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SALAMAN AND ABSAL
I.
PROLOGUE.
Oh Thou whose Memory quickens Lovers' Souls,
Whose Fount of Joy renews the Lover's Tongue,
Thy Shadow falls across the World, and They
Bow down to it; and of the Rich in Beauty
Thou art the Riches that make Lovers mad.
Not till thy Secret Beauty through the Cheek
Of Laila smite does she inflame Majnun,
And not till Thou have sugar'd Shirin's Lip
The Hearts of those Two Lovers fill with Blood.
For Lov'd and Lover are not but by Thee,
Nor Beauty;--Mortal Beauty but the Veil
Thy Heavenly hides behind, and from itself
Feeds, and our Hearts yearn after as a Bride
That glances past us Veil'd--but ever so
As none the Beauty from the Veil may know.
How long wilt thou continue thus the World
To cozen with the Fantom of a Veil
From which Thou only peepest?--Time it is
To unfold thy perfect Beauty. I would be
Thy Lover, and Thine only--I, mine Eyes
Seal'd in the Light of Thee to all but Thee,
Yea, in the Revelation of Thyself
Self-Lost, and Conscience-quit of Good and Evil.
Thou movest under all the Forms of Truth,
Under the Forms of all Created Things;
Look whence I will, still nothing I discern
But Thee in all the Universe, in which
Thyself Thou dost invest, and through the Eyes
Of Man, the subtle Censor scrutinize.
To thy Harim Dividuality
No Entrance finds--no Word of This and That;
Do Thou my separate and Derived Self
Make one with Thy Essential! Leave me room
On that Divan which leaves no Room for Two;
Lest, like the Simple Kurd of whom they tell,
I grow perplext, Oh God! 'twixt "I" and "Thou;"
If I--this Dignity and Wisdom whence?
If Thou--then what this abject Impotence?
A Kurd perplext by Fortune's Frolics
Left his Desert for the City.
Sees a City full of Noise and
Clamour, agitated People,
Hither, Thither, Back and Forward
Running, some intent on Travel,
Others home again returning,
Right to Left, and Left to Right,
Life-disquiet everywhere!
Kurd, when he beholds the Turmoil,
Creeps aside, and, Travel-weary,
Fain would go to Sleep; "But," saith he,
"How shall I in all this Hubbub
Know myself again on waking?"
So by way of Recognition
Ties a Pumpkin round his Foot,
And turns to Sleep. A Knave that heard him
Crept behind, and slily watching
Slips the Pumpkin off the Sleeper's
Ancle, ties it round his own,
And so down to sleep beside him.
By and by the Kurd awaking
Looks directly for his Signal--
Sees it on another's Ancle--
Cries aloud, "Oh Good-for-Nothing
Rascal to perplex me so!
That by you I am bewilder'd,
Whether I be I or no!
If I--the Pumpkin why on You?
If You--then Where am I, and Who?"
Oh God! this poor bewilder'd Kurd am I,
Than any Kurd more helpless!--Oh, do thou
Strike down a Ray of Light into my Darkness!
Turn by thy Grace these Dregs into pure Wine,
To recreate the Spirits of the Good!
Or if not that, yet, as the little Cup
Whose Name I go by, not unworthy found
To pass thy salutary Vintage round!
II.
And yet how long, Jami, in this Old House
Stringing thy Pearls upon a Harp of Song?
Year after Year striking up some new Song,
The Breath of some Old Story? Life is gone,
And yet the Song is not the Last; my Soul
Is spent--and still a Story to be told!
And I, whose Back is crooked as the Harp
I still keep tuning through the Night till Day!
That Harp untun'd by Time--the Harper's hand
Shaking with Age--how shall the Harper's hand
Repair its cunning, and the sweet old Harp
Be modulated as of old? Methinks
'Tis time to break and cast it in the Fire;
Yea, sweet the Harp that can be sweet no more,
To cast it in the Fire--the vain old Harp
That can no more sound Sweetness to the Ear,
But burn'd may breathe sweet Attar to the Soul,
And comfort so the Faith and Intellect,
Now that the Body looks to Dissolution.
My Teeth fall out--my two Eyes see no more
Till by Feringhi Glasses turn'd to Four;
Pain sits with me sitting behind my knees,
From which I hardly rise unhelpt of hand;
I bow down to my Root, and like a Child
Yearn, as is likely, to my Mother Earth,
With whom I soon shall cease to moan and weep,
And on my Mother's Bosom fall asleep.
The House in Ruin, and its Music heard
No more within, nor at the Door of Speech,
Better in Silence and Oblivion
To fold me Head and Foot, remembering
What that Beloved to the Master whisper'd:--
"No longer think of Rhyme, but think of Me!"--
Of Whom?--of Him whose Palace The Soul is,
And Treasure-House--who notices and knows
Its Incomes and Out-going, and _then_ comes
To fill it when the Stranger is departed.
Whose Shadow--being Kings--whose Attributes
The Type of Theirs--their Wrath and Favour His--
Lo! in the Celebration of His Glory
The King Himself come on me unaware,
And suddenly arrests me for his own.
Wherefore once more I take--best quitted else--
The Field of Verse, to chaunt that double Praise,
And in that Memory refresh my Soul
Until I grasp the Skirt of Living Presence.
One who travel'd in the Desert
Saw Majnun where he was sitting
All alone like a Magician
Tracing Letters in the Sand.
"Oh distracted Lover! writing
What the Sword-wind of the Desert
Undecyphers soon as written,
So that none who travels after
Shall be able to interpret!"--
Majnun answer'd, "I am writing
'Laili'--were it only 'Laili,'
Yet a Book of Love and Passion;
And with but her Name to dote on,
Amorously I caress it
As it were Herself and sip
Her presence till I drink her Lip."
III.
When Night had thus far brought me with my Book,
In middle Thought Sleep robb'd me of myself;
And in a Dream Myself I seemed to see,
Walking along a straight and even Road,
And clean as is the Soul of the Sufi;
A Road whose spotless Surface neither Breeze
Lifted in Dust, nor mix'd the Rain to Mire.
There I, methought, was pacing tranquilly,
When, on a sudden, the tumultuous Shout
Of Soldiery behind broke on mine Ear,
And took away my Wit and Strength for Fear.
I look'd about for Refuge, and Behold!
A Palace was before me; whither running
For Refuge from the coming Soldiery,
Suddenly from the Troop a Shahzeman,
By Name and Nature Hasan--on the Horse
Of Honour mounted--robed in Royal Robes,
And wearing a White Turban on his Head,
Turn'd his Rein tow'rd me, and with smiling Lips
Open'd before my Eyes the Door of Peace.
Then, riding up to me, dismounted; kiss'd
My Hand, and did me Courtesy; and I,
How glad of his Protection, and the Grace
He gave it with!--Who then of gracious Speech
Many a Jewel utter'd; but of these
Not one that in my Ear till Morning hung.
