Masnavi

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 eclipse dark. But is not this of all God’s works the constant mark? ‘Be, and it is!’ A bat that drives man on, His laws! Of entity, nonentity, that course is cause! Th’ uncoloured being stained with colour’s various tinge, One Moses ’gainst another’s certain to impinge. If th’ unconditioned state, that was, should e’er return, With Moses Pharaoh, then, may live in peace; not burn.” Does doubt invade thy bosom from this subtle theme? Think! When was colouredness exempt from doubt extreme? 225 The wonder is how colour rose from hueless source; How colour, huelessness, in ceaseless warfare course!

The origin of oil is water. This is known. Then why are oil and water foes, as may be shown? From water oil’s created by mysterious power; ’Gainst water why does oil rise up, and war, each hour? The rose springs from a thorn; thorns, from the rose. In open warfare are these two. Why? What suppose? Or is this seeming warfare all a cunning sham, Like donkey-dealers’ wordy strife, some dupe to flam? 230 ’Tis neither this nor that. ’Tis puzzle for the wise. The treasure’s to be sought; the ruin’s ’fore our eyes. That which thou deemest the treasure’s naught but vanity. By deeming it a treasure, makest thou it to flee. Thy deemings and thy thoughts build up a pile too fair; For treasure never lurks where buildings crown the air. “To edify” means: “Being, warfare eke, to sow.” Nonentity is shamed with entity’s false show! Not entity ’tis calls for aid. It is the void For restitution asks, - encroachments would avoid! 235 Think not ’tis thou wouldst flee non-entity’s fell grip; Nonentity encroachment dreads from thy short trip. Apparently, it thee invites unto its breast; But really, it repels; club-like is its protest. Know then, dear friend, that Pharaoh’s shrink from Moses’ call Was, really, like a wrong shoe on one’s foot. That’s all.

Opinions are agreed ’mongst philosophic folk: “The sky’s an eggshell; in it lies this globe, as yolk.” A questioner once asked: “How rests this little ball Within the circumambient spheres, without a fall? 240 ’Tis like a lamp hung up to vault of high-pitched dome; It never sinks below, nor soars above its home.” To him one wise man answered: “By attraction’s force, On all sides equal poised, it’s kept from all divorce. Just as an iron ball would centrally be hung, If loadstone vault there were to hold it freely swung.” A caviller objected: “How should heaven’s pure vault, Attracting to itself, this vile black ball exalt? Say rather it repels with equal force all round. The earth thus rests amidst air’s tides that hold it bound.” 245

Thus is it by repulsion from the souls of saints, The Pharaohs of each age are fixed in error’s taints. Repelled, then, they are from this world and the next; In neither have they portion; shunned are they, and vexed. From God’s anointed ones dost thou draw back in heart? Know, thy existence grieves them, frets them, makes them smart. They’re like the amber, then. When chafed, it shows its power. The mote of thy existence quick they’ll force to cower. If they conceal that power, - exert it not for thee, All thy docility will turn to pride. Thou’lt see. 250 E’en as the bestial quality, in man aye found, Unto its human yokemate slave and serf is bound. This human element, too, in saints’ hands, my friend, Is pliant, like the bestial; to their wish they’t bend. By true faith, Ahmed called the world, his docile sons, To table spread: “Say: ‘Servants mine!’” Thus God’s text runs.

Thy mind’s a camel-driver; thou, the camel, still, Urged by decree: “Command!” it drives thee as it will. God’s saints are minds of minds. Men’s minds, beneath their sway, Are camels, too. And thus the lengthening series play. 255 Look unto them, then, if the truth thou’dst fully know; A pilot is the life of thousands, here below. But what are pilots? Camel-drivers what? Still seek Thou one whose eye looks on the sun, and feels not weak. The world’s plunged, nailed, in thickest pitchy dark of night; For day to break, it wants the rise of God’s sunlight.

Behold a sun for thee, in mote contained and hid; A rampant lion, clad in pelt of gentlest kid. Behold a hidden sea, beneath a blade of grass. Beware! Tread not thereon in doubt. Thou sink’st, alas! 260 Doubt and incertitude, when felt in pious breast, Are mercies from on high; a leader gives them rest. A prophet ’s sole and solitary in the world. Sole; but within him bears a thousand systems furled. As though by magic, the vast universe he makes Around himself revolve, who smallest compass takes. The fools saw him alone; thence judged him some weak thing! Weak can he ever be who’s upheld by the King? Those fools thought: “He’s a man. He’s really nothing more.” Alas, for fools! They’re void of common sense in store. 265

The prophet Sālih’s camel was, in form, a beast; His people her hamstrung; ’twas ignorance, at least. They cut her off from water; drink they her refused. Ungrateful such return for meat and drink they’d used! “God’s camel” drank the water brought as dew by mists. God’s water they held back from God. Monopolists! Thus Sālih’s camel, as of saint the fleshly form, Became an ambush; - sinners’ ruin thence would storm! Upon that sinning race what dreadful judgment fell! “God’s camel and her drink” the text is, us to tell. 270 God’s vengeance, as pursuer, sought from that vile crew The price of her shed blood, a country’s whole space through.

