Aflatun and Aristu and King IskanderAre Plato, Aristotle, Alexander.
Sultan Iskander sat him downOn his golden throne, in his golden crown,And shouted, "Wine and flute-girls three,And the Captain, ho! of my ships at sea."
He drank his bowl of wine; he keptThe flute-girls dancing till they wept,Praised and kissed their painted lips,And turned to the Captain of All his Ships
And cried, "O Lord of my Ships that goFrom the Persian Gulf to the Pits of Snow,Inquire for men unknown to man!"Said Sultan Iskander of Yoonistan.
"Daroosh is dead, and I am KingOf Everywhere and Everything:Yet leagues and leagues away for sureThe lion-hearted dream of war.
"Admiral, I command you sail!Take you a ship of silver mail,And fifty sailors, young and bold,And stack provision deep in the hold,
"And seek out twenty men that knowAll babel tongues which flaunt and flow;And stay! Impress those learned two,Old Aflatun, and Aristu.
"And set your prow South-western waysA thousand bright and dimpling days,And find me lion-hearted LordsWith breasts to feed Our rusting swords."
The Captain of the Ships bowed low."Sir," he replied, "I will do so."And down he rode to the harbour mouth,To choose a boat to carry him South.
And he launched a ship of silver mail,With fifty lads to hoist the sail,And twenty wise—all tongues they knew,And Aflatun, and Aristu.
There had not dawned the second dayBut the glittering galleon sailed away,And through the night like one great bellThe marshalled armies sang farewell.
In twenty days the silver shipHad passed the Isle of Serendip,And made the flat Araunian coastsInhabited, at noon, by Ghosts.
In thirty days the ship was farBeyond the land of Calcobar,Where men drink Dead Men's Blood for wine,And dye their beards alizarine.
But on the hundredth day there cameStorm with his windy wings aflame,And drave them out to that Lone SeaWhose shores are near Eternity.
* * *
For seven years and seven yearsSailed those forgotten mariners,Nor could they spy on either handThe faintest level of good red land.
Bird or fish they saw not one;There swam no ship beside their own,And day-night long the lilied DeepLay round them, with its flowers asleep.
The beams began to warp and crack,The silver plates turned filthy black,And drooping down on the carven railsHung those once lovely silken sails.
And all the great ship's crew who wereSuch noble lads to do and dareGrew old and tired of the changeless skyAnd laid them down on the deck to die.
And they who spake all tongues there beMade antics with solemnity,Or closely huddled each to eachTalked ribald in a foreign speech.
And Aflatun and AristuLet their Beards grow, and their Beards grewRound and about the mainmast treeWhere they stood still, and watched the sea.
And day by day their Captain greyKnelt on the rotting poop to pray:And yet despite ten thousand prayersThey saw no ship that was not theirs.
* * *
When thrice the seven years had passedThey saw a ship, a ship at last!Untarnished glowed its silver mail,Windless bellied its silken sail.
With a shout the grizzled sailors roseCursing the years of sick repose,And they who spake in tongues unknownGladly reverted to their own.
The Captain leapt and left his prayersAnd hastened down the dust-dark stairs,And taking to hand a brazen WhipHe woke to life the long dead ship.
But Aflatun and Aristu,Who had no work that they could do,Gazed at the stranger Ship and SeaWith their beards around the mainmast tree.
Nearer and nearer the new boat came,Till the hands cried out on the old ship's shame -"Silken sail to a silver boat,We too shone when we first set float!"
Swifter and swifter the bright boat sped,But the hands spake thin like men long dead -"How striking like that boat were weIn the days, sweet days, when we put to sea.
The ship all black and the ship all whiteMet like the meeting of day and night,Met, and there lay serene dark greenA twilight yard of the sea between.
And the twenty masters of foreign speechOf every tongue they knew tried each;Smiling, the silver Captain heard,But shook his head and said no word.
Then Aflatun and AristuAddressed the silver Lord anew,Speaking their language of YoonistanLike countrymen to a countryman.
And "Whence," they cried, "O Sons of Pride,Sail you the dark eternal tide?Lie your halls to the South or North,And who is the King that sent you forth?"
"We live," replied that Lord with a smile,"A mile beyond the millionth mile.We know not South and we know not North,And SULTAN ISKANDER sent us forth."
Said Aristu to Aflatun -"Surely our King, despondent soon,Has sent this second ship to findUnconquered tracts of humankind."
But Aflatun turned round on himLaughing a bitter laugh and grim."Alas," he said, "O Aristu,A white weak thin old fool are you.
"And does yon silver Ship appearAs she had journeyed twenty year?And has that silver Captain's faceA mortal or Immortal grace?
"Theirs is the land (as well I know)Where live the Shapes of Things Below:Theirs is the country where they keepThe Images men see in Sleep.
"Theirs is the Land beyond the Door,And theirs the old ideal shore.They steer our ship: behold our crewIdeal, and our Captain too.
"And lo! beside that mainmast treeTwo tall and shining forms I see,And they are what we ought to be,Yet we are they, and they are we."
He spake, and some young Zephyr stirredThe two ships touched: no sound was heard;The Black Ship crumbled into air;Only the Phantom Ship was there.
And a great cry rang round the skyOf glorious singers sweeping by,And calm and fair on waves that shoneThe Silver Ship sailed on and on.