than a dog I’m not, in service to my Lord.

Than Turkman less, there’s none, in rights, upon earth’s sward.”

When fire thy body injures, and inflicts some harm;

Remember, its consuming power can also warm.

And when a fire thus serves thee, acts some needful part,

Reflect! Those qualities thou seest did God impart.

Art injured, ’haps? Fall down; entreat the Lord with prayer.

The hurtful power was given by Him in gracious care.

Should He so will, each injury a blessing is.

Chained captives find their freedom by a word of His.105

Fire, air, earth, water, all are servants of their God.

I, thou, them lifeless deem. He knows they live and plod.

In presence of the great Creator fire must still

Its service do; and, lover-like, work out His will.

Thou strikest flint on steel; fire instantly leaps forth.

’Tis by commandment of the Lord it thus takes birth.

Strike not together, thou, the flint and steel of lust.

For, male and female like, they’ll generate; they must.

The flint and steel are means. Far higher raise thy look.

With reason thou’rt endowed. Go; read the holy book.110

One means comes from another means; and cause from cause.

Without a means or cause, no means from self e’er rose.

The means by which all prophets’ miracles are wrought,

Of higher order are than earthly means; no doubt.

Man’s mind can compass how these latter act, and when;

The former hidden are from all but prophet’s ken.

These former ’tis that give the latter power to act;

And rarely, that, their normal action, counteract.

A means a rope is, by the help of which we reach;

And in this worldly pit by means each reaches each.115

Around its coiling cylinder the well-rope’s wound.

To shut our eyes to this would blind indeed be found.

The ropes by means of which results are seen to steer,

In this our world, deem not they’re moved by star or sphere;

Lest thou become confused and giddy like a wheel;—

Take fire, consume, like tinder, sparks of shame to feel.

The air becomes a fire at times by God’s decree.

Both air and fire run wild with joy, His means to be.

The streams of mercy, the consuming fires of wrath,

Thou’lt see, my son, are both from God. Look well, forsooth.120

Were not the wind aware of God’s almighty power,

How had it ever blown the blast of ‘Ad’s132 last hour?

Around his Muslims Hud a saving circle drew.

The wind within that mystic circuit softly blew.

While all that were beyond were dashed to pieces soon.

Like chaff before the breeze, their limbs around were strewn.

Shayban the shepherd, too, a circle round his fold

Was used to draw; whate’er the season, hot or cold;

On Fridays, when, at midday’s sacred hour of praise,

He to a congregation hied; lest wolf should seize.125

No wolf was ever known to break the holy spell;

Nor sheep to stray beyond; each knew the limit well.

To wind, to wolf, to sheep, and lusts of every one,

The circle traced by saint a barrier was, like stone.

To Gnostic, so likewise, the harmless gale of death

Blows mild and gentle, summer-breezes-like on heath.

And fire was fangless; could not Abraham offend.

How should it hurt him? Was he not God’s “Chosen Friend”?

The pious man burns not in fire of fleshly lust.

But sinners still consumed are upon earth’s crust.130

The Red Sea waves, all raging by divine command,

The host of Israel knew; but Pharaoh’s armies drown’d.

The earth, again, wide gaping at Jehovah’s word,

Did Korah and his wealth devour; but Moses spared.133

In Jesu’s hand, warmed with his breath, the fictile clay

As living birds arose, spread wing, and flew away.134

Thy lauds and praises, too, breath from thy frame account.

Sincerity them vivifies; to heaven they mount.

The rock of Sion danced at sight of Moses’ God135

As perfect cenobite; its faults were all removed.135

What wonder if a hill should dance and saint become?

Was not great Moses’ self a clod of clay and loam?

The Jewish king now manifested great surprise.

These things, he said, were mockeries, mere patent lies.

His councillors conjured him more sedate to be;

And not to push his hardihood to rash degree.

These councillors he fettered, into prison cast;

Injustice to injustice adding, first and last.

A shout was heard from heaven when matters reached that point:

“Jew dog! Prepare for vengeance from on high! Aroynt!”140

The fire then blazed amain; its flames lapped all around.

It slew and burnt the mob of Jews from off the ground.

Their origin was hell, from whence their souls had come;

Their goal was also hell; to it they now went home.

The Jewish race is hellish; many proofs are shown.

Parts are they of a whole accursed; as is well known.

Their nature hellish; all their joy God’s saints to burn.

Their fire recoiled upon themselves. ’Twas justice’ turn.

For them, who were, by nature, children born of wrath,

The lowest depths of hell were fittest cells, forsooth.145

A mother ever yearneth after her own child;

A dam is ever followed by her offspring wild.

Though true that water may enclosed be in a tank,

The air will it absorb. ’Twas thence to earth it sank.

Air sets it free; direct, restores it to its source,

By little and by little. None perceive its course.

So, too, our breath, in manner like, steals soul away,

By little and by little, from this house of clay,

In words of praise, ascending to God’s holy throne,

From us to where He reigns;—as known to Him alone.150

Our breathings rise on wings of true sincerity,

The offerings of our hearts to all eternity.

We then receive rewards for those poor words of praise,

In tenfold showers of mercy from th’ Ancient of Days.

And we are still constrained to utter songs of thanks,

That man should so be raised above th’ angelic ranks.

This rising and descending alternates for aye.

The Lord forbid that I should fail therein one day!

We’re drawn, we are attracted, so to love the Lord;

As we were first instructed, firm to trust His word.155

Each man will turn his eyes in hope towards the place,

Where he has tasted joy some former day of grace.

The pleasures of each kind are most with their own kin;

As part must share with whole its qualities, its sin.

Things needs must be assigned unto a common class,

If aught they have in common; two will form a race.

Thus bread and water are not human at the first;

But human they become, through hunger and through thirst.

In form they have no tie with us of human kind;

But through a special link they kindred with us find.160

If pleasure, then, we find in what’s not of our race,

Be sure there’s some connection through which this takes place.

If that connection but resemblance be in shape,

It will not last; it’s for a time; it must escape.

’Tis true that birds find pleasure in a whistle’s note;

But then they fancy ’tis their mate’s, on whom they dote.

And if a thirsty man take pleasure in his wine,

He tastes the lees, and loathes. To water he’ll incline.

A pauper may amused be with counterfeited coin;

But take this to the mint; defaced ’twill be, in fine.165

Then be not thou misled with gilded counterfeit;

Delusion will thee plunge headlong into hell’s pit.

V.
The Lion and the Beasts.

Kalil’ and Dimna’s book relates a charming tale,136

From which males may a moral draw;—and eke, female.

Within a shelter’d vale, four-footed game in droves,

Were kept in tremor by a lion from its groves.

So frequently had he borne victims off from thence,

The vale a prison had become in every sense.

A consultation held, they fair proposals state,

To satisfy the lion’s hunger by a rate;

But on condition that he rapine lay aside,

And not prolong disquiet in that valley wide.5

The lion gave consent, if they’d perform their part;

Remarking: “I’ve a victim been to wily art.

Man persecutes me with his deadly stratagems;

The snake and scorpion sting me;—rancour’s true emblems.

But worse than any man, in venom and in spleen,

The fleshly lust within me traitor’s always been.

But I’ve grown wary. Has not Ahmed said: ‘Rely!

Believers are not twice caught by the selfsame lie?’”137

Their answer was: “O most sagacious, knowing guide,

Thy caution pray dismiss; decree of God abide.10

Suspicion, caution, ever is corroding ill.

Put trust in Providence; and God thy maw will fill.

Strive not with Providence, however strong thou be;

Lest Providence should take offence, and war with thee.”

He answered them: “Sure! Sure! Trust Providence we must.

His prophets in the Lord have always placed their trust.

To trust in God, and yet put forth our utmost skill,

The surest method is, to work His holy will.

The Prophet plainly said to his disciple train:

‘Put trust in God, and bind thy camel’s shank amain.’13815

Remember the old saw: ‘The friend of God must work.’139

Through trust in God, neglect not ways and means, O clerk.”

Abashed they were not; answer thus they promptly made:

“To gain aught from the poor is fraud; a trick of trade.

There is no gain so good as trust placed in the Lord.

What more praiseworthy than to build upon His word?

How many flee this danger, falling into that!

From fryingpan leaps one, to light in fire right pat.140

Man plans a stratagem; in it is caught himself.

That which he took for health, he finds is death itself.20

He locks his door when treason’s lurking in his house.

So Pharaoh deemed he’d danger shun ere it should rouse.

How many thousand infants did he doom to death;

While Moses, whom he feared, his own roof was beneath.

Our eyes afflicted are with various kinds of ills.

Then go and make them blind, by seeing God ’tis wills.

God’s sight of providence is keener than men’s eyes.

By seeing with His sight, thou’lt find all thou wilt prize.

An infant, that can neither grasp nor walk as yet,

Takes seat upon his father’s neck, and runs. Sweet pet.25

Some seasons past, he scarcely gains some strength of limb;

When sorrow fastens on him;—sharp, and ghastly grim.

The hearts of men, before they gain or power or wealth,

Decline away from duty, pleasures seek by stealth.

And since by God’s decree from paradise they’re rent,

They prisoners become to rage, lust, discontent.

We are the household of that Householder, whose word

Thus spake: ‘Creation’s all as children of the Lord.’141

He that doth send the fattening rain upon the earth,

In mercy, too, can feed His creatures from their birth.”30

The lion thus replied: “’Tis true. But still, the Lord

A ladder sets before our feet to be explor’d.

Step after step we have to mount unto the roof.

Th’ idea of compulsion’s quite devoid of proof.

Two feet thou hast. Then why thyself hold to be lame?

Two hands also. Why maimed account thyself in name?

Whene’er a master puts a spade in hand of slave,

He has no need to speak; the act expression gave.

Our hands just so are given; spades they are to us.

Think out this problem well; it needs not any fuss.35

When thou hast laid this unction to thy soul amain,

In duty’s path to lay down life thou’lt count as gain.

Those symbols indices are, whence are secrets known.

Responsibility’s from thee withdrawn; work shown.

Thou’rt surely burdened. Borne also most truly art.

Recipient; hence accepted;—fully on His part.

Recipient be of God’s command; content thou’lt be.

Seek unto Him; and to Him joined thyself thou’lt see.

To strive to give thanks power provides this to perform.

Allege compulsion. Gratitude’s ground thou’lt deform.40

Thanks for thy powers the power of thanks tenfold expands.

Take favour for compulsion. Power will leave thy hands.

Compulsion dost affirm? That’s sleeping by the way.

Go not to sleep until thou’st fairly won the day.

Sleep not, Compulsionist! Thou man, with folly rife!

Until thou reach the goal, the fruitful Tree of Life.

The cool breeze there will rustle through its leaves profuse,

Each moment scattering fruits for food and future use.

Compulsion’s creed is sleep among the highwaymen;

Unseasonable bird is mercilessly slain.14245

If thou at God’s signs carp and peck, so finding fault,

Though man thou count thyself, ’tis womanlike assault.

The little sense thou hadst has really taken flight;

A head that has no brains is tail turn’d round to sight.

Ungrateful men are ever cursed of God on earth;

And after death are flung to hell-fire’s vengeful hearth.

If thou repose thy trust in God’s almighty pow’r,

Sow first thy seed; and then, await the harvest hour.”

The beasts a clamour raised; they would not be repressed:

“They who on means depend, are urged by greed confessed.50

The millions upon millions, man and womankind,

Are pinched by want; they suffer need; they food scarce find.

By millions and by millions, since creation’s day,—

Insatiate dragons,—they their gaping jaws display.

A crowd of would-be wise men stratagems invent,

Enough to upset mountains, could they give them vent.

So God himself described in His most holy book

Their arts: ‘By which they’d tear away the hills.’143 Just look.

Except the lot decreed by Providence of yore,

By hunting or by toiling none can swell his store.55

Device of man, his plans, shall all be brought to naught.

God’s dispensations sole will stand, with wisdom fraught.

Strive not then, man of sense; except good name to leave.

Exertion’s a delusion. Out! Thou sottish knave!”

A simpleton one morning rushing came in haste,

Where Solomon his court of justice then had placed.

His cheeks were blanched, his lips were blue; effects of fright.

Said Solomon to him: “What ails thee? Say aright.”

Him answer’d that poor wretch: “The angel, Lord, of death,144

Upon me fixed, just now, a look that stopped my breath.”60

Said Solomon: “What wilt thou I should do for thee?”

He answered: “That the wind may now commanded be145

To carry me away forthwith to Hindustan.

Perchance by fleeing thither, save my life I can.”

See how mankind do shun the garb of poverty.

Hence they’re a prey to greed and dire necessity.

This fear of poverty is like that man’s dismay,

Its Hindustan, remark, is greed and grasping’s sway.

So Solomon the wind commanded, him, forthwith,

To bear to Hindustan; and land him near some frith.65

Another day as Solomon his court did hold,

Death’s angel came; the king to him the matter told:

“Thy wrathful look, the other day, upon that man,

Has driven him his home to quit for Hindustan.

Didst thou in wrath survey the pious man that way,

That he might wander forth a waif, like sheep astray?

Or was thy look’s intent, so dreadful to behold,

His soul to separate from its corporeal fold?”

To him replied the angel: “King of sprites and men!

His fancy him misled; he’ll ne’er do so again.70

’Twas not in anger then that I did look on him;

’Twas wonder him to see here, looking hale and prim.

For God had me commanded: ‘Go this very day,

And take his soul in Hindustan, his debt to pay.’

In wonder, then, I said within myself: ‘Had he

A hundred wings, in Hindustan he could not be.’

But going, still, by God’s command, to Hindustan,

Him there I found, and took his soul with my own hand.”

So thou, good reader, understand, the things of earth

’Tis God ordains. Reflect. ’Twas written ere his birth.75

From whom to flee? From self? Oh! That’s absurd!

From whom to steal? From God? Worse, worse! No word!

The lion now remarked: “The words you speak are true.

But just consider how the prophets, saints, ensue.

What they have wrought hath God blessed, made to prosper still;

Their joys and griefs, their sufferings, pains, were by His will.

Their stratagems dictated by their God were, all.146

‘Who comes of gentle blood, will gentle words let fall.’147

Their traps have taken angels with the baits they placed.

Their seeming slips and faults were all by wisdom traced.80

Exert thyself, O man; put shoulder to the wheel,

The prophets and the saints to imitate in zeal.

Exertion’s not a struggle against Providence.

’Twas Providence enjoined it,—made it our defence.

Blasphemer may I be, if ever single man

Bestowed in vain one effort to fulfil God’s plan.

Thou hast no broken bones; why bind thy limbs in splints?

Have patience yet awhile; then laugh; we’re not mere flints.

It is a bad investment to seek worldly gain.148

Whose hope is placed in heaven never shall see pain.14985

The stratagems employed for worldly gain are vile,

But stratagems for gaining heaven are worth our while.

Blest stratagem is that which bursts a prison door.

Curst stratagem is one that spreads a dungeon floor.

The world’s a dungeon. We are all in prison here.

Burst, then, thy prison gate, and free thyself from fear.

What is the world? Unmindful of our God to be;

Not gold or silver, wife or children, things we see.

The wealth we hold at service of our God is blest.

‘The riches of the just are pure,’ Ahmed confess’d.90

The water from a leak is danger to a ship;

The sea beneath her keel is just what makes her skip.

Great Solomon despised wealth, sway, with all his heart.

With countless treasures poor he named himself. Best part!

An empty jar will float upon a raging sea,

The air that fills it will not let it sunken be.

Th’ afflatus of true poverty man’s soul will buoy.

Above the troubles of the world he rides. Ahoy!

Should all earth’s boundless riches by him be possessed;

The whole is viewed in his pure sight as naught at best.95

Close then the inlet to thy heart; seal it with love;

First filling it with wisdom’s spirit from above.

Endeavour is from God; so sickness, and its balm.

He vainly strives who would deny this truthful psalm.”

Of this complexion, many proofs the lion brought;

No answer those compulsionists in dispute sought.

The fox, the deer, the hare, and eke the sly jackal,

Were fain to quit compulsion’s cause, for good and all.

A treaty they concluded with the forest king,

That he, by this concession, should not lose a thing.100

His daily ration ready always should be found;

And he should have no cause to trespass on their ground.

Lots they would cast among themselves from day to day.

On whom the lot should fall, he’d be the lion’s prey.

But lo, at length the lot upon the hare did light.

He found it very hard, and wailed his awful plight.

The other beasts remarked: “We each have had our turn;

And none of us refused th’ agreement to confirm.

By breach of faith on us fresh infamy bring not.

Begone forthwith; the lion must not be forgot.”105

The hare replied: “Dear friends, a respite to me grant.

A stratagem I’ll plan, and cheat this grim tyrant.

My wily plan shall save the souls of all alive;

And safety heirloom be your children shall derive.

Thus every prophet’s promised to his sect, at least,

Salvation from the doom o’erhanging man and beast.

They found a ready way to ’scape beyond the spheres,

So soon as to reflect they turned their minds from fears.

Man sees another’s eye is but a wee, wee thing;

He knows how great a service can th’ eye’s pupil bring.”110

The beasts in answer: “Jackass! Prate to us no more.

Consider. Thou’rt a hare; a beast of no great store.

What talk is this? Thy betters ne’er have used such speech.

They never would have dared to think as thou dost preach.

It must be thou’rt o’erweening, or our fate’s at hand.

For otherwise, pretensions such as thine can’t stand.”

To them as a rejoinder puss spoke: “My dear friends,

My inspiration’s God’s; small means effect great ends.

The wisdom God hath taught the little honey-bee,

You do not find possessed by lion, or by me.115

We see its cells arranged, with liquid sweetness filled,

The portals of such art to open God hath willed.

Then see the silkworm, how it’s taught by God to spin.

Have elephants the power to draw out threads so thin?

The earthy Adam was by God taught all our names.150

His knowledge was the admiration of heaven’s frames.

Th’ angelic choir were silenced; they knew not so much.

The fiend be cursed. He’d not confess the fact was such.

That fasting hermit of six hundred thousand years151

Became the new-born babe’s dire muzzle,—source of tears.120

Lest it should suck the milk religion’s teachings give,—

Lest it should soar on high around heaven’s towers, and live,—

The learning of external sense a muzzle lies,—

The milk of truth sublime’s denied to all its cries.

But God hath planted in man’s heart a precious pearl.

Nor seas, nor skies, such gem enclose within their whirl!

How long of form thy talk—form-worshipper—vain man?

Cannot thy senseless soul cast off form’s deadening ban?

Did human form alone suffice a man to make,

Ahmed and Abu-Jahl were one in grade, in stake.125

A painting on a wall may show the human form.

But look and see what lacks, the figure to inform.

’Tis life it wants, and soul;—the pretty-looking thing!

Ask for its life. No! No! Though portrait of a king.

The heads of all earth’s lions bowed down meek and low,

When God the Seven Sleepers’152 dog applauded. How!

To call it dog, to charge it with defect of race,

No harm can do it; God in heaven hath given it place.

’Twas not the pen prescrib’d the qualities of form;

Th’ Omniscient, the Just, ’twas, made it multiform.130

Th’ Omniscient, the Just, a Spirit is, All-Blest;

Him no place holds; He’s not before, behind, east, west.

He influences matter from His high abode;

But heaven of heavens cannot contain the Spirit’s mode.”

That theme is endless. Let us then just turn away.

Let’s ask about the hare; hear what he has to say.

Sell off thy ass’ ears; with the price a fresh pair buy.

An ass’s ears will never understand this cry.153

Go to. Examine well the hare’s most foxy wile,—

The subtle stratagem that did the lion foil.135

Wisdom’s the seal by which great Solomon did rule.

The whole world’s but a frame, and wisdom is its soul.

Hence ’tis, by wisdom’s spell, as clay on potter’s wheel,

The seas, the hills, the plains, are made man’s power to feel.

The lion, tiger, leopard, dread him as does mouse;

The shark, the crocodile, he follows to their house.

The demon and the fairy, both constrained to flight,

Have hid themselves from him,—are only seen by night.

The human being has his foes hid every side.

A prudent man by caution may in safety bide.140

Those hidden foes,—the hideous, and the fair as well,—

By day and night affect his heart with charm and spell.

Thou enterest a river, just to have a bathe;

A hidden thorn may pierce thy foot, bared of its swathe.

Thou seest it not. ’Tis hid at bottom of the stream.

Thou feel’st it in thy foot; thou knowest it’s not a dream.

Plagues, troubles, fears, and cares, of various degree,

All spring from many sides, and fix themselves in thee.

Bear all with patience; slowly thou’lt experience gain.

Thou’lt recognise the truth; the dark will be made plain.145

At length thou’lt scout the vagaries of learned men,

And take unto thyself, as patterns, saints of ken.

The beasts on second thoughts resolved to hear puss out.

“Explain,” said they, “what ’tis thou’dst have us set about.

Let’s hear; ’tis with the lion we shall have to do.

Set forth thy plan; let’s see what stratagem’s in view.

Deliberation’s ever wisdom’s truest friend;

Two heads than one are better,—lead to safer end.

The prophet spake: ‘O ruling judge, ere thou decide,

Take counsel; for ’tis said: “In councillors confide.“’”150

The hare objects: “A secret’s not for ev’ry clod.

Odd even is at times; and sometimes even’s odd.

Too closely with a mirror shouldst thou converse hold,

From prudery it umbrage takes, grows dull; the scold.

On matters three, allow not oft thy lips to speak:

First, going; gold, next; third, the path thou hast to seek.

These all have sundry enemies and deadly foes,

Who’ll lie in ambush, each, if he thy purpose knows.

If thou ‘Adieu’ to only one or two shouldst call,

Remember: ‘Two’s a secret; three is none at all.’155

If fast together thou shouldst bind birds, two or three,

They’ll quiet lie on earth, nor strive themselves to free.

Men hold it best to ask for counsel in wide terms.

Beware; and wrangle not with perverse pachyderms.

The Prophet covertly men’s counsel used to seek.

His answer he’d obtain; his purpose did not leak.

He’d speak in parables, and so convey his wish,

That foes might hear, but not suspect its purport. Pish!

He’d ferret out in answers all he wished to learn;

And still not give an inkling of his thought’s real turn.”160

Enough we’ve said of this. Now turn we to our tale.

By puss the lion’s held right hungry in the vale.

And so it was; the hare his counsel did conceal;

He would not let his comrades learn how he would deal.

Some hours he now let pass before he took his leave;

Then to the lion went, their honour to retrieve.

He found the brute impatient, chafing at delay,

From hunger’s pangs fierce howling, tearing every spray;

And roaring in his rage: “I knew it so would be!

Those vile, time-serving rascals! Thus they worry me!165

They’re plausible, smooth-speaking, bland, calm, mild; and still

They’ve cheated me! Alas! Who will be cheated, will!

A too complaisant prince most foully is let in!

Who sees no farther than his nose, none heeds a pin!”

The path is smoothed beneath which lurks a deadly trap.

A missive’s filled with compliments; all mere clap-trap.

Bland messages, smooth words, are but a hook or snare.

Civility’s a sandbank; life’s bark’s oft wrecked there,

The sand from which a spring of water’s seen to flow

Is rare to find. Go, seek such. Where? I do not know.170

Yes, yes! Be sure that sand’s a holy man of God,

Unto himself lost, rapt, in union with his Lord.

Religion’s crystal waters flow from him apace;

Disciples thence are edified and grow in grace.

A worldling is a sandbank, void of moisture quite,

On which you may make shipwreck, lose all chance of light.

Seek wisdom, then, from wisdom’s sons, the pure of mind;

So mayest thou learn the way salvation’s port to find.

A seeker after wisdom, is, of wisdom, fount.

“Humanities” he shuns; them, he does trash account.175

A memory replete with holy Qur’?n’s lore

A “hidden tablet” is;154 its mind is wisdom’s store.

If man begin as pupil to good common sense,

He’ll end by being teacher,—mind, his audience.

Man’s mind declares, as Gabriel to Ahmed there,155

“One step beyond due limit leaves me ashes sere.

Go forward, man of God; leave me; I know my place.

To every one’s not given to see God face to face.”

Whoever, out of sloth, endeavour’s path shall quit,

And patience lose, compulsion’s creed must needs admit.180

Whoe’er affirms compulsion, brings woe on himself,

Until his troubles to the grave conduct the elf.

The Prophet said: “My mission, ’s truth to preach to man.

Much trouble will surround it during my life’s span.”

Compulsion’s but the setting of a broken bone,156

Or binding of a muscle, torn, asunder gone.

Thou hast not broke thy leg in travelling God’s path.

Why put thy leg in splints? Cast off the idle swath.

He that shall really lose a leg in God’s just fight,

To him Bur?q shall come, a chariot of light.157185

Religion’s carrier was he; carried then he’ll be.

God’s precepts he accepted; accepted now is he.

The Great King’s orders has he bravely carried out.

Henceforward he’s a herald;—shall God’s judgments shout.

The planets until now may have affected him;

Above the planets now he rests, and rules their trim.

If forms material find much honour in thy sight,

Thou’lt doubt the truth of writ: “The moon clave,” left and right.158

Renew thy faith at heart, not merely with mouth’s gust,

O hypocrite, who covertly dost worship lust.190

While lust is dominant, faith cannot be so strong;

For lust’s a bolt to close the door, lest faith should throng.

The virgin text of God explain not thou away;

Reform thyself; deform not what the Lord doth say.

As suits thy lusts thou comments makest on God’s Qur’?n.

Vile, as by thee perverted, is its sense, base man.

Thy case resemblance has with one of silly fly,

Who once upon a time himself thought very high.

Intoxicated was he, though he’d sipp’d no wine.

Like sunbeam’s mote he saw himself most gaily shine.195

He’d heard of noble falcons scorning lure and cage;

And straightway dubbed himself the phoenix of the age.