The soul to Sālih’s like; his camel is the flesh; The soul communes with God; the flesh pines in want’s mesh. Good Sālih’s soul was safe from effort of their whim; His camel felt the blow they dared not aim at him. No hurt could fall on Sālih’s soul, - that priceless gem,— Such holy emanation was not sport for them. The soul unto the flesh is joined, by God’s decree, That it may be afflicted, - trials made to see. 275 Who hurts a body hurts also its soul, no doubt; The life-blood in that vase from being’s fount was brought. God enters in relation with material form, That He may be asylum to each earthborn worm. No man can inlet find to injure soul of saint; An oyster-shell is crushed; its pearl escapes attaint. Then serve the camel; that is, list to saint in flesh; And with his righteous soul thou’lt serve one Lord afresh.

When Sālih saw the evil deed they’d foully wrought, In three days’ time a judgment from his God he sought. 280 “Three days from hence,” said he, “affliction will befall; Of which, three signs precursors shall be. You’ll see, all. The colour of your faces shall be changed to view; Complexions various shall be seen in each of you. Upon the first day, saffron’s hue shall be their tinge; The second, scarlet red each countenance shall fringe; And on the third, as black as coal shall be each face; Upon which ensuing, God’s wrath shall then take place. If sign of me you ask for truth of what I say, Observe the path that camel’s foal shall take to-day; 285 Then strive to catch it. If you can, by chance, succeed; Good. If not, hope is gone; - from bow the arrow’s freed!”

No one of them the camel’s foal could overtake. It fled among the hills, - was lost to sight. Heartache! E’en so the soul, when once its prison bars are burst, Unto the Lord of Grace its winged flight takes first. The prophet then: “The threatened judgment now must storm; All hope’s gone by; - dead as that camel’s lifeless form. Still, if, by coaxing, you her foal can win back here, In calm tranquillity, from whence it’s fled through fear, 290 With its return of confidence you may be saved; But otherwise, despair and gnash your teeth, depraved!” His threat they heard; dejected were at its import. Their looks sank downcast; - sad anxiety’s resort. The first day came; they saw each visage jaundiced o’er; And thence, in fell dismay, they laments uttered, sore. Their scarlet skins, the second day, told plainer still, Time for repentance was but short, and hope was nil. The blackened faces, on the third day, clearly told The prophet’s threat was strictly true. Their blood ran cold. 295

Thus being brought to quit their menaces and scowls; Upon their knees, hams, breasts, they crouched like roosting fowls. This cringing posture has that abject, trembling crew, In holy writ, inspired, dubbed “crouching;” and ’tis true. (Kneel, thou, at times when by instructors thou art taught, And when thou’rt warned that “crouching” ’s with abjection fraught.) In hopeless expectation God’s blow to ensue, The countryside entire within their homes withdrew. The prophet Sālih left his cell to view the town. Enveloped in a smoke and blaze he saw it drown! 300 Low, moaning noise he heard proceed from its remain;— Sighs, as it were, and sobs; - he sighers sought in vain! Those sighs were fitful cracklings of their burning bones; Those sobs, the hissings of their blood, in clots, on stones!

On hearing these sad sounds the prophet burst in tears; Responsive to those moans, he groaned. - No listening ears! The dead he then addressed: “O people, chid in vain! How often ’gainst you to the Lord I’ve wept, with pain! The Lord me answered: ‘Patience have with their misdeeds; To them give counsel still; not long will last those needs!’ 305 Remark I made: ‘With such misdeeds will counsel count? As milk, kind counsel flows from love’s unsullied fount!’ The untold wrongs you’d heaped upon my patient head Had curdled milk of counsel in my bosom’s stead. The Lord replied: ‘A grace I’ll now on thee bestow; I’ll soothe the wounds inflicted by their rancour’s bow.’ With that, God made my heart as tranquil as of yore; Swept clean away the cobwebs of your paltry score.”

“Again I proffered counsel to you, sage and safe; In parables soft couched, with words that might not chafe. 310 Once more that milk flowed, mixed with honey, from my lips; The dulcet tones were tempting, not like stinging whips. Alas! Within your ears they all to venom turned; Because, like poisonous plants, your nature goodness spurned. Why do I weep? You’ve burnt the substance of all grief; Like bone in throat, ye obstinate, you’ve choked relief! Ought any to lament when grief is laid in bier? Man justly tears his hair, his head if broke by spear!”

With that, reproachfully upon himself he turned, And cried: “Those fellows were not worth the tears they spurned. 315 Recite not wrongfully, O master of address, The text: ‘How will I grieve o’er crew that none should bless!’” Still, in his eyes and heart more briny tears he found, A pity, really motiveless, in him ’d ta’en ground. As summer-rain he wept, through feeling ill at ease; A summer-rain, quite cloudless, from compassion’s seas. His conscience smote him sore: “Why weepest thou, man of sense? Are they of tears fit objects, - men of violence? What motive for thy tears? Say. Grievest thou for their acts? Mournest thou th’ extinction of their merciless, vile pacts? 320 Or is’t, perchance, their hearts, corrupt, gangrened, thou’dst weep? On their empoisoned tongues, so adderlike, thou’dst keep? Those tails and fangs is’t, are the objects of thy grief? Their scorpion claws and sting that thou regrettest in chief? Contentiousness, foul mockery, rude violence? Thank God, instead, who’s checked their boastful insolence! Their hands were evil; evil were their feet, their eyes; Their peace, their friendship, as their wrath, were all unwise. From rule of meek obedience, customs handed down, They’d swerved; - to follow mere devices of their own. 325 They wished not for a teacher, asses obstinate; Their own ideas alone they’d stoop to cultivate. God therefore sent His servants, smoke and fire to wit, From heaven, the miscreants to chase to dire hell-pit.”