When, waking on my Bed, my waking Wit
I question'd what the Vision meant, it answered;
"This Courtesy and Favour of the Shah
Foreshadows the fair Acceptance of thy Verse,
Which lose no moment pushing to Conclusion."
This hearing, I address'd me like a Pen
To steady Writing; for perchance, I thought,
From the same Fountain whence the Vision grew
The Interpretation also may come True.
Breathless ran a simple Rustic
To a Cunning Man of Dreams;
"Lo, this Morning I was dreaming--
And methought, in yon deserted
Village wander'd--all about me
Shatter'd Houses--and, Behold!
Into one, methought, I went--and
Search'd--and found a Hoard of Gold!"
Quoth the Prophet in Derision,
"Oh Thou Jewel of Creation
Go and sole your Feet like Horse's,
And returning to your Village
Stamp and scratch with Hoof and Nail,
And give Earth so sound a Shaking,
She must hand you something up."
Went at once the unsuspecting
Countryman; with hearty Purpose
Set to work as he was told;
And, the very first Encounter,
Struck upon his Hoard of Gold!
Until Thou hast thy Purpose by the Hilt,
Catch at it boldly--or Thou never wilt.
IV.
THE STORY.
A Shah there was who ruled the Realm of Yun,
And wore the Ring of Empire of Sikander;
And in his Reign A Sage, who had the Tower
Of Wisdom of so strong Foundation built
That Wise Men from all Quarters of the World
To catch the Word of Wisdom from his Lip
Went in a Girdle round him--Which The Shah
Observing, took him to his Secresy;
Stirr'd not a Step nor set Design a-foot
Without that Sage's sanction; till so counsel'd,
From Kaf to Kaf reach'd his Dominion:
No Nation of the World or Nation's Chief
Who wore the Ring but under span of his
Bow'd down the Neck; then rising up in Peace
Under his Justice grew, and knew no Wrong,
And in their Strength was his Dominion Strong.
The Shah that has not Wisdom in Himself,
Nor has a Wise Man for his Counsellor,
The Wand of his Authority falls short,
And his Dominion crumbles at the Base.
For he, discerning not the Characters
Of Tyranny and Justice, confounds both,
Making the World a Desert, and the Fount
Of Justice a Serab. Well was it said,
"_Better just Kafir than Believing Tyrant_."
God said to the Prophet David,--
"David, speak, and to the Challenge
Answer of the Faith within Thee.
Even Unbelieving Princes,
Ill-reported if Unworthy,
Yet, if They be Just and Righteous,
Were their Worship of The Fire--
Even These unto Themselves
Reap glory and redress the World."
V.
One Night The Shah of Yunan, as his wont,
Consider'd of his Power, and told his State,
How great it was, and how about him sat
The Robe of Honour of Prosperity;
Then found he nothing wanted to his Heart,
Unless a Son, who his Dominion
And Glory might inherit after him,
And then he turn'd him to The Shah and said;
"Oh Thou, whose Wisdom is the Rule of Kings--
(Glory to God who gave it!)--answer me;
Is any Blessing better than a Son?
Man's prime Desire; by which his Name and He
Shall live beyond Himself; by whom his Eyes
Shine living, and his Dust with Roses blows;
A Foot for Thee to stand on, he shall be
A Hand to stop thy Falling; in his Youth
Thou shall be Young, and in his Strength be Strong;
Sharp shall he be in Battle as a Sword,
A Cloud of Arrows on the Enemy's Head;
His Voice shall cheer his Friends to Plight,
And turn the Foeman's Glory into Flight."
Thus much of a Good Son, whose wholesome Growth
Approves the Root he grew from; but for one
Kneaded of Evil--Well, could one undo
His Generation, and as early pull
Him and his Vices from the String of Time.
Like Noah's, puff'd with Ignorance and Pride,
Who felt the Stab of "He is none of Thine!"
And perish'd in the Deluge. And because
All are not Good, be slow to pray for One
Whom having you may have to pray to lose.
Crazy for the Curse of Children,
Ran before the Sheikh a Fellow
Crying out, "Oh hear and help me!
Pray to Allah from my Clay
To raise me up a fresh young Cypress,
Who my Childless Eyes may lighten
With the Beauty of his Presence."
Said the Sheikh, "Be wise, and leave it
Wholly in the Hand of Allah,
Who, whatever we are after,
Understands our Business best."
But the Man persisted, saying,
"Sheikh, I languish in my Longing;
Help, and set my Prayer a-going!"
Then the Sheikh held up his Hand--
Pray'd--his Arrow flew to Heaven--
From the Hunting-ground of Darkness
Down a musky Fawn of China
Brought--a Boy--Who, when the Tender
Shoot of Passion in him planted
Found sufficient Soil and Sap,
Took to Drinking with his Fellows;
From a Corner of the House-top
Ill affronts a Neighbour's Wife,
Draws his Dagger on the Husband,
Who complains before the Justice,
And the Father has to pay.
Day and Night the Youngster's Doings
Such--the Talk of all the City;
Nor Entreaty, Threat, or Counsel
Held him; till the Desperate Father
Once more to the Sheikh a-running,
Catches at his Garment, crying--
"Sheikh, my only Hope and Helper!
One more Prayer! that God who laid
Will take that Trouble from my Head!"
But the Sheikh replied: "Remember
How that very Day I warn'd you
Better not importune Allah;
Unto whom remains no other
Prayer, unless to pray for Pardon.
When from this World we are summon'd
On to bind the pack of Travel
Son or Daughter ill shall help us;
Slaves we are and unencumber'd
Best may do the Master's mind;
And, whatever he may order,
Do it with a Will Resign'd."
VI.
When the Sharp-witted Sage
Had heard these sayings of The Shah, he said,
"Oh Shah, who would not be the Slave of Lust
Must still endure the Sorrow of no Son.
--Lust that makes blind the Reason; Lust that makes
A Devil's self seem Angel to our Eyes;
A Cataract that, carrying havoc with it,
Confounds the prosperous House; a Road of Mire
Where whoso falls he rises not again;
A Wine of which whoever tastes shall see
Redemption's face no more--one little Sip
Of that delicious and unlawful Drink
Making crave much, and hanging round the Palate
Till it become a Ring to lead thee by
(Putting the rope in a Vain Woman's hand),
Till thou thyself go down the Way of Nothing.
For what is Woman? A Foolish, Faithless Thing--
To whom The Wise Self-subjected, himself
Deep sinks beneath the Folly he sets up.
A very Kafir in Rapacity;
Clothe her a hundred Years in Gold and Jewel,
Her Garment with Brocade of Susa braided,
Her very Night-gear wrought in Cloth of Gold,
Dangle her Ears with Ruby and with Pearl,
Her House with Golden Vessels all a-blaze,
Her Tables loaded with the Fruit of Kings,
Ispahan Apples, Pomegranates of Yazd;
And, be she thirsty, from a Jewell'd Cup
Drinking the Water of the Well of Life--
One little twist of Temper,--all you've done
Goes all for Nothing. 'Torment of my Life!'