Our fly on scrap of straw, in pool from ass’s ease,

Had poised himself, as though a sailor on the seas.

Then cried: “Lo! I’ve called forth a sea and ship at will.

Long since I ’ve had a notion, pleasure’s cup to fill.

Behold a sea and ship of which I captain am,

Imbued with naval science, bold as any ram.”

Imagination thus had conjured up a sea.

To him it boundless seemed, dwarfing credulity.200

Compared with him it was a truly boundless pool.

When people see with their own eyes, call them not fool.

His universe was measured by his power of sight.

To such an eye such pool a sea was. He was right.

A false interpreter of scripture is such fly.

His fancy is the urine pool on which straws ply.

If flies in fancy thus explain the things they see,

By fortune’s freaks, in turn, a phoenix each may be.

He’s less than fly, of whom this tale example lends;

His soul unworthy is ev’n of the frame it tends.205

Just like the hare who’d lion undertake to fight,

How should his soul remain in his poor carcase, slight?

The lion growled in tones of anger and of rage:

“My ear it was bewrayed me; war my foes did wage.

Compulsionists’ false wiles placed bandage on my eyes.

Their wooden swords it was that stung my skin, like flies.

Henceforward I’ll not list to such cajoleries,—

Of elves and demons, in the wilderness, mere cries.

Tear, rend them; O my heart, pay no regard to them.

Strip off their skins; there’s naught beneath; mere stratagem.”210

When words deceitful are employed as wraps for guile,

They’re bubbles on the water, only last a while.

Such words are merely shell; th’ intent their kernel is;—

Or coloured portraiture of man; no life is his.

A shell may often cover kernel of foul smell.

A kernel sound can well afford to lose its shell.

The crow on hearing this with jealousy was stung.

Addressing Solomon, he said: “This bird a lie has sung.

His insolence is great to boast thus to the king.

Such falsehood’s quite disgusting. Who’s heard such a thing?340

Had he possessed this very wonderful insight,

Would he be caught in springes barely out of sight?

He cannot see those traps beneath a little mound;

So caught he is, and caged. High dudgeon thence is found.”

Said Solomon: “O hoopoe, true is this remark.

A gulp of vanity has set thee raving, stark.

How is it thou’rt so tipsy early in the day,

To come and prate of things so far out of the way?”

The hoopoe then replied: “Great King, against poor me,

For love of God, believe not all my foes’ false plea.345

If untruth I have spoken,—cannot prove my tale,—

I cast myself before thee; kill me without fail.

The crow denies the rule of Providence on earth;

With all his cunning, he’s a miscreant from birth.”

Of miscreants’ defects, if any one in us

Exist, it’s sure to spread,—a plague-spot cancerous.

A snare man may detect in every lust of flesh,

If God’s decree will not he fall into its mesh.

By God’s decree our reason ceases clear to see,

As moon, when darkened all, can hide the sun from me.350

Whoever dares deny God’s ruling providence,

’Tis Providence decrees his blindness, want of sense.

The Father of Mankind, Lord Nomenclator first,168

In every nerve possess’d a vein of knowledge nursed.

He knew the names of all things, right, without default.

From first to last his mind could hold them from revolt.

Whatever name he gave, that name endured unchanged.

If he said: “This thing’s active,” slothful it ne’er ranged.

He knew at first who was believer in God’s word.

He from the first, too, knew the miscreant toward his Lord.355

From one who knows them well, of things seek thou the fames,

And mystery of the symbol: “God taught him the names.”169

The name of everything, with us, is what it seems;

With God, the name of everything, what He it deems.

By Moses was his staff a simple rod proclaimed;

By its Creator, God, a dragon was it named.

‘Umer170 idolater was classed by each array;

God him believer called upon creation’s day.

What is by man termed seed upon this transient heath,

Impressed by God was with the seal: “Father of death.”171360

In realm of nullity that seed received a form,

Existent with its God; nor less, nor more; a worm.

Result thereof sprung forth the essence of our name

With the Creator, who will be our final aim.

He each one names according to his last estate,

Not with respect to that which is but passing fate.

So soon as mind of man with light has gained its strength,

It spies the soul, and mysteries of every name, at length.

When man perceives therein the kingdom of truth’s rays,

He falls in adoration, worships, spends his days.365

That Adam’s praise, whose blessed name we’re proud to bear,172

Should I recite till judgment-day, would not end there.

Decree of Providence so willed, with all his lore,

One single prohibition known, cost him right sore.

He asked: “Was prohibition laid, joy to prevent;

Or can, by gloss, evasion unto it be lent?”

To his mind, explanation having been inferred,

His appetites, perplexed, to taste the wheat preferred.173

A thorn the foot of Eden’s gardener thus rent.

A thief the chance perceived, the garden robbed, and went.370

Amazement o’er, the gardener’s himself again.174

He saw the thief had carried off th’ unguarded train.

He sobbed aloud: “My God, I’ve deeply sinned;” and sighed:

“A darkness came, and from the road I turn’d aside.”

Decree of God was thus a cloud the sun to veil.

A lion, dragon, were a mouse beneath that bale.

When judgment’s needed, should I not detect a snare,

Not I alone am blind, my weakness others share.

Blest he, whose steadfast feet have never gone astray!

Who waywardness has shunned, and taught his tongue to pray!375

Should God’s decree encompass thee with blackest night,

The same decree will readily help set thee right.

Should Providence at times thy life to menace seem,

’Twas Providence that gave it, can prolong its gleam.

Should life’s events appear to threaten every way,

God can in heaven prepare a home for thee to stay.

What ’tis thou tremblest at, a special favour count,

Designed to bring thee safe to Zion’s holy mount.

And now we turn again from morals,—they’ve no end,—

To see how fares it with our lion and his friend.380

They came to where the well was. Here the lion saw

The hare his pace had slackened, backward ’gan to draw.

At this he remonstrated: “What a

VI.
The Greater (Spiritual) Warfare.

Great Princes all! We’ve killed our dread external foe.

Within us, still, a worse than he remains, I trow.

To slay this inner foe is not the task of mind;

Our moral lion’s not destroyed by tricks refined.

Our flesh, a hell; that hell a fiery dragon is.

Whole oceans can’t extinguish those fierce flames of his.

Earth’s seven oceans all were lost within his maw;

His raging fires would still burn high, to mankind’s awe.

Pitcoal, hard-hearted miscreants; these are its food;178

They sink within it, miserable, abject brood.5

Withal, its craving hunger ne’er will be appeased,

Until the voice of God cry unto it: “Art eased?”

“Eased?” will it answer; “No; not yet awhile by far;

Behold my flame, my fury,—burning, fiery roar.”

It swallows down a universe in its fell mood;

And instantly shrieks out: “More food! More food! More food!”

God, from nubiquity,179 His foot will stamp on hell.

Then will it cease to burn: “He willed, and it befell!”180

Our fleshly lusts in us are but a part of hell;

Parts have the qualities of their universal.10

The foot of God alone can stamp out hell’s alarms.

Who else but God supreme to bend such bow has arms?

Straight arrows serve alone to be shot from a bow;

But lust’s distorted spring shoots crooked arrows too.

Be thou in mind upright as arrow straight for bow.

A bow will not shoot straight, unless the arrow’s so.

We’ve fought our fight and conquered in our outward strife.

Now turn we our attention to the inner life.

We’ve done with outer warfare, lesser as it is;

And as the Prophet, wage the greater warfare, his.15

We put our trust in God; from Him we ask for aid;

With His assistance faith can move a mountain staid.

To rout an armed foe is nothing very fresh;

A lion true is he who conquers his own flesh.

To illustrate this truth, give ear unto a tale,

That thou of these few words the moral mayest inhale.

From CÆsar181 an ambassador to ‘Umer came,182

Through deserts far-extending, from Madina’s fame.183

He asked: “Where is the palace of the Caliph, men;184

That I to it may lead my cavalcade, my train?”20

The people answered: “Thou’lt no Caliph’s palace find,

Our Caliph’s sole pavilion’s his enlightened mind.

Through his ‘Commandership’ his fame to Rome has come;185

But like our other poor, a hut’s his ample home.

How shouldst thou see that palace, brother, stranger, guest,

When in thy mind’s eye thou a beam hast, unconfessed?

Cast out that beam; make clear thy eye from every mote

Then mayst thou entertain the hope to see his cote.”

Whoever shall his heart cleanse from all passions’ bale,

Will soon perceive therein a court and presence hale.25

When Ahmed’s heart was cleansed of evil’s fire and smoke,186

Whichever way he turned, God’s countenance bespoke.187

So long as man keeps company with evil thought,

How can he understand God’s countenance in aught?

He that a window’s pierced from heart towards heaven’s recess,

Sees in each mote a ray from Sun of Righteousness.188

God shines apparent in the midst of other things,

As moon in majesty among the stars’ twinklings.

Place thou two finger-tips upon thy two eyeballs.

What seest thou now of all the world? Darkness befalls.30

Thou seest it not; but that the world exists, thou’lt trust.

Our vices are the finger-tips of fleshly lust.

Thy finger-tips remove; instanter, as before,

Thou lookest around and seest whate’er thou wilt explore.

His people asked of Noah where righteousness might be.

He said: “Lo, there! With muffled heads you cannot see.

You’ve wrapped your cloaks in folds about your heads and eyes.

Your sense of sight cannot see what before you lies.”

The world’s eye man is; all the rest’s mere skin and shell.

A real eye’s he who strives his “Friend” to see right well.18935

Unless we see our Friend, ’twere better we were blind,

A friend that is not constant’s better out of mind.

When Rome’s ambassador had heard those words so wise,190

His eager curiosity began to rise.

He sought for ‘Umer with redoubled zeal and zest;

But in so doing lost his horse, and eke his chest.

He wandered everywhere to seek the Caliph out.

Like one distracted asked each passer-by his route.

“Is’t possible,” he said, “that such a man there be,

When like the soul to sight invisible is he?”40

He sought for him as though he ’d been his truant slave,

But: “He who seeks shall find” ’s a very well-known stave.

A desert-Arab woman saw he at the last,

Who told him ‘Umer, then, beneath date-palm slept fast.

Beneath a date-palm! Far from mankind’s busy plod.

That date-palm’s shadow shaded the Shadow of God!191

He went towards the tree; a station took afar;

He saw ‘Umer; a fit of trembling showed his fear.

On that ambassador did awe and dread alight.

While o’er his heart there stole a sense of sweet delight.45

Two feelings, love and dread, by nature opposites,

Were mingled in his bosom by some occult rites.

He thought within himself: “I’ve many princes seen;

In sovereign presence I have ever welcome been.

This fit of awe and trembling’s very strange to me;

And yet without dismay this man I cannot see.

I’ve been in forests where the lions make their lair;

I’ve met them face to face; yet knew not what was fear.

In battle I’ve been, oft; in thickest of the fight.

My arm’s upheld our cause, when in most desperate plight.50

Wounds have I dealt, received, that threatened life to take,

Among the brave, the bravest; my heart knew no quake.

This man is weaponless, supine upon the ground.

Why then this tremor? It my every limb has bound.

A ghostly awe is this; it’s not a mortal fear.

Most certainly it’s not a dread of this man here.

He who fears God has admonition of the Lord;

Both men and demons stand in awe of his mere word.”

Mute he remained in reverential attitude,

Till ‘Umer woke from his trance of beatitude.55

Profound obeisance and grave salutation made,

As said the Prophet: “First, salute; then, embassade.”

The Caliph answered: “And on thee be peace! Draw near;”

Assured him of protection; bade him put off fear.

“Fear not” a word of comfort is to trembling soul;

A generous tribute ’tis, when strong with weak condole.

Men set at ease the object whom they wish to raise,—

Relieve his heart from palpitation; bid fears cease.

But unto one who feels no dread how say: “Fear not”?

What lesson’s this thou givest to one whose lesson’s got?60

So ‘Umer put at ease that much perturbed man;

And calmed his wavering mind, as noble hearts best can.

To him he then addressed some subtle words of sense,

Set forth the attributes of God,—man’s best defence,

Declared the goodness of the Lord to all who trust

In Him alone; the rank they gain in trance combust.

Saint’s ecstasy springs from a glimpse of God, his pride.

His station’s that of intimate. He’s bridegroom; God is bride.192

A bride’s veiled graces are not seen by groom alone;

Her unveiled charms solely to him in private shown.65

In state she first appears before the people all;

Her veil removed, the groom alone is at her call.

Entranced are many Gnostic worshippers, I ween;

Few gain admission to the presence-chamber scene.

‘Umer told all the stations passed through by his soul;—

Its flights, fights, tribulations, ere it was made whole.

He spoke of times when flight of time’s of no account;

Of Holiness’s station, glorious to recount.

He talked of atmospheres in which his righteous soul

Had soared to seek fresh conquests of devotion’s whole.70

Its every flight had been beyond th’ horizon scant;

Beyond the hope, or e’en desire, of aspirant.

He found a willing list’ner in the stranger guest,

Whose mind was framed t’ investigate such mysteries blest.

The teacher was perfection; novice full of zeal;

Like clever jockey on a steed with lightning heel.

He found his scholar apt, of great capacity.

So good seed sowed in fertile soil sagacity.

Th’ ambassador now asked: “Of true believers Prince!

How can a soul from heaven come down to earth’s province;—75

How can so great a bird be cooped up in a cage?”

He answered: “God speaks words of power, most sage.

Those words, addressed to nothings without eyes or ears,

Set them in motion. Like a ferment, fruit it bears.

Those words no sooner spoken, quick those nothings all

In motion put themselves, and reach existence’ hall.

Or He commands these beings, creatures of His own;

And they return to nothing, whence He them had drawn.

He speaks unto the flowers; they forthwith burst in bloom.

His voice the flint hears; lo, it’s a cornelian stone.80

A spell He laid on matter; spirit it became.

By charm from Him the sun sprang forth, a lambent flame.

If He but whisper words of awe, the sun again

Is seized with darkness of eclipse, like night amain.

What is’t He says, by which the teeming eye of cloud

Sheds forth its tears, as drops from water-skin unsewed?

What incantation to the earth addresses He,

To make it produce cattle,—whose hides used may be?

The hesitations of each puzzled child of thought

Arise from some enigma by which God’s him caught.85

On horns of a dilemma is he fixed, poor man.

‘Shall I do this,’ says he, ‘when ’ts opposite I can?’

From God, too, is the power to make selection’s choice

Of two solutions. One is taken, through inward voice.

Wouldst thou be always free from hesitation, fool?

Stuff not thy mind’s ear tight with doubt’s dull cotton-wool;

That thou mayst solve the riddles God may set for thee;—

That thou mayst understand the full of mercy free.

Then shall thy heart receive His inspiration’s gift,—

A power of speaking from an inward impulse’ drift.90

The ear and eye of soul are organs not of sense;

The ears of sense and mind are not like soul’s, intense.

The word “compulsion” puts me out of humour quite.

Who hath not love of God, compulsion’s slave’s, by right.

This union’s based on truth (compulsion is too proud);

It is a glimpse of sunshine breaking through a cloud.

Be it compulsion. Man’s compulsion it is not;—

Not the compulsion of browbeating from a sot.

Compulsion’s felt by them, my very worthy friend,

Whose eyes of faith, ope’d in their hearts, on God attend.95

The absent and the future patent are to them;

To speak about the past is what they most contemn.

Election and compulsion, theirs, are not the same.

As dewdrops in the oyster-shell rare pearls became.193

Outside, they’re dewdrops, solely, whether great or small;

Inside they’re pearls of price, whose value knows no fall.

Such men by nature are just like the musk-deer’s pod;

It’s fed with blood of artery, musk it yields, through God.

Ask not how ’tis that outward blood can change like this;

Becoming musk when in the pod secreted ’tis.100

Ask not how copper vile, by wise alchemist’s art,

Is changed to gold when solved by elixir in part.194

Election and compulsion, fancies both, in thee;

But when by saints they’re viewed, God’s glory may they be.

Upon the table, bread’s a lifeless, senseless mass;

When taken in man’s mouth, the soul it joins, in class.

On table transubstantiation takes not place;195

The soul it is transforms it, nourished by God’s grace.

Such is the soul’s great power; most perspicacious man,

So long as that soul life and power retain can.105

A human being, mass of mingled flesh and blood,

Moved by the Lord, can cleave hill, dale, mine, and sea’s flood.

The strength of strongest man can merely split a stone;196

The Power that informs man’s soul can cleave the moon.197

If man’s heart but untie the mouth of mystery’s sack,

His soul soon soars aloft beyond the starry track.

If heaven’s mystery divulged should, ’haps, become,

The whole world ’twould burn up, as fire doth wood consume.”

Let’s contemplate the acts of God, the deeds of men;

Know, men’s deeds do exist. This truth is patent, then.110

If men’s deeds be not in this nether world of ours,

Say not thou unto others: “Why these deeds of yours?”

God’s act it is through which those deeds of ours arise;

Our acts are but the sequels of God’s agencies.

The letter, or the spirit, ’tis, our reason weighs.

But both at once it cannot comprehend always.

Examining the spirit, letter we neglect;

At one time forwards, backwards we cannot prospect.

If thou straight forward look at any point of time,

Thou canst not backwards see, whatever be the clime.115

Our souls not taking in the letter, spirit too,

How could they e’er create these predicates, one, two?

God comprehendeth all things;—all things doth ensue;

One act’s no hindrance, with Him, other acts to do.

The reason Satan gave: “Since Thou hast tempted me,”198

The scheming demon strove to hide his sin, we see.

His trespass Adam owned: “Against ourselves we’ve sinned.”199

God’s act he, like as we, then left not out of mind.

Through shame the act of Satan Adam secret kept.

Self-accusation’s fruit, in consequence, he reaped.120

Repentance shown by Adam, God in mercy said:

“In thee ’twas I created, sin thou hast displayed.

Was it not My decree and providence that thou,

In asking pardon, shouldst the tempter disavow?”

Said Adam: “Thee I feared; most bitter shame I felt.”

God added: “It was I who gave thee shame heartfelt.”

Consideration he who shows considered is;

So he who brings the sugar, share of cake is his.

For whom, then, benefits, but practisers of good?200

Keep pleased thy friend. Offend him; see what ensue would.125

One sole example study,—instance of this law,—

Compulsion and election’s difference to draw.

“There is a hand that shakes from palsy or from fear.

Another hand also thou shakest when thou’rt near.

Know: God it is creates the movement in them both;

And yet there’s no resemblance in their motions loth.

Thou’rt sorry that thou shakedst that man’s hand anon,

When thou seest him annoyed at what thou’st just now done.”

A question ’tis of judgment; judgment shrewdness is,

Until some weakness intervene to mar all this.130

A question, now, of judgment as to corals, pearls,

Is not the same as one about the soul, you churls.

A question of the soul’s another matter quite;

The wine that feeds the soul comes not from grapes, black, white.

When any matter is a question of judgment,

‘Umer with Abu-Jahl’s in one predicament.

‘Umer gave up his judgment; rested on his soul.

’Bu-Jahl received this name through lack of self-control.201

In sense and reason Abu-Jahl a master was;

But as to soul, in ignorance he fell, alas!135

Of sense and reason questions are cause and effect;

But miracles and wonders show soul is a fact.

Enlightenment of soul, whatever it may see.

By quibbles of school logic cannot silenced be.

We now return again our tale to take in hand,

Though certainly we’ve never left it out of mind.

In ignorance, our souls are in God’s prison chained.

In wisdom, by God’s help, their liberty’s regained.

In sleep, God’s lethargy it is in which we sink.

Awake, we’re in God’s hands, whatever we may think.140

In weeping, we are clouds from which His mercy flows.

In laughter, we’re the flash with which His lightning glows.

In anger, we’re reflections of the wrath of God.

In amity, the mirrors of His favour’s nod.

What are we in this world? All tortuous and bent.

There is not one upright, straightforward, innocent.

CÆsar’s ambassador no sooner ‘Umer heard,

Than light broke on his heart; at which he stroked his beard.

All questions and all answers from his mind went quite;

All sense of right and wrong had vanished from his sight.145

He’d found the source; what need, then, of the streams?

To gather further wisdom, pondering on the means,

He said: “‘Umer, pray tell me what’s the end and use

Of shutting up that thing of light in darkness’ house?

How can clear water be expected from black mud?

Why then is the pure soul combined with flesh and blood?”

He answered: “Most important question hast thou raised.

A sense, a spirit, by the letter paraphrased.

The free, the jocund spirit prisoner thou’st made;

As though the mind, the air, could into letter fade.150

Thou hast done this for explanation’s sake,—202

Thou, who beyond the explanation place wouldst take.

How should the man in whom the explanation’s gleamed,

Not yet distinguish what’s to me so clearly beamed?

Ten thousand explanations are there, each of which

Is most momentous,—than ten thousand others, rich.

With that, thy speech, now compoundly particular,

A universal explanation were,—no bar.

Thou art a partial,—seekest explanation still;

Why set thyself, then, to deny th’ universal?155

Unless thy speech contain some use, propound it not;

And if it have, objection quit; give what thou’st got.

Thanks are incumbent upon every mortal’s head;

Contention and sour looks are surely no one’s bread.

If to put on sour looks, of thankfulness sign be,

Then vinegar the sweetest-spoken thing we’d see.

If vinegar desire to hearts a way to find,

It oxymel becomes, with honey sweet combined.

True, verse is not best vehicle for sense abstract.

It’s like a sling; one’s never certain how ’t will act.“160

Th’ ambassador his se nses lost with this one cup

Of wine spiritual. His mission he gave up.

O’erwhelmed with wonder at the power of God, he fell.

He came ambassador; now sovereign was, as well.

A river overflooded constitutes a lake.

Some grains, when sown in earth, a field of corn can make.

When eaten, bread assimilated is by man,

That bread inanimate takes life, and reason can.

When wood or candle is made victim unto fire,

Its substance dark becomes a source of light entire.165

Black stibium, a stone, when placed in human eye,

Expands the power of vision, objects can descry.

Good luck to him who’s saved from his own fleshly self,

And has become a parcel of some living elf.

Alas for him, who, living, sits among the dead.

He’s dead himself, his life from out of him has fled.

If thou take refuge in the Qur’?n, God’s own book,

With spirit of Muhammed thou’lt soon exchange look.

The Qur’?n is the essence of all prophets right.

They were the whales who swam in ocean of God’s might.170

If thou canst read or not, the Qur’?n take to heart,

The saints and prophets study; they were as thou art.

Read thou it carefully; read, mark, digest its tales;

Thy soul, like bird in cage, will long to break its rails.

The bird shut up, imprisoned in a little cage,

That seeks not to get out, is ignorant, not sage.

The souls who’ve freed themselves from cages of the flesh,

Are worthy fellow-travellers with prophets, fresh.

Their voices they lift up, religion to impart:

“The way of sure deliverance is here. Take heart!175

Religion hath us saved from fleshly cages, sure.

No other way is there, salvation to secure.

You then upon yourselves will chastisements inflict,

That you may be delivered from the world’s respect.”

Respect of mortal man a heavy fetter is;

Within religion’s path the gravest bond is this.

Consider well this tale, ingenuous young friend;179

’Twill teach thee many lessons may thy morals mend.

VII.
The Merchant and the Parrot.

A merchant there was, who a parrot did own;

Confined in a cage, wisest bird in the town.

This merchant to journeying made up his mind

To fair Hindustan, there some rich wares to find.

From generous motives, to each of his slaves,

To male, and to female, some gift to bring craves.

He made them all tell him what best they would like;

And promised to bring it, most gentlemanlike.

He said to the parrot: “Poll! Poll! With the rest,

From Hind I must bring thee what thou mayst like best.”5

The parrot replied: “Sure, thou’lt see parrots there,

To them pray impart how it is that I fare.

Inform them, a parrot who loves them all well,

By thee’s kept confined, close shut up in a cell.

He sends you his love, and his very best wish;

Desiring from you wise advice, parrotish.

He fears he may pine, through longing to see

His dear absent friends,—die in foreign countree.

He asks if it is altogether thing fit,

That he should be caged, while you on the trees sit.10

If this is the way in which true friends should act;

Leave him in his cage, while you forests affect.

He wishes you’d call to your mind your lost friend,

When drinking your bumpers, ere fieldward you wend.203

’Tis sweet to be thought of by far-away dame,

One’s sweetheart, whose love’s set one’s heart in a flame.

While you are disporting with those you love best,

He’s eating his heart out; grief gives him no rest.

One bumper you’ll drink for the love of poor Poll,204

If only you wish him your love to extol.15

Or, thinking of him who’s in slavery kept,

Your bowl’s whole contents dash to earth, as though wept.

O where is the promise, and where is the oath,

Th’ engagements sworn to him by sugarsome tooth?205

If absence of his came from truancy’s pranks,

You’ve set your forgetfulness ’gainst his sin’s ranks.

The ills you inflict out of spite and disdain

Are sweet to your lover, he does not complain.

Your petulance prized is beyond fairy gifts;

Your vengeance most dear is; his hope it uplifts.20

No soul can imagine what pleasure is felt,

Or grace seen, in all the fell blows you have dealt.

Your wrath is thus sweet; how much more so your grace!

If mourning so grieve, what from feast would take place?

He weeps; but he hopes you’ll believe not his tears;

And, out of affection, not lessen his fears.

He loves your great kindness, your anger as well.

He equally dotes on those opposites fell.

The thorn escape should he, and visit the rose,

He’d warble as nightingale, moved by love’s throes.25

Most wondrous this bird’s strangest use of his bill;

With thorns, as with roseleaves, he would his mouth fill.

Not nightingale this; fiery dragon it is;

All wrongs seem to him, through his love, purest bliss.

He loveth a rose, and himself is a rose.

He loveth himself; and seeks love for its woes.”

Just so is the soul. Its tale, just parrot’s tale.

O where is the One to whom all souls make wail?