Behold the damned and blessed, thus, in one scene conjoined; Between them is “a great gulf fixed by none o’erclimbed.” Those “sons of fire” and “light” together seemed immixed; But barrier impassable ’tween them was fixed. The mine’s rich golden ore in soil imbedded lies; But really separated, far as eagle flies. 330 Like pearls and jet beads in one row of necklace ranged; A motley company, like inn’s chance guests, oft changed. Or like an estuary, half soft, sweet to drink, Most palatable water, clear, bright as moon’s twink; The other half salsuginous, wormwood and gall, Foul, black as ink, and fetid, shocks the senses all. These dash together; now this, now that, uppermost; Their waves a turmoil make, as though by tempest tost. That show of fierce collision’s made by matter’s form; In truth, the spirits ’tis that compacts make, or storm. 335 When gentle waves, in friendship’s reign, roll gracefully, Contention quits each breast, all goes on merrily. With rough war’s hideous billows, (mark the altered scene!) All love is straight renounced; dire hate’s to supervene. Affection coaxes rancour to subside, appeased; Because its origin’s in reason fixed, soon pleased; While raging anger stirs up thoughts of bitter strife. For how can man be tranquil, when the stake’s his life?

Our outward eye discerns not pure from tainted hearts; Futurity’s small lattice oped, the curtain parts. 340 The eye of true sagacity distinct can see; This other eye, ’tis, fails; - is ne’er from error free. How many seeming pleasures, fair, as sugar sweet, Have poison lurking in them, death to all they meet! Men of discernment know them surely by mere smell; And others find them out, though late, when tasted, fell. That taste’s enough; ejected are they; swallowed, not; Although the fiend may urge, with: “Eat, while hot!” Again some others find in throat they firmly stick; And others yet are vexed with intestinal prick. 345 Still others by sharp purgings find they’ve done amiss; Indulgence of the palate’s changed to pangs their bliss. Again there are some suffer after months or years; And others pay the penalty within the tomb, with tears. E’en should there chance a respite, granted in the grave, At resurrection’s trump, disclosure naught will save.

Each plant, each honied morsel, in this lower sphere, A term has, fixed, him to affect who tastes the cheer. What ages of submission to sun’s influence, E’er ruby can acquire ripe tinge, bright effulgence! The salad cress is ready in a month or two; 350 The rose requires some years before it shows its hue. To this end has the Lord, whose name be ever blessed, In holy writ declared: “Appointed term.” We’ve cessed. Hast thou this heard? Read, mark, and learn with diligence! Life’s water is it. Hast thou drunk? Health spring from thence! Those words thou mayst consider life’s fount, if thou list; Their sense it is important thou shouldst not have missed.

One other theme, my friend, fix firmly in thy mind. ’Tis patent as thy soul; as subtle thou’lt it find. 355 At times as venomous as adder’s fatal fang; At times as healthful as the food from heaven that sprang. Now lethal; now again remedial, by God’s will. At one time blasphemy; then, holy rapture’s thrill. Thus will it, now, be fatal to a human soul; And then, again, a remedy for all that’s foul: “The juice of unripe grapes is sour, as is well known; But when the fruit has ripened, sweet and fragrant grown, In wine-jar when fermented, nauseous and unclean; When vinegar, again, most wholesome is it seen.” 360

If saint a poison swallow, wholesome it will prove; But if disciple taste it, death will him remove. “Lord, grant unto me,” was the prayer of Solomon, “The power and kingdom solely (not to Abaddon); This favour grant not unto other after me!” Which reads like envy. Such, however, it can’t be. Put not, in heart, construction that must disagree Upon those words so read: “to other after me.” He saw a thousand dangers in the sway conferred; Saw that earth’s empire is a snare to be abhorred; 365 A danger to one’s life, one’s faith, one’s inner self; Such trial has no equal on the whole world’s shelf. E’en Solomon sagacity did much require, To shield him from mistakes in all his vast empire. The wondrous power he wielded could alone suffice, To quell rebellion’s perils, rising in a trice. So when he rested from due ordering his wide realm, He felt that other kings misrule might overwhelm. Then interceded he: “This rule, this much-prized flower, Vouchsafe to none, save with the selfsame power. 370 To whom Thou mayest it grant upon these very terms, He’s Solomon, he is myself, my sway confirms. He’ll not come after me, he’ll reign with me indeed; With me and in me, free from rival’s dreaded meed.”

This to expound appeared a duty paramount; Return we, and our tale of man and wife recount. A sequel to that incident ’tween man and wife Is looked for by the mind of him who’s watched their life. The incident of man and wife recounted here Of each man’s soul and flesh the parable is, clear. 375 The wife the flesh is; man’s the soul; he’s wisdom, too; They’re emblems also of all good and evil, true. The two, of need, existing in this earthly home, By day and night at war are; - always quarrelsome. The wife requires her various household garniture, Her bed and board, her comfort, and her furniture. The flesh, like woman, to be gratified still seeks; Submissive sometimes; oft would play ambitious freaks. The soul has no idea, itself, of such instinct; But seeks to muse upon its love for God, distinct. 380 Existence is the secret of their constant war; The form in which ’tis waged thou’rt now about to hear. Had psychic indication proved sufficient sign, Material creation ’d been a useless coin.