She cries, 'What have you ever done for me!'--
Her Brow's white Tablet--Yes--'tis uninscrib'd
With any Letter of Fidelity;
Who ever read it there? Lo, in your Bosom
She lies for Years--you turn away a moment,
And she forgets you--worse, if as you turn
Her Eye should light on any Younger Lover."
Once upon the Throne of Judgment,
Telling one another Secrets,
Sat Sulayman and Balkis;
The Hearts of Both were turn'd to Truth,
Unsullied by Deception.
First the King of Faith Sulayman
Spoke--"Though mine the Ring of Empire,
Never any Day that passes
Darkens any one my Door-way
But into his Hand I look--
And He who comes not empty-handed
Grows to Honour in mine Eyes."
After this Balkis a Secret
From her hidden Bosom utter'd,
Saying--"Never Night or Morning
Comely Youth before me passes
Whom I look not longing after;
Saying to myself, 'Oh were he
Comforting of my Sick Soul!--'"
"If this, as wise Ferdusi says, the Curse
Of Better Women, what should be the Worse?"
VII.
The Sage his Satire ended; and The Shah
With Magic-mighty Wisdom his pure Will
Leaguing, its Self-fulfilment wrought from Heaven.
And Lo! from Darkness came to Light A Child
Of Carnal Composition Unattaint,--
A Rosebud blowing on the Royal Stem,--
A Perfume from the Realm of Wisdom wafted;
The Crowning Jewel of the Crown; a Star
Under whose Augury triumph'd the Throne.
For whose Auspicious Name they clove the Words
"Salamat"--Incolumity from Evil--
And "Auseman"--the Heav'n from which he came--
And hail'd him by the title of Salaman.
And whereas from no Mother Milk he drew,
They chose for him a Nurse--her Name Absal--
Her Years not Twenty--from the Silver Line
Dividing the Musk-Harvest of her Hair
Down to her Foot that trampled Crowns of Kings,
A Moon of Beauty Full; who thus elect
Salaman of Auspicious Augury
Should carry in the Garment of her Bounty,
Should feed him with the Flowing of her Breast.
As soon as she had opened Eyes on him
She closed those Eyes to all the World beside,
And her Soul crazed, a-doting on her Jewel,--
Her Jewel in a Golden Cradle set;
Opening and shutting which her Day's Delight,
To gaze upon his Heart-inflaming Cheek,--
Upon the Darling whom, could she, she would
Have cradled as the Baby of her Eye.
In Rose and Musk she wash'd him--to his Lips
Press'd the pure Sugar from the Honeycomb;
And when, Day over, she withdrew her Milk,
She made, and having laid him in, his Bed,
Burn'd all Night like a Taper o'er his Head.
Then still as Morning came, and as he grew,
She dress'd him like a Little Idol up;
On with his Robe--with fresh Collyrium Dew
Touch'd his Narcissus Eyes--the Musky Locks
Divided from his Forehead--and embraced
With Gold and Ruby Girdle his fine Waist.--
So rear'd she him till full Fourteen his Years,
Fourteen-day full the Beauty of his Face,
That rode high in a Hundred Thousand Hearts;
Yea, when Salaman was but Half-lance high,
Lance-like he struck a wound in every One,
And burn'd and shook down Splendour like a Sun.
VIII.
Soon as the Lord of Heav'n had sprung his Horse
Over the Horizon into the Blue Field,
Salaman rose drunk with the Wine of Sleep,
And set himself a-stirrup for the Field;
He and a Troop of Princes--Kings in Blood,
Kings too in the Kingdom-troubling Tribe of Beauty,
All Young in Years and Courage, Bat in hand
Gallop'd a-field, toss'd down the Golden Ball
And chased, so many Crescent Moons a Full;
And, all alike Intent upon the Game,
Salaman still would carry from them all
The Prize, and shouting "Hal!" drive Home the Ball.
This done, Salaman bent him as a Bow
To Shooting--from the Marksmen of the World
Call'd for an unstrung Bow--himself the Cord
Fitted unhelpt, and nimbly with his hand
Twanging made cry, and drew it to his Ear:
Then, fixing the Three-feather'd Fowl, discharged.
No point in Heaven's Azure but his Arrow
Hit; nay, but Heaven were made of Adamant,
Would overtake the Horizon as it roll'd;
And, whether aiming at the Fawn a-foot,
Or Bird on the wing, his Arrow went away
Straight--like the Soul that cannot go astray.
When Night came, that releases man from Toil,
He play'd the Chess of Social Intercourse;
Prepared his Banquet Hall like Paradise,
Summon'd his Houri-faced Musicians,
And, when his Brain grew warm with Wine, the Veil
Flung off him of Reserve. Now Lip to Lip
Concerting with the Singer he would breathe
Like a Messias Life into the Dead;
Now made of the Melodious-moving Pipe
A Sugar-cane between his Lips that ran
Men's Ears with Sweetness: Taking up a Harp,
Between its dry String and his Finger fresh
Struck Fire; or lifting in his arms a Lute
As if a little Child for Chastisement,
Pinching its Ear such Cries of Sorrow wrung
As drew Blood to the Eyes of Older Men.
Now sang He like the Nightingale alone,
Now set together Voice and Instrument;
And thus with his Associates Night he spent.
His Soul rejoiced in Knowledge of all kinds;
The fine Edge of his Wit would split a Hair,
And in the Noose of Apprehension catch
A Meaning ere articulate in Word;
His Verse was like the Pleiads; his Discourse
The Mourners of the Bier; his Penmanship,
(Tablet and running Reed his Worshippers,)
Fine on the Lip of Youth as the First Hair,
Drove Penmen, as that Lovers, to Despair.
His Bounty was as Ocean's--nay, the Sea's
Self but the Foam of his Munificence,
For it threw up the Shell, but he the Pearl;
He was a Cloud that rain'd upon the World
Dirhems for Drops; the Banquet of whose Bounty
Left Hatim's Churlish in Comparison--
IX.
Suddenly that Sweet Minister of mine
Rebuked me angrily: "What Folly, Jami,
Wearing that indefatigable Pen
In celebration of an Alien Shah
Whose Throne, not grounded in the Eternal World,
Yesterday was, To-day is not!" I answer'd;
"Oh Fount of Light!--under an Alien Name
I shadow One upon whose Head the Crown
Both Was and Is To-day; to whose Firman
The Seven Kingdoms of the World are subject,
And the Seas Seven but droppings of his Largess.
Good luck to him who under other Name
Taught us to veil the Praises of a Power
To which the Initiate scarce find open Door."