Where is the man, feeble, who’s yet innocent?

His heart, Solomon and his whole armament.30

When he, with tears bitter, is heard to complain,

The seven vaults of heaven re-echo the strain.

In anguish he groans; God, in mercy, him hears.

His cry is: “O Lord!” And God wipes off his tears.

Abasement in him, is by God highly prized.

His blasphemies, o’er other men’s faith are raised.206

Each instant, in soul, he ascends to heaven’s gate;

His mitre’s with crowns capped, of infinite state.207

His frame’s here on earth; his pure soul with the Lord

In heaven’s highest sphere, above man’s thought or word.35

A heaven such as this thou contemplatest not;

Thou every moment imaginest—what?

With him “where” and “nowhere” are quite equal felt.

To angels the “four rivers” seem a mere belt.208

Break off we this theme. Let’s discuss other things.

Cease trifling. “’Tis God who knows best” sense’s rings.209

Let’s seek to inquire how it fares with our friends,—

The merchant, his parrot. Who is’t understands?

The former had promised, at latter’s request,

To give to the birds of far Hind his bequest.40

So when he had reached that land, greatly renowned

In wooded retreat, flock of parrots he found.

He stopped his beast, cried out, at top of his voice,

That message his Polly had made, as his choice.

One bird of the flock, he saw, then took to quake,

Fell prone to the earth; no more breath seemed to take.

The merchant regret felt for what he had done,

Exclaiming: “Alas! The poor bird I’ve slain, lone!

That creature was surely related to Poll;

Two bodies; one soul; just as is magic doll.45

Why did I deliver that fatal message?

I’ve killed a collateral of Poll’s lineage!”

The tongue, by itself, acts just like flint and steel.

A word from it, fire-like, we scathing can feel.

Strike not, then, so rashly, fire’s sparks from thy tongue,

In message or talk, feeble hearers among.

The night is pitch dark; strewn around, cotton beds.

Amongst beds of cotton, ’tis, sparks one most dreads.

He sins who, unmindful of dire consequence,

Lets fall spoken spark,—fires a whole world, immense.50

One rash word may set an assembly ablaze.

Molehills into mountains, and higher, it can raise.

In basis, our souls would appear Jesus-like.

To kill, to resuscitate, words are godlike.

If lifted could be from our souls the dark veil,

Each word of each soul would with miracles trail.

Dost wish to speak always to men with sweet words?

Have patience. Impatience must not fret the cords.

’Tis patience beloved is by all men of sense.

Impatience a fault is, of children, intense.55

Who patience exhibits shall mount to heaven’s dome.

Impatience who showeth, tastes wrath that’s to come.

A saint is not hurt, whate’er else may betide,210

To swallow fell poison should he once decide.

He’s whole, and he’s sound; strict diet’s his rule.

Poor students are healthy in fever’s dread school.

The Prophet has cautioned: “Brave though you may be,

Commit not mad rashness, howe’er the foe flee.”

Within thee’s a Nimrod. Approach not the fire.

Approach it thou must? To be Abr’am aspire.60

A swimmer thou art not;—nor seaman by trade;

From headstrongness strive not the deep sea to wade.

From fire Abr’am brought forth a fresh-plucked red rose.

A diver, from sea-bottom, pearls’ store can choose.

A saint handles earth, turns it straightway to gold.

A sinner, by touch, to earth turns this;—behold.

A just man’s accepted of God, the Most High.

His deeds are the works of God’s hand, still. Eigh! Eigh!

Th’ imperfect one’s hand is aye Satan’s foul limb;

Responsible rests he, howe’er he may climb.21165

To him wisdom’s self’s but a mere misguidance.

Th’ imperfect man’s science is crass ignorance.

Whatever as cause acts, as cause counted is;

A perfect man’s blasphemy’s pure faith, my quiz.212

Rash combatant, fight’st thou on foot ’gainst horseman!

Thy point thou’lt not carry;—as sure as thou’rt man.

So, Egypt’s magicians, in old Pharaoh’s days,

Contended ’gainst Moses; and rashly, always.

At length they owned Moses superior was;

Men honour, revere him, who most of power has.70

They said to him, then: “Command ’s thine! See! Purely!

‘Thy rod cast down’ first.213 This thy wish is; surely.”

He answered: “Nay, nay! First cast ye down your wands.

Produce to our sight the tricks ye’ve in your hands.”

The honour thus paid was a slur on their faith,

Removing contention from out of their path.

When they had perceived what was thus due to him,

They error acknowledged, though somewhat too dim.

The “perfect man” ’s free both to eat and to speak.214

If thou art “imperfect,” eat, speak not, in freak.75

Thou art but an ear. He’s a tongue;—not like thee.

To ear was addressed God’s word: “Silent be.”215

A newly-born infant, still sucking the breast,

Is speechless some while. He’s all ear, at the best.

His lips to keep closed he has, for a set time;

To speak till he learns,—words to frame and to chime.

If ear he lend not, he’ll not learn common sense;

Becomes laughingstock;—folly shows, most immense.

If hearing he have not, deaf being at root,

He mute must remain; no tongue has he, to boot.80

Since, then, we must listen, before we can speak,

Lend ear to thy teachers, to guide thee who seek.

A room should be entered, as rule, through its door.

Effects ever seek where thou seest their cause’ spoor.

The speech that has need to be heard by no ear,

The voice is of God; it’s to us ever near.

Inventor is He. From no one has He learnt.

Of all, He’s the stay; not a prop does He want.

All others require, as in speech, so in deed,

From others, instruction; they all patterns need.85

If thou art not negligent,—hear’st what’s been said,

Adopt dervish frock; go and weep in homestead.

Himself Adam saved from all blame by his tears.

So tears run wherever repentance appears.

To weep, Adam came down to this nether world;

To sigh, moan, and groan; far from sweet Eden hurled,

From paradise shut out, from heaven driven down,

Like schoolboy in fool’s-cap, his great sin to drown.

If thou’rt seed of Adam;—if from his loins sprung;

Like him, do thou seek for God’s pardon, whilst young.90

With burnings of heart, and with moisture of eyes,

As sun and as rain, do thou sorrow’s fruit raise.

Of all the rich solace, what knowest thou of tears?

Thou beggest still for bread, like a blind man, with leers.

Thy stomach make void of foul greed’s lust for bread.

Thy heart thou’lt find filled with deep love for Godhead.

Thy infant soul wean from the gross milk of greed,

Then teach it to join, next, in angel’s pure creed.

So long thou remainest in darkness and thrall,

A bantling of Satan thou art, out at call.95

The morsel that brings a pure light to the soul

Is earned by endeavour; not begged with a bowl.

Should oil, upon trimming, extinguish a lamp,

Not oil may we name it; ’tis water; ’tis damp.

The honestly-earned morsel, wisdom imparts;

Gives softness to souls, and a warmness to hearts.

If thou be aware that from thy morsel spring

Heartburnings and hate, know it’s not a blest thing.

Hast wheat ever sown, and reaped barley instead?

Hast known colt of ass from a mare in birth bred?100

A morsel, when eaten, ’s a seed; its fruit, thought.

A morsel, when swallowed, ’s a sea pearls has brought.

From good, honest morsels come, taken in mouth,

Good works, and firm strivings to shun the soul’s drought.

Reflections, though true, we’ll now bring to an end.

To merchant and parrot’s tale ear we will lend.

Our merchant his trading had quickly despatched,

Then homeward he turned; with joy housedoor unlatched.

To ev’ry male slave a rare present he brought;

For each of his handmaids some gift he had bought.105

The parrot him questioned: “What news bringest thou me?

And whom hast thou seen? What’s been said? Tell. Let’s see.”

The merchant him answered: “I’m sorry for that.

I’d rather my hand eat, than tell it thee;—flat.

In thoughtlessness, folly, ah! why did I prate

About thy fool’s message, until ’twas too late?”

The parrot then asked: “What’s this fuss all about?

What’s caused tribulation? Let’s hear it right out.”

The merchant now said: “I told all thy sad grief

To flock of green parrots;—so like thee, their chief.110

Of them, one, affected with thy tale of woe,

Heart-broken, a gasp gave, expired, and fell low.

I conscience-struck was for the words I had said.

But what is the use? A word breathed can’t be stayed.”

A spoken word’s arrow swift shot from a bow,

It can’t be recalled, whate’er we may do.

An arrow once shot off will never come back.

At source, inundation alone can have check.

An outlet once found, there’s no stoppage for it.

A world is then ruined, through lack of quick wit.115

Act, consequence little dreamt of may produce.

The progeny’s far ’yond our power to reduce.

The work of one Maker ’s this universe all.

Our acts’ consequences to our accounts fall.

Jack shoots off an arrow;—directs it to Jill.

The arrow poor Jill hits;—straightway does her kill.

If only it wound her, for great length of time

It tortures. Pain’s God’s work; wherever the clime.

Should Jack, at that moment, expire from his fright,

To plague her Jill’s wound would not cease, day or night.120

If from the effect of great pain, then, she die,

Remote cause is Jack, still, of her misery.

Account he must render for those pangs of hers.

Although they’re God’s acts, man to man them refers.

And so propagation, seed-sowing, and all;

Effects of them operate. God’s sole, the call.

A saint acquires powers, most astounding, from God.216

The flying bolt he can avert with a nod.

The door can be shut between cause, consequence,

On saint’s reclamation, by God’s prescience.125

He makes said unsaid, from beginning to end.

Hence, neither does skewer burn, roast to coal trend.217

From every mind that has knowledge of fact,

Remembrance effaced is, though brains may be racked.

Of this, dost thou proof require, most worthy friend,

The text read: “What verse We annul, or We mend.”218

Again: “They my warning made you to forget.”219

By these is oblivion’s great power ’fore us set.

To make us remember, forget, they power have.

They’ve hearts subjugated o’er creation’s wave.130

Whene’er dull forgetfulness blinds eye of man,

No act can he do, howe’er wide his scan.

Dost dare, thou, great saints to make laughingstock?220

To words of the Prophet give heed, silly block.

Earth’s lords have dominion o’er bodies of clay.

Enlightened saints rule hold o’er hearts;—their own sway.

All acts are fruits, doubtless, of experience.

Man, then, is but pupil. All’s, else, mere pretence.221

I’ll close now this subject; much more I might say;

Prevented I am by the rules I obey.135

Remembrance, forgetfulness, both are of God.

Support and aid, too, must depend on His nod.

Of thoughts, God, men’s good and bad souls voids, each night,

By millions. Since this has seemed good in His sight.

By day, their hearts fill with their thoughts all, again,

Those oystershells He fills with rich pearls amain.

He knows all the thoughts that here trouble our frames.

’Tis He that gives guidance to souls in their games.

Thy talent, thy judgment, unto thee are given,

That means thou may’st have to redeem thy fallen leaven.140

The goldsmith’s rich art’s not by weaver possessed,

By jocund vein here, there another’s distressed.

Though mind’s frame and talents endowments are, all,

They seem to a foe mere machines for his thrall.

When sleep is departed, thoughts, talents return,

One’s foe so comes back, has of war one more turn.

With dawn, all our thoughts, all our talents, awake,

As erst, good or bad; ere repose we could take.

So carrier pigeons, wherever they’ve been,

Return to their homes, quit the woodlands all green.145

We see, thus, that all things revert to their source.

Parts ever must go shares in whole’s intercourse.

So soon as our bird heard that parrot’s sad state,

A shudder he gave, fainted, grew stiff as slate.

The merchant, on seeing this, seized with dismay,

Himself dashed to earth; wished he’d been far away.

His clothes rent in sorrow; his beard he plucked out;

And moaned, in distress wildly sobbing, throughout:

“My parrot, why, dearest, thus broken of heart?

Dead art thou, now, really? So fain to depart?150

Poor pet! Darling bird! With thee, hours I could talk.

My sweetheart! My second self! Loved was thy walk.

Alas for poor Polly! Where’s now his sly chat?

Alas, my companion! How shall I bear that?

Had Solomon seen a green parrot like mine,

What pleasure had he felt in other birds’ line?

Dear prattler, in whose words I took such delight!

And then, thus to leave me, with naught in my sight!

Thy tongue to me dearer than gold’s wealth untold;

At sound of thy sweet voice my joy was tenfold.”155

O tongue! Thou’rt a fire, and also a cornstack!222

My patience, the cornstack! Hark! How its flames crack!

My soul doth, in secret, of thee complain sore;

But whate’er thou wishest, it does evermore.

O tongue: Thou’rt a treasure, beyond all earth’s price!

And yet thou’rt a plague, that’s not always too nice!

A whistle art thou, birds decoying afield.

A solace to love’s wayward, fitful, spoilt child.

To men thou’rt all darkness, and blasphemy’s bale;

To saints, guide, companion too, through this dark vale.160

Thou’rt pitiless! Pity on me take, awhile.

Thy bow thou hast strung, on poor me to work guile.

Thou hast taken my bird; thou hast flustered my soul.

So cruel why be? Why delight take so foul?

An answer pray give; or else, deal out justice;

Or hope let me have to taste joy’s chalice.

My dawn! Thou dispellest my deep’ning darkness.

My light! Day with thee is all sunshine brightness.

Alas! That swift bird, boldly soaring, of mine,

My lowest fall plumbed, traced my lineage divine.165

The ignorant, wooers of trouble are, all.

“I swear,” down to “misery” read, thou poor thrall.223

From misery free made me thy countenance.

From spume, so the clear stream of thy assistance.

Regret is a nursing of phantoms by day.

Neglect, stern realities drives not away.

A zeal for the truth is in God, there’s no doubt.

The heart, with God’s will, is constrained to burst out.

He’s zeal, Who is “other,” far, than all things else,224

Beyond all praise, laud, blessing, thanks, in heart’s pulse.170

Alas! my hot tears have become briny lake,—

An offering worthy my lost idol’s sake.

My parrot! My wise bird! My starling art thou!

Interpreter, reader of thoughts, secrets, thou.

All daily events, results, just or unjust,

By Him ordained were, as I know, from the first.

The Parrot, inspired, who by voice of man spoke,

Existed ere dawn of existence first broke.

That Parrot is plainly within thyself felt;

Around thee His motto is ev’rywhere spelt.175

Art joyful? From Him, know, all joys here do spring.

Art wronged? Thou submittest. Thou’rt under His wing.

O thou, who for body dost injure thy soul,

Thy proud flesh to pamper, dost wrong to thy whole.

I, too, am in flames. Who, then, seeks burning brand,

The trash to consume of conceit from the land?

That which is once burnt cannot blaze out again.

Select flaming brand, living fire choose, amain.

Alas! Lackaday! What has thus come to me?

My full moon in clouds why thus hidden to be?180

I scarcely can breathe; with deep sorrow heart burns;

Male-lion-like, grief all kind condolence spurns.

He who in his senses has thus become drunk,

How fierce would he rage, if in cups he were sunk.

A lion in heat, he, despising all bounds;

No forest would hold him, nor dense jungle-grounds.

Of rhymes do I dream? ’Tis my love orders me225

Of love still to dream;—swain devoted to be:

“Thyself make thou happy. Rhymes leave, now, alone.

The rhyme I seek, thou art. I love thee, my own.185

What’s rhyme, that thou turnest thy thoughts thitherward?

Mere bramble on wall, hedging round our vineyard.

I care not for words, for asseverations;

My time if I pass in these sweet delusions.

Suggestion there is, one, kept secret from men.

To thee I’ll impart. Thou keep’st secrets, like pen.

Suggestion occult, Abr’am knew not one jot.

One secret, that Gabriel as yet conceives not.

One mystery, to Jesus that never was known,

In jealousy God spake to me all alone.”226190

What do we with tongue? We affirm; we deny.

I’m no affirmation; denial am I.

In impersonality, person I find.

In ungenerosity, goodness of mind.

Earth’s potentates slaves are of their own slaves’ will.

All mortals, mere corpses of dead corpses, still.

Kings, subject are here to their own subjects’ whim.

Man’s drunk with those intoxicated of him.

The hunter of birds them entraps in his toils,

Himself is then pounced on, despite of his foils.195

A beauty makes prey of the men soft of heart.

Sweethearts fall the victims of false lover’s dart.

If lover thou see, know, a sweetheart he’s, too,

’Tis but a relation. Each one’s one of two.

If thirst seeks for water in this wide domain,

The water, on its side, the thirst courts again.

Should any one love thee, do thou silent be.

Thy ear claims he then, thou attentive should’st be.

The torrent bank up that threats dire overflow;

Or ravage ’twill make of the lands down below.200

What care I if cities in ruins should fall,

In ruins we treasures find dear to us all.

Man merged in God, most entirely is drowned

As wave of a sea, soul but goes a set round.

Is bottom of that sea preferred more, or top?

Is God’s shaft desired more, or shield, it to stop?

By doubts and by fears thou’lt piecemeal be torn, heart.

If thou well distinguish from joy, sorrow’s smart.

Desir’st thou to taste, then, true happiness, joy?

’Tis not thine to choose. Beauty ever’s most coy.205

Each spangle of beauty’s star outshines the moon.

To wreck a whole world’s naught to beauty’s full moon.

What is it we’re good for? To sacrifice self.

Then hasten, my good friend, to offer thyself.

A lover’s whole life is but self-sacrifice;

He wins not a heart, save his own heart’s the price.

A heart I once courted with soft blandishment;

With pretexts was put off, most magniloquent.

I said my heart brimful was quite with her love;

Said she: “Hold thy tongue, now; that theme let’s not move.”210

What have you been doing, you two eyes of mine?

Why saw you that cruel one? Left me to pine?

Presumptuous man! Didst thou hold her so cheap,

Because, by her kindness, made easy thy sleep?

What’s easily got in this world, ’s easy spent.

A child will give jewels at cake’s allurement.

With love I’m o’erwhelm’d, now, of such a sad sort,

That ancients and moderns to it are all sport.

I’ve made short my story; details are not given.

’Twould otherwise scorch heart and tongue’s whole joint leaven.215

When I may say “lip,” I mean “margin of sea;”

When “No!” you may take its true sense “Yes!” to be.

My sourness of looks by much sweetness is caused.

By words’ multitude, silence strict I’ve imposed.

My sweetness I’ll hide, in this world, in the next.

As veil, austere features I’ve firmly annexed.

My secrets to shield from the ken of all ears,

One out of a hundred, alone, here appears.

The world is right jealous, for reason that best:

God first jealous was, long before all the rest.227220

He’s soul. The two worlds His august body form.Like fish in the sea, plashing drops, falling dew.

In autumn, the leaves see. They quit, then, the trees;

Like scattered battalions, they fly with the breeze.

The rook, in robes sable, as mourner acts, chief;

In wood and field croaks for his much-deplored leaf.

Command from Thee goes forth;—Thou, true Forest-King;

Nonentity gives back each late stolen thing.

O Death! Thou restorest, now, the whole prey of thine;

The leaves, flowers, and fruits, in their due season shine.355

Consider, my friend, in thyself; now, awhile,

The spring and the autumn thou in thee seest smile.

Look thou that thy heart be green, yield its good fruits

Of righteousness, purity,—heaven’s best recruits.

Through garlands of verdure thy rough branches hid;

With bloom in profusion, hills, plains, all tumid.

These words of mine come from the Spirit supreme,

To call to mind heaven’s everlasting grand scheme.

Thou smellest a perfume of flowers. Flowers are not yet;

Thou dreamest fermentation, though wine is not set.360

That odour will draw thee to where the flowers grow,238

The joys of sweet paradise, “where rivers flow.”239

Of hope it perfume is that leads our souls on;

As hope led forth Jacob in quest of his son.240

Bad tidings and fearful cost Jacob his sight.

Reunion, in hope, to him brought back the light.

If thou’rt not a Joseph, a Jacob be yet.

As he did, weep, mourn; joy, like him, thou shalt get.

If thou art not Sh?r?n, thou may’st Ferh?d be;241

And if not LaylÀ dear, Majn?n’s ravings see.242365

Accept the advice of old Gazna’s sage, wise.243

To thee, ever, new life from old life may rise:

“To give one’s self airs, requires, first, a fair face;

If beauty thou hast not, run not thou that race.”

An ugly face ugly is, all the world round.

A blind eye’s affliction, where’er it be found.

In presence of Joseph, no coquetries use.244

But humble thyself; soft entreaties infuse.

The parrot had death simulated, as prayer.

Do thou to pride die; thou mayest so live for e’er.370

From Jesus a breath may, then, blow upon thee;

Transform thee to what he was, what thou mayest be.

A stone will not blossom because it is spring.

As earth make thyself; flowers around thee may cling.

For years thou a stone ’st been; lay this well to heart.

Try patience a short time; ’twill give a fresh start.373

VIII.
The Harper.

Hast heard, perchance, there was in days of good ‘Umer

A minstrel talented, whose harpings moved the sphere?

The nightingales all wept in transports at his voice,

One pleasure made men’s hearts a hundredfold rejoice.

His song enchanted every gathering where he went,

Applause as thunder broke forth, to his heart’s content.

Like voice of Israfil, whose trump on judgment day,245

Will wake the dead to life, his made the saddest gay.

Dear friend to Israfil he was, and mendicant;

His notes made plumes to sprout on hide of elephant.5

Some day will Israfil attention pay to moans.

Their souls he will recall to old and putrid bones.

The prophets, likewise, all, musicians are on hearts.

Disciples hence expire with joy by fits and starts.

Our outward ears the strains hear not which thence proceed;

Those ears, in many ways, degraded are indeed.

Mankind the songs of fairies never hear at all,

They are not versed in fairies’ ways, their voices small.

’Tis true, the chants of fairies’ sounds are of this world;246

But songs sung by men’s hearts are far above them hurled.10

Both men and fairies pris’ners are in earthly cage.

Both, too, are thralls of sinful ignorance’s rage.

Read thou the text: “O fairy troop,” in book of God.247

Consider, too: “Can ye pass out?” Who holds the rod?

The inward hymn that’s sung by all the hearts of saints

Commences: “O component parts of that thing NOT.”248

Now since they take their rise in this NOT, negative,

They put aside the hollow phantom where we live.

Ye putrid corpses, wrapt in rank corruption’s cloth,

Our everlasting souls are free from birth and growth.15

Were I but to recite one stave from their blest song,

All living souls would rise out from their tombs among.

Lend ear attentively; that may not distant be;

As yet, however, leave’s not given to tell it thee.

The saints are Israfils of this our passing time.

The spiritually dead through them live life sublime.

Our souls mere corpses are; their graves, our bodies’ crowds.

At voice of saint do they arise, clothed in their shrouds.

They say: “This voice has in it something to be feared.

To raise the dead, God’s voice alone has power, we’ve heard.20

We were all dead, and unto earth had we returned.

The voice of God we’ve heard; our prisons we have spurned.”

The voice of God without, also within the vail,

Can give the gift to all, it gave to Mary: “Hail!”

O ye whose death was not that which attacks the flesh,

At sound of the Beloved’s voice ye’ve risen afresh.

That voice the Bridegroom’s voice most truly was, ’tis said,

Although ’twas from the lips of His servant, Ahmed.

God said to him: “Thy tongue, thy eye, thy ear, I am;

All thy contentment, anger, thoughts, ’tis I undam.25

Go on; ‘By Me he hears, by Me he sees;’ that’s thee;

Thou art the head; thou holdest the place of Head’s trustee.

In ecstasy, since thou art ‘He the Lord’s who is,’249

I will be thine; for see, ’tis said: ‘The Lord is his.’

Now will I say to thee: ‘Thou art;’ and now; ‘I am.’

What I may say’s as clear as is the sun in heaven.

Wherever I may shine an instant in a lamp,

A world of doubts I solve; on all My seal I stamp.

The darkness which the sun could never yet illume,

By magic of My breath grows bright as peacock’s plume.30

Wherever gloom may reign as undisturbed night,

When shone upon by Me, like noonday’s forthwith bright.”

’Twas He who taught to Adam ev’ry thing’s true name,

Through Adam to mankind imparted He the same.

Take thou enlightenment from Adam or the Lord.

Draw wine as thou mayest list from jar or from the gourd.250

The distance is not great between the gourd and jar.

The gourd is not, like thee, made drunk by grape’s nectar.

Draw water from the brook, or from a pitcher’s mouth;

The brook is still the source whence pitcher’s filled; forsooth.35

Seek light as listest; whether from the moon or sun.

The moon derives her sheen from daystar’s golden tun.

Imbibe what light thou canst from any twinkling star.

The Prophet said: “Stars are all my disciples.” Hear!251

He further said: “How happy they who see my face,252

And happy they who look on them in their own place.”

He said: “Good luck to all who have the happy chance253

To look on my disciples,—mirrors of my glance.”

If thou by taper’s aid proceed to light a lamp,

The eye that sees its light, perceives the taper’s stamp.40

If one lamp from another should be lighted; well!

The light received from this, has come from that one’s cell.

And so, if through a thousand wicks the light should pass,

Who sees the last enjoys the gift of all the mass.

The light of this last lamp’s as pure as is the whole;

No difference is there. And thus ’tis with the soul.

The light diffused by teachers in these latter days,

No other is than what was shown by earlier rays.

Our Prophet said: “The breathings of the Lord your God,254

In these your days of pilgrimage, on all sides prod.45

Your ears and minds lend ye to all signs of the times;

Perchance ye may inhale those breathings in these climes.”

One breathing came and found you. Straightway it was gone.

To all who sought, new life it gave. It then had done.

Another breathing’s come. Be ye not unprepared.

Ye may not let it go by. Something must be shared.

It found your souls on fire. ’Tis thence they cease to burn.

Your souls it found all corpses. Life it made return.

Your fiery souls by it all quickly were puffed out.

Dead souls of yours by it began aloud to shout.50

Their present calm, and this vivacity’s from heaven;

Resembling not the turbulence by which man’s driven.