Is love for God thy thought, aim, wish, design, intent? To forms of worship, fasting, thou wilt yield assent. The gifts and little presents interchanged by friends, Are not their love’s pure essence. Signs they are, not ends. Mere outward witnesses, that simply testify Th’ affection’s feelings. These the heart, ’tis, sanctify. 385 For all men know that kindnesses bestowed by hand Are proofs of sympathy. Mind can this comprehend. A witness may speak falsely; also, may speak truth; Is sometimes drunk, with wine; sometimes, is urged by ruth. When wine is drunk, intoxications supervene; Its vapours rise into the head, erst so serene. Behold yon hypocrite! He fasts; he worships, prays; That he a man of God may seem. He’s not. Mere ways!

Results of outward actions are of outward kind,— The signs of what is inward, working on the mind. 390 Grant unto us, O Lord, discernment to perceive What sign is true, which meant fond mortals to deceive! Suppose not that the senses with discernment plod; Discernment is the inner, gracious gift of God! Effect not being visible, we look to cause. We know that kindred moves to friendship, by fixed laws. But him, who judges by the light of God’s own truth, Effect and cause no longer hold a slave, forsooth. When love for God is lighted in the human heart, It fiercely burns; it suffers not effect’s dull smart. 395 No sign of love does it require to seek for, there; For love is love’s own sign, giv’n from the highest sphere. Details there are, far more, to make this theme complete. If wished for, each can find them. They’re not obsolete. Sense must be gathered from material, outward form; Some sense is patent; some is hard to find, difform. The indication’s feeble; - tree and water see;— How different, apparently, their natures be! Let’s leave now all these words, - cause, nature, sign;— And turn we to our Arab and his wife benign. 400

The husband said: “I’ve now abandoned all dispute. All rule is in thy hands; thy power is absolute. Whatever thou ordain, submissive thou’lt me find; Its good or bad results shall not weigh on my mind. I’m non-existent; save, that by thee I must move; A lover; therefore am I deaf and blind, through love.” His wife him answered: “Is this all in kindness meant? Or dost thou seek by craft my plans to circumvent?” He swore: “By God; who knows the secrets of each heart; Who hath created Adam free from treacherous art; 405 Who, in three cubits’ stature unto him dispensed, The mysteries of all decrees, all souls, condensed: Whatever is to be, to all eternity, To Adam taught, with every name of Deity, So that the very angels wearied under him, As he them taught, but ever gained by each maxim!” The revelations Adam made to them were vast; Had never been disclosed before, from first to last. The compass, spacious, of his all-inclosing mind Far wider was than heaven of heavens a grasp could find. 410

The Prophet hath declared God made him clearly know: “I’m not contained, not held; by aught above, below, On earth, in heaven, above the heavens, I am not held. This know, then, thou also, My friend, as though beheld. But, wonderful! Believer’s heart can Me contain! If Me thou’dst seek, there look for Me, with might and main!” His words were: “Seek within My servants. There thou’lt meet The paradise of My aspect. Thou most discreet!” The heaven of heavens, with all its wondrous wide extent, At sight of Adam’s glory into tremors went. 415 The marvellous expanse of heaven’s a stretch extreme. But what is matter, all, when spirit is the theme!

Each angel made remark: “Until this very hour I had a certain knowledge of the wide earth’s bower. Much duty I’ve performed upon its soil, down there. Surprise I’ve felt, not small, attachment so to bear. For what was my attachment to that ball of clay;— I, that am moulded from the glorious light of day? What was my strong affection? I’m light; darkness, earth! Can light and darkness mingle; - live in jocund mirth? 420 O Adam! Now it’s clear! My love was mere instinct; In that the earth material gave for thee, succinct! Thy earthly body here was wove out of its clay; Thy spirit, pure, created was beyond the realm of day! The honour which we, spirits, have received through thee, Before all worlds had sparkled, by divine decree! When we were on the earth, we inattentive were; And little recked the treasure trusted to its care! When orders were received to quit the earth, and mount, We felt regret to change; knew not on what account. 425 We thought of reasons for the shift, and question made: ‘O Lord! Who then shall take our place when we’re thus bade? Wilt Thou exchange our praise and service here below, For mere lip-homage from a worm Thee will not know?’ An answer from the Lord, benign, did we receive: ‘What you allege is somewhat many might deceive. Each word upon your tongues is surely out of place, As lisping talk of son to sire, without preface. Your rash objections would deserve to be chastised, But that I have decreed that mercy’s higher prized. 430 Behold, O angels! Since you’ve made confusion strange, In you henceforth I’ve placed a sense of doubt and change! Since you demur, and I refrain from chastisement, None can gainsay my mercy; none may raise comment. A hundred mothers, fathers, meet not My decree! Each soul that’s born a zero is compared to Me! Their love is but the froth; My love, the sea of love! Froth comes and goes; the ocean none remove. More I may say. For, in this earthly oyster-shell There’s naught but froth of froth, of froth of froth to tell!’“ 435

The Lord thus spake; - the Lord, that sea of purity!— He spake not by conjecture; - truth’s own entity! What I here state is said in love’s humility. The Lord is He to whom I fly, - sole Deity! If thou wouldst put to test what I have here set forth, First prove thy test. Make truly sure it’s trouble’s worth. Cloak not thy secret thoughts. So may my thoughts be known. Propose whate’er thou list; within my power, ’tis shown. Thy heart conceal not. I’ll lay bare my heart of hearts; Accept all, of acceptance worthy, thy mind starts. 440 That I may do whatever lies within my power, Do thou observe my heart’s condition in its bower. The wife observed: “A very sun of good is risen; Through whom a gladsome world’s enlarged from want’s sad prison. Vicegerent of th’ All-Merciful, Caliph of God, Fair Bagdād’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 Abū-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 Mejnūn, when he’d heard by chance from passing wight, His Laylā 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 Laylā; 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.’ 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 Bagdād’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.” 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-water 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 Bagdād’s lands! 490 My husband, true, is shrewd; and know’s what he’s about; But pearls have enemies, we trow, in every rout! What is a pearl? A drop from fount of life sent down; A drop from non-existence, - whence all substance known!”