Sat a Lover solitary
Self-discoursing in a Corner,
Passionate and ever-changing
Invocation pouring out;
Sometimes Sun and Moon; and sometimes
Under Hyacinth half-hidden
Roses; or the lofty Cypress,
And the little Weed below.
Nightingaling thus a Noodle
Heard him, and, completely puzzled,--
"What!" quoth he, "And you, a Lover,
Raving not about your Mistress,
But about the Moon and Roses!"
Answer'd he; "Oh thou that aimest
Wide of Love, and Lover's Language
Wholly misinterpreting;
Sun and Moon are but my Lady's
Self, as any Lover knows;
Hyacinth I said, and meant her
Hair--her Cheek was in the Rose--
And I myself the wretched Weed
That in her Cypress Shadow grows."
X.
Now was Salaman in his Prime of Growth,
His Cypress Stature risen to high Top,
And the new-blooming Garden of his Beauty
Began to bear; and Absal long'd to gather;
But the Fruit grew upon too high a Bough,
To which the Noose of her Desire was short.
She too rejoiced in Beauty of her own
No whit behind Salaman, whom she now
Began enticing with her Sorcery.
Now from her Hair would twine a musky Chain,
To bind his Heart--now twist it into Curls
Nestling innumerable Temptations;
Doubled the Darkness of her Eyes with Surma
To make him lose his way, and over them
Adorn'd the Bows that were to shoot him then;
Now to the Rose-leaf of her Cheek would add
Fresh Rose, and then a Grain of Musk lay there,
The Bird of the Beloved Heart to snare.
Now with a Laugh would break the Ruby Seal
That lockt up Pearl; or busied in the Room
Would smite her Hand perhaps--on that pretence
To lift and show the Silver in her Sleeve;
Or hastily rising clash her Golden Anclets
To draw the Crowned Head under her Feet.
Thus by innumerable Bridal wiles
She went about soliciting his Eyes,
Which she would scarce let lose her for a Moment;
For well she knew that mainly by the Eye
Love makes his Sign, and by no other Road
Enters and takes possession of the Heart.
Burning with desire Zulaikha
Built a Chamber, Wall and Ceiling
Blank as an untarnisht Mirror,
Spotless as the Heart of Yusuf.
Then she made a cunning Painter
Multiply her Image round it:
Not an Inch of Wall but echoed
With the Reflex of her Beauty.
Then amid them all in all her
Glory sat she down, and sent for
Yusuf--she began a Tale
Of Love--and Lifted up her Veil.
From her Look he turn'd, but turning
Wheresoever, ever saw her
Looking, looking at him still.
Then Desire arose within him--
He was almost yielding--almost
Laying honey on her Lip--
When a Signal out of Darkness
Spoke to him--and he withdrew
His Hand, and dropt the Skirt of Fortune.
XI.
Thus day by day did Absal tempt Salaman,
And by and bye her Wiles began to work.
Her Eyes Narcissus stole his sleep--their Lashes
Pierc'd to his Heart--out from her Locks a Snake
Bit him--and bitter, bitter on his Tongue
Became the Memory of her honey Lip.
He saw the Ringlet restless on her Cheek,
And he too quiver'd with Desire; his Tears
Turn'd Crimson from her Cheek, whose musky spot
Infected all his soul with Melancholy.
Love drew him from behind the Veil, where yet
Withheld him better Resolution--
"Oh, should the Food I long for, tasted, turn
Unwholesome, and if all my Life to come
Should sicken from one momentary Sweet!"
On the Sea-shore sat a Raven,
Blind, and from the bitter Cistern
Forc'd his only Drink to draw.
Suddenly the Pelican
Flying over Fortune's Shadow
Cast upon his Head, and calling--
"Come, poor Son of Salt, and taste of
Sweet, sweet Water from my Maw."
Said the Raven, "If I taste it
Once, the Salt I have to live on
May for ever turn to Loathing;
And I sit a Bird accurst
Upon the Shore to die of Thirst."
XII.
Now when Salaman's Heart turn'd to Absal,
Her Star was happy in the Heavens--Old Love
Put forth afresh--Desire doubled his Bond:
And of the running Time she watch'd an Hour
To creep into the Mansion of her Moon
And satiate her soul upon his Lips.
And the Hour came; she stole into his Chamber--
Ran up to him, Life's offer in her Hand--
And, falling like a Shadow at his Feet,
She laid her Face beneath. Salaman then
With all the Courtesies of Princely Grace
Put forth his Hand--he rais'd her in his Arms--
He held her trembling there--and from that Fount
Drew first Desire; then Deeper from her Lips,
That, yielding, mutually drew from his
A Wine that ever drawn from never fail'd--
So through the Day--so through another still--
The Day became a Seventh--the Seventh a Moon--
The Moon a Year--while they rejoiced together,
Thinking their pleasure never was to end.
But rolling Heaven whisper'd from his Ambush,
"So in my License is it not set down.
Ah for the sweet Societies I make
At Morning and before the Nightfall break;
Ah for the Bliss that with the Setting Sun
I mix, and, with his Rising, all is done!"
Into Bagdad came a hungry
Arab--after many days of waiting
In to the Khalifah's Supper
Push'd, and got before a Pasty
Luscious as the Lip of Beauty,
Or the Tongue of Eloquence.
Soon as seen, Indecent Hunger
Seizes up and swallows down;
Then his mouth undaunted wiping--
"Oh Khalifah, hear me Swear,
Not of any other Pasty
Than of Thine to sup or dine."
The Khalifah laugh'd and answer'd;
"Fool; who thinkest to determine
What is in the Hands of Fate--
Take and thrust him from the Gate!"
XIII.
While a Full Year was counted by the Moon,
Salaman and Absal rejoiced together,
And for so long he stood not in the face
Of Sage or Shah, and their bereaved Hearts
Were torn in twain with the Desire of Him.
They question'd those about him, and from them
Heard something; then Himself in Presence summon'd,
And, subtly sifting on all sides, so plied
Interrogation till it hit the Mark,
And all the Truth was told. Then Sage and Shah
Struck out with Hand and Foot in his Redress.
And First with Reason, which is also Best;
Reason that rights the Retrograde--completes
The Imperfect--Reason that unties the Knot:
For Reason is the Fountain from of old
From which the Prophets drew, and none beside.
Who boasts of other Inspiration lies--
There are no other Prophets than The Wise.
XIV.
First spoke The Shah;--"Salaman, Oh my Soul,
Oh Taper of the Banquet of my House,
Light of the Eyes of my Prosperity,
And making bloom the Court of Hope with Rose;
Years Rose-bud-like my own Blood I devour'd
Till in my hand I carried thee, my Rose;
Oh do not tear my Garment from my Hand,
Nor wound thy Father with a Dagger Thorn.