One breathing from the Lord, when blown on earth and air,

Ill qualities converts straight into all that’s fair.

For fear lest any breathing such as this thee shake,

Read thou the text: “They shunned the task to undertake.”255

Had not “they shrunk from it,” where now would’st thou have been?

Had they not feared, would’st thou this grade have ever seen?

But yesterday an opening gleamed for better things;

Till greed for fleshly morsels stopped the way of kings.55

For sake of some such morsel Luqman was made bail.256

The time’s now that for Luqman morsel’d not avail.

The troubles we endure are all for morsel’s sake.

Be Luqman. Thou’lt extract the thorn that makes thee ache.

A thorn or chafing hurt not Luqman’s horny hand.

Through greed thou lackest the discipline made him so bland.

The thing thou thoughtest a date-palm, know, is but a thorn.

Ungrateful, uninformed thou art, now, as when born.

The soul of Luqman was a vineyard of the Lord.

Why then into his soul did thorn pierce like a sword?60

Thorn-eating camel, truly, is this world of ours,

Ahmed, then, came and mounted;—him that camel bears.

O camel, on thy back thou bearest a vase of rose.

On thee from thence have sprouted rosebuds, as God knows.

Thy tastes thee lead to camel-thorn and wastes of sand.

To thee the thorn’s a rose; the wilderness, rich land.

O thou who in such quest hast wandered up and down,

How long wilt thou contend rose-garden’s sandy down?

Thou canst not now extract the thorn from thy sore foot.

With that blind eye of thine, how wilt thou see its root?65

A man whose vast desires the world could not contain,

Is sometimes by one thorn’s point sent to death’s domain.

Now Ahmed came; a tender, kind companion, he.

“Speak to me, O Humayra,” said he, “speak to me.”257

Put thou thy shoe, Humayra, quick into the fire.258

The rocks will rubies turn, from his feet’s blood in mire.

This Humayra’s a woman’s name, the poet’s love.

Such is the Arab custom. Soul is meant. Now move.

That Soul’s no need to fear from being named as girl.259

Of sex, as male or female, that Soul has no twirl.70

That Soul is far above sex, accident, and mood.

That Soul is not man’s darling, made of flesh and blood.

That Soul is not the life that grows from cakes of bread;

That’s sometimes of one mind, and other then instead.

Of good is He the worker, good He is also.

From goodness separate, no goodness e’er will flow.

If thou’rt made sweet through sugar, it may happen still,

That sugar none thou find, to sweeten thee at will.

But if thou sweet become, like sugar, through good heart,

This sweetness from thy sugar never will depart.75

How can a lover find love’s nectar in himself?

That question passes comprehension, my good elf.

Man’s finite reason disbelieves love’s potent sway.

Himself he yet esteems endowed with head to-day.

He’s clever, and he’s knowing, nil he’s not; anon.

Until an angel’s nothing,260 he’s a sheer demon.

In word and act a man may be a friend of ours;

But when it comes to heart and mind, he huffs and lours.

If he from esse, reach not posse’s state, he’s nil;

And willingly;—unwillingly, we may worlds fill.80

The Soul, our God, ’s perfection. Perfect is His “call.”261

His Ahmed used to say: “Ensoul us, O Bilal!262

Lift up thy voice, O Bilal,—thy harmonious voice.

Put forth the breath that I infused at thy heart’s choice.

The breath that ’twas made Adam lose all consciousness;

While all the hosts of heaven, too, felt their helplessness.”

That Ahmed, MustafÀ, at one blest sight stood lost.263

His wedding-night it was. Dawn-worship it him cost.264

He woke not from the sleep his blessed vision shed.

Dawn-worship he o’erslept; the sun shone overhead.85

On that, his wedding-night, in presence of his bride,

His sainted soul kissed hands, high honour’s fullest tide.

Both love and soul are occult, hidden and concealed.

If God I have “bride” named, let it stand fault repealed.

I silence would have kept, from fear of love’s caprice,

If for a moment only, I’d been granted grace.

But He still said: “Say on. The word is not a fault.

It’s naught but the decree there should appear default.

It’s shame to him who only sees another’s faults.

What fault is noticed by the Soul safe from assaults?”90

A fault it is to eyes of creatures ignorant.

But not with God the Lord, our Maker benignant.

E’en blasphemy is wisdom with th’ Omnipotent;265

Attributed to mortals, mortal sin patent.

If one sole fault be found amidst a hundred truths,

’Tis like a stick that’s used to prop sweet flowers’ growths.

Both will be surely weighed in justice’ equal scales;

For, like the soul and body, both are pleasant tales.

The saints have therefore said, for sweet instruction’s sake:

“The bodies of the pure with souls just balance make.”95

Their words, their selves, their figures, whate’er these may be,

Are all Soul Absolute, without a trace to see.

Sworn enemy is Body to their spiritual life,

Just as one game of backgammon, with names full rife.266

The body goes to earth; is soon reduced to clay;

The soul endures like salt, and suffers no decay.

The salt, than which Muhammed far more sapid is;

From “Attic salt” that’s found in each dictum of his.

That Attic salt’s an heirloom, heritage from him;

His heirs are here with thee. Seek unto them passim.100

They’re sitting in thy presence. What’s in front of thee?

Thy soul demands thy care. Where can thy forethought be?

If thou still be in doubt, and not sure of thyself,

Thou’rt slave unto thy body; soul thou hast not, elf.

Behind, before, above, below, stands body’s shade.

The soul has no “dimensions;” clearly it’s displayed.

Lift thy eyes, dear Sir, in glorious light of God;

That thou be not accounted most shortsighted clod.

Thou nothing knowest or carest about, save grief and joy;

Thou nothing, by mere nothings hemmed in, man or boy.105

To-day’s a day of rain. Yet journey thou till night;

Not on account of downpour, but because it’s light.

One day did MustafÀ go to the burial-ground.

The Prophet at a funeral, his friend’s, was found.

At filling in the grave he lent a helping hand;

A living seed he planted in that holy land.

The trees thereof are emblems,—cypress, fir, or yew;

Their boughs are hands in prayer uplifted,—if men knew.

They many lessons inculcate to men of sense,

He who hath ears to hear may thence draw inference.110

A contemplative mind from them new secrets culls.

The heedless are amused with what men’s reason dulls.

With tongue-shaped leaves and finger-twigs they us address;

From inmost heart of earth they publish mysteries.

As ducks dive into water, they plunge into earth.

Like rooks they were, now peacocks, gay in their new birth.

The winter shuts them up, as prisoners, in its ice.

Black rooks then, bare; as peacocks spring bids them arise.

God makes them look like dead in winter’s frozen reign,

But with returning spring wakes them to life again.115

Dull atheists contend this is a story old,

And ask why we to God attribute it, so bold.

They say these alternations ever thus were seen.

The world of old, they think, as ’tis, has ever been.

In spite of their contention, in breasts of His saints

Has God at all times reared rich gardens free from feints.

Each flower that yields to sense agreeable perfume,

Speaks volumes to saint’s heart with its mysterious tongue.

Each perfume from a flower rubs atheist’s nose in dirt;

Although he rush about, and boundless nonsense spirt.120

An atheist’s like a chafer clinging to rosebud,

Or like a nervous patient tortured by drum’s thud.

He makes himself as fussy as each touting wight;

But shuts his eyes to flashes of conviction’s light.

He shuts his eyes perversely, with them will not see.

The saint, on other hand, ’s clear-sighted certainly.

The Prophet, when returned home from the funeral,

Found ‘A’isha was waiting, him to welcome all.

So when her eyes fell on him, just as in he came,

She him approached, and on him hand placed; gentle dame.125

She touched his turban, cloak and coat, his sleeves and shoes,

His hair and beard, his face and hands, peering for news.

He asked her what she sought with so much eager zeal.

She answered him: “To-day of rain there’s fallen a deal.

I’m lost in wonderment to feel thou art not wet;

No dampness is there here. I marvel still more yet.”

He asked: “What veil worest thou God’s service to fulfil?”267

She answered: “I a plaid of thine threw o’er my frill.”

He said: “That plaid it was for which the Lord, to thee,

My lady pure, a shower caused visible to be.130

That shower was not of raindrops from the clouds that fall;

A shower of mercy ’twas; its cloud and sky, His call.”

[“In regions of the soul so many skies are there!268

They issue their commands to spheres of earth and air.

The ups and downs in spirit’s path form quite a class;

So many hills to climb; so many seas to pass.”]—Sana’i.

The unseen world has other clouds, and other skies;269

Its sun is different; its water God supplies.

Its rain proceeds from other clouds than does our own.

God’s mercy ’tis that forms that rain when it pours down.135

Those rains are never seen, save by the eyes of saints.

Mere men “by new creation puzzled,”270 judge them feints.

One rain there is that nourishment brings in its track;

Another rain also that works a whole world’s wreck.

The rain of spring does wonders in the garden’s fold;

The rain of autumn chills like ague’s shivers cold.

The spring rain nourishes whate’er it falls upon.

Autumnal showers but bleach and shrivel; all turns wan.

Thus is it with the cold, the wind, and eke the sun;

They’re means from which such different phases seem to run.140

In things invisible the same rule still holds good;

Advantage, loss, annoyance, fraud, affliction’s flood.

The words of saints are like the vernal breeze in power;

They cause sweet flowers to open in man’s bosom bower.

And like the rains of spring on herbage of the field,

They raise in pious hearts a harvest of rich yield.

If thou shouldst see a trunk that’s blighted, dead, and dry,

Attribute not this state to quickening air’s supply.

The air still quickens, though dead stumps feel not its power.

’Tis only what’s alive, that freshens by a shower.145

The Prophet gave advice: “From breezes cool, in spring,271

Your bodies cover not; they’re invigorating.

Allow them, then, full play; they’ll give your sinews strength.

See how, with them, the trees are clothed with leaves, at length.

Beware, however; autumn’s chills ye must not court.

They’re fatal to men’s lives; the trees they strip, in short.”

Traditionists report the Prophet’s blessed words;

But there they have stopped short; they add naught afterwards.

The whole class, ignorant of application’s call,

The mountain have discerned; its mines they have missed, all.150

The autumn chill, with God, is fleshly lust and pride;

The vernal breeze, the spirit, wisdom, sense to guide.

Of wisdom, in thy head, a glimmering thou hast;

Seek then for perfect wisdom; be to it steadfast.

Thy partial stock from thence completed thou wilt bring.

On neck of flesh completed wisdom put, as ring.272

Thou seest now, applied, the breeze of spring is he,

Who, perfect in himself, men perfect helps to be.

From words of his take care thou close not up thy ear.

Thy faith they will confirm; religion fruit will bear.155

Reproachful, or in praise, hear all he has to say;

From thee the fires of hell they’ll help to turn away.

Reproaches, admonitions, life will bring at last

If faith they but confirm, flesh in subjection cast.

By admonition is the heart encouraged to good deeds;

And by reproaches is the soul kept back from evil’s meeds.

Upon the heart of teacher clings dark sorrow’s pall,

If one twig from heart’s garden’s seen away to fall.

Good ‘?’isha, the gem of honour’s casket wide,

Then asked the Prophet (who’s of both the worlds the Pride):160

“O thou who of all creatures every essence art,

What was the reason rain this day has played its part?

Was it a rain of mercy, such as sometimes falls;

Or was it as a menace justice fitly calls?

Was it a vernal rain, dispensing benefits;

Or was it an autumnal shower, to dig grave pits?”

He answered: “’Twas a sprinkle, sent to soothe our care,—

That fruit inherited by all who Adam share.

Should man remain exposed for long to care’s fierce flame,

’Twould work him wrack and ruin, crush his mortal frame.“165

The world would go to ruin in a little while;

Man’s greed would get the upper hand, did he not smile.

The prop of this wide world is heedlessness, my son;

And thoughtfulness on earth below’s a curse, when won.

For thoughtfulness belongs unto the upper world;

Triumphant here below, all’s soon to ruin hurled.

This thoughtfulness a sun is; greed’s a mass of ice.

This thoughtfulness is water; greed, the filth of vice.

So from the upper world scant tricklings are sent down,

That greed and envy may not ruin every town.170

If those scant tricklings were to prove a copious rill,

Defects and talents both would cease our soil to till.

Let’s leave these moralisings; they would have no end.

So go we back to seek the minstrel, our old friend.

That minstrel’s talent had been rare; the world he’d charmed.

At sound of his sweet voice, imagination ’d swarmed.

Each heart, birdlike, began to flutter in its cage;

Surprise enchained men’s minds when his notes threw the gage.

But now he was grown old; long years he’d passed on earth.

Like falcon chasing gnats, he’d little cause for mirth.175

His back was double bent, like belly of wine-jar;

His brows above his eyes with crupper-straps on par.

His voice, the former joy of all who might it hear,

Was now cracked, out of tune, uncouth, none could it bear.

His tones, that might have made dame Venus mad with rage,273

Were now like donkey’s brayings in his sinking age.

What is there beautiful that goes not to decay?

Where is the roof that will not ruin be one day?

Unless it be the words of saint274 from God; they’ll last

’Till echoes of his voice shall sound in judgment blast.180

He is the inner joy that glads our inner man;

The source from whom our beings rose when time began.

He is the amber draws the motes of thought and speech;

He gave the means to measure revelation’s reach.

Our minstrel in old age felt poverty’s sure pinch.

No money could he earn; bread, not enough for finch.

He prayed: “O God, long life and full to me Thou’st given,

To worthless sinner Thou hast shown foretaste of heaven.

I’ve slighted Thy commandments seventy years and more,

Not one day hast Thou let me pangs of want feel sore.185

No longer can I earn; I’m now Thy household guest;

I’ll harp for love of Thee, Thou giver of my feast.”

His harp on shoulder slung, he went, in quest of God,

To burial-ground of Yathrab;275 sat down on the sod.

Said he: “I’ll ask of God the hire of my harpstrings;

For He accepts the heart’s most humble outpourings.”

He harped awhile, and then he laid him down and wept.

His harp his pillow was; upon a grave he slept.

With sleep his soul was freed from prison and from pain,

The harp and harper both were now made young again.190

His soul, free, wandered forth, exempt from all dull care,

In spacious fields of heaven, the soul’s park, light as air.

There he began to warble, merry as a lark:

“O that I here might dwell without a care to cark!

How joyous I should be in such a paradise;

These sweet ethereal fields breathe balm, and myrrh, and spice.

I’d wander all about; no need of feet or wings.

All sweets I’d feast on; lips and teeth were useless things.

My mind at rest, from all care free, I’d ever roam.

The angels I’d not envy in their heavenly home.195

With bandaged eyes I’d survey realms without an end;

All sorts of flowers I’d gather, yet not soil my hand.

Like duck in pond, down deep I’d plunge in honey lake.276

In Job’s own fount I’d bathe, in wine I’d revel make.

For Job with wine from heaven was cleansed in every pore;

From head to foot he came forth healed, without a sore.”

If these poor rhyming verses covered heaven’s vast vault,

They’d not tell half a tithe, they still would be at fault.

The sum of heavenly joys I find an endless theme;

My heart is far too narrow to embrace its scheme.200

The world I would enclose in my poor poem’s fold,

Has lent my thoughts the wings that make their flight so bold.

Were but that world in sight; its and soul infuse

From out Thy hidden world, as water dost diffuse.

The Prophet has informed us that, for warning’s sake,

Two angels evermore sweet invocation make:330

“O God, dispensers bless! Do Thou them feed and tend!

Give them ten thousandfold for every mite they spend!

But hoarders, O our Lord God, in this lower scene,

Do Thou afflict with loss,—no profit intervene!”

How many hoardings better than dispensings are!

Save in God’s service, wealth of God spend not. Take care!

So mayst thou get in recompense a hundredfold.

So mayst thou ’scape the punishment of sins untold.

Men offered up their camels as a sacrifice;

In hopes their swords ’gainst MustafÀ would do service.335

Seek thou the will of God from him who has it learnt;

Not into every soul has God’s will been inburnt.

The Prophet’s words forewarned those sons of heedlessness,

That all such offerings are a heap of worthlessness.

In war with God’s apostle, chiefs of Mekka all

Such sacrifices offered, ghostly aid to call.

Just like the unjust steward, who, as justice due,

The treasure of his lord bestowed on rebel crew.

He falsely pictured to himself he’d justice wrought,

With public money spent, the poor to terms he’d brought.340

Such justice from such culprit, what could it effect?

His lord, to anger moved, excuses did reject.

Hence is it, every Muslim, fearing he may stray,

In his devotions begs: “Lead Thou us in right way.”281

Their substance to dispense suits men of generous mood.

A lover’s ready gift’s his life for his love’s good.

Dispense thou food for God’s sake; food thou’lt surely have.

Lay down thy life for love of God; thy life thou’lt save.

We see the trees here shed their leaves at God’s command.

Without their toil or trouble, other leaves He’ll send.345

Shouldst thou, dispensing much, one day be found in want,

The Lord will not forsake thee; His supply’s not scant.

Whoever sows, must empty storehouses of grain;

His fields will yield him richly tenfold heaps of gain.

But he who’s left his corn in garners, to be used,

Mules, horses, mice, and accidents have it reduced.

This world’s a negative; the positive seek thou.

All outward forms are cyphers; search, the sense to know.

Lay down thy wretched life before th’ uplifted sword;

New life thou’lt purchase, never-ending, of the Lord.350

But if thou do not know, well, how to quit this scene,

To me, then, lend thy ear; this tale for thee I mean.

In days of old there was a Caliph, as is said,

Whose generosity H?tim T?y? ’d dismayed.282

His fame for liberality went through the land;

All poverty, all want, relieved was at his hand.

The very sea went dry through his dispensing zest;

And rumours of his benefits spread east and west.

A fruitful cloud of rain was he to this our race;

In turn, the object he of God’s surpassing grace.355

So large his gifts, that seas and mines were out of date.

Still fame brought caravans of suitors to his gate,

His courts and halls the temples of the indigent.

The noise had gone abroad how largely he had spent.

The Persian, Roman, Turk, and Arab, all were there,

And all admired his liberalities so rare.

A Fount of Life was he, a very sea of gift.

All nations profited,—in praise their voice did lift.359

IX.
The Poor Scenite Arab and his Wife.

v class="verse">She, of whose beauty was a slave her husband still,

A double spell exerted through entreaty’s thrill.

One, whose least coolness sets man’s heart in flames,

By turning supplicant a twofold witchery claims.

If he, whose pride at times pain causes to thy mind,

To supplication stoop, thou’lt small resistance find.

He, whose fierce tyranny our bleeding hearts most grieves,

By tendering excuses, us excuseless leaves.180

“Is goodly made to man”289 ’s a text from God’s own word;

As truth made manifest, is by man ever heard.

God, too, therein decreed: “that he with her may dwell;”290

Whence Adam’s love for Eve survived lost Eden’s dell.

A hero man may be, a Hercules to grieve,

But slave to woman’s will is he, without reprieve.

He, to whose words the universe has all bowed down,291

Was he who sang: “Humayr?, speak to me!” Life’s crown!292

Of fire and water, fire is quelled through water’s wet;

Still, water boils through fire, when in a cauldron set.185

The cauldron, like a veil, those lovers keeps apart;

And water’s influence no longer cools fire’s heart.

To outward show, as water, thou mayst rule thy wife;

In stern reality, thou cleavest to her,—thy life.

This attribute, humanity must own its force:

“Man quails to sensual love,” which springs from failing’s source.

The Prophet hath declared that woman, over sage,

Despotic power e’er wields, and over men of age;

That fools the upper-hand o’er women still maintain,190

Because they’re harsh, gross, senseless, careless to cause pain.

No gentleness, no pity, faith, or ruth have they;

In that a bestial nature o’er them holds its sway.

Humanity ’tis claims, for self, love, charity;

While lusts and rage are marks of bestiality.

Fair woman is a ray from out the sun of Truth;

Not loved? A creator; not created, forsooth.293

The husband, now, contrition felt for what he’d said,

As sinner, at death’s door, repents of evil deed.

Thought he: “I have assailed the life of my life’s life;

I’ve plagued and broke the heart of my dear darling wife!”195

When God decrees an ill, man’s judgment falls asleep.

And perspicacity knows not which way to leap.

The doom of ill struck home, man straight feels deep regret;

Propriety outraged, he turns to mourn and fret.

Addressing, then, his wife, he said: “My shame is great!

I’ve acted as a heathen, ah! I’m ready to entreat!

’Gainst thee I’ve trespassed, prithee, pardon to me grant;

Upon me vengeance wreak not, root not up the plant!

An infidel, however old, if he confess his sin,

And make amends, God’s sheepfold opes and takes him in.200

Thy heart is full of pity, goodness, kindness, grace;

All being, eke nonentity, ’s in love with thy sweet face.

True faith, e’en blasphemy, adores thy majesty;

With that elixir all to gold turns instantly.”

In Moses and in Pharaoh parables we see.

’Twould seem that Moses’ faith was right; Pharaoh’s sin’s fee.

By day would Moses pray unto the Lord of Hosts;

At midnight Pharaoh, too, bewailed his impious boasts,

And said: “Thou, Lord, this yoke upon my neck didst lay;

Were’t not for yoke imposed, the egotist who’d play?205

’Tis Thou’st enlightened Moses’ mind, of Thy free grace;

And hence hast left me blindly groping on my face.

The countenance of Moses Thou’st lit up, like day;

My heart, like moon eclipsed, Thou’st darkened with dismay.

My star was never brighter than the full-faced moon;

When darkened with eclipse, it surely sets too soon.

True, kings and princes sound my praises in their routs;

My star eclipsed, the rabble raise their clamorous shouts:

With cleavers, marrowbones, tongs, pokers, hideous ’larm,

They seek to fright some monster; really, shame all charm.210

Alas for Pharaoh, with those fearful yells and noise!

Alas his ‘Lord Supreme,’294 drowned in that discord’s voice!

Both I and Moses servants are of Thee, our King;

Like woodman’s axe on tree, Thy wrath on me takes swing.

Some boughs Thou loppest, to plant. They quickly grow again.

Some others but as firewood burn, or moulder on the plain.

What can the bough, to cope with axe’s severing edge?

Can bough resist, return the blow, as blacksmith’s sledge?

I call on Thy omnipotence! Thy axe withhold!

Thy mercy manifest! These wrongs set right! Behold!”215

Then to himself did Pharaoh think: “O wondrous thing!

All night I’ve prayed ‘Good Lord’ to heaven’s Almighty King!

In secret I’m humility, a very worm!

But when I Moses meet, how greatly changed my form!

Base coin, if tenfold gilded o’er with finest gold,

Upon the fire when cast, its baseness all behold!

Are not my heart and body wholly in his hand?

Why brain me, flay me, thus? So cunning, soft, and bland!

Commandest Thou me to flourish? As cornfield I’m green.

Decreest Thou me to wither? Straight I’m sallow seen.220

One day I’m bright as full moon; next, as ec f God,

Fair Bagd?d’s city prides itself to kiss his rod.

If unto him thou have recourse, a prince thou’lt be.

Why, then, to misery cleave, such as we hourly see?

Companionship with fortune’s minions brings good luck;

Where’s an elixir like their power, my dearest duck?445

Ahmed’s esteem raised Ab?-Bekr such a height;

For once confirming Ahmed’s word, ‘Faithful’ he’s hight!”

The man demurred: “How can I gain access at court?

Without an introduction, how find sure passport?

Connection we must seek; or else invent excuse.

No artizan can work without his tools. The deuce!

Thus Mejn?n, when he’d heard by chance from passing wight,

His Layl? was an invalid (which caused him fright),

Exclaimed: ‘Alas! Without excuse I cannot go!

And if I visit not the sick one, I’m all woe!450

Would that I were physician, with his healing art;

Then could I see my Layl?; none would dare me thwart!’

And now he cries: ‘I have it! I’ve a right to go!

No bashfulness shall keep me from her portico!’

Had bats but eyes, with which to see and find their way,

They’d fly about, disport themselves, jocund, by day.”

The wife replied: “The Caliph’s public pageant is

For all who introduction lack; their griefs are his.

To be, and have a grief, is introduction sure.

Thus poverty and lowliness work their own cure.”455

He still objected: “Shall I fall in love with want,

That I may urge my need as matter for some grant?

E’en then, a witness credible I should require

T’ attest my indigence, when almoners inquire.

Point out for me a witness; not mere words and wiles;

That so the sovereign’s favour may be won, and smiles.

For, otherwise, a mere pretext, without a proof,

In justice’ court would fail, and bring reproof.

A witness credible is, then, sine quÂ non.

For suitor’s plea to stand, proof it must rest upon.”460

His wife rejoined: “The witness thou requir’st to bring,

Must, by some shrewd contrivance, from thy prospects spring.

Rain-water’s all we have in store within our hut,

Estate, possessions, wealth, lie in our water-butt.

A little pot of water shalt thou bear with thee,

As offering to the Caliph. This present from me;

And say: ‘No other wealth on earth do I possess.

To Arabs of the desert, water’s happiness!

The Caliph’s treasury is full of gems and gold;

A pot of water such as this, its coffers do not hold!465

What is this pot? It is an emblem of our lives!

The water in it, matchless virtue of our wives!

Accept, then, gracious prince, this little pot from me;

And out of all God’s gifts repay its value, free!’

That pot’s five lips are emblems of our senses. Sure!

Keep them all clean; so may thy honour, too, be pure!

The pot will then relation keep with ocean’s wave;

And I, perchance, advantage from that ocean have.

If clean thou carry it before the sovereign’s eyes,

He may be pleased therewith;—buy it from mere surprise.470

The pot will, then, of water never lacking be;

My little water-pot shall suffice thee and me.

Close tight its lips, and bear it full from our supply.

A holy text ’tis says: ‘From lust close every eye.’311

His beard, his moustache, both, will swell with joy at this.