Those prayers’ reward, - as guerdon of her sighs and tears;— His care’s requital, watchfulness, and constant fears;— Their pot reached Bagdād safe from robbers’ grip; Secure from shock of stone, from chance of fall or slip. A city, there, he sees, with every blessing filled; Where craving mortals ply each art, as they are skilled. 495 Each moment, here or there, some extra-lucky wight, His object gains, receives from court what glads his sight! To Muslims, Unbelievers, equal grace is doled, Like rain and sunshine. Not so paradise, we’re told! One set of men he sees arrayed in honour’s robes; Another set endure, through hope and fear, sharp probes. As gentle, or as simple, prince or worm, pismire, All are alive, as though last trump’s notes them inspire! The worldly, in apparel sumptuous to behold; The godly, all immersed in transports clearly told! 500 The hopeless have become as though their hopes were fair; The hopeful show enjoyment of fruition’s share!

A voice proclaimed: “Come forward, all ye sons of want!” Beneficence seeks beggars, as for gifts they pant. Beneficence hunts up for beggars and for need, As beauty seeks her mirror, with a special greed. A pretty face is charming in its mirror seen; Beneficence gleams lovely through want’s chilly sheen. God hath enjoined in holy writ: “By forenoon’s glare!” “Muhammed, chide not thou too much at beggar’s prayer!” 505 A beggar is a mirror wherein bounty shines. Dull not that mirror, then, with breath of anger’s whines! The beggar ’tis shows forth what charity achieves; A charitable man for this those wants relieves. A beggar, then, ’s a mirror of th’ Almighty’s grace; And whoso’s with the Lord, therein sees his Lord’s face. He that hath love for other than the Lord of all, Is dead at heart, - not living; - shadow on a wall! Whoe’er adopts God’s poverty, without false show, Secures the prize of God’s rich pleasure here below! 510 Who puts on sham of poverty deserves no bread. (Bones are not given to effigies of dogs. They’re dead!) His want craves pelf; ’tis not the love of God he’d seek. Lay not thy bounty at the feet of one too sleek.

A landshark is a mendicant for mere pelf’s sake. He’s fish in form; but will not to the water take. Domestic fowl is he; not eagle of free air. With Lot he sips of wine; God’s water’s his despair. He loves his God, if but his God will grant him wealth; But nothing cares for God’s mere grace; - for spirit’s health. 515 Should he conceive th’ idea of love for God alone, God’s essence he’d deny, God’s attributes disown. Man’s fancy is a creature; - born with mortal lot. God was not born. His scripture says: “Nor was begot.” The man in love with self, and with his fancy’s freak, Can never be a lover who to God will seek. Were fancy’s lover true, and free from crafty guile, His fancy’s tropes had led him to the truth erewhile.

That dictum would require a commentary, full, But fear withholds me. Prejudice will have its pull! 520 Old prejudice, quite purblind to the truth, I see, A hundred phantoms conjures up to frighten me. Not every man has heard aright the still small voice; Not every bird’s a fig-pecker, that sweets rejoice; How then a bird that’s dead, - turned putrid long ago;— A man of prejudice, all sightless, eyeless, so! A painted fish cares not for water, or for land. Soap to a blackamoor is one, or tar, in hand. Shouldst thou depict a portrait overwhelmed with grief, Would grief or joy be felt, though shown in strong relief? 525 The picture would look sorrowful; - no sorrow feel; Or smiling happiness; - without gay laughter’s peal. The joy or grief depicted by a pencil’s art, Is naught but simulated; - knows nor thrill, nor smart.

Lugubrious countenances are for our behoof; That we may be reminded not to court reproof. And beaming visages are not without their use, If they recall us from mere form to sense occluse. The various effigies we see in this bath-house, Disguised in draperies, are dolls; - blind fools to chouse. 530 So long as thou’rt outside, naught else but clothes thou’lt see. Undress thyself. Come in; and see the nude, the free. There’s no admission granted to a bath, while dressed. But clothes, the body, this, the soul, leave all unguessed. Our Arab man, from far in desert’s sandy waste, Has reached at length the walls of Bagdād, - home of taste. The guards, the officers, on duty at the gate, Received him with politeness, kindness delicate. Without a question asked, his case they’d understood. Their charge was to show kindness first, ere asked for food. 535 So they addressed him thus: “Ho, thou, good Arab prince! Whence comest thou? How fares it? Straight thy wish evince!”

