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A poem by George Parsons Lathrop

The Sword Dham

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Title:     The Sword Dham
Author: George Parsons Lathrop [More Titles by Lathrop]

"How shall we honor the man who creates?"
Asked the Bedouin chief, the poet Antar;--
"Who unto the truth flings open our gates,
Or fashions new thoughts from the light of a star;
Or forges with craft of his finger and brain
Some marvelous weapon we copy in vain;
Or chants to the winds a wild song that shall
wander forever undying?

"See! His reward is in envies and hates;
In lips that deny, or in stabs that may kill."
"Nay," said the smith; "for there's one here who waits
Humbly to serve you with unmeasured skill,
Sure that no utmost devotion can fail,
Offered to _you_, nor unfriended assail
The heart of the hero and poet Antar, whose
fame is undying!"

"Speak," said the chief. Then the smith: "O Antar,
It is I who would serve you! I know, by the soul
Of the poet within you, no envy can bar
The stream of your gratitude,--once let it roll.
Listen. The lightning, your camel that slew,
_I_ caught, and wrought in this sword-blade for you;--
Sword that no foe shall encounter unhurt, or
depart from undying."

Burst from the eyes of Antar a swift rain,--Gratitude's
glittering drops,--as he threw
One shining arm round the smith, like a chain.
Closer the man to his bosom he drew;
Thankful, caressing, with "Great is my debt."
"Yea," said the smith, and his eyelids were wet:
"I knew the sword Dham would unite me with
you in an honor undying."

"So?" asked the chief, as his thumb-point at will
Silently over the sword's edge played.
--"Ay!" said the smith, "but there's one thing, still:
Who is the smiter, shall smite with this blade?"
Jealous, their eyes met; and fury awoke.
"_I_ am the smiter!" Antar cried. One stroke
Rolled the smith's head from his neck, and gave
him remembrance undying.

"Seek now who may, no search will avail:
No man the mate of this weapon shall own!"
Yet, in his triumph, the chieftain made wail:
"Slain is the craftsman, the one friend alone
Able to honor the man who creates.
I slew him--_I_, who am poet! O fates,
Grant that the envious blade slaying artists shall
make them undying!"


NOTE:
_The Sword Dham_.--Antar, the Bedouin poet-hero, was chief of the tribe of Ghaylib.


[The end]
George Parsons Lathrop's poem: Sword Dham

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