Years for thy sake the Crown has worn my Brow,
And Years my Foot been growing to the Throne
Only for Thee--Oh spurn them not with Thine;
Oh turn thy Face from Dalliance unwise,
Lay not thy Heart's hand on a Minion!
For what thy Proper Pastime? Is it not
To mount and manage Rakhsh along the Field;
Not, with no stouter weapon than a Love-lock,
Idly reclining on a Silver Breast.
Go, fly thine Arrow at the Antelope
And Lion--let not me my Lion see
Slain by the Arrow eyes of a Ghazal.
Go, flash thy Steel among the Ranks of Men,
And smite the Warriors' Necks; not, flying them,
Lay down thine own beneath a Woman's Foot,
Leave off such doing in the Name of God,
Nor bring thy Father weeping to the Ground;
Years have I held myself aloft, and all
For Thee--Oh Shame if thou prepare my Fall!"
When before Shirueh's Feet
Drencht in Blood fell Kai Khusrau,
He declared this Parable--
"Wretch!--There was a Branch that, waxing
Wanton o'er the Root he drank from,
At a Draught the Living Water
Drain'd wherewith Himself to crown!
Died the Root--and with it died
The Branch--and barren was brought down!"
XV.
Salaman heard--the Sea of his Soul was mov'd,
And bubbled up with Jewels, and he said;
"Oh Shah, I am the Slave of thy Desire,
Dust of thy Throne ascending Foot am I;
Whatever thou Desirest I would do,
But sicken of my own Incompetence;
Not in the Hand of my infirmer Will
To carry into Deed mine own Desire.
Time upon Time I torture mine own Soul,
Devising liberation from the Snare
I languish in. But when upon that Moon
I _think_, my Soul relapses--and when _look_--
I leave both Worlds behind to follow her!"
XVI.
The Shah ceased Counsel, and the Sage began.
"Oh Thou new Vintage of a Garden old,
Last Blazon of the Pen of 'Let There Be,'
Who read'st the Seven and Four; interpretest
The writing on the Leaves of Night and Day--
Archetype of the Assembly of the World,
Who hold'st the Key of Adam's Treasury--
(Know thine own Dignity and slight it not,
For Thou art Greater yet than all I tell)--
The Mighty Hand that mix'd thy Dust inscribed
The Character of Wisdom on thy Heart;
O Cleanse Thy Bosom of Material Form,
And turn the Mirror of the Soul to Spirit,
Until it be with Spirit all possest,
Drown'd in the Light of Intellectual Truth.
Oh veil thine Eyes from Mortal Paramour,
And follow not her Step!--For what is She?--
What is She but a Vice and a Reproach,
Her very Garment-hem Pollution!
For such Pollution madden not thine Eyes,
Waste not thy Body's Strength, nor taint thy Soul,
Nor set the Body and the Soul in Strife!
Supreme is thine Original Degree,
Thy Star upon the Top of Heaven; but Lust
Will fling it down even unto the Dust!"
Quoth a Muezzin unto Crested
Chanticleer--"Oh Voice of Morning,
Not a Sage of all the Sages
Prophesies of Dawn, or startles
At the wing of Time, like Thee.
One so wise methinks were fitter
Perching on the Beams of Heaven,
Than with those poor Hens about him,
Raking in a Heap of Dung."
"And," replied the Cock, "in Heaven
Once I was; but by my Evil
Lust am fallen down to raking
With my wretched Hens about me
On the Dunghill. Otherwise
I were even now in Eden
With the Bird of Paradise."
XVII.
When from The Sage these words Salaman heard,
The breath of Wisdom round his Palate blew;
He said--"Oh Darling of the Soul of Plato,
To whom a hundred Aristotles bow;
Oh Thou that an Eleventh to the Ten
Original Intelligences addest,--
I lay my Face before Thee in the Dust,
The humblest Scholar of thy Court am I;
Whose every word I find a Well of Wisdom,
And hasten to imbibe it in my Soul.
But clear unto thy clearest Eye it is,
That Choice is not within Oneself--To Do,
Not in The Will, but in The Power, to Do.
From that which I originally am
How shall I swerve? or how put forth a Sign
Beyond the Power that is by Nature Mine?"
XVIII.
Unto the Soul that is confused by Love
Comes Sorrow after Sorrow--most of all
To Love whose only Friendship is Reproof,
And overmuch of Counsel--whereby Love
Grows stubborn, and increases the Disease.
Love unreproved is a delicious food;
Reproved, is Feeding on one's own Heart's Blood.
Salaman heard; his Soul came to his Lips;
Reproaches struck not Absal out of him,
But drove Confusion in; bitter became
The Drinking of the sweet Draught of Delight,
And wan'd the Splendour of his Moon of Beauty.
His Breath was Indignation, and his Heart
Bled from the Arrow, and his Anguish grew--
How bear it?--Able to endure one wound,
From Wound on Wound no remedy but Flight;
Day after Day, Design upon Design,
He turn'd the Matter over in his Heart,
And, after all, no Remedy but Flight.
Resolv'd on that, he victuall'd and equipp'd
A Camel, and one Night he led it forth,
And mounted--he and Absal at his side,
The fair Salaman and Absal the Fair,
Together on one Camel side by side,
Twin Kernels in a single Almond packt.
And True Love murmurs not, however small
His Chamber--nay, the straitest best of all.
When the Moon of Canaan Yusuf
Darken'd in the Prison of AEgypt,
Night by Night Zulaikha went
To see him--for her Heart was broken.
Then to her said One who never
Yet had tasted of Love's Garden:
"Leavest thou thy Palace-Chamber
For the Felon's narrow Cell?"
Answer'd She, "Without my Lover,
Were my Chamber Heaven's Horizon,
It were closer than an Ant's eye;
And the Ant's eye wider were
Than Heaven, my Lover with me there!"
XIX.
Six days Salaman on the Camel rode,
And then Remembrance of foregone Reproach
Abode not by him; and upon the Seventh
He halted on the Seashore, and beheld
An Ocean boundless as the Heaven above,
That, reaching its Circumference from Kaf
To Kaf, down to the Back of Gau and Mahi
Descended, and its Stars were Creatures' Eyes.
The Face of it was as it were a Range
Of moving Mountains; or as endless Hosts
Of Camels trooping from all Quarters up,
Furious, with the Foam upon their Lips.
In it innumerable glittering Fish
Like Jewels polish-sharp, to the sharp Eye
But for an Instant visible, glancing through
As Silver Scissors slice a blue Brocade;
Though were the Dragon from its Hollow roused,
The Dragon of the Stars would stare Aghast.
Salaman eyed the Sea, and cast about
To cross it--and forthwith upon the Shore
Devis'd a Shallop like a Crescent Moon,
Wherein that Sun and Moon in happy Hour,
Enter'd as into some Celestial Sign;
That, figured like a Bow, but Arrow-like
In Flight, was feather'd with a little Sail,
And, pitcht upon the Water like a Duck,
So with her Bosom sped to her Desire.