He answered: “Prince I am, if you to me be kind; But if you me contemn, I’m naught in my own mind. Your aspects indicate you’re men of wealth and rank; Your speech and smiles betoken breeding, noble, frank. Mere sight of your kind features salve is to the eyes; Your looks alone enrich; - gold in your voices lies. Each one of you expression is of God’s own grace; In Caliph’s bosom nurtured, favoured with high place; 540 That you, in turn, dispense th’ elixir of support, And brighten longing eyes by words of kind import. I am a stranger, poor, come from the desert’s sands, In hopes some favour to obtain from sovereign hands. The rumour of his goodness fills the wilderness; Each atom in its wastes blooms thence in joyfulness. In search of wealth have I approached his capital; Now I’m arrived, I burn with pleasures optical. E’en as the lass in search of bread at baker’s shop, Struck with his ‘prentice’ beauty, swooned; - a lifeless drop! 545 Or like the saunterer for air in royal park, Who lost his heart to one he met, gay as a lark! Or like the desert merchant drawing from a well What he thought water, was entranced by Joseph’s spell! Again, as Moses hasted for a coal of fire, And found the burning

bush, that led him to empire! Or Jesus, who escaped his foes with one fleet bound, And found himself then landed where the sun goes round! An ear of corn it was that baited Adam’s trap. But thence himself became the source of mankind’s sap! 550 The falcon stoops to earth enticed by luring fate; He there meets man’s good teaching, soars to princely state. A child is sent to school to teach him learning’s prize, In hope of toys and treats he studies till he’s wise. On leaving school he sits in seat of law or power; He paid his schoolpence then; - he’s now lord of the hour! So Abbās sallied forth to war, with fierce intent, To put Muhammed down, - Islām to circumvent. Defender of the Faith, till death, he then became; The Caliphate was destined, in his line, to fame! 555 So am I come, in hopes at this court to advance; Though at its gate as yet, I feel I’ve every chance. In quest of bread am I; as offering, water bring. The hope of bread sets wide heaven’s portals at one swing. ’Twas bread that drove out Adam from his paradise; ’Tis bread will gain me entrance where my hopes take rise. From bread, from water, both, as angels, far I stroll; And, following the spheres, around

this centre roll! Without an object none will toil on earth, you see, Save true and godly lovers. They’re from motives free!” 560

Th’ Infinite’s lovers finite’s worshippers are not. Who seek the finite lose th’ Infinite, as we wot. When finite with the finite falls in love, perforce, His loved one soon returns to her infinite source. A beard that puts itself into another’s grasp, In lather’s smothered; emblem of a weak mind’s gasp. He’s not his own lord; cannot guide his own affairs; He does but what he’s told; where’er he’s bid, repairs. Would’st sin with woman? Choose, at least, one that is free. Would’st rob and steal? Let pearls and jewels be thy fee. 565 A slave obeys a master; has himself no will; The scent is all the rose’s; thorns show no such skill. A slave may not attain to wish that he may form; His toil is vain, his trouble profitless; - poor worm! Shall hunter snare a shadow? Where were then his food? A shadow’s not a substance; - can do no one good. A foolish hunter seized the shadow of a bird! The fowl, on tree securely perched, not one foot stirred; But, wondering, thought: “What is the stupid fool about? Demented, sure; his little wit he’s let ooze out!” 570

But if thou thinkest finite’s of th’ Infinite born; And sayest: “For love of rose, do honour to the thorn;” Consider: finite unto Infinite’s not joined. Or what need of the prophets? They’ve not scripture coined. The prophets have been sent to link the two in one. If they’re not two, but one, what have the prophets done? But let that be. Th’ inquiry has no useful end. The day is waning; let us to our tale attend. The Arab now his little pot of water showed. As seed to earth, he it on Caliph’s court bestowed; 575 And said: “Present my offering at the sovereign’s feet, If beggar save his king from want, it’s surely meet. The water’s fresh; the little jar green-glazed and new; Filled from a pool replenished by the rain and dew.” On hearing this the guards were laughing in their sleeves; But still, as precious, took the jar; - polite court-reeves! The Caliph’s kindly nature, active, well-informed, To kindness had each member of his court reformed. For as the sovereign is, so will his subjects be. The azure vault of heaven makes green the earth; - you see. 580

A king’s a reservoir; his servants are his mains, Through whom his bounty flows, to swell his subjects’ veins. The stream, if flowing from a tank all sweet and pure, Each main distributes bounty, courtesy; - be sure. But should the reservoir prove foul and nauseous, then, The mains can flow with naught but venom, like a fen. The mains can only what they get convey around. Remember this. We’re treading now on solid ground. A sovereign’s goodness is an unembodied soul, That permeates the clay of human frame, its goal. 585 It is the mind, the all-informing, well-derived, That brings the body into discipline, where hived. Love is a wanton, restless, reckless of control, That drives the man to madness; passion does extol; But goodness is a stream as sweet as Fount of Life; Its pebbles are all pearls, all jewels, beauteous, rife.

Whichever be the science makes a teacher famed, His scholars’ minds with that will surely be inflamed. A jurist’s pupils study principles of law, If but their mental principles be free from flaw. 590 A lawyer’s prentice over subtle cases pores; The principles, with him, are most unwelcome bores. A syntax-teacher rears a host of grammar’s sons, With whom his syntax passes for the sun of suns. A teacher who inculcates abnegation’s creed, Surrounds himself with pupils free from lust and greed. But at the hour of death, of science’s long roll, The art of poverty’s what most behoves man’s soul.