For prince supreme like him, my offering’s not amiss.”

Thou, woman, didst not know that there, in Bagd?d’s midst,

A Tigris flowed with water, sweet as honey.—Didst?

A very ocean is it, rapid in its course;

With boats and ships, with fishers’ hooks, both fine and coarse.475

Go then, good man! The Caliph thee his state shall show!

Thou’lt comprehend the text: “Beneath which rivers flow.”312

Thus, likewise, are our intellects, our thoughts, our sense;

A drop compared with God’s boundless omniscience!

The husband now chimed in: “Yes! Plug the pot’s mouth tight.

Thou’st hit the very offering;—useful, good, and right!

Sew it up carefully in case of felt, threefold.

Our Caliph’s breakfast-water313 shall it be;—so cold!

No other water’s like it in this world of ours;—

It’s heaven’s pure ambrosia, ’still’d from vernal showers!480

Poor cits know none but waters hard and bitter all;—

Whence various maladies, with blindness, them befall!”

The bird that lives where salt-marsh noisome airs exhales,

Knows naught of joys pure water gives, and spicy gales!

So thou, good man, who dwelledst ’midst the desert’s waste,

Hadst never seen a Tigris, known Euphrates’ taste!

As he, again, not yet from worldly cares set free,

Is ignorant of ecstasy, of rapture’s glee;

Or, having heard thereof as tales from men of old,

Knows them as names alone, in storybooks oft told;485

Child’s A, B, C; as taught to every lisping elf;

But whose real meaning’s hidden from the teacher’s self.

Our Arab man now takes that water-pot in charge.

By day and night he travels;—load not over large!

Anxiety fast holds him, lest the pot should break;

Most watchfully he guards it from misfortune’s freak.

His wife spends all her days in prayers on his behalf;

Her worship o’er, she adds: “Lord! shield my better half!

Secure our pot of water from all thievish hands!

Send it may prove a pearl in sea of Bagd?d’s lands!

X.
Patience and Perseverance under a Teacher.

Husamu-’d-Din, Light of the Truth, take up, my friend,

A sheet, that thou a Teacher’s virtues mayst append.

True, thou’rt not strong; thy frame is delicate, at best;

But thou’rt the sun that lights my thoughts to their safe nest.

Thou art both lamp and lantern, all in one. Dost see?

Guide to my heart’s behests, clue to my wish,—thou’rt he.

Their thread is in thy hand; thy guidance can it shift;

The pearls upon it strung are gems, thy soul’s free gift.

Write down the qualities by which a Teacher’s known.

Select thy Teacher first; then, follow all he’s shown.5

A Teacher’s summer’s glow; cold winter, crowd terrene;

The rabble’s darkness self; the Teacher, moon serene.

Young Fortune have I named my Teacher, for the nonce;—

Young Fortune, truth’s real Teacher; vigorous at once.

An ancient Teacher he; commencement he ne’er had;

A solitary pearl;—all peerless, never sad.

Increase of age gives wine fresh strength, as well is known;

Especially truth’s wine, that flows from God’s high throne.

Select a Teacher, then. Without such, travel’s vain;

The way is dangerous,—beset with evil’s train.10

By well-known road, though travelled many times before,

Without a guide to venture, opens peril’s door.

How then an unknown path thou ne’er hast followed yet?

Go not alone, without a guide;—act not in fret.

Unless thy Teacher be at hand to lead thee right,

The clamours of the demons surely thee’ll affright.

Those demons will mislead thee, into danger cast;

More clever ones than thou have lost their wits at last.

Learn from the Prophet’s words the error of their ways;

How Satan led them far astray in bygone days.15

From off the track to all that’s good he them misled;

Them carried off; them rendered blind, by vain thoughts fed.

Behold their bones, their skeletons, along the road!

Take warning thence. Drive not thy beast with maddening goad!

Dismount; and to the rightful path safe lead him back,

Where guides abound,—experienced travellers dot the track.

Leave not thy beast; his rein loose not thou from thy hand.

His inclination is to wander o’er the land.

One moment only leave him carelessly to roam;

Towards the pastures he at once will rush, all foam.20

Thy beast is not a friend to travelling by the road.

How many muleteers through this have lost a load!

Know’st not the way? Observe which path thy beast would take,

And follow the reverse. Secure this will thee make.

“Consult thou them;”324 but then, do not what they advise;

For he who them opposes not, to ruin hies.

Lend not thyself to lust and fancy’s every wind;

For these are what lead men astray; to God’s truth blind.

There’s nothing in the world that better curbs the lusts,

Than holy company. Protected, he who trusts.25

The Prophet said to ‘Ali: “Cousin, list to me.

The ‘Lion of the Truth’325 art thou; a hero. See!

Trust not too much, however, to thy courage, sole;

Confide, much rather, on God’s arm to keep thee whole.

Put faith in aid from His divine, omniscient mind,

That never can be baffled by disputant blind.

His shadow on the earth is what keeps it in place;

His spirit, sunbird-like, soars in supernal space.

Were I to speak His praises until judgment day,

No end, no interruption, would admit my say.30

Himself He’s veiled in man, as sun behind a cloud.

This seek to comprehend. God knows what mysteries shroud.

The sun He is;—the sun of spirit, not of sky;

By light from Him man lives;—and angels eke, forby.

Then, ‘Ali, of all service man can offer here,

Do thou choose trust in God, dependence firm, sincere.

Each man betakes himself some special worship to;

And each some special friend selects, without ado.

Do thou take refuge in God’s wisdom, full, divine;

He’ll foil the secret foe that would thee undermine.35

Of all the modes of worship, this choose thou, the best;

Thou’lt distance all competitors, the prize thou’lt wrest.

Thy Teacher having chosen thus, obedience yield,

Implicit; even as Moses journeying o’er that field.326

Whate’er events betide, beware, and question not;

For fear thy guide should turn, and drive thee from the spot.327

Should He destroy a ship,328—no murmur from thy mouth;

Should He an infant choke,329—let slip no word uncouth.

God hath declared his hand is like the hand of God,

By saying: ‘God’s right hand above all hands doth plod.’33040

God’s hand it is that kills him; makes him living, too.

But what is living? The everlasting spirit. Lo!

Whoever journeys, now and then, this road alone,

The prayers of saints it is leads him to safety’s zone.

A saint’s protection is not less than angel’s aid;

His help is God’s right hand, when all is truly said.

Now, if an absent saint have such portentous power,

A present Teacher’s honour sure must higher tower.

If for the absent tempting viands are prepared,

For present guests what may not largely be outshared?45

The varlet who to serve his lord is present there,

Must rank before the absentee, for goodly fare.

Thus, having Teacher chosen, be not too thin-skinned,

Nor wishy-washy, to a muddy puddle kinned.

For every buffet, see thou do not umbrage take:

How can a mirror polished be, unless it bear a shake?”

Hear now this pregnant tale narrators have preserved;

A practice it relates in Qazwin much observed:

Upon the breast, the arms, the bladebones, and the like,

With needle’s point and indigo, tattooed designs they strike.50

A certain Qazwin bully to an artist hied,

To have a brave design imprinted on his hide.

The artist first inquired what pattern he’d select.

The man a lion rampant thought he must elect;

And said: “My luck resides in Leo,—lion-sign;

Depict thou then a lion, deep-blue stained, benign.”

The artist then demanded where he’d wish it done;

Our man replied: “Between my bladebones it enthrone.”

The artist then began to ply his needles’ train;

The Qazwin bully bellowed, smarting with the pain.55

The artist he addressed: “Most clever man of skill,

Thou’lt drive me mad. What picture works me so much ill?”

Said he: “A lion’s form is what thou didst enjoin.”

“O yes!” replied the bully. “What part dost thou coin?”

The artist: “At the tail have I commenced this time.”

Our man: “O never mind the tail, designer prime!

Your lion’s tail has whacked me on my rump so hard,

That I’ve no power to breathe, nor such pain disregard.

Allow thy lion to remain without a tail;

Thy needles have unnerved me with their sharp assail.”60

The artist then began upon another part,

And worked his instruments. They soon induced new smart.

The patient screamed again: “What member limnest thou now?”

Our artist answered: “’Tis the lion’s ear, I trow.”

His man replied: “O leave him without ears this time;

An earless lion’s not so bad. Cut short the rhyme.”

Anew the artist on a part assayed his hand.

Afresh the bully interfered, by pain unmanned.

“What part art now at work on? Say, my worthy friend!”

“O,” said the artist, “now his body I append.”65

“Leave out his body!” gasped the suffering Qazwin man;

“The pain’s unbearable. Make short work, as thou can.”

The artist now quite lost his wits, as well he might;

He scratched his head; sought how to mend his plight;

Dashed all his needles, indigo, design, to earth;

In anger saying: “What the plague’s come now to birth?

A lion tailless, headless, bodiless, who’s seen?

God such a lion ne’er created, sure, I ween!”

Have patience, thou too, brother, with thy needle’s smart.

So shalt thou ’scape the sting of conscience in thy heart.70

They who have conquered,—freed themselves from body’s thrall,

Are worshipped in the spheres, the sun, the moon, stars, all.

Whoever’s killed pride’s demon in his earthly frame,

The sun and clouds are slaves, to do his bidding, tame.

His heart can lessons give of flaming to the lamp;

The very sun not equals him in ardent vamp.

For God hath said, in speaking of the scorching sun,

These words: “It swerved from them.”331 It had new course to run.

The sharpest thorns are welcome, as the roseleaf soft,

To finite who to th’ Infinite can soar aloft.75

What signifies to glorify the Lord of heaven;

To humble self to dust; with meekness, pride to leaven?

What use to learn to formulate God’s unity;

What use to bow one’s self before the Deity?

Wouldst shine as brilliantly in sight of all?

Annihilate thy darksome self,—thy being’s pall.

Let thy existence in God’s essence be enrolled,

As copper in alchemist’s bath is turned to gold.

Quit “I” and “We,” which o’er thy heart exert control.

’Tis egotism, estranged from God, that clogs thy soul.80

XI.
The Lion’s Hunt, in Company.

A lion, wolf, and fox together went to hunt;

Among the hills, in quest of game, they turned their brunt.

By mutual help and aid, they hoped to make the field

Too hot for other animals not under union’s shield.

Co-operating with each other, they surmised,

A heavy bag they each would make of what each prized.

’Tis true, the noble lion felt of this ashamed.

Still, he politely showed towards them his spirit tamed.

A king feels inconvenienced by throngs of troops;

But out of kindness makes them share his warlike swoops.5

The sun would feel ashamed, did stars with him appear;

’Tis generous in the sun to grace the starry sphere.

’Twas God’s command to Ahmed still: “With them consult.”332

True, they gave no advice; no counsel did result.

Upon the balance barley’s weighed, as well as gold;

But barley, thence, has not acquired gold’s value told.

The spirit with the flesh is fellow-traveller now;

A dog has sometimes charge of palace-yard below.

The company, then, set out for the woods amain,

As followers of the lion’s majesty, and train.10

A mountain-ox, an ibex, next a hare, they took;

Since fortune smiled on them in each succeeding nook.

A lion’s followers on the plain of strife and war,

Of food, by day or night, shall know no want, no bar.

Their prey they carried from the hills into the plain;

Or dead, or sorely wounded;—bleeding, or clean slain.

The wolf and fox were moved to pitch of keen desire,

To see the prey shared out with justice by their sire.15

The shade of their cupidity caught Leo’s eye,

He understood their confidence, their longing’s dye.

Whoe’er has insight to the hearts and minds of men,

Knows at a glance what’s passing under his sharp ken.

Beware, O heart, thou ever-fond one, in his sight,

Thy secret to betray,—thy wish to bring to light!

He knows it all, though ignorance he may pretend;—

His smile is but a veil thy aim to comprehend.

The lion, having measured all their secret thought,

Made no remark; he knew how they could both be bought;20

Within his breast revolved their fitting punishment:

“I’ll show you, my fine fellows, what’s by lion meant.

My pleasure’s, for you both, what you should seek to know;

Not calculate beforehand what I may bestow.

Your every thought should but reflect my sovereign will,

And thankfully await what I may give you still.

Have pictures aught to say to guide the artist’s hand?

His cunning ’tis decides what portrait shall expand.

So all your paltry surmise of my royal mind

An insult is,—an arrogance,—that must be fined.25

‘They who conceive an evil thing of God’333 are cursed;

And if I spare you, justice will be clean reversed.

To rid the world of scandal, I must end your lives;

Your story shall a moral point; whoe’er contrives.”

With this he smiled again most grimly on the pair.

Trust not a lion’s smile, all ye to live who care.

The riches of the world are smiles of Providence;

They make men proud, and lead them to their fate prepense.

Through poverty and suffering we may escape

The trap that riches bait; and so avoid the scrape.30

The lion now addressed the wolf: “Share out the spoil.

Do justice to us all. Thou’rt versed in cunning’s foil.

Be thou my factor. Carve the game as may be fit.

So shalt thou honour win from all who see thy wit.”

The wolf then: “Royal Sir, the mountain-ox is thine.

Thou’rt great; the ox is large and fat; let none repine.

The ibex is my share. As I, so it’s the mean.

And thou, O fox, shalt have the hare. ’Tis not too lean.”

The lion interposed: “Wolf! What is this thou’st said?

I present; and to talk of ‘thou’ and ‘I,’ so staid!35

What rubbish is a wolf, to deem himself a judge

In presence of a lion, who’ll soon make him budge?

Come hither, ass! Thyself alone it is thou’st sold!”

With this he tears the wolf to pieces, all too bold.

He saw the wolf had not one grain of common sense;

So stripped him of his hide, his life, his brain so dense.

Then said: “Since sight of me chased not all thought of self

From thee, death by my paw was due, thou wretched elf!

Thyself thou shouldst have vanquished in my presence dread.

Not having done so, thou’rt now numbered with the dead.”40

“All perisheth, except His counsel” ’s holy writ.334

If we’re not of “His counsel,” life cannot us fit.

He that will lose his life for God’s sake, hath it still;

“All perisheth” hath then no power his soul to kill.

He’s of th’ excepted; not of those to perish doomed.

For, who’s excepted, saved is he. His spring hath bloomed.

But he that, in God’s court, of “me” and “thee” shall prate,

Will be cut off;—far banished from the heavenly gate.

A man once came and gaily knocked at a friend’s door.

The other asked: “Who’s there? Is this a threshing-floor?”45

“’Tis I,” said he. “O then thou straight mayest go away.

’Tis dinner-time. Mature, not crude, must be who’d stay.

Thou’rt thou? Most crude thou art; by rawness’ self estranged.

By fire of trial those crude humours must be changed.

’Tis fire matures the crude. Let absence be the fire,

Shall purge thee of thyself, burn out all selfish mire.”

Away he went in anguish; travelled a whole year;

Saw not his friend; so pined with yearning, anxious fear;

Matured his soul with suffering’s searching throes and pains.

Then sought the door from whence he’d been repulsed, again.50

He knocked anew,—his heart with many fears oppressed,

Lest from his lip some word unwelcome drop confessed.

Within, the question’s heard: “Who knocks at my street door?”

He answered: “Thy own second self;—though all too poor.”

The invitation followed: “Let myself walk in.

My cot’s too small for two selves to find room therein.

The thread’s not double in a needle’s single eye.

As thou’rt now single, enter. Room thou’lt find. Pray, try!”

The thread and needle have relation, each to each;

For needle’s eye a camel’s far beyond all reach.55

How shall a camel ever be so fine and slim

Unless long fasting his redundant flesh should skim?

The hand of God is wanted, then, to make it pass;—

The God who by His word creates both man and grass.

Impossibilities are possibles to Him;

The stubbornest is docile when His will curbs whim.

The blind from birth, the leper, e’en the dead, arise,

Whole, sound, whene’er th’ Omnipotent “Come forth” but cries.

E’en non-existence, death of death, at His command,

Starts into life, compelled by His supreme demand.60

Recite, my friend: “Each day He’s busied with a work:”335

And know, He’s never idle, unemployed to lurk.

His smallest daily toil,—a work like pleasure still,—

Is to send forth three armies, bound to work His will.

One, from the loins of spheres the elements to stir;

So that all plants may vegetate, from moss to fir.

One, from the wombs of mothers to earth’s surface prone,

That male and female may increase, not lie like stone.

The third hence wends its way to sepulchre’s dread bourn,

There to receive, at length, reward; and joy, or mourn.65

Leave we this theme;—’tis endless,—never would have done.

Let’s see, now, how the friends enjoyed themselves alone.

Our host invites his guest to enter, free from scorn:

“Thou’rt welcome, self of mine! We’re not like rose and thorn.

Our thread is single,—free from knots and tangle; done,

As ‘Be,’ though duplex as to form, in sense is one.”

That “Be” ’s a rope, of power collective, to the end

That nullity may be united to a friend.

Thus duplex means are wanted, for appearances;

Though, in effect, one means there be of all that is.70

The biped, as the quadruped, goes but one road.

The one-edged knife, the two-edged shears, make one inroad.

Observe yon pair of bleachers at their daily toil.

Apparently, they differ, combat, as they moil.

The one’s for ever wetting cloths in their stream’s tide,

The other dries them just as fast in hot noontide.

The first, again to soak the scarce-dried cloths makes haste;

As though in opposition to his partner’s waste.

But, in reality, the two have but one aim:

Co-operation’s what they jointly, both proclaim.75

Each prophet, every saint, has his especial rite;

But, as all tend to God, they’re one, multipartite.

Sleep overcomes alike the followers of all creeds;

As water makes all mills to turn and grind, at needs.

The water flows from upwards, down upon the mill;

Its flowing through the trough is but man’s wants to fill.

No sooner has man’s need been fully satisfied,

He turns the water off;—straight in its bed it’s tied.

To teach men wisdom, stream of speech flows through the mouth;

But spirit hath another course, far less uncouth.80

Without a voice or repetition it rolls on,

As through elysium, streams;—flowers springing aye, anon.

O Lord! Do Thou vouchsafe to my weak, erring soul

To see the realm where, voiceless, spirit thoughts may stroll,

That so my mind, in glee, on foot or head, may wing

Its flight to the far bourn that parts from nothing, thing,

Careering o’er the boundless fields of ecstasy,

Where fancy joins reality in entity.

Far-reaching more’s nonentity than fancy’s stretch;

And thus, his fancy is a source of woe to wretch.85

Then, being’s narrower far than fancy’s power of wing;

E’en as the full moon wanes, till it becomes a string.

The world of matter and its forms is narrower still;

A prison all too strait for mind to have its will.

Plurality and composition are the cause;

Our senses these alone can comprehend, and pause.

Beyond our senses lies the world of unity.

Desirest thou unity? Beyond thy senses fly!

Divine command, “Be!” was one act; two-lettered word;

Of grave import, though short, sprung from all being’s Lord.90

But leave we this, and turn to see how fares it now,

With our acquaintances, wolf, fox, and lion;—trow.

The lordly lion ’d torn poor wolf’s head from his tail,

That so two heads there might not be for one avail.

“On them We vengeance took”336 ’s a well-known sacred text;

Wherefore, poor wolf, not quash thyself, when lion’s next?

The lion turned, then, to the fox, and bade him share

The prey they’d seized; that they might make a meal, not spare.

The wily fox, low bowing with a reverence meet,

Said: “Sire, the ox your share is, for your breakfast treat.95

The ibex, then, will suffice for your midday lunch,

To serve as stop-gap in the interval of munch.

The hare a light repast will furnish ere you sleep;

The royal paunch from indigestion’s pains ’twill keep.”

The lion answered: “Well said, fox. Thou’rt justice’ self.

Who taught thee with such judgment rare to portion pelf?

Where didst thou learn to do full justice with great art?”

Said he: “My Lord, to teach me was that dead wolf’s part.”

The lion thus replied: “For us much love thou’st shown.

Take thou all three unto thyself, as very own.100

Good fox! Thou’st given up thyself entire, for us.

Why should I injure thee? Thou’rt I myself. No fuss!

Myself am thine; the prey is thine; all,—every bit.

Exalt thy head above the spheres. For that thou’rt fit.

Thou’st taken warning from that wretched, selfish wolf.

No longer fox art thou, my lion, my own self!

A wise head ever lessons learns from others’ ills,—

Who sees his neighbours victims fall, knows what them kills.”

The fox now thanked his stars a hundred, thousandfold,

For that the lion first the wolf to share had told;105

And reasoned: “Had he given me first his high command

To share the prey, my life I had not kept in hand.

Then praise to Him who ’th placed me low in this world’s scale,

To follow after mightier ones when they regale.”

So have we heard God’s judgments wrought in ages past

On people of the eld;—set forth as mountains fast,

That we may learn from them,—the wolves of early days.

Then let us, as the fox, glean wisdom from those lays.

“God’s people sanctified” ’s the title on us cast,

By God’s own Prophet, truthful witness, and the last.110

The bones, the skeletons of all those old-world wolves,

Consider well, ye readers;—think upon yourselves.

Who’s wise will from his heart cast out all fond conceits

Of greatness, when he hears of ‘Ad’s337 and Pharaoh’s feats.

Unless he warning take from what on others fell,

Men shall a moral draw from his case, sad to tell.

Cried Noah: “Ye stiff-necked race! I am not I, indeed.

My self I’ve sacrificed; of God’s love have I need.

From every fleshly sense and wish I’m severed, quite.

God is my light, my mind, my visual organ’s site.115

I am not I. The breath I breathe is God’s own breath.

Whoe’er gainsays this word, blasphemes, courts his own death.

Within my form of fox there lurks the lion’s power;

Against this feeble fox ’tis useless now to lower.

Unless you lay aside scorn for my fox’s form,

You’ll hear the lion growl more fierce than raging storm.”

If Noah had not possessed the mighty aid of God,

Could he a world have upside down turned with a nod?

Within his form whole herds of lions, as one paw,

Lay hid. A fire was he; the world a stack of straw.120

That misled straw refused to pay its tithe to him.

Fire flashed. Forthwith the straw in smoke and flames sank grim.

Whoe’er ’gainst the hidden lion in saint’s form

Upraise the voice of pride, like to our wolf, base worm,

Shall, like that wolf, be torn by lion piecemeal quite;

The text: “On them we vengeance took” he shall recite.338

A stroke shall lay him low, as wolf by lion’s paw.

A madman must he be who’d rush in lion’s maw.

O that the stroke had fallen upon the body frail;

And that the heart and faith had ’scaped! ’Twere vast avail!125

Upon this point I feel my strength must all give way.

How shall I tell the secrets of this mystic play?

Just like the fox, do you yourselves deny in all.

In lion’s presence raise no cavil, or you’ll fall.

Relinquish thoughts of “I” and “We” when “He” ’s afield.

The kingdom is the Lord’s; to God the kingdom yield.

The straight way enter all, like paupers as you are.

The lion and the prey will both fall to your share.

God is a spirit pure. All-Glorious is His name!

He hath no need of praise, of honour, glory, fame!130

All these, and all besides, whatever may befall,

Upon His servants He bestows. He’s Lord of all!

God hath no envy, wish, desire for creatures’ ruths;

And blessed is he who takes to heart this truth of truths.

’Twas He created both worlds;—all their pomp and pride.

Shall He desire what He hath made in His own tide?

Keep, then, your hearts pure in the sight of God the Lord,

That you may never be ashamed of thought or word.

He knows the secrets, aims, desires of all your hearts;

They’re patent to Him, as a hair in milk at marts.135

Whoever hath a breast cleansed from all thoughts of guile,

His breast a mirror is, where heavenly truths will smile.

Its secrets are all known to God;—its every part;

“Believer’s heart’s the mirror of believer’s heart.”

He tries our metal on the touchstone of His law.

The fine, the base, He will distinguish, without flaw.

Our talents being tried by His omniscient skill,

What’s good, what’s bad, will sure appear, plain, by His will.139

XII.
Joseph and the Mirror.

The kings of yore a custom had, so I’ve been told,

Of course thou’st heard it;—must remember it, of old,

On their left hand their champions took their usual place;

Because the heart is on the left of body’s space.

Their chancellor and scribes stood on their right hand all;

In that the writer’s art to the right hand doth fall.

Before their face the holy teachers stood erect,—

The mirrors of the soul;—than mirror more correct.

Their breasts they’ve polished with the acts of thought and praise,

That, mirror-like, they catch each image facts may raise.5

Each object born in nature with a lovely mien

Should always have a mirror set to catch its sheen.

A beauteous face enamoured is with mirror’s glance;

Heart’s piety’s the polish best the soul can chance.

A friend of tried sincerity came from afar,

And guest became with trusty Joseph;—free from bar.

They had been friends before, in childhood’s artless days;

Had leant their elbows on one cushion, in their ways.

His brethren’s envy and wrong-dealing touched upon,

Said Joseph: “’Twas a chain. It bound a lion. ‘Non!10

Disgrace affects not lions, if with chains they’re bound.

With God’s decree I quarrel not;—it’s always sound.

A lion with a chain around his lordly neck,

Is still the lord of them who forged the chain as check.”

The friend asked: “How wert, in the well, the prison, cast?”

Said Joseph: “As the moon in wane and change at last.”

At change, the new moon’s bent in two, a poor weak thing,

But ripens to the full apace, night’s matchless king.339

Pearls in a mortar pounded are, by chance, sometimes;

Still, they’re esteemed a joy to glad eyes in all climes.15

Then, grains of wheat are cast into the lowly earth;

But golden ears thence spring, a source of glee and mirth.

These, too, are ground to dust in mill;—vile as to show;

Increased in value, thence, bread it becomes, we know.

Again ’tis crushed between the teeth; to chyme it turns,

And feeds the mind, the thoughts, the soul;—in wisdom burns.

The soul, in turn, is subject to the stress of love;

New miracles, as seen, “the sowers marvel”340 prove.

