Chapter 29

An Arab woman once thus to her husband spake,Insisting strongly he’d of these words notice take:“How very poor we are! What hardships have we borne!The whole world lives in pleasures; we’re the butt of scorn!We have no bread; for condiment we’ve grief and cares.Jug, pitcher we possess not; drink we naught but tears.By day, our only raiment’s scorching solar heat;Our bedclothes in the night, the moon’s rays pale and sweet.The disk of Luna we may well imagine bread.Our hands we lift to heaven; keen hunger’s pangs we dread.5E’en mendicants feel shame at our dire poverty.Our days are dark as night, through drear adversity.Our kindred, as all strangers, sight of us now shun.Just like the wandering Jew, for fear we should them dun.283When I would borrow half a handful of lentils,The neighbours wish me dead; their wrath on me distils.Amongst us Arabs pride is felt in war and gifts,Among those very Arabs thou’rt devoid of shifts.What need of war have we? We’re wounded; we are slain;The dart of want has pierced us through and through with pain.10What need of faults, O sinless one? We’re in hell-fire!What solace have we? Overwhelmed with deep desire!What gifts have we to give? We silent beggars sit!Could we but seize a gnat, its throat we’d straightway slit!If guest should come to us, as sure as I’m alive,When he was sunk in sleep, to strip him we would strive.”Such grumblings, and as follows, going on all day,She made her husband wish her fifty miles away:“Unbroken destitution’s brought us both to straits.My heart burns for our sorrows; hope’s gleam ne’er awaits.15How long are we to suffer torture such as this?With hunger’s agony, like coals of fire we hiss.Should any stranger guest come unexpectedly,What shame we’d feel him to receive dejectedly.If any visitor should pass our way this eve,Unless we eat his sandals, what food can we give?”“Hence ’tis the wise have said in proverb, rendered free‘A guest should never go where he’ll not welcome be.’Who’d wish to be the guest confiding of a man,Who’ll strip thee to the skin, bare, gladly, if he can?20Unhappy in himself, can he thee happy make?He can impart no light; deep gloom’s his only stake.Not feeling gladsome in himself, with others met,He cannot yield to them what he has not as yet.Suppose a man ophthalmic start as oculist;Of granite-dust alone will his eye-salves consist.So ’tis with all in times of misery and need;Let no one, then, come blindly to our house to feed.”Hast never seen reality of famine near?Look well at us; thou’lt see effects of food too dear.25Our outward look is black, like dark pretender’s heart.This lacks enlightenment, though his exterior’s smart.He has no hope of God, nor any good to show,Though more than Seth or Adam he pretend to know.Ev’n Satan unto him no trace of self has shown,And yet he claims to be a Vicar of God’s own.284Some Gnostic terms he uses as a plagiarist,That he may lead the people as though secretist.A critic, ’sooth, is he; complains of Bāyezīd;285Whereas Yezīd himself would blush at his bald creed.28630Of heavenly bread and table, nothing has he known;The barest bone to him, vile dog, God has not thrown.He pompously proclaims: “My table have I spread;Vicegerent’s son, God’s Vicar, here am I indeed!Then welcome, all ye simpletons! Come in; Come in!From table of my bounty fill yourselves within.”For years he dupes them with “To-morrow’s” promise still.The arrant arch-deceiver, whose “To-morrow’s”nil.A long time is required to sound a human mind,To find out what defects may lurk the mask behind.35A buried treasure is there under body’s wall?Or is it hole of serpent, toad, or scorpion, all?At length when ’tis discovered, impostor is he,His pupil’s life is wasted; what use then to see?But on some rare occasion, pupil of great partsWill come to the impostor, profit by his arts.He comes with good intention to the lecture-hall,Expects a guiding soul; he finds a carcase; all.As when, in dead of night, one does not know the east,287To offer one’s devotion’s licit, turning west.40Pretenders carry famine in their heart of hearts.We suffer only want of bread for our repasts.Why, then, pretender-like, should we our want disguise?Why, for appearance’ sake, our soul, too, bastardise?The woman’s husband answered: “Pray now, silence keep!Our life is most part o’er. What’s left us but to weep?”“The wise man cares not for a little more or less.These both will pass away, like torrent’s waywardness.A torrent may be clear, or muddy, black as ink.It will not last. Why then should we about it think?”45“Within this world what millions, living creatures all,A life of joy still lead, quite free from let or fall.A dove is always cooing praises to the Lord,Upon a tree, so long as day may light afford.A nightingale sings hymns, God’s name to bless alway.For unto Thee he trusts, Who hearest us when we pray.A falcon, when he sits upon a royal fist,No longer stoops to carrion, wherewith to subsist.And so from gnat to elephant like state we find,They all depend on God, the best of feeders’ kind.”50“All those anxieties that fall on us like darts,Are but the vapours, tempests, of our human hearts.Those cares are like a sickle, made to cut us down.This is a fact, though we are slow the truth to own.Our ev’ry suffering, here, a portion is of death.This part of death, then, drive away whilst thou hast breath.If from this part of death thou findst thou canst not run;Thou’rt sure whole death will follow, as the light the sun.If thou canst learn to think this part of death is sweet,Thou knowest that God will make its whole thy tastes to meet.55Our troubles are the heralds of our death to come.Turn not thy face away from herald, as do some.”