When they had sail'd their Vessel for a Moon,
And marr'd their Beauty with the wind o' th' Sea,
Suddenly in mid Sea reveal'd itself
An Isle, beyond Description beautiful
An Isle that all was Garden; not a Bird
Of Note or Plume in all the World but there;
There as in Bridal Retinue array'd
The Pheasant in his Crown, the Dove in her Collar;
And those who tuned their Bills among the Trees
That Arm in Arm from Fingers paralyz'd
With any Breath of Air Fruit moist and dry
Down scatter'd in Profusion to their Feet,
Where Fountains of Sweet Water ran, and round
Sunshine and Shadow chequer-chased the Ground.
Here Iram Garden seemed in Secresy
Blowing the Rosebud of its Revelation;
Or Paradise, forgetful of the Day
Of Audit, lifted from her Face the Veil.
Salaman saw the Isle, and thought no more
Of Further--there with Absal he sat down,
Absal and he together side by side
Rejoicing like the Lily and the Rose,
Together like the Body and the Soul.
Under its Trees in one another's Arms
They slept--they drank its Fountains hand in hand--
Sought Sugar with the Parrot--or in Sport
Paraded with the Peacock--raced the Partridge--
Or fell a-talking with the Nightingale.
There was the Rose without a Thorn, and there
The Treasure and no Serpent to beware--
What sweeter than your Mistress at your side
In such a Solitude, and none to Chide!
Whisper'd one to Wamik--"Oh Thou
Victim of the Wound of Azra,
What is it that like a Shadow
Movest thou about in Silence
Meditating Night and Day?"
Wamik answered, "Even this--
To fly with Azra to the Desert;
There by so remote a Fountain
That, whichever way one travell'd
League on League, one yet should never,
Never meet the Face of Man--
There to pitch my Tent--for ever
There to gaze on my Beloved;
Gaze, till Gazing out of Gazing
Grew to Being Her I gaze on,
She and I no more, but in One.
Undivided Being blended,
All that is not One must ever
Suffer with the Wound of Absence;
And whoever in Love's City
Enters, finds but Room for One,
And but in Oneness Union."
XX.
When by and bye The Shah was made aware
Of that Soul-wasting absence of his Son,
He reach'd a Cry to Heav'n--his Eyelashes
Wept Blood--Search everywhere he set a-foot,
But none could tell the hidden Mystery.
Then bade he bring a Mirror that he had,
A Mirror, like the Bosom of the wise,
Reflecting all the World, and lifting up
The Veil from all its Secret, Good and Evil.
That Mirror bade he bring, and, in its Face
Looking, beheld the Face of his Desire.
He saw those Lovers in the Solitude,
Turn'd from the World, and all its ways, and People,
And looking only in each other's Eyes,
And never finding any Sorrow there.
The Shah beheld them as they were, and Pity
Fell on his Eyes, and he reproach'd them not;
And, gathering all their Life into his Hand,
Not a Thread lost, disposed in Order all.
Oh for the Noble Nature, and Clear Heart,
That, seeing Two who draw one Breath together
Drinking the Cup of Happiness and Tears
Unshatter'd by the Stone of Separation,
Is loath their sweet Communion to destroy,
Or cast a Tangle in the Skein of Joy.
The Arrows that assail the Lords of Sorrow
Come from the Hand of Retribution.
Do Well, that in thy Turn Well may betide Thee;
And turn from Ill, that Ill may turn beside Thee.
Firhad, Moulder of the Mountain,
Love-distracted looked to Shirin,
And Shirin the Sculptor's Passion
Saw, and turn'd her Heart to Him.
Then the Fire of Jealous Frenzy
Caught and carried up the Harvest
Of the Might of Kai Khusrau.
Plotting with that ancient Hag
Of Fate, the Sculptor's Cup he poison'd
And remained the Lord of Love.
So--But Fate that Fate avenges
Arms Shirueh with the Dagger,
That at once from Shirin tore him,
Hurl'd him from the Throne of Glory.
XXI.
But as the days went on, and still The Shah
Beheld Salaman how sunk in Absal,
And yet no Hand of better Effort lifted;
But still the Crown that shall adorn his Head,
And still the Throne that waited for his Foot,
Trampled from Memory by a Base Desire,
Of which the Soul was still unsatisfied--
Then from the Sorrow of The Shah fell Fire;
To Gracelessness Ungracious he became,
And, quite to shatter his rebellious Lust,
Upon Salaman all his Will discharged.
And Lo! Salaman to his Mistress turn'd,
But could not reach her--look'd and look'd again,
And palpitated tow'rd her--but in Vain!
Oh Misery! what to the Bankrupt worse
Than Gold he cannot reach! To one Athirst
Than Fountain to the Eye and Lip forbid!--
Or than Heaven opened to the Eyes in Hell!--
Yet, when Salaman's Anguish was extreme,
The Door of Mercy open'd in his Face;
He saw and knew his Father's Hand outstretcht
To lift him from Perdition--timidly,
Timidly tow'rd his Father's Face his own
He lifted, Pardon-pleading, Crime-confest,
As the stray Bird one day will find her Nest.
A Disciple ask'd a Master,
"By what Token should a Father
Vouch for his reputed Son?"
Said the Master, "By the Stripling,
Howsoever Late or Early,
Like to the Reputed Father
Growing--whether Wise or Foolish.
"Lo the disregarded Darnel
With itself adorns the Wheat-field,
And for all the Early Season
Satisfies the Farmer's Eye;
But come once the Hour of Harvest.
And another Grain shall answer,
'Darnel and no Wheat, am I.'"
XXII.
When The Shah saw Salaman's face again,
And breath'd the Breath of Reconciliation,
He laid the Hand of Love upon his Shoulder,
The Kiss of Welcome on his Cheek, and said,
"Oh Thou, who lost, Love's Banquet lost its Salt,
And Mankind's Eye its Pupil!--Thy Return
Is as another Sun to Heaven; a new
Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul.
Arise, Oh Moon of Majesty unwaned!
The Court of the Horizon is thy Court,
Thy Kingdom is the Kingdom of the World!--
Lo! Throne and Crown await Thee--Throne and Crown
Without thy Impress but uncurrent Gold,
Not to be stamp'd by one not worthy Them;
Behold! The Rebel's Face is at thy Door;
Let him not triumph--let the Wicked dread
The Throne under thy Feet, the Crown upon thy Head.
Oh Spurn them not behind Thee! Oh my Son,
Wipe Thou the Woman's Henna from thy Hand:
Withdraw Thee from the Minion who from Thee
Dominion draws; the Time is come to choose,
Thy Mistress or the World to hold or lose."
Four are the Signs of Kingly Aptitude;
Wise Head--clean Heart--strong Arm--and open Hand.