But truce to these reflections; let us follow now

The words of Joseph’s friend. ’Tis worth while these to know.20

That conversation closed, said Joseph to his guest:

“What gift, my friend, hast brought in token of thy zest?”

To go with empty hands and visit friends long missed,

Is like a man who goes to mill without his grist.

E’en God will ask His creatures in the judgment day:

“What offerings have you brought to meet your Maker? Say!

‘Alone, and empty-handed? Is it thus you come?

E’en as We first created you? Gifts left at home?’341

What have you brought as timely offerings in your hands?

What are the gifts with which you’d grace your new life’s lands?25

Or, was it that you’d no belief in this return?

Our promise of this day by you was laughed to scorn?

If you denied thus the hope to be My guest,

Then dust and ashes wait you in My realm, at best.

If you did not deny it, whence your empty hands?

How come you to a friend’s gate, scorning just demands?”

Put by a little from thy daily meat and drink,

So shalt thou have a store for offerings’ binding link.

“Sleep little” when thou art of those “who lay them down.”342

“Of mornings,” be of them who “ask for pardon’s crown.”34330

Give signs of life, though slight;—as babes do in the womb;

So may God grant thee inward light to cheer thy tomb.

And when thou ’scapest from dark and narrow prison there,

Then mayst thou soar from earth beyond the realms of air.

“The spacious land of God” ’tis named in holy writ,344

The land to which the prophets all have gladly flit.

The heart is never lonesome in that vast abode;

Its green trees never wither, frosts no leaves corrode.

If now thou load thyself with sensual burden’s weight,

Fatigued and jaded, faint thou’lt prove beneath their freight.35

In sleep thou bearest no burden; borne thou art, instead.

Fatigue is thence recruited;—strength regains its head.

Know then, thy sleep’s a foretaste of what is to come,

From the rapt state of saints arriving at their home.

The saints were well prefigured by the “Sleepers Seven.”345

“Their sleep,” “their stretchings,” “their awaking,” lead to heaven.

Without the least exertion on their parts by acts,

The “right and left-hand registers” draw them by facts.

The “right-hand register” ’s the record of good deeds;346

The “left-hand register” ’s the list of fleshly greeds.34740

But both of these abolished are in case of saints.

To them such things are but as echo dies and faints.

Though good and evil may their echoes round thee peal,

The echoing mountain hears them not in the ordeal.

Now Joseph once again inquired: “What offering bringest?”

His friend, ashamed of urgent pressing, sighed. Thou singest?

Said he: “Full many offerings have I sought and seen;

But none was worthy of thee; or I much misween.

How could I bring a diamond to its native mine;

Or add a drop of water to a sea of brine?45

Shall I to Kashan cummin bring, whence it is drawn,348

By offering up my life and soul to beauty’s fawn?

I know no rarity that’s not surpassed by thee;

Thy loveliness the rarity men nowhere see.

The fittest present, then, I’ve found, a mirror is.

And this I’ve brought; unsullied, bright, refulgent ’tis.349

Therein thou’lt contemplate thy beauteous, matchless face,

As beaming as the sun that decorates sky’s space.

A mirror have I brought, thou charming, witching one;

In it admire thyself; and think of me, when gone.”50

The mirror now he drew from underneath his skirt.

A mirror is, to beauty, with attractions girt.

In non-existence’ mirror if existence gleams,

Present this mirror to it, thou, as best beseems.

In non-existence mirrored, being we may see;

As wealthy men their wealth may show by beggars’ glee.

The hungry man’s the mirror best shows what is bread.

And tinder mirrors flint and steel’s gleam, quickly spread.

Wherever want, defect, is seen, beauty’s most prized.

The mirror of perfection’s then best realised.55

If clothes grew, ready cut and sewn, to meet our needs,

Where’d be the use of tailor’s art, to fashion weeds?

The unhewn trunk is needed, for the carver’s skill,

And carpenter, to cut out thence his frames, his thill.

The surgeon hastens to the couch where suffering lies;

Where limbs are broken, there his bandages he ties.

Were there no patient, malady, no fever, ache,

Could art sublime, the medical, its marvels make?

If humble brass and copper were not to be found,

Th’ alchemist’s stone could not to gold transmute them round.60

Defect is thus the mirror whence perfection’s seen;

And vileness is the foil to show off grandeur’s sheen.

By contrast does each opposite its fellow show,

Sweet honey by sharp vinegar we best can know.

The man who sees and feels his imperfections sore,

Exerts himself to cure them quickly all the more.

And he’ll ne’er take his flight towards heaven’s eternal King,

Who holds at heart the thought that he’s a perfect thing.

No worse disease exists, to taint the human mind,

Than self-conceit, that paints its owner gold refined.65

How many bitter tears has not the vain to shed,

Ere arrogance can be expelled, and pride be dead!

The malady of Satan,—self-conceit:—“I’m best,”350

Exists in germ in every panting human breast.

These fancy they have mortified themselves throughout.

Take them to be pure streams; their filth seek in the grout.

Just stir them up a little, for a trial’s sake;

Thou’lt see their mud discolour all the water’s lake.

There’s ooze at bottom of the pond,—be sure of that,—

However clear the surface of the dull dead flat.70

Our greatest teacher is endowed with fair device.

He digs a conduit in the very soil of vice.

How can he make the water of that conduit pure?

All human wisdom’s but one spark from God’s vast store.

Does sword inflict a wound in its own handle,—blade?

Find me a surgeon who shall cure a gash so made.

Where wound exists, the flies will ever flock amain,

To hide its hideousness from sight, and lull the pain,

Those flies the symbols are of man’s vain, baseless thoughts;

The wound they cover over’s ignorance high-wrought.75

’Tis only when the teacher salve applies with skill,

The throes are quieted that shoot across man’s will.

He then imagines that his wound is healing fast.

Effect this is of cunning used, that salve to cast.

O man, whose back is galled, accept his salve with thanks.

Thy solace thence arises; not from thy own pranks.78

XIII.
The Prophet’s First Amanuensis.

There was a scribe,351 before ‘Uthman352 had filled that post,

Most diligent in noting revelation’s host.

Whatever text the Prophet had to promulgate

On parchment did this scribe trace all its terms of fate.

The splendour of those inspirations filled his soul.

His mind became enlightened, as a glowing coal.

The substance of that wisdom from the Prophet came.

The silly scribe imagined ’twas his genius’ flame:

“The texts the Prophet promulgates with rare effect,

Appear verbatim in my mind, without defect.”5

The Prophet was aware of this egregious sin.

The wrath of God descended from high heaven’s welkin.

The scribe renounced his office, and his faith at once.

Religion’s fiercest foe he stood now, for the nonce.

The Prophet questioned him: “Benighted, wretched man!

If light there be in thee, whence this thy darkest plan?

Hadst thou a fountain of God’s truth been, verily,

This turbid stream had never flowed thence, heavily.”

Not caring to expose his scribe to all his friends,

The Prophet held his peace, to watch th’ adventure’s ends.10

The scribe’s heart hardened more and more as time rolled on.

Repentance he felt not; his pride grew thereupon.

He sighed. His sighs were not the signs of contrite heart;

But tokens sure that justice made him feel its smart.

God caused his pride to weigh more heavy than a chain.

How many thus are fettered; none can heal their pain.

His blasphemy and pride held him in iron grip;

His very sighs he felt constrained to stifle on his lip.

He cried: “‘The iron collars they’re compelled to wear;’353

There’s naught but iron collars; these are all we bear!15

‘Behind them is a barrier; but We’ve bound their eyes.’354

So that they see not what’s before, behind those ties.”

The barrier so upreared appears a level plain;

He knows not ’tis a bourn that checks him like a chain.

Thy witness is a barrier, bars sight of the Lord;

Thy teacher is a veil, shuts out God’s holy word.

How many infidels, oh! long faith to possess!

Their pride, their honour, stands between them and success.

That barrier, unseen, ’s than iron firmer still.

An axe can hew through iron; not through stubborn will.20

A bond of iron may be broken by due means;

A moral bond is what holds firmest, where it leans.

A bee, a wasp, may sting one to the very quick;

Yet may the same be warded by precaution’s trick.

But what’s to do when sting is in our very selves?

The pain is then most biting, deeper far it delves.

Unwillingly has leaped this subject from my mind.

I fear ’twill leave despair in many, deep behind.

Despair thou not; take consolation to thy soul;

And cry to that Deliverer who can make thee whole:25

“Thou Lover of forgiveness! Pardon to me grant!

Physician of the soul! Relieve my direful want!”

Such counsel wise drove mad that erring sinner, quite.

Think not of him. ’Twill tire thy mind beyond respite.

My friend! This counsel tells with equal force on thee.

It flows through all the saints, though transient thou it see.

Within the house a gleam of light has been espied.

This light comes from a neighbour’s lamp, with oil supplied.

Give thanks for it. Be not puffed up. Snort not, good man!

To me lend ear. Presumption chase to utmost span.30

Alas! that this most transient ray of dubious light,

The nations has seduced from God’s sole path of right.

I’ll be the very slave of him, who, at each stage,

Will not suppose the goal ’tis of his pilgrimage.

How many stages are there must be left behind,

Before the traveller reach the home he bears in mind.

Although the iron may glow red, the colour’s not

Its own; ’tis but reflection of the fire that’s hot.

A window or a house with light may be suffused;

But still, the source of light is in the sun, diffused.35

Each wall, each gate, may cry amain: “I shine! I shine!

I have no need of other’s light. ’Tis mine! ’Tis mine!”

But then the sun demurs: “O thing of little sense!

So soon as I shall set, thy darkness will be dense!”

The plants may think their verdure’s all their very own.

So fresh, so green; so pleasant every flower full-blown.

But then again the summer season makes comment:

“When I am past, your present charms will soon be spent.”

A beauty’s lovely body prides itself as fair.

Her spirit, having hid itself within its lair,40

Remarks: “Thou dunghill! Wherefore all this silly pride?

Thou bloomest but a day or two, while I preside.

Thy affectation, vanity, ’s too vast for me.

But stay till I depart: then straightway thou shalt see.

Thy lovers then shall loathe thy charms, adored before.

To worms, and toads, and snakes they’ll fling thee, as cheap store.

Thy stench shall make him hold his nose in deep disgust,

Who lately in thy presence would have licked the dust.”

Reflections from the spirit are the tongue, the eye, the ear.

Accessions from the fire steam’s bubbles ’tis upbear.45

E’en as the soul’s reflection on the body acts,

Reflection from th’ inspiring saints my soul impacts.

When my soul’s life shall quit my soul, alack-a-day!

My soul shall lifeless be, like mortal soulless clay.

’Tis therefore that I cast myself down in the dust,

That earth may witness bear for me before th’ All-Just.

In day of judgment, “when the earth shall quake with fear,”355

Earth shall itself bear witness to my prayerful tear.

Command shall issue: “Loud proclaim the acts thou’st seen.”

The earth, the rocks, a tongue shall find, to tell what’s been.50

Philosophers deny this, in their pride of mind;

But tell them: “Dash your heads against a wall, ye blind!”

The speech of earth, of water, and of plastic clay,

Is audible unto the ears of saints that pray.

Philosophers who will deny God’s saving grace,

Are strangers to the powers of saints’ inspired race.

He holds that inclination, working on man’s brain,

Gives rise to heated phantasy’s legerdemain.

True, his own blasphemy and lack of firm belief

Have raised in him denial’s phantom, reason’s thief.55

Philosophers deny the devil does exist;

While they themselves his sport are, in his cursed fist.

Hast never seen the devil? Look at thy own self!

Who’d paint his forehead blue, unless deceived by elf?356

Whoever hath a doubt or trouble in his mind,

In secret’s a philosopher, as you may find.

He wears the outward semblance of belief; but then,

Anon and ever his philosophy claims pen.

Beware, all ye believers! In you lurks this germ;

Within yourselves lies latent vile deception’s sperm.60

The two and seventy sects are all within your hearts,357

And only wait a chance to play their fatal parts.

Whoever hath the bud of faith grown in his breast,

As aspen-leaf must tremble, lest it be supprest.

Thou laughest at the devil in thy foolish pride;

Thyself thou hast imagined sin’s stern deicide.

But when thy soul shall manifested be to all,

Sad sighs and moans shall rise from those who’re seen to fall.

Exhibitors of base coin in this world below

Smile now; the touchstone yet is hidden in form’s glow.65

O Veiler of men’s sins! Lift not Thy veil from us!358

In day of trial be our Helper, gracious!

Adulteration now contends with purest coin;

The gold awaits the day of trial to rejoin.

It slily thinks in its mute way, without ado:

“Await a little, false ones! Trial comes! Soho!

For was not Satan’s self, in ages long gone by,

Of light an angel, Prince of Powers, a galaxy,

Until he envied Adam in his froward heart?

And then he fell, an outcast from heaven’s high rampart.70

The son of Beor, Balaam, in the world’s esteem,

Was equal unto Moses. So all men did deem.

To him alone was homage paid by high and low;

His prayers were reckoned medicine for every woe.

To Moses he opposed himself, in foolish pride.

The Scripture tells us how most miserably he died.359

Of Balaams, and of Satans, in this world of ours,

Some manifest, some secret, troops come at all hours.

God granteth them celebrity within their spheres,

That they may witness bear against their own compeers.75

Then, both are elevated on a gallows high,

As warning unto others who for honours sigh.

They both were covetous of homage and applause;

And both received due punishment through God’s just laws.

Thou, man, perchance, the idol of some crowd mayst be.

For God’s sake, then, beware thou transgress not as he.

And setting up thyself against a better man,

Thou come to grief, and bring to wreck thy every plan.

The tales of ‘Ad360 and Thamud361 have the moral clear,

That saints of God, and righteous men, are held more dear.80

Those signs, and swift destruction overwhelming them,

Proclaim aloud the power that saints around does hem.

As brutes are slain that man may live a life of ease,

So men are slaughtered when they sin ’gainst God’s decrees.

For, what is wisdom? ’Tis th’ omniscience divine.

Man’s wisdom is but folly, set against that mine.

The brutes are timid, shun man’s presence everywhere;

Though man, in numbers, yields to them within this sphere.

Their blood may lawfully be shed for needs of man;

Because they lack th’ ennobling spark of reason’s scan.85

The brute is held of low degree on this our earth;

As being weighed against great man’s superior worth.

What value will attach to thee, thou arrant fool,

If, like an ass, thou spite the lords of reason’s school?

The ass, that renders service meet unto his lord,

Men slay not. ’Tis the wild ass does them chase afford.

The ass reaps naught of recompense for merit due;

Yet, when he errs, fell punishment awaits him, true.

If man, then, go astray, much more he’s worthy blame;

Most justly shall chastisement visit him with shame.90

The blood of misbelievers righteously is shed,

With sword and arrow, like wild ass on mountain fed.

Their wives and children fall a prey to victor’s hand;

In that they lack true wisdom, cursed of God they stand.

The reasonable creature fleeing reason’s Lord,

Renounces reason, brute becomes, calls for the sword.

Harut, Marut,362 two angels famed throughout the earth,

Through pride and insolence lost paradise for dearth.

They trusted in the wondrous power they held of old;

As though a buffalo ’gainst lion should wax bold.95

His horns are mighty weapons, fearful to the foe;

The lion tears him piecemeal; horns but work him woe.

Had he as many horns as hedgehog quills, all o’er,

They’d help him not; the lion still would him o’erpow’r.

The hurricane roots up the forest trees amain;

While pliant reeds from it no injury sustain.

The fury of the blast hurts not their supple ease.

Of strength, then, boast thee not, man. Seek wrath to appease.

The axe is nothing daunted, seeing boughs of trees;

But, one by one, hews through them all; their end foresees.100

The axe sets not its trenchant edge to lop off leaves;

’Tis not the silky down of thistles that it cleaves.

A flame is not abashed, though many thorns collect;

Whole herds of sheep can never butcher’s knife deflect.

To inward idea’s power the outward sign must yield.

That power, ’tis, makes revolve the heavens’ vast starry field.

The sphere, the circling firmament, consider now.

What makes it turn? A force that rest will not allow.

The movements of our bodies have no other source;—

The soul it is originates all vital force.105

The circulation of the air’s from an idea;

The millstone turns by water from the fields’ area.

The ebb and flow of tides, breath drawn, again expired,

Whence all? ’Tis life compels, diffused through all, respired.

The spirit ’tis decides what words our pen shall write;

Or peace, or war, or anything our minds indite.

To right, to left we go, e’en as the spirit wills;

A rose, a thorn,—the spirit says which place it fills.

Our God it was who sent this vital air in blasts,

Like breath of dragons, to destroy old ‘Ad’s363 outcasts.110

While to the faithful it gave peace, and health, and strength;

In gentle zephyrs softly breathing whole days’ length.

The Prophet hath assured us God’s the soul of all.

The Lord’s the ocean whence the rills of spirit fall.

The strata of the heavens and earth, with all therein,

Are merely straws afloat on waves where powers begin.

They dance about, are carried here and there by turns;

Their movement’s from the waves that power divine still churns.

Decrees this they shall be at rest? At once they’re flung

Aside upon the shore, there to decay like dung.115

Wills it that they be tossed about on waves high-flown?

They’re but the leaves of autumn by the wild winds blown.

Now turn we from this subject, most engaging still,

To learn about those angels, victims of self-will.

The sins of all mankind were known to them as sure;

No wickedness escapes the glance of spirits pure.

In anger at such baseness they were moved to scorn;

Their own defect was hidden from their sight, heaven-born.

An ugly man once saw his face in looking-glass.

He turned away enraged with that reflecting mass.120

So, when one self-conceited sees another’s fault,

A flame from hell is lighted in his bad heart’s vault.

’Tis pride inflames him;—holy zeal he dubs it straight;

Not conscious of the vanity that makes his freight.

A zeal for holiness by other tokens shines;

And lights a fire by which to ashes earth declines.

God said to them: “If you both shine with virtue’s ray,

No notice take of man’s backslidings from its way.

Give thanks and praises, rather, you’re not made like them.

Lusts of the flesh, concupiscence, soil not your stem.125

Had I imposed upon you that great burden, sore;

The heavens would not have been your home for evermore.

The chastity that decks your spirit-nature now,

Reflection is of purity that lights My brow.

Know, this is but a quality you hold from Me.

So shall th’ accursed one not make you slaves to be!”

E’en as the Prophet’s scribe, with self-importance puffed,

Imagined holy wisdom’s light shone as he’d stuffed.

Himself he fancied equal of prophetic quire;

His raven croak as their sweet song he dared admire.130

He who sets up to write the notes of every bird,

Knows not th’ inspiring springs within their bosom stirred.

Could man acquire the note of nightingale so sweet,

Would he have learnt as well its love the rose to meet?

Should he achieve a notion of that love’s intent;

’Twould be mere surmise, like deaf man’s from lips’ consent.

Such deaf man once was made aware by some kind friend,

That next door dwelt an invalid near to his end.

The poor man thought within himself: “I’m deaf as stone,

How can I hope to comprehend this neighbour’s tone?135

More ’specially as sick men speak so very low.

Still, go I must; mere decency demands my bow.

When I advance, he’ll me address,—his lips will move.

From thence I’ll glean a notion, may not quite false prove.

I’ll ask him how he feels to-day, ’mid so much pain.

He’ll answer surely: ‘Thank you; better in the main.’

Reply I will: ‘Most happy! How’s the appetite?’

He’ll answer: ‘Pretty good, if chicken-broth invite.’

I’ll say: ‘Good! Good! And what are you allowed to drink?

Who is your doctor?’ He’ll respond, as one may think.140

Then I’ll remark: ‘With so much talent at command,

You can’t do better. Soon I hope to see you stand.

I’ve had experience of his skill; I know his worth;

With him as guide, you’ll not go wrong.’ So forth.”

Thus having got his fancied answers all by heart,

He goes to see the sick man; deftly plays his part.

On asking: “How are you?” the patient says: “Near dead.”

The deaf man straight rejoins: “Of that I’m very glad.”

The sufferer felt insulted by this joy expressed.

The deaf one had surmised,—had failed in what he’d guessed.145

He now inquired the diet: “Oh! It’s poison all!”

Complained the sick man. “Glad to hear it,” he let fall.

Still more the patient wondered. “Who attends you, pray?”

Asked Deafy; “whose advice is’t leads you on your way?”

“Death tracks my hours!” said he; “pray leave me now to rest.”

The other answered: “Better can’t be found; he’s best.”

The visitor retired, quite pleased with his rich art;

And offered thanks for having played so kind a part.

The sick man, on the contrary, was all on fire:

“Whence comes this malice? Who has roused his soul to ire?”150

So, turning in his mind the matter o’er and o’er,

A message he determines that shall pay the score.

Just so, a man who’s eaten ill-digesting food,

Can have no rest till it’s ejected, well and good.

Long-suffering is thy better part, reject it not;

With patience, thou shalt find soft words best heal a plot.

But our sick man found no such solace for his mind;

He called the deaf one “Ass,” and “Fool,” and “Sot,” and “Blind.”

Said he: “I’ll serve him out; I’ll pay him what’s his due!

Till then, my spirit will his hateful visit rue!155

A visit to the sick’s for consolation’s sake;

His visit I abhor, his insults I’ll not take.

He’s wished to gloat on foe laid prostrate at his feet;

Some joy to gather thence his secret hate to greet.”

How many pious men there are, to outward view,

Reward of joy in heaven, as object, who pursue.

At heart they’re sinners still, despite the show they make.

Alas! Hypocrisy for righteousness they take!

Just as our deaf man thought he’d done a friendly act;

And yet, withal, had vexed his neighbour, as a fact.160

He soothed his soul by thinking: “Kindly part I’ve played!

I’ve acted as a neighbour! Sorrow I’ve allayed!”

Whereas, in truth, a fire he’d lighted for himself;

And his sick neighbour’s heart inspired with vengeful elf.

Beware the fires you kindle by such acts as this!

Beware offence to give, while proffering a kiss!

The Prophet said one was a hypocrite, he knew:

“Go, worship, friend; thy act’s no worship, as I trew!”

For fear lest we should trespass, even as we pray,

Our worship has the prayer: “Lord, guide us in Thy way!”364165

“Permit not Thou, O God, that my devotion’s act

Be counted erring hypocrite’s unwelcome pact!”

The surmise of our deaf man wide was of the mark.

A ten years’ friendship ’twould have wrecked! Beware such spark!

Man’s judgment, friend, that’s based on sense’s treacherous sand,

Can never be compared with revelation’s wand.

Hast ear to hear? Hast mind to recognise the truth?

Know, then, thy moral ear is deaf to godly sooth!

The first who followed sense, and reason—as he thought—

Instead of God’s true light, the devil was, we’re taught.170

He jud ged: “The fire more noble is than sordid earth;

From fire was I created; clay gave Adam birth.

The stock from whence it springs decides each kind of fruit;

From darkness Adam’s sprung; light at my birth did suit.”

The Lord replied: “’Tis not a question of descent.

Pre-eminence is here the prize of righteous bent.

’Tis not a heritage of worldly wealth to share.

Why talk of ancestry? Heart’s qualities declare.

The heritage we’ve now to give is prophecy;

The heirs thereto are they whose spirits hate a lie.175

The son of Ab?-Jahl believed, and saved his soul;365

A son of Noah rebelled; became perdition’s goal.366

The son of earth was made resplendent as the moon;

Thou, son of fire, begone, disgraced, cursed, none too soon!”

Investigations, reasonings, on days of cloud,

By night, in darkness, guide the doubting crowd;

But, when the sun shines,—when God’s temple’s clearly seen,

No doubt remains which way to turn one’s face, I ween.

The temple hidden, its direction quite unknown,—

Then use thy judgment. God this method’s kindly shown.367180

Whene’er you hear a note of God’s truth-warbling bird,368

You straightway seize its literal sense, just as ’tis heard.

You then use suppositions of your darksome mind,

And form, through wrong conclusions, guesses worse than blind.

The saints use terms of technical significance,

Unknown to worldly reasoners’ crass ignorance.

The language of the bird you learn, as to its notes;

But clean destroy its sense; as sure as fancy dotes.

E’en as the sick man of our tale, saints’ hearts are grieved;

Though, like the deaf man, you suppose you’ve good achieved.185

The scribe of writ inspired had all its text by heart;

Then thought himself inspired;—would play a prophet’s part.

The Prophet, warbler-like, smote him with powerful wing;

He forthwith sank to blind despair, through conscience’ sting.

So ’tis with you. Perversely, or with vain surmise,

You would interpret words descended from the skies.

Like H?r?t, and like M?r?t, well you’ve learnt the tune

They sang of old in pride: “We’re God’s elect,” jejune.

You pray for grace on all the sins of wicked men;

You curse your own foul egotism, greed’s hungry ken.190

Beware lest God’s just jealousy break forth amain,

And smite you to the earth, ne’er more to rise again.

Those angels owned, in words: “To rule is Thine, O God.

Without Thy strong protection, safety’s soon downtrod.”

Such were their lip-words. But their hearts’ rebellious pride,

With foolish boasting, thought: “No harm can us betide.”

They never ceased to brood on vanities thus framed,

Till fire of arrogance burst forth from breasts inflamed;

Then proclamation made: “O elemental men!

How little have ye known the range of angel’s ken.195

We’ll weave dense curtains o’er the sky’s revolving face;

Descending then to earth, we’ll there our temple place.

We’ll justice distribute, and worship we’ll commend,

Returning every night to heaven, whence we descend.

So shall we be admired by all who dwell on earth,

And fill the world with gladness, safety, peace, and mirth.”

Alas! Such fancy’s false! Earth cannot heaven be;

Their difference is radical, as all may see!199

XIV.
The Chinese and Roman Artists.

Give ear to this advice from one who’s well informed:

“Lay down your head where’er by wine you’ve been transformed.”