A syntax-teacher, once, was mounted in a boat, Who to the skipper turned, as soon as e’er afloat, 595 And asked: “Hast studied syntax?” “No indeed,” quoth he. The teacher then: “Thy life’s half-wasted! Dost thou see?” The skipper felt heart-broken at this pert remark; But, for the moment, held his peace; - wise man’s bulwark. The wind arose; the bark was sorely tempest-tossed; The skipper then addressed the teacher, sickness-crossed: “Knowest thou the swimmer’s art, good friend? With speed reply.” “Nay,” said the teacher, “that’s an art the schools decry.” The skipper now remarked: “Thy whole life’s gone to waste. The ship must go to pieces. Water salt thou’lt taste. 600 With syncope, not syntax, now we’ll have to deal. With syncope, from water comes nor hurt, nor weal, The sea bears on its surface bodies of the dead; But living men it drowns; them sinks, as though of lead. So soon as thou’lt be dead to every human art To thee eternity its secrets will impart. Thou hitherto hast deemed us mortals asses all; Now thou thyself, as ass on ice, must have a fall. Although thou be the very Plato of the age, Thou’st still to learn that time, the world, is but a page.” 605

This tale about the syntax-teacher we’ve tacked on, To show the grammar dissolution turns upon. All syntax, grammar, jurisprudence, law, and art, Thou’lt find, my friend, of knowledge is but a small part. Our little learning is the Arab’s water-pot. In Caliph, of God’s wisdom we’ve an emblem got. We bring our pot of water to great Tigris’ stream. If we ourselves not asses call, us asses deem. The Arab of our tale excusable was, - troth; He knew not of a Tigris. Where’s the Arab doth? 610 Had he, as we, known Tigris’ stream, and all its store, His water-pot had never travelled to its shore; Had he become aware of what a Tigris meant, Arrived at Bagdād, he’d his pot to fragments sent. The Caliph, when he saw that pot, and heard that tale, The vase had filled with golden sequins, like a bale, Our Arab thus to free from poverty’s rude grasp;— A robe of honour, too; and presents for his clasp, He ordered. Then the whole unto the guards were sent, With kindliest injunctions, fruit of good intent: 615 “That all unto that Arab man be safely given, Whose journey home by Tigris’ arrowy stream be driven. By land he came; he’d travelled all the way on foot; But Tigris’ stream may bear him back a shorter route.”

Our Arab in a boat was placed at river’s side; The stream he saw, admired, bowed low, lost all his pride; Exclaiming: “Wondrous goodness of the sovereign will! Th’ acceptance of my water-pot more wondrous still! How could that sea of wealth my drop deign to accept, And largely thus to recompense the trifle kept?” 620 Know now, my friend, this world’s one mighty water-pot, With wisdom and with beauty teeming; as all wot. One drop, however, ’tis, from ocean of His grace, Whose fulness cannot be confined in any place. That treasure latent was. Through fulness it burst forth, More glorious than the heavens became thenceforth the earth. The latent treasure, pouring out its riches great, The earth made kinglike, clothed with more than regal state. One little branch canal from th’ ocean of God’s grace, Thus overwhelms this mighty water-pot of space. 625

They who see God are ever rapt in ecstasy; And raptured, hold that water-pot mere fallacy. O thou! envy of whom is to that pot a stone! Though fractured by the shock, the pot yields sounder tone. The pot is cracked; but, still, its water is not spilt; The crack’s the very source through which it’s sounder built. The jar’s each single particle’s in dance and revery, Though unto man’s poor wisdom this seems foolery. The pot, the world, all it contains, are lost to view. Consider well this fact! God knows it’s simply true. 630 If thou canst grasp this meaning, thou’rt like falcon strong. Beat, then, the pinions of thy thoughts. Be hawk, ere long. Thought’s pinions are bemired in thee, and heavy move; Because thou feedest on clay; clay’s bread to thee, I’ll prove. As flesh, bread is but clay. Trust not thereon for strength; Or thou’lt remain, claylike, within the earth at length.

Dost hunger? What art thou, then, but a dog? Fierce, ill-affected, raging; lusts thy vitals clog! And when with food thou’rt filled, polluted straight becomest. Thou losest strength and sense; mere stock, thou sleep welcomest. 635 So, being doglike or a stock, senseless, impure, How canst thou progress make in path of virtue, sure? Whatever ’tis thou huntest, dog thou art, in sooth. Feed not, then, thus, the dog of lust’s voracious tooth. When dogs are satisfied, obedience they forswear; To follow up the game they one and all forbear. His want it was disposed the Arab of our tale, To travel till he’d reached the Caliph’s courtly vale. We’ve shown the bounty of that sovereign merciful, Shed on the Arab’s wretchedness, most plentiful. 640

Whate’er a lover says, the sentiment of love Shines through his words, if but thoughts towards his mistress rove. Discourses he on law, love furnishes the theme; Throughout his labouring periods, love’s the enthymeme. Should blasphemy rise to his lips, of faith it smacks. Doubt, when by him expressed, shows confidence’s knacks. The spume that rises from the sea of his pure heart Partakes the nature of its source, truth’s counterpart. We must esteem such spume as foam of mountain-rill;— Upbraiding from a lip beloved is worshipped still. 645 Attention we pay not to harsh words issuing thence;— The features we adore divest them of offence. However strange such utterances, they all seem true; The stranger they appear, to sense they lend more cue.