Wise is He not--Continent cannot be--
Who binds himself to an unworthy Lust;
Nor Valiant, who submits to a weak Woman;
Nor Liberal, who cannot draw his Hand
From that in which so basely he is busied.
And of these Four who misses All or One
Is not the Bridegroom of Dominion.
XXIII.
Ah the poor Lover!--In the changing Hands
Of Day and Night no wretcheder than He!
No Arrow from the Bow of Evil Fate
But reaches him--one Dagger at his Throat,
Another comes to wound him from behind.
Wounded by Love--then wounded by Reproof
Of Loving--and, scarce stauncht the Blood of Shame
By flying from his Love--then, worst of all,
Love's back-blow of Revenge for having fled!
Salaman heard--he rent the Robe of Peace--
He came to loathe his Life, and long for Death,
(For better Death itself than Life in Death)--
He turn'd his face with Absal to the Desert--
Enter'd the deadly Plain; Branch upon Branch
Cut down, and gather'd in a lofty Pile,
And fired. They look'd upon the Flames, those Two--
They look'd, and they rejoiced; and hand in hand
They sprang into the Fire. The Shah who saw
In secret all had order'd; and the Flame,
Directed by his Self-fulfilling Will,
Devouring utterly Absal, pass'd by
Salaman harmless--the pure Gold return'd
Entire, but all the baser Metal burn'd.
XXIV.
Heaven's Dome is but a wondrous House of Sorrow,
And Happiness therein a lying Fable.
When first they mix'd the Clay of Man, and cloth'd
His Spirit in the Robe of Perfect Beauty,
For Forty Mornings did an Evil Cloud
Rain Sorrows over him from Head to Foot;
And when the Forty Mornings pass'd to Night,
Then came one Morning-Shower--one Morning-Shower
Of Joy--to Forty of the Rain of Sorrow!--
And though the better Fortune came at last
To seal the Work, yet every Wise Man knows
Such Consummation never can be here!
Salaman fired the Pile; and in the Flame
That, passing him, consumed Absal like Straw,
Died his Divided Self, and there survived
His Individual; and, like a Body
From which the Soul is parted, all alone.
Then rose his Cry to Heaven--his Eyelashes
Dropt Blood--his Sighs stood like a Smoke in Heaven,
And Morning rent her Garment at his Anguish.
He tore his Bosom with his Nails--he smote
Stone on his Bosom--looking then on hands
No longer lockt in hers, and lost their Jewel,
He tore them with his Teeth. And when came Night,
He hid him in some Corner of the House,
And communed with the Fantom of his Love.
"Oh Thou whose Presence so long sooth'd my Soul,
Now burnt with thy Remembrance! Oh so long
The Light that fed these Eyes now dark with Tears!
Oh Long, Long Home of Love now lost for Ever!
We were Together--that was all Enough--
We two rejoicing in each other's Eyes,
Infinitely rejoicing--all the World
Nothing to Us, nor We to all the World--
No Road to reach us, nor an Eye to watch--
All Day we whisper'd in each other's Ears,
All Night we slept in one another's Arms--
All seem'd to our Desire, as if the Hand
Of unjust Fortune were for once too short.
Oh would to God that when I lit the Pyre
The Flame had left Thee Living and me Dead,
Not Living worse than Dead, depriv'd of Thee!
Oh were I but with Thee!--at any Cost
Stript of this terrible Self-solitude!
Oh but with Thee Annihilation--lost,
Or in Eternal Intercourse renew'd!"
Slumber-drunk an Arab in the
Desert off his Camel tumbled,
Who the lighter of her Burden
Ran upon her road rejoicing.
When the Arab woke at morning,
Rubb'd his Eyes and look'd about him--
"Oh my Camel! Oh my Camel!"
Quoth he, "Camel of my Soul!--
That Lost with Her I lost might be,
Or found, She might be found with Me!"
XXV.
When in this Plight The Shah Salaman saw,
His Soul was struck with Anguish, and the Vein
Of Life within was strangled--what to do
He knew not. Then he turn'd him to The Sage--
"On Altar of the World, to whom Mankind
Directs the Face of Prayer in Weal or Woe,
Nothing but Wisdom can untie the Knot;
And art not Thou the Wisdom of the World,
The Master-Key of all its Difficulties?
Absal is perisht; and, because of Her,
Salaman dedicates his Life to Sorrow;
I cannot bring back Her, nor comfort Him.
Lo, I have said! My Sorrow is before Thee;
From thy far-reaching Wisdom help Thou Me
Fast in the Hand of Sorrow! Help Thou Me,
For I am very wretched!" Then The Sage--
"Oh Thou that err'st not from the Road of Right,
If but Salaman have not broke my Bond,
Nor lies beyond the Noose of my Firman,
He quickly shall unload his Heart to me,
And I will find a Remedy for all."
XXVI.
Then The Sage counsell'd, and Salaman heard,
And drew the Wisdom down into his Heart;
And, sitting in the Shadow of the Perfect,
His Soul found Quiet under; sweet it seem'd,
Sweeping the Chaff and Litter from his own,
To be the very Dust of Wisdom's Door,
Slave of the Firman of the Lord of Life,
Then The Sage marvell'd at his Towardness,
And wrought in Miracle in his behalf.
He pour'd the Wine of Wisdom in his Cup,
He laid the Dew of Peace upon his lips;
And when Old Love return'd to Memory,
And broke in Passion from his Lips, The Sage
Under whose waxing Will Existence rose
Responsive, and, relaxing, waned again,
Raising a Fantom Image of Absal
Set it awhile before Salaman's Eyes,
Till, having sow'd the Seed of Quiet there,
It went again down to Annihilation.
But ever, for the Sum of his Discourse,
The Sage would tell of a Celestial Love;
"Zuhrah," he said, "the Lustre of the Stars--
'Fore whom the Beauty of the Brightest wanes;
Who were she to reveal her perfect Beauty,
The Sun and Moon would craze; Zuhrah," he said,
"The Sweetness of the Banquet--none in Song
Like Her--her Harp filling the Ear of Heaven,
That Dervish-dances at her Harmony."
Salaman listen'd, and inclin'd--again
Repeated, Inclination ever grew;
Until The Sage beholding in his Soul
The Spirit quicken, so effectually
With Zuhrah wrought, that she reveal'd herself
In her pure Beauty to Salaman's Soul,
And washing Absal's Image from his Breast,
There reign'd instead. Celestial Beauty seen,
He left the Earthly; and, once come to know
Eternal Love, he let the Mortal go.
XXVII.
The Crown of Empire how supreme a Lot!
The Throne of the Sultan how high!--But not
For All--None but the Heaven-ward Foot may dare
To mount--The Head that touches Heaven to wear!--
When the Belov'd of Royal Augury
Was rescued from the Bondage of Absal,
Then he arose, and shaking off the Dust
Of that lost Travel, girded up his Heart,
And look'd with undefiled Robe to Heaven.