Whene’er a drunken man reels forth from tavern door,

A laughingstock he’s made by urchin and by boor.

Now here, now there, he lurches, stumbling on his road;

Falls in the mire; is mocked and jeered, scorned as a toad.

The children of the neighbourhood his steps surround,

Unconscious what is wine’s hilarity profound.

So are all people children, round the saints of God;

5 None adults are, save they who’ve cast off passion’s clod.

’Twas said: “The world’s a toy, a plaything; and men all

Are infants.”369 These are God’s words. True in sense they fall.

No child but loves his toys, his playthings, games, and sports;

By cultivation of the mind man sense imports.

Man’s love for worldly things is like child’s love for toys;

The child and man, in these, repeat each other’s joys.

The child, in play, performs the very selfsame part,

He’ll act when grown a hero, learnt debating art.

Men’s quarrels are the same as those fought out by boys;

They’re senseless, reasonless; they squabble for mere toys.10

Their weapons are but wooden swords, as used in play;

Their objects are not worth a thought, by night or day.

They mount their hobby-horses, ride about on sticks;

Declaring ’tis Bucephalus, Eclipse, that kicks.

’Tis they who bear a burden, pack-horse-like, or ass;

Their vanity converts them into horsemen’s mass.

So let it be till that day when God’s riders shall,

On steeds of fire, transcend the seventh heaven’s rolling ball.

“The spirit and the angels mount unto their God.”370

The spheres shall shake, when under saintly footsteps trod.15

Whereas the raff of mankind mount their own coat-tails;

Imagining they’re horsemen, prancing as ship sails.

The Lord hath said: “Imagining’s of no avail.”371

Imagination’s steed to scale heaven’s heights must fail.

Imagination’s best is but a choice of doubts;

Man ne’er disputes about the sun, whate’er the whim he flouts.

The time will come, he’ll see what wretched screw he rides;

That which he deemed a courser’s but his own shanks’ sides.

His senses, thoughts, and reasonings, he then will find,

Are but the infant’s hobby,—pa’s cane, more refined.20

The wisdom of the saints is what bears them aloft.

The science of the worldly is their load;—how oft!

The wisdom of the heart sustains and elevates;

But knowledge sensuously acquired as burden rates.

’Tis God hath said: “An ass with volumes for his load.”372

So knowledge is a burden, when not of God’s code.

All science not received from word of God direct,

Hath no endurance; paint it is; our eyes detect.

Still, if man bear his burden well, he’s recompensed;

His burden is removed; ease to him is dispensed.25

See, then, you bear not science’ load from fleshly lust;

Lest you should suffer inwardly fatigue,—disgust;

But mount the agile steed of sacred lore divine;

So shall the burden on your back at once decline.

Unless you drink His cup, how ’scape from fleshly lust?

O you, who, in His name, content are with the Just!

When from His name and attributes some inkling’s born,

This inkling points the road to union one fair morn.

Thou’st never known a guide, but some one must be led;

And when no road is travelled, gnome can’t dog man’s tread.30

Thou’st never heard a name, but indicates a thing;

A flower thou’st never plucked from verbal rosa’s ding.

Hast thou pronounced a name? Straightway the thing ensue.

The moon seek in the sky;—not in lake-waters, blue.

But wouldst thou cast aside all names and words, as vain,

Thyself, then, purge of self. Abstraction thou shalt gain.

Wouldst be a sword? Cast off soft iron’s yield refined;

By discipline the mirror burnish of thy mind.

Discharge thyself of every particle of self;

So shalt thou see thyself pure, free from soil of pelf.35

Within thy heart thou’lt see the wisdom of the saints,

Without a book, a teacher, or professor’s plaints.

The Prophet said: “That man is one of my true flock,

Whose heart and mind are hewn from my own calling’s rock.

His soul perceives me through the selfsame holy light

That unto me reveals his soul serenely bright.

Reports, traditions, chains of evidence, are lost;

When soul communes with soul, minds freely can accost.”

This riddle solve: “A Kurd I last night was, by birth;

And then, this morning, Arab am, by afterbirth.”37340

If one, sincere, a Kurdish boor was overnight,

Sincerity an Arab made him by daylight.

Example seekest of science springing in the heart?

This contest heed of Chinaman and Roman’s art.374

The Chinese urged they had the greater painter’s skill.

The Romans pleaded they of art the throne did fill.

The sovereign heard them both; decreed a contest fair;

Results the palm should give the worthiest of the pair.

The parties twain a wordy war waged in debate;

The Romans’ show of science did predominate.45

The Chinamen then asked to have a house assigned

For their especial use; and one for Rome designed,

Th’ allotted houses stood on either side one street;

In one the Chinese, one the Roman, artists meet.

The Chinese asked a hundred paints for their art’s use;

The sovereign his resources would not them refuse.

Each morning from the treasury rich colours’ store

Was served out to the Chinese till they asked no more.

The Romans argued: “Colour or design is vain;

We simply have to banish soil and filth amain.”50

They closed their gate. To burnish then they set themselves;

As heaven’s vault, simplicity filled all their shelves.

Vast difference there is ’twixt colours and not one.

The colours are as clouds; simplicity’s the moon.

Whatever tinge you see embellishing the clouds,

You know comes from the sun, the moon, or stars in crowds.

At length the Chinamen their task had quite fulfilled.

With joy intense their hearts did beat, their bosoms thrilled.

The sovereign came, inspected all their rich designs,

And lost his heart with wonder at their talents’ signs.55

He then passed to the Romans, that his eyes might see.

The curtains were withdrawn, to show whate’er might be.

The Chinese paintings all, their whole designs in full,

Reflected truly were on that high-burnished wall.

Whatever was depicted by the Chinese art

Was reproduced by mirrors, perfect every part.

Those Romans are our mystics;—know, my worthy friend;

No art, no learning; study, none;—but gain their end.

They polish well their bosoms, burnish bright their hearts,

Remove all stain of lust, of self, pride, hate’s deep smarts.60

That mirror’s purity prefigures their hearts’ trust;

With endless images reflections it incrust.

The formless Form the thousand thousand hidden forms

Flashed in his breast on Moses’ heart, like mirrored storms.

That Form, ’tis true, the heaven of heavens cannot contain;

Nor all the space between the zenith and the main.

These numbered are, and limited within their bounds;

The mirror of the heart is boundless in its rounds.

Here, reason stands aghast, O erring child of sense;

The heart’s with God,—the heart is God,—boundless, immense!65

From all eternity, the figures of all things,

Unnumbered, multitudinous, gleam in heart’s wings.

To all eternity each new-created form

In heart of saint reflected is, most multiform.

His polished heart is cleansed from being’s soiling stain;

And at each moment contemplates fresh beauty’s train.

The outward gilt, the shell, of science they despise;

The banner of real certitude floats where they rise.

They’ve thought abandoned; light and life they’ve truly found;

Their breasts and hearts are filled with love’s inspiring sound.70

Death, that dread thing of which all mankind stand in fear,

Is laughed and mocked at by the saints, when it draws near.

No man has power to dominate their tranquil minds.

The shell may injured be; the pearl harm never finds.

The rhetor’s art, the jurist’s skill, they set at naught;

But poverty, abasement, to themselves they’ve taught.

The scenes of all eight paradises375 are consumed

In that full blaze with which their holy heart’s illumed.

They’re more exalted than the heavens and what’s beyond;

Their place is in the court of love divine, all-fond.75

XV.
Zeyd’s Inspiration.

The Prophet asked one morn of Zeyd, in tender tone,376

“How art thou, dear disciple, faithful to the bone?”

“I’m pious;—a believer,” Zeyd replied; and he

Inquired again: “What proof of faith resides in thee?”

He said: “Whole days I’ve burnt with parching fever’s thirst;

By night I’ve watched; with love’s sweet pangs my heart’s nigh burst.

Thus have I traversed days’ and nights’ enduring space,

As point of spear through shield makes way in war’s embrace.

For, in love’s view, the church of faith one body is;

Ten million years, one instant, are alike, when His.5

The past eternity and future join in one;

Though reason cannot compass how the marvel’s done.”

The Prophet then: “Bring forth some souvenir from thence,

Shall satisfy all men of judgment and of sense.”

Said Zeyd: “As men behold the sky above their heads,

So I survey the heavens, and all their flowery meads.

Eight paradises,377 seven deep hells,378 are in my view,

As patent as the idol to its silly crew.

Apart, and one by one, I can discern all men,

As wheat and barley well are known to miller’s ken.10

I see who’s heavenward bound, who takes the other road;

As men distinguish fish from snake in walks abroad.”

’Tis thus that saints, within the bounds of present life,

See who’ll be blessed, who cursed, when tried in judgment’s strife;

Before each soul contracts the sins will cause its shame;

While yet in mother’s womb,—while yet without a name.

The wretch is he conceived for wretchedness’ sad thirst.

Each soul is marked for future bliss or woe, at first.379

The body, as a mother, bears within a soul.

Death’s but the throes that launch the spirit to its goal.15

Departed souls are all agog at each fresh birth,

To see what class the new-born enters in its mirth.

The blacks presume ’twill prove to be of their dark gang;

The pale-faced Romans hope they’ll profit by the pang.

But when the little stranger shows itself at last,

No room remains for doubt; the question’s judged and cast.

The new-born black is borne in triumph by its kind;

The rosy-cheeked fair bantling’s claimed by Roman mind.

Until its birth the child’s a riddle to all men.

Who knows an unborn infant’s rare sage in this glen.20

Unless, mayhap, he see with light divine’s blest aid;

For this can penetrate through densest shell e’er made.

The life-conveying fluid’s colourless and clear;

But living men their various shades of colour bear.

The soul sustains complexions in our mortal frames,

Until our halves material find rest from their games.

But turn we now away to other subjects, high;

For fear events should leave us to regret and sigh.

“When settling-day ‘brings forth the colour of each face,’380

Mankind are separated sharply, race from race.25

Within the womb nor Turk, nor Hindu, yet is seen;381

So soon as born, all, high and low, know what to ween.

As in the day of judgment all men all will know,

So now to me each man and woman forms a show.

Say: Shall I all declare; or shall I hold my peace?”

To this the Prophet in reply made motion: “Cease.”

“Ha! Prophet of the Lord! I’ll tell that secret, all!

To men I will declare the deeds of that dread hall!

Permit me to tear off the veil that hides it now;

My heart shall light the world as sun in midday glow.30

I will eclipse that lamp, by giving out more light.

I will set plainly forth the thorn and fig-tree right.

Th’ events of judgment day I’ll lay before all men.

I’ll separate the gold from spurious coin, as then.

They of the left hand shall be maimed to public view,382

And all shall then the fruits of misbelief eschew.

I will expose the seven pits of wrath divine,383

By aid of light from truth’s great luminary’s shine.

I’ll rend away the rags that veil the wicked’s shame.

I’ll sound the trump, that all may hear the Prophet’s name.35

Hell, heaven, the gulf between, I’ll set before men’s eyes,

That misbelievers may be warned of error’s dyes.

The fountain of ‘Kawthar’ shall throw its highest jet;384

Its rush shall greet their ears, its spray their faces wet.

They who will flock around it, burning with fierce thirst,

I’ll make apparent unto all, from last to first.

Their shoulders jostle ’gainst my shoulders in the crowd;

Their shrieks are sounding in my ears, as thunder loud.

While heaven’s citizens, rejoicing with delight,

Hug one another lovingly, to glad my sight.40

They visit one another’s thrones, high rapture’s seats;

They kiss each other fondly; each all others greets.

My ears grow deaf through listening to those cries of grief,

And sorrow’s anguish from the lips where sin sat chief.

These are slight indications; much more could I say;

I pause; the Prophet’s wearied; cease from speech I may.”

Thus spake the Prophet’s servant, in delirious guise.

The Prophet shook his collar,—sign of deep surprise.

Then spake: “Rein in thy steed! He risks to run away!

Reflected Truth declares: ‘God blushes not.’385 Heyday!45

The mirror’s fallen out from its protecting case!

A mirror and a balance never truth debase!

A mirror and a balance never facts conceal,

Although some one be hurt by what they do reveal!

The mirror and the balance tests are of my rule;

Though for a thousand years thou serve it’s strict formule.

Hide not the truth from thought of deep respect for me.

Show forth the whole, in full. Deficiency mayn’t be.

What is’t that tells thee: ‘Play not, joke not with the truth?’386

The mirror, balance, God,—who smites falsehood with truth!50

Sure, God hath raised me up for that one sole intent,

That through me truth be preached unto its full extent.

Were this not so, what value’s in me, valued friend?

Did I become instructor, only good to mend?

But shut thy mirror tight within its felten sack,

If Sion’s miracle’s repeated in thy track.”

Said Zeyd: “Can man e’er grasp beneath his feeble arm

The sun of truth, eternal luminary, warm?

’Twould burst his grasp asunder; all his wiles were vain,

Though madness he should add to reason in his brain!”55

Replied the Prophet: “On thy eye thy finger place;

The world is straight deprived of all the sun’s bright face!

A finger-tip suffices to blot out the moon;

A symbol, this, of God’s great sin-effacing boon.

A point can cover up a whole world with its shade;

The sun can be eclipsed by what’s a mere monade.

Shut close thy lips. Consider now the mighty sea.

By God’s command the ocean man’s meek slave must be.387

Ev’n as the fountains Selsabil and Zenjabil388

Are given for use of angels, Michael, Israfil.38960

The rivers four of paradise are at our beck;

Not by our merit, but by God’s constraining check.

Where’er we will, they flow, obedient to our call;

Like magical effect, magician’s docile thrall.

So also are our eyes, those founts of sentient beams,

Subservient to our will, whichever way it streams.

As we direct, they look; see what’s like adder’s sting;

Or notice facts that to our minds their warnings bring.

If so we will, they scrutinise objectiveness;

As we desire, they lend themselves to study dress.65

By our direction, universals are their bound;

If so we wish, they prisoners are in partials’ ground.

Each of the senses five acts thus but as a spout,

To bring unto the mind that which it cares about.

Whichever way the heart directs them forth to stroll,

They turn, and glean a harvest for its pleasure sole.

The hands and feet are servants to the heart’s request,

As Moses’ rod obedient was to his behest.

At heart’s desire, the feet begin the nimble dance,

Or seek advantage, or avoid some sore mischance.70

The heart commands, the hands to calculations fall;

Should it prefer, they write a book or treatise small.

A hand there is, ’twould seem, within these hands of ours;

A hidden hand, that moves the body’s wondrous powers.

If that incites, this wages battle with the foe;

Should that induce, this aids a friend to stand tiptoe.

It pushes; straightway spoon’s plunged into soup;

It wills; a ponderous club forthwith attacks some group.

What is it that the heart says to them all by turns?

Most wonderful accord! Most marvellous alterns!75

The ancient seal of Solomon the heart has found!

With that alone it guides the senses o’er their ground.

Externally, five senses serve its high command;

Internally, five faculties obey its hand.

Ten senses, thus, seven organs, wait upon its wants;

Besides a host of minor servants, confidants.

As Solomon thou sittest, O heart! Thou reignest supreme!

On fairy and on demon, set thy seal, thy scheme.

In this thy realm be upright; practise thou no fraud;

No demon, then, shall rob thee of thy seal, thy gaud.39080

The world shall learn thy name, shall practise all thy rites;

Time and eternity remain thy perquisites.

But should a demon carry off thy seal, perchance,

Thy reign is o’er; thy fortune loses all advance.

Thenceforward vain regret shall canker in thy breast,

Until the day thou’rt called to thy account at last.

Unless thy heart renounce all selfish use of wit,

By mirror and by balance canst thou be held quit?”

Luqman the sage, in presence of his noble lord,391

Among the slaves and servants was a mere byword.85

The lord one day commanded; straight some slaves were sent

To gather fruit from orchard for his throat’s content.

With them did Luqman go, as parasite to feast,

Brimful of wisdom, black as night, a negro beast.

Their labour o’er, the slaves lay down to rest awhile;

The fruit they tasted, tasted still, consumed the pile.

Returning home, on Luqman the whole blame they laid;

His lord was angered mightily at what they said.

Luqman inquired the cause of this estrangement keen.

The lord gave vent in loud abuse to his roused spleen.90

Said Luqman: “Lord, I swear by God’s most holy name,

Dishonest servant ne’er can hope for aught but blame.

Make proof of us. ’Tis easy. Lord thou art of all.

Command. We’ll drink our fill of water hot as gall.

Then make us run about within the meadow’s bound.

On horseback thou, on foot we, ’ll all trudge quickly round.

Thou soon shalt witness sights to show ‘the milk who spilt.’

Hearts’ secrets’ Great Revealer will disclose the guilt.”

Their lord so ordered. Scalding water soon was sought.

Each had to drink his fill, as hot as could be brought.95

Then all were made to run as fast as they could tear,

All up and down the meadow, as their legs could bear.

Now lo! What happens? Sickness on them, each, soon falls;

To vomit they’re constrained, with starting of eyeballs.

The stolen fruit contained within their stomach’s sack,

The water’s stimulus compelled them to give back.

When Luqman’s turn was come to cast up his accounts,

Clear water was the only issue from his founts.

Luqman’s philosophy this trial could evolve;

God’s wisdom far abstruser riddles will resolve.100

“The day when our hearts’ secrets shall be all revealed,”

Man’s secret foe in ambush shall not lie concealed.

Hell’s victims, then, shall taste of scalding water’s pang;

And all veils be torn off from sins they overhang.

Hell-fire’s decreed to be the lot of misbelief;

Since fire the ordeal is by which stones come to grief.

How often have we spoken to those hearts of stone,

In softest accents of advice! They would hear none!

To foulest ulcer, sharpest remedy’s applied.

The teeth of dogs alone are fit for ass’s hide.105

“Filth to the filthy” is philosophy right sound.

“Birds of a feather flock together” goes its round.

What mates soever for thyself thou choose at last,

Their habits and their qualities acquire thou fast.

Wouldst glory have? To glory must thou raise pretence.

Wouldst it reject? Think well; and take thy road from thence.

Wouldst find a way out of this dismal dungeon vile?

Submit to God; bow down in worship with a smile.

Again we’ll turn. Again we’ll hear what Zeyd may say;

What road he’ll follow, on his steed, in reason’s way.110

When reason sets itself t’ expose the faults of men,

It pulls aside the veils that hide them from our ken.

God sometimes wills that actions should concealed remain,

Drives reason’s drum away, forbids its noisy strain.

Loose not thy tongue alone; it bridle; hidden’s best.

Let each be happy in his own opinion’s zest.

God wills that they who might despair to win His grace,

Shall persevere, not slacken, in their worship’s pace

That they may seek a hopeful one, and him ensue;—

In his society may follow worship’s clue.115

God wishes that His peace should light upon us all;

That His salvation should embrace good, bad, great, small.

That princes and that captives all should turn their face,

In hope and fear, up heavenward, looking for His grace.

That hope and fear are nourished by a curtain’s shade.

’Tis through uncertainty that hope and fear invade.

But tear away that veil; where then are hope and fear?

’Tis veiledness lends interest to landscapes drear.

Upon a river’s bank a youth, who chanced to spy

A fisherman at work, guessed: “Solomon, surely!392120

If he it be, why here, in secret and alone?

If not, whence come those features, fit to grace a throne?”

So he remained in doubt, ’twixt two opinions tossed,

Till Solomon recovered all the power he’d lost.

The foul usurping demon fled the royal state;

The king’s avenging sword pursued and sealed his fate.

The signet-ring of power once more on royal hand,

The demons and the fairies flocked to his command.

Mankind came crowding to his court, by levee swelled;

Among them came the youth who’d that opinion held.125

He saw the signet-ring. This sufficed. Doubt was past.

No room was left for surmise. All was clear at last.

Opinion may be formed of what’s behind a veil.

Conjecture lends its aid where knowledge ’gins to fail.

Conjecture’s potent when the subject’s hid from view.

Let it be visible; no surmise can we brew.

Although the sky of light is not without its rain,

The earth of darkness, too, produces plants and grain.

I love that text: “They who believe what is not seen.”393

Thence have I closed my eyes, the body’s windows keen.130

But should I cleave the firmament with my swift glance,

Could I exclaim: “Perceivest thou a flaw, perchance?”394

To scrutinise what’s hid behind the darkness’ screen,

Each man his method chooses; guesses what’s between.

A certain space of time confusion reigns supreme.

The robbers hang the magistrates by their own scheme,

Until at length a chief, blessed with a genius rare,

Springs up to serve his servants; all their troubles share.395

To render secret service is a thing beloved.

To hide a service rendered adds to what’s approved.135

What’s he, commends his king with lies before his face,

And in his absence needs lament his lack of grace?

The warden of a castle on the marches laid,

Far from his sovereign, distant from much-needed aid,

Defends his post with valour from beleaguering foe,

Disdains to be bought over, scorns the tempter’s moe.

His station’s on a frontier, no eye sees him act;

To duty true, he honestly fulfils his pact.

Then in his monarch’s presence honours due he gains,

Above the brave men fighting in the royal trains.140

More merit’s in a little secret service given,

Than in much more performed when by an eye it’s driven.

Man’s faith and piety on earth are prized of God.

But after death professed, less value have than clod.

The absent and the hidden being thus the best,

The silent mouth and sealed lip surpass the rest.

Then boast not, brother; whatsoever thou hast done,

God knows thy merits; will requite them every one.

The sun requires no other witness but his face.

Man has a greater. God’s his witness. Vast the grace!145

If I proclaim it not, how many are prepared

To witness to each fact! God, angels, men, full wared.

“God will bear witness, angels, and all they who’ve known,”396

That: “Lord there is no other, save th’ Eternal One.”397

When God himself our witness is, who’ll angels need,

That they should share, participate, in His sole deed?

Unless it be that, as the fervent, blazing sun,

Pours forth such beams no mortal eye can look upon.

Just like the bat, man cannot bear full light of day;

So, in despair, he seeks the darkness, shuns noon’s ray.150

Thus, like us, know, the angels are a loving crew,

Who bask in beams of heaven’s Sun, beyond our view.

They say: “Our light we have received from a sun;

As substitutes we shine upon the weak, outrun.”

As new-born moon, or five days old, or at the full,

Each angel has his rank, degree, place, wonderful.

His glorious wings in pairs, two, three, and even, four;398

So that his beams are doubled, trebled, fourfold, more.

Just like the grades that mark the various human minds,

Do differences vast exist in angels’ kinds.155

Thus every man’s companion-angel’s like himself,

Or good, or bad, or high, or low, as china, delf.

When weak-eyed mortals cannot look upon the sun,

They have to seek for taper’s aid, ere they may run.

The Prophet hath declared: “Stars, my disciples are;

They’re lights to them who seek; though devils they may scare.”

If every man had strength, and faculty of sight,

To look straight at the sun, trust him alone for light,

What need were for the stars, or lamps, of feeble ray,

To help them on their path, in quest of source of day?160

The moon declares to man, as do the clouds, the shade,

“I, too, ’d been human, but for revelation made.399

Like you, I had been darksome, as within, without.

But revelation gave me sunlight, shade to rout.

Compared with the sun, I’m darksome as a cloud;

Compared with men’s dark bosoms, I may well be proud.

I shed a feeble light, that men may bear my beams,

He cannot look upon the sun’s too ardent streams.

I’ve mixed with honey vinegar; made oxymel;

A remedy to bring to man’s diseases fell.”165

Art rid of thy disease, my friend? Then set aside

The vinegar. Rejoice thy soul with honey’s tide.

When freed from lusts, the heart of man in full health shines.

God said: “The Merciful on heaven’s high throne reclines.”400

God rules the heart direct, free from all means to aid,

So soon as it is purged from dross that low it laid.

We’ll now go back to Zeyd, and proffer him advice;

We’ll warn him not to risk dishonour, paltering’s price.

Thou shalt not Zeyd now find; he’s surely run away,

He’s clean absconded by the door; had naught to say.170

Had’st thou been Zeyd, like him thou’dst lost been in a maze;

As stars die out when sunlight sets the skies ablaze.

E’en as no track points out where was galaxy’s place;

Thou’lt find no signs of Zeyd, no footstep, sign, or trace.

Our senses falter, all our reasoning is lost,

In splendour of the wisdom of th’ All-Ruling Ghost.

Men’s senses, and their reasons, must be shut within,

“In waves when all before us to appear begin.”401

When night returns, the sky again a court appears,

The hidden stars shine forth, and mark the rolling years.175

The senseless dead unto, will God their wits restore;

In circles, like attendants, Him they’ll stand before.

They’ll foot the dance, they’ll spread their hands, they’ll shout His praise;

They’ll sing their song: “Thou, Lord, us from the dead didst raise.”

Their mortal skins and bones they’ll shake off in the earth;

On angel-wings they’ll ride, and whirlwind-dust call forth.

Their course they’ll take from nullity to entity,

In judgment day, ungrateful, grateful laity.

Why turn away thy head, pretend not to have seen?

Hast thou not, first, in nullity, a truant been?180

In nullity, so firm thou settedst down thy foot,

And ask’dst: “Who shall remove me when I’ve taken root?”

Dost thou not see the wondrous works of God’s high will?

How He it is who “leads thee by thy forelock” still?402

He draws thee into states, conditions, turns of weal,

That never entered in thy mind to seek with zeal.

Nonentity obedient is to His command.

Of demon, and of Solomon, He rules the hand.

A demon can contrive “the trays of fishpond size.”403

He dares not make refusal these to organise.185

Contemplate now thyself in agony of fear;

And know, nonentity, too, quakes His wrath to hear.

Thou stretchest forth thy hand to seize preferment’s place;

From fear of thee, some soul itself must quick efface.

All else but love of God, the Truest and the Best,

Though sweet to thought, is but a snare to break thy rest.

What’s all thy effort worth? Thou hast to die at last;

Put out thy hand and grasp the cup of life right fast.