If sugar we should cast in mould to look like bread, Then eat it, we the sugar taste. Form’s of no stead. Should true believer golden idol light upon, Will he for worship set it up, anon, anon? Nay! To the fire he’ll quickly it in wrath consign, And strip it of the form that makes it sin’s foul sign. 650 The gold, abstracted from the idol’s form, is pure. That form it is corrupts, - can men to sin allure. The gold’s an essence fixed, produced by nature’s God; The idol stamp is transitory; - soon downtrod. Thou for one flea to flames thy bed wouldst never give; For one musquito’s hum, not wish to cease to live. If form-entrapped thou be, idolater thou art! Eschew mere form; attend to essence, as thy part. Art bound on pilgrimage? Seek other pilgrims out;— Be they from Hind, from Tatary, or Hadramout. 655 Peer not into their features; look not at their skins. Inquire their thoughts, their hearts; - if these be free of sins. A negro findest thou one with thee in faith and creed? Him deem a white; - thy brother is he in thy need.

Our tale is told. Its ups and downs are manifold. Like lovers’ thoughts, it’s wandering, unconnected, bold. Commencement it has none; - eternity’s its sign;— Still less conclusion; - so, eternity’s design. Or, rather, it’s like water; - every drop, so rich, Commencement is, and end; - yet shows not which is which. 660 But, God forbid! Our story’s not a fable. See! Its narrative’s a point concerns both me and thee! A gnostic, in possession of his wits and sense, Repeats not what is past; - he bides the present tense. The Arab, his poor pitcher, Caliph, all, observe, Ourselves are. “He shall swerve whom God shall cause to swerve!” Our Arab, know, ’s the mind; his wife, our lusts and greed. These two are tenebrous; the mind’s the torch they need. Now hear whence has arisen the ground of their dispute: Th’ infinite finites holds, of various attribute;— 665 Parts finite; - not parts infinite of th’ infinite, Like scent of rose, - part infinite of definite. The verdure’s beauty infinite is, as a part; The cooing of the dove’s as infinite, in logic art. But go we not too far afield for sorts and kinds; Or poor disciples ne’er will slake their thirsting minds.

Dost doubt? Art racked with difficulties? To excess? Have patience. “Patience is the key of all success!” Be abstinent. Let not thy crowding thoughts run wild. Thoughts lions are, and antelopes. Mind’s forest; child! 670 The prime of remedies is abstinence, we know. And scratching irritates the itch; - as leeches show. Of treatment medical the base is abstinence. Therefore be abstinent. Show strength of mind and sense. Accept my counsel. Lend an ear as I advise; In golden earrings, counsel’s pearls shall be thy prize. Be thou as slave to this, my cunning goldsmith-art; I’ll teach thee how to soar beyond the stars’ bright chart. Know, first of all, creation’s minds are manifold, As are its forms; - from Alpha to Omega told. 675 From this variety, disorder seems to rise; Though, in true sense, to unity the series hies. In one sense, they’re discordant; other, in accord; They now as folly, now as wisdom, pass a word. The day of judgment will to each assign its place; All men of wisdom yearn to see that day of grace.

He who, as blackamoor, is steeped in sin’s dark dye, In that dread day shall gulp dishonour’s foulest lye. The wretch whose countenance beams not bright as the sun, Shall strive in vain behind the densest veil to run. 680 If, like some thorns, his stem display no single rose, That springtide will prove fatal to his safe repose. But he that blooms from head to foot with righteous deeds, With joy shall welcome spring’s awakening of those meads. The useless thorn desires the nipping wintry blast, To lay all low and simplify the flowery vast; That so, all beauty cloaked, all squalor hid, the same, All glorious hues, all hideous sights, be rendered tame. The leaf’s fall to such thorn more grateful is than spring; The ruby and the flint are one in tithesman’s ring. 685 True, that the gardener’s eye in winter knows the thorn; But what is one eye’s scrutiny to general scorn! The vulgar public is, as ’twere, one witless wight; Each star’s a clipping of the moon, in its fond sight. Not so great men of wisdom, radiant with troth, They shout with joy: “Good tidings! Spring breaks into growth!”

Unless the flowers blossom on the fertile trees, How can the fruit be gathered, honey store the bees? The flowers blow and fade; the fruit begins to swell. So, when our bodies die, our souls in glory dwell. 690 The fruit’s reality; the flower is but a sign; The flower’s the harbinger; the fruit, the true design. The flower blown and past, the fruit then comes in sight; The first must perish ere the other can see light. Unless a loaf be broke, no nutriment it yields; Until the grapes are crushed, no cup of wine man wields. So drugs, to prove a solace to the sufferer’s ache, Together must be blended, rolled in one smooth cake. 694 X. Patience and Perseverance under a Teacher. Husāmu-’d-Dīn, 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;” 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’ 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. Whate’er events betide, beware, and question not; For fear thy guide should turn, and drive thee from the spot. Should He destroy a ship, - no murmur from thy mouth; Should He an infant choke, - 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.’ 40 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 Qazwīn 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 Qazwīn 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 Qazwīn 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 Qazwīn 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.” 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.” 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’ 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. 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:” 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” ’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 ‘Ād’s 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. 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. 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” 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?’ 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.” “Of mornings,” be of them who “ask for pardon’s crown.” 30 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, 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.” “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; The “left-hand register” ’s the list of fleshly greeds. 40 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 Kāshān cummin bring, whence it is drawn, 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. 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,” 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, before ‘Uthmān 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;’ There’s naught but iron collars; these are all we bear! 15 ‘Behind them is a barrier; but We’ve bound their eyes.’ 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,” 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? 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, 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! 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. 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 ‘Ād and Thamūd 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.

Hārūt, Mārūt, 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 ‘Ād’s 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.