Then was His Head worthy to wear the Crown,
His Foot to mount the Throne. And then The Shah
Summon'd the Chiefs of Cities and of States,
Summon'd the Absolute Ones who wore the Ring,
And such a Banquet order'd as is not
For Sovereign Assemblement the like
In the Folding of the Records of the World.
No armed Host, nor Captain of a Host,
From all the Quarters of the World, but there;
Of whom not one but to Salaman did
Obeisance, and lifted up his Neck
To yoke it under his Supremacy.
Then The Shah crown'd him with the Golden Crown,
And set the Golden Throne beneath his Feet.
And over all the Heads of the Assembly,
And in the Ears of all of them, his Jewels
With the Diamond of Wisdom cut and said:--
XXVIII.
"My Son, the Kingdom of The World is not
Eternal, nor the Sum of right Desire;
Make thou the Faith-preserving Intellect
Thy Counsellor; and considering To-day
To-morrow's Seed-field, ere That come to bear,
Sow with the Harvest of Eternity.
All Work with Wisdom hath to do--by that
Stampt current only; what Thyself to do
Art wise, that _Do_; what not, consult the Wise,
Turn not thy Face away from the old Ways,
That were the Canon of the Kings of Old;
Nor cloud with Tyranny the Glass of Justice;
But rather strive that all Confusion
Change by thy Justice to its opposite.
In whatsoever Thou shalt Take or Give
Look to the _How_; Giving and Taking still,
Not by the backward Counsel of the Godless,
But by the Law of Faith increase and Give.
Drain not thy People's purse--the Tyranny
Which Thee enriches at thy Subjects' cost,
Awhile shall make Thee strong; but in the End
Shall bow thy Neck beneath a Double Burden.
The Tyrant goes to Hell--follow not Him--
"Become not Thou the Fuel of its Fires.
Thou art a Shepherd, and thy Flock the People,
To save and not destroy; nor at their Loss
To lift Thyself above the Shepherd's calling.
For which is for the other, Flock or Shepherd?
And join with Thee true Men to keep the Flock.
Dogs, if you will--but Trusty--head in leash,
Whose Teeth are for the Wolf, not for the Lamb,
And least of all the Wolf's Accomplices,
Their Jaws blood-dripping from the Tyrant's Shambles.
For Shahs must have Vizirs--but be they Wise
And Trusty--knowing well the Realm's Estate--
(For who eats Profit of a Fool? and least
A wise King girdled by a Foolish Council)--
Knowing how far to Shah and Subject bound
On either Hand--not by Extortion,
Nor Usury wrung from the People's purse,
Their Master's and their own Estates (to whom
Enough is apt enough to make them Rebel)
Feeding to such a Surplus as feeds Hell.
Proper in Soul and Body be They--pitiful
To Poverty--hospitable to the Saint--
Their sweet Access a Salve to wounded Hearts,
Their Vengeance terrible to the Evil Doer,
Thy Heralds through the Country bringing Thee
Report of Good or Ill--which to confirm
By thy peculiar Eye--and least of all
Suffering Accuser also to be Judge--
By surest Steps builds up Prosperity."
XXIX.
EPILOGUE.
Under the Outward Form of any Story
An Inner Meaning lies--This Story now
Completed, do Thou of its Mystery
(Whereto the Wise hath found himself a way)
Have thy Desire--No Tale of _I_ and Thou,
Though _I_ and Thou be its Interpreters.
What signifies The Shah? and what the Sage?
And what Salaman not of Woman born?
And what Absal who drew him to Desire?
And what the Kingdom that awaited him
When he had drawn his Garment from her Hand?
What means that Fiery Pile? and what The Sea?
And what that Heavenly Zuhrah who at last
Clear'd Absal from the Mirror of his Soul?
Learn part by part the Mystery from me;
All Ear from Head to Foot and Understanding be.
XXX.
The Incomparable Creator, when this World
He did create, created First of All
The First Intelligence--First of a Chain
Of Ten Intelligences, of which the Last
Sole Agent is in this our Universe,
Active Intelligence so call'd; The One
Distributor of Evil and of Good,
Of Joy and Sorrow, Himself apart from Matter,
In Essence and in Energy--his Treasure
Subject to no such Talisman--He yet
Hath fashion'd all that is--Material Form,
And Spiritual, sprung from Him--by Him
Directed all, and in his Bounty drown'd.
Therefore is He that Firman-issuing Shah
To whom the World was subject. But because
What He distributes to the Universe
Himself from still a Higher Power receives,
The Wise, and all who comprehend aright,
Will recognise that Higher in The Sage.
His the Prime Spirit that, spontaneously
Projected by the Tenth Intelligence,
Was from no Womb of Matter reproduced
A Special Essence called The Soul--a Child
Fresh sprung from Heaven in Raiment undefiled
Of Sensual Taint, and therefore call'd Salaman.
And who Absal?--The Lust-adoring Body,
Slave to the Blood and Sense--through whom The Soul,
Although the Body's very Life it be,
Does yet imbibe the Knowledge and Desire
Of Things of Sense; and these united thus
By such a Tie God only can unloose,
Body and Soul are Lovers Each of other.
What is The Sea on which they sail'd?--The Sea
Of Animal Desire--the Sensual Abyss,
Under whose Waters lie a World of Being
Swept far from God in that Submersion.
And wherefore was it Absal in that Isle
Deceived in her Delight, and that Salaman
Fell short of his Desire?--That was to show
How Passion tires, and how with Time begins
The Folding of the Carpet of Desire.
And what the turning of Salaman's Heart
Back to the Shah, and looking to the Throne
Of Pomp and Glory? What but the Return
Of the Lost Soul to its true Parentage,
And back from Carnal Error looking up
Repentant to its Intellectual Throne.
What is The Fire?--Ascetic Discipline,
That burns away the Animal Alloy,
Till all the Dross of Matter be consumed,
And the Essential Soul, its Raiment clean
Of Mortal Taint, be left. But forasmuch
As any Life-long Habit so consumed,
May well recur a Pang for what is lost,
Therefore The Sage set in Salaman's Eyes
A Soothing Fantom of the Past, but still
Told of a Better Venus, till his Soul
She fill'd, and blotted out his Mortal Love.
For what is Zuhrah?--That Divine Perfection,
Wherewith the Soul inspir'd and all array'd
In Intellectual Light is Royal blest,
And mounts The Throne and wears The Crown, and Reigns
Lord of the Empire of Humanity.
This is the Meaning of This Mystery
Which to know wholly ponder in thy Heart,
Till all its ancient Secret be enlarged.
Enough--The written Summary I close,
And set my Seal:
THE TRUTH GOD ONLY KNOWS. _
Read next: PERSIAN POETRY - AN ESSAY BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON
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