Men fix their eyes on what is dust and ashes, death;

Refuse belief in what is life and healthful breath.190

Exert thyself. Reduce thy doubts from ten to nine.

Employ the night. Thou sleepest. Night’s not so supine.

Employ the night to seek the everlasting day,

Increase in knowledge. Wisdom ’tis shall light thy way.

Though night be dark, and darkness be of woe the doom,

Much good is in it. Fount of Life’s in land of gloom.404

How can a mortal hope to raise his head from sleep,

When seeds of slothfulness are all he cares to reap?

The dead man’s sleep’s the body-snatcher’s open door.

Householders slumber, robbers rifle every floor.195

Thou knowest not who are thy foes around thee placed.

The imps of hell are enemies to man high graced.

The fire’s the foe of water and of water’s brood;

As water’s foe to fire, and drowns it in a flood.

To water, and its cousins all, the fire swears death;

To fire shall water never quarter give, or breath.

’Tis water puts the fire out; and the reason’s plain;

The fire has mission to destroy the water’s strain.

And then, the fire’s the heat of passion’s baneful lusts.

And lust, the root of frailty, sin, misdeeds, mistrusts.200

Material, outer fire, ’s by water soon put out;

The fire of lust may carry man to hell, no doubt.

No water can avail to quench the flames of lust;

For lust is hell-born. Torments end not; last they must.

Religion’s light, alone, can quench lust’s fiercest flame,—

The light that can put out the Syntheist’s wicked game.405

What can extinguish fire of sin, save light of God?

My master, see that Abr’am’s light be ne’er downtrod;

That from the fire of lust, by inner Nimrod fanned,406

Thy body may escape; not be, as firewood, banned.205

The lust of man’s desires cannot be driven forth;

But may resisted be, reduced to what it’s worth.

So long as thou shalt fuel pile upon that flame,

Canst thou expect the fire will die away

XVI.
Ali’s Forbearance.

From ‘Ali may we learn sincerity of meeds.

“God’s Lion” we may hold free from all gross misdeeds.

In fight he’d conquered one who’d earned a hero’s crown.

His sword he’d swiftly raised, his victim to hew down.

That champion spat in ‘Ali’s face, to mark disdain;

The face of one, the Prophet’s pride, all saints’ chieftain.

He spat upon a face to which the moon bowed low,

And offered adoration in the temple’s show.

That instant ‘Ali dropped his sword, high poised in air,

And left the spitter harmless;—action debonnair.5

This raised the foe’s astonishment; called forth his awe.

That pardon, that forgiveness, grew not from war’s law.

He said to ‘Ali: “Thou thy sword hadst raised to slay.

Why hast thou dropt it now,—prolonged my forfeit day?

What hast thou seen, surpassing prowess of my arm,

That thus thou hast repented,—left me free from harm?

What may it be has calmed the fury of thy breast,

Which as the lightning gleamed, and straightway sank to rest?

What didst thou see, that, by reflection on me cast,

A spark has leapt to life in my despairing breast?10

What was thy vision, far above the world of fact,

Than life far sweeter, whence my life receives new pact?

For bravery, ‘God’s Lion’ art thou justly named.

For kindness, I now know, thou art too little famed.

For generosity, thou’rt Moses’ cloud divine,

From which poured forth the quails and manna, as from mine!”

The clouds rain wheat. Man, then, by labour and by skill,

Reduces this to food, when finely ground in mill.

But Moses’ cloud, more generous far, with open hand,

Sent down in plenty food prepared, by God’s command.15

For them who ate at Providence’s table, free,

God’s mercy was displayed;—a banner all could see.

For forty years that daily bread—abounding grace—

Failed not. Fond expectation’s utmost stretch took place.

But satisfaction followed not. The thankless crew

Demanded “leeks and onions;” as of old they knew.408

Ye who are Ahmed’s people, graced beyond compare,

Are promised spiritual blessings till last judgment’s blare.

Whoever says, at heart: “My trust is in the Lord,”409

God’s promise: “Him I’ll feed,” will find a faithful word.41020

Without a twist accept this promise, as is meet;

You’ll find it in your mouth as milk and honey sweet.

To twist a term, and so deny gift’s incidence,

Is to invent a cloak to change the word’s true sense.

To think th’ expression’s wrong sad weakness shows of mind;

Wisdom divine’s a kernel; human reason, rind.

Twist then thyself; change not the sense of words divine;

Conceive thy nose at fault; chide not the sweet woodbine.

O ‘Ali! Thou who mind and eye entirely art!

Relate a little of the knowledge in thy heart.25

Thy calmness is a sword that cleaves our minds in twain;

The fountain of thy wisdom makes us whole again.

Speak out! I know these mysteries are Jehovah’s own;

To kill without a sword’s a power of God well known.

He is Creator, without limbs and without tools;

The Giver of all blessings, copious as sea’s pools.

How many kinds of wine are savoured by our souls,

While eye and ear perceive not whence the wave that rolls!

Pray tell us, ‘Ali,—falcon, soaring in heaven’s heights,—

What didst thou see that instant, to forego thy rights?30

Thy eyes have learnt to catch seraphic visions’ gleam;

Around thee, all unconscious are, as in a dream.

Thou seest the moon, all brightly shining in the sky;

We see but darkness, clouds above us seem to fly.

Thou seest three moons together, shining bright, outspread;

While three of us are scarcely sure one’s overhead.

All three have eyes and ears fixed on thee, in suspense,

In keenest expectation. I’m stone of offence.

“Is this a spell to witch the eyes? Is it the truth?

To me thou art a wolf; I’m Joseph to thee, sooth.35

Though worlds there may be, eighteen thousand globes, and more;

Not every eye has power to witness all their store.

Disclose thy secret, ‘Ali,—God’s own ‘Chosen One!’411

How many ‘judges’ errors’ work God’s will alone!

Pray tell me what, just now, has been revealed to thee;

Or I’ll disclose the vision I’ve been made to see.

If thou the secret keep, I will declare its sense,

Moon-like, on me thy knowledge shines, with light intense.

But if the moon’s bright disk break forth from ’neath the cloud,

Poor midnight travellers safely, then, pursue their road.40

They then are safe from error, risk no wandering vain;

Protection of the moonlight shields from terror’s chain.

The mutely-teaching promptings of the silvery moon,

If couched in words, would homewards guide us doubly soon.”

Thou art “the Gate;” the Prophet, “Science’ City” is,412

Thou art the ray that beams from lustrous sun of his.

Then open, Gate! Unfold thyself to those who seek!

Let rind of science overgrow their minds, all meek.

Stand open, Gate! Thou portal of God’s mercy sure!

Thy court’s the court of Him “who hath no peer,” secure!41345

True, every breath and atom’s watching to get in.

But if kept closed, who’d say there is a gate to win?

Unless the Keeper open wide the portal’s wing,

No soul would dream an entry were an easy thing.

E’en when the gate is opened, lo! surprise is felt.

Hope and desire are scared; each suitor’s heart must melt.

As one who finds a treasure in a ruined maze,

Seeks evermore for ruins;—treasures are his craze.

Unless a man receive a pearl from beggar’s hand,

He’ll never venture pearls from beggars to demand.50

For years, should mere opinion wander up and down,

It never will outpass the rents of its torn gown.

Until a fragrance strike thy nostrils from above,

Thou’lt follow thy own nose, but never meet thy love.

Thus spake that new-converted warrior in surprise;

Expressing wonder, such as words may symbolise.

Then added: “O! Command, of Faithful Church thou Prince.414

That as a babe a spirit new I may evince.”

The planets seven o’er every unborn babe keep watch,

Each for a stated period, ere its birth’s despatch.55

When life’s infused into the nascent atom’s form,

The sun takes charge, as watcher o’er the feeble worm.

The babe its life derives from Sol’s all-quickening rays.

That radiant orb’s the fount of life’s all-wondrous ways.

The other planets help to modify its limbs;

Each, when the sun has life infused, then onward climbs.

What is the channel of connection with the sun,

Discovered in the womb by foetus ere’t can run?

Deep-hidden from our senses, many an occult road

Leads to the sun in heaven, and needs nor whip, nor goad.60

One road, by which gold draws its nutriment from thence;

Another, whence the ruby’s colour grows intense.

A road, by which the garnet gathers igneous glow;

A path, pursued by lightning to the horseshoe low.

A channel, through which fruits their ripeness draw, select;

A track, for wit to flow, and senseless form inject.

“Declare, thou falcon, with thy glistening plumage, bright,—

Our chief’s companion, on his gauntlet sitting, light;—

Make known, thou phoenix-hunting bird of prey,—

Thou conqueror of foes,—sole,—clear of troops’ array.65

A nation in its millions, one sole man art thou.

Speak! Speak! I cast myself upon thy mercy now!

Instead of anger, what has moved thee to relent,—

To proffer to a foe forgiveness transcendent?”

To him made ‘Ali answer: “For the truth I fight.

God’s servant am I. Slave I’m not to fleshly might.

‘God’s lion’ I’ve been named; not ‘Ravening Wolf of Lust;’

My actions are the proof my faith is in the Just.

God is the Archer. I’m His bow;—and arrow, too.

He is the Smiter. I’m the weapon;—sword, bamboo.70

‘Thou castedst not, when stones thou castedst in the fight.’415

God is the Warrior mighty. I’m dust in His sight.

Thought of myself I’ve banished, wholly, from my path.

Save God, all else as naught I hold;—a mower’s swath.

I’m but a shadow;—shadow cast by Sun of Truth.

Door-keeper am I;—veil, I’m not, to hide His sooth.

I’m a sword. My trenchancy’s union with God.

In battle, life I give. I slay not whom’s downtrod.

Blood does not soil the blade I wield in righteous cause;

Nor gusts of passion raise a craving for applause.75

A straw I’m not. A mountain am I;—firm, staid, fast.

No whirlwind can remove me with its tearing blast.

’Tis sticks and straws, alone, are driven by the storm.

Their nature is to move;—to every breath conform.

The gust of anger, breath of lust, and blast of greed,—

Each agitates the man not anchored in Truth’s creed.

Firm mountain am I. God it is that firmness gives.

Were I a straw, His whirlwind is the force that drives.

A breath from God alone has power to move my soul.

My love for God’s the motive o’er me has control.80

Their anger rules e’en kings. My anger is my slave.

My wrath I’ve bridled;—bitted;—leave, it aye must crave.

My anger’s stifled by reflection’s strong embrace.

God’s wrath to me’s a message of His pardoning grace.

My roof’s a ruin, true; but light pours through the rent.

I’m dust. But from my soil flowers blow, and yield sweet scent.

“Just cause if I perceive, with foes when waging war,

I make no scruple, but my sword from blood debar.

For God’s sake do I love. Such is my fame with men.

My hate’s in Truth’s sole cause. I’m raging lion then.85

My generosity springs all from love of God.

For God’s sake, too, I’m parsimonious as clod.

I’m avarice, munificence, to one sole end.

I’m God’s in all things. To myself I ne’er attend.

That which I do, for God’s sake flows; not from schedule.

’Tis not a guess, an inference;—’tis sight’s safe rule.

I’ve no occasion to investigate, to seek.

God’s prompting’s what I follow, docile, meek.

“Is soaring my vocation? Heaven’s my pinions’ goal.

Do I revolve? My centre’s fixed in highest shoal.90

If load I carry, I well know where this is due.

I’m but a moon; a Sun before me gives the cue.

I’ve no desire for converse with material things.

An ocean flows not from a meadow brook’s scant springs.

I frame discourse to suit the feeble minds of men.

This system has no fault; it met our Prophet’s ken.

“I’m free from prejudice; accept a free man’s oath.

Against one free man, crowds of slaves possess no truth.

By law, in canon of Islam, the word of slaves

No value has, as evidence;—the chain depraves.95

Ten thousand slaves may witness bear in court of law;

Their testimony weighs not in the scales one straw.

The slave to passion bondsman is, in sight of God.

He’s lower than the captive ’neath taskmaster’s rod.

A slave may be enfranchised by his owner’s word;

Lust’s victim, though freeborn, dies bound with strongest cord.

The slave to passion cannot loose his heavy chain.

God’s mercy, special grace, can set him free again.

He’s fallen into a pit, unfathomed, bottomless.

His own sin this. Compulsion ’tis not, fate, nor cess.100

Into a pit he’s cast himself, for which my mind

Cannot imagine sounding-line, its depth to find.

“It’s useless to continue further in this strain.

Not hearts alone, but rocks, may weep at folly’s train.

If men’s hearts break not, ’tis that they are harder still,

Through carelessness, preoccupation, sloth, ill-will.

They’ll break and bleed one day, when tears will not avail.

Be contrite, then, before repentance’ sighs must fail.

Since slavish testimony’s not accepted there,

His word alone is valid who from lust is clear.105

The Lord’s Commissioned One’s a valid witness. See!

Because, from all eternity, from slavery’s stain he’s free.

I, too, am free. Wrath cannot bind my soul with chains.

God’s attributes, alone, have power to rule my brains.

“Come in, thou. Grace of God hath set thy spirit free.

A flint thou wert. Rich pearl henceforward shalt thou be.

Thou’rt plucked from blasphemy’s vast thorny desert sands.

A flowering shrub henceforth in faith’s rich garden lands.

Thou art become myself; I, thee; beloved friend!

Thou’rt Ali. Can I ‘Ali slay? May heaven forfend!110

Thy past transgression rank’s as highest virtue’s deed.

In twinkling of an eye heaven’s bounds thou mayest outspeed.

“How blest is the transgression pardoned of the Lord!

The rose, from thorny stem, He calls forth at a word!

Remember ‘Umer’s guilt,—his murderous design416

Against the Prophet! This brought him to faith benign.

Was’t not to practise magic Pharaoh called his priests?

The grace of God converted them to saints from beasts.

Had they not been magicians, he not obstinate,

They’d ne’er been made assemble, truth excogitate.115

How would they e’er have seen the staff, the miracles?

Your sin proved your conversion, reprehensibles!

“The Lord can far remove our state of deep despair,

Our sin can change to righteousness; foulness to fair.

God can our worst offences purge away, make clean;

Imputing virtue to us, spite of vice’s mien.

For this is Satan chased away with igneous bolts;417

His proud inflation bursts in twain, from envy’s jolts.

He strives to multiply the direful load of sin,

That, under its dead weight, he man in hell may pin.120

And when he finds unrighteousness as service told,

His torment is redoubled, heartache twenty-fold.

“Come in! A door I’ve opened for thy entrance, wide.

Thou spattest on me. I reply with favour’s tide.

On him who injured me I benefits bestow;418

My head I lay before the feet of friends, below;

Thou mayest conceive what gifts I hold in store for them,

My faithful servants;—treasures, thrones, and diadem.

I’m such a man that whoso strives to shed my blood

Forgiven is, and overwhelmed with favour’s flood.125

The Prophet quiet notice whispered to my slave,

The day would come when he to take my life would crave.

Me, also, he informed, through revelation’s voice,

That I should die, smote by a hand of my own choice.

That servant begged and prayed for instant death’s release,

So he’d be spared from sin so heinous,—love’s decease.

But I replied: ‘Since ’tis decreed that by thy hand

My life be ta’en, why should I seek a countermand?’

Before me prone he fell, this prayer he warmly made:

‘Hew me in twain! For love of God, let me persuade!130

Pray save me from so vile, so villainous, a fate.

Remorse for ever as its prey will hold my hate.’

“Again I firmly answered him,—decidedly:

‘No counsel will avail. Pen’s mark must needs apply.

I bear no grudge against thee in my inmost soul;

I hold thee not responsible for deed so foul.

Thou’rt but the instrument, ’tis God that strikes the blow!

How can I chide His instrument,—His arrow’s bow?’

“He asked: ‘Why, then, this sentence sternly passed on me?’

My answer was: ‘God knows the germ of His decree!135

Should He find fault with what results from His resolve,

From reprehension’s self He can a heaven evolve.

He hath a right to take exception to His deed.

He’s Lord of grace. But Lord of wrath, also! Take heed!

He’s Prince of all within this sphere of new events.

He’s Arbiter of all;—of kingdoms, as of tents.

If He see fit to break the weapon of His will,

The broken tool still hastens His word to fulfil.

“The mystery of His word: ‘We abrogate, annul,’419

Remember, straight is followed by: ‘We better cull.’420140

Whatever law the Lord hath abrogated yet,

Is but a weed plucked up;—a rose blooms where ’twas set.

The night He promulgates; day’s work refrains from act.

Consider! Mind becomes like inorganic fact.

Again, night disappears; the light of day is spread;

And nature shows its marvels; reason wakes from dead.

With darkness comes the sleep that locks our reason fast,

But spirits know not darkness; life’s stream still goes past.

Is’t not that mind’s refreshed in darkest hours of night?

Its silence ’tis gives birth to every voice of light.”145

By contraries are contraries brought forth to view,

From out of darkness was the light created new.

The Prophet’s wars have brought about the peace that reigns;

These tranquil latter days the fruits are of his pains.

How many heads lay low beneath that hero’s blows,

That peace might be enjoyed by faith’s true yoke-fellows!

’Tis thus the gardener prunes away the surplus twigs,

That fruitful boughs may prosper, yield their loads of figs.

Sagacity roots out all weeds from cultured space.

The orchard, thence, new vigour finds, and blooms apace.150

A wise physician will extract a tooth decayed,

To give relief from pain to his beloved maid.

How much increase grows out of decrease here below.

The martyr gains eternal life by death in show.

Man, fed by bread, cuts down the harvest corn when ripe;

“Partakes the blessing joyfully,”421 with drum and pipe.

When brutes are slaughtered with due sense of wisdom’s law,

Man’s life is nurtured;—learning, science, vigour draw.

If man be slaughtered, see what woes from thence arise.

Compare the two;—their difference you’ll recognise.155

The vegetable world lives by God’s sun and rain,

God’s care takes charge of it. His care is not in vain.

The slaughtered beasts have food and drink as well as those.

They die, because they’ve throats. Those have no life to lose.

Withhold thy hand in season, man of little sense!

That so thy food suffice. Thy life’s thy recompense.

Thou art as fruitless as the barren willow-branch,

Because thy honour’s sacrificed mere bread to scranch.

If thy brute nature will not practise abstinence,

Administer the remedy. Bring it to sense.160

If thou wouldst cleanse thy garments—free them from all soil,—

Despise not thou the bleacher, nor his useful toil.

If greed of food have fractured abstinence in thee;

Lay hold on Him who fractures heals. From self get free.

No sooner shall the fracture be by Him fast bound,

New union will take place,—the broken part grow sound.

If thou hadst made the fracture, it would thee invite

To make it whole again,—the sundered bones unite.

Thou canst not? Thence we see, the right is His to break

Who can unite the fractured limb—make strong whatever’s weak.165

Who knows to mend hath privilege a cloth to tear.

Who knows to sell, to buy hath also learnt, ’tis clear.

He may disturb a house, and turn it upside down,

Who can arrange it better than the whole wide town.

If God destroy one creature in His boundless might,

By thousands He creates, and brings again to light.

Had He not set a punishment for each offence,

Or had not said: “Lex talionis is life’s fence,”422

Who’d had audacity, of his own will,

To put to death a man who should another kill?170

He knows each creature by His power endued with sight.

And He’s aware a slayer does but work His might.

If His command be set on mortal’s head to slay,—

Albeit his own child,—he must the word obey.

Go! Stand in fear! Blame not, too much, the bad!

Know, thou art equally a slave with him who’s mad!

The eye of Adam fell upon a demon foul,

Him viewed with proud disdain, with haughty scowl.

His self-esteem, his egotistic pride him drove,

With smile sarcastical, the cursed imp to reprove.175

God’s wrath was roused. He him addressed: “Ho! Adam! Ho!

Hast thou no insight into mysteries of woe?

If I tear fiercely off a hide from heels to head,

A mountain I can also wrench from its firm stead.

A hundred Adams of their fig-leaves I can strip;

A thousand demons into true believers whip.”

In terms contrite and meek was Adam’s answer couched:

“Forgive, Lord God! I stand reproved! My fault’s avouched!

Henceforth, I vow, I never will repeat such fault.

Repentance I profess. Do Thou forego assault.”180

O Answerer of prayer! In mercy guide us right!

Our knowledge, as our riches, null is in Thy sight!

Lead not astray a heart enlightened by Thy grace!423

Turn from us every evil threatening to take place!424

Reprieve our souls from judgment merited, severe!

Repel us not from out the fold of saints, sincere!

More bitter is there naught than severance from Thee.

Without Thy shelter, naught but anguish can we see.

Our minds’ accomplishments impede our hearts’ advance.

Our flesh the deadly enemy that wrecks our souls’ best chance.185

Our hands, like robbers, seize on all our feet may earn.

Unless Thou prove our refuge, life’s not worth concern.

If we perchance escape with life from danger’s snares.

Our fears and anguish make it prey to carking cares.

Should not our souls in union be with Thee, O Lord,

Eternal tears our eyes will blind, and mad discord.

A way shouldst Thou not open, lost must be our souls.

Without Thy presence, life is death;—all smiles are scowls.

Shouldst Thou find fault with service rendered unto Thee,

Thy chiding’s merited, no doubt; as all may see.190

If Thou be discontented with the sun and moon,

Or if Thou call the cypress “hunchback,” “macaroon,”

Or if Thou say the skies and spheres are all too low,

Or find the mines, the seas, a paltry puppet-show,

All this, compared with Thy perfections, is the truth.

Thine is the kingdom; Thine the power to mend all ruth.

Thou art removed from danger, as from nullity.

To non-existences Thou givest being. Why?

He who makes all things grow, can make them wither, too.

For He can all repair, as He can ruin woo.195

Each autumn, vegetation dwindles by His will;

Again ’tis He calls forth the flowers in dale, on hill.

His voice is heard: “Come forth, ye withered ones, anew;

Once more put on your beauty,—charm each mortal’s view.”

Narcissus’ eye was blinded; lo! its twinkle’s seen.

The reed, that down was mowed, becomes sweet music’s queen.

We are but creatures. To create we have no power.

Our weakness we confess. Contentment’s our best dower.

We’re things of flesh. The flesh to vanity unites.

Unless Thou call us, we become rebellious sprites.200

From Satan we escape, because Thou’st paid a price;

And bought our souls, to set us free from vice.

Thou art the Guide of all who live upon the earth.

Without his staff and guide, what is a blind man worth?

Besides Thee, all that’s goodly, all that shocks our sense,

Is fatal unto man,—consuming fire intense.

If any seek the fire, to make thereof a shield,

A Magian he becomes, of Zoroaster’s yield.

All else besides the Lord is vain, and of no worth.

The mercies of our God, a bounteous rain, poured forth.205

Now turn again to ‘Al? and his destined foe.

His great forbearance contemplate; this wretch’s woe.

He made remark: “My murderer’s before my eyes,

All day and night. No anger towards him in me lies.

Death is to me as sweet as life;—as my own self;

My death and resurrection, two sides of one shelf.

A deathless death’s a welcome change to loving heart;

A lifeless life has been its present counterpart.”

Death to appearance, life is,—in the main;

Externally a loss;—intrinsically, gain.210

Within its mother’s womb a child’s lot is to roam.

It has to blossom in the world, as ocean’s foam.

I have a wish, a longing, towards the world of doom;

But God forbids: “Cast not your lives away,” in gloom.425

All prohibition’s but a bar from what is loved;

No prohibition’s needed from a thing reproved.

A grain with bitter kernel, still more bitter rind,

Full prohibition carries in itself, we find.

The fruit of death is savoury, in my esteem.

Nay more. “The slain do live” a blessed text must seem.

XVII.
Conclusion.

Alas! By one poor morsel, tasted through a sin,

The fount of thought’s congealed; heart’s blood diluted thin.

One grain of wheat has cast eclipse o’er sun of mind,

As “dragon’s tail” doth dull the full moon, when inclined.433

Behold! How delicate is thought! One mite of clay,

From full-moon glory, it reduced to disarray.

The bread of life, received, digested, gives man power.

Material bread excites distrusts, contentions, sour.

The thorn, while green, cropped by the camel, far from fords,

Not only pleasure gives, but nutriment affords.5

That selfsame thorn, grown dry and void of juicy sap,

If ventured on by starving beast in desert gap,

His palate and his lips will puncture, blood make flow;

As if conserve of roses should with daggers glow.

The word of life’s the green, the tender, juicy thorn.

Material become, it’s dry, as hard as horn.

And thou, poor flesh, expectant of the living word,

Bitest at the word material, dreaming not of sword;—

Snappest at the hard, unyielding dictum, with fond zest;

And findest it horny, flinty, irksome to digest.10

It has become a stone. It wounds; it draws forth blood.

Then shun it, human camel. Seek it not for food.

Words are most foully mixed with troubling thoughts of earth.

The water’s muddy. Close the spring whence it comes forth.

Until the Lord, again, shall make it clear and sweet;—

Shall purify the inky stream, as He deems meet,—

Shall patience add to wish,—not haste and oversight,—

Wait thou contentedly. God best knows what is right.14

THE END.

PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.

Clyx.com

PREFACE.

Proem. The Reed-Flute.

I. The Prince and the Handmaid.

II. The Oilman and the Parrot.

III.

IV. Another Jewish King, Persecutor of Christians.

V. The Lion and the Beasts.

VI. The Greater (Spiritual) Warfare.

VII. The Merchant and the Parrot.

VIII. The Harper.

IX. The Poor Scenite Arab and his Wife.

X. Patience and Perseverance under a Teacher.

XI. The Lion’s Hunt, in Company.

XII. Joseph and the Mirror.

XIII. The Prophet’s First Amanuensis.

XIV. The Chinese and Roman Artists.

XV. Zeyd’s Inspiration.

XVI. Ali’s Forbearance.

XVII. Conclusion.