“Whoever leads a joyous life finds death severe.And he who’s slave to body, mars his soul’s career.When sheep come home from pasture in the meadows green,The fattest ones are slaughtered, soon as they are seen.The night is spent, the morn is come, my bosom friend,When wilt thou bring thy grumbling gossip to an end?Once thou wert young, and more content a hundredfold;Then covetous becamest, though thyself art gold.60A fruitful vine thou wert; a blight’s come over thee;Thy fruit will never ripe, ’twill shrivel on the tree.Sweet fruit, with flavour, give, thy inward worth to prove.Thou backwards shouldst not walk, as ropemakers all move.Thou art my helpmate fond; and fellow-workers all,Of one mind still should be, or their joint work must fall.A pair should ever be conformable in aim.A pair of shoes examine; pair of boots, the same.If one boot of a pair be too small for the foot,The pair is useless; vain, the other’s size to moot.65One boot is small; the other, ’haps, too large is found.Hast ever known a lion consort with a hound?Two packs upon a camel equipoise require;The one must not be half, the other bale entire.I choose the road that leads straight to contentment’s door,Why takest thou the path to sin and misery’s floor?”The woman’s husband, suffering, but resigned still,Thus spake unto his wife, to calm her restive will.The woman raised a shout: “O man of simple mind!I will no longer listen to thy words, though kind.70Talk not to me of claims, pretensions, and such stuff.I care not one pin’s point for pride and flimsy fluff.Why preach so loud of sentiment and honour’s call?Just look at our condition. Shame upon thee fall!Pride certainly is wrong; much worse in beggars’ camp.The day is cold and snowy; all our clothing’s damp.What nonsense and frivolity thy weak pate doles!And all the while thy tent, like cobweb, ’s full of holes.Where didst thou learn contentment’s rule to make thy pride?Has thy contentment taught thee shame from men to hide?75The Prophet has declared: ‘Content a treasure is.’But what knowest thou of treasure? Suffering’s all thy bliss.Contentment’s but a water-reservoir that leaks.Do hold thy tongue, thou plague; and cease these foolish freaks.Thou namest me thy helpmate; lower, pray, thy tone.I’m fellow unto justice; mate to knavery, none.Since thou equality with lords and princes claimest,Why suck the blood of locusts that by chance thou maimest?Thou fightest for a bone with dogs in this debate.How shall I not complain, with hunger at our gate?80Don’t look at me contemptuously, and all askance.Lest I tell all my mind, thy baseness to enhance.Thou holdest thyself much wiser than poor soul like me.Hast ever found me wanting sense to make thee see?Think not to fall upon me, wolf-like, unawares,O thou at whose great wisdom woman’s folly stares!The wisdom thou so holdest superior to all,Not wisdom is; but serpent’s, scorpion’s, deadly gall.A foe may God prove ever to thy drivelling guile!So mayst thou turn out weaker than weak woman’s wile!85Thou art both snake and snake-catcher, in one combined.A serpent-charming serpent! Arab’s pride enshrined!Did crows but realise their ugliness supreme,As white as snow they’d change, through rage and arrant shame.A charmer sings a charm against a snake, his foe;The snake charms him in turn; hence follows boundless woe.Were not his trap a charm prepared by the snake,Would he become the victim of some small mistake?The charmer first is caught in toils of greed and lust.And sees not ’tis the snake has charmed him, bound him fast.90The snake addresses him: ‘O charmer! See now! Look!Thy own work thou perceivest, my wiles hast mistook.Thou charmest in God’s name to make me thy bond-slave,And lead me captive, make me sport for fool and knave.The name of God it is that holds me fast enchained;That name thou usest as my trap. Art not soft-brained?That name will one day vengeance on thee for me take.In fear of that dread name, I, soul and body, quake.He’ll either take thy life with poison-fang of mine;Or, like me, unto prison He will thee consign!’”95Thus spake the woman bitterly unto her spouse,Whole volumes would not hold the words that she let loose.He answered her: “My wife! Art woman? Art thou mad?‘My poverty’s my pride.’288Reproach me not when sad.Possessions, wealth, are but a cap the scalp to hide.The scaldheads or baldpates alone in caps confide.Whoever’s hair has grown in curls or tresses full.Is always proud when he his cap away can pull.A man of God resembles precious sense of sight.Our eyes should not be bandaged, or we can’t see right.100The dealer who exposes slaves free from defects,Strips off the useless cloak that hides all ill effects.Were they not sound, would he the sheltering mantle strip?Nay! Contrary! With clothing he’d their vices clip,And say as an excuse: ‘He’s timid; she’s shamefaced,And shrinks from being here bare of vestments placed.’”“A man of wealth may full of sundry vices be.His riches are his mantle; none his failings see.Men all are covetous; their greed ’tis blinds them all,One touch of fellow-feeling binds them as one ball.105But should a poor man say what’s precious more than goldHis saying is not heeded by the world so cold.”“The functions of a dervish far transcend thy ken.The aim of mendicancy’s folly to most men.True dervishes retire away from wealth and power.Their bread the Lord, majestic, furnishes each hour.Our God is just. When had it happened that the justHave acted with injustice towards the poor who trust?To one, all blessings God gives, favours, luxuries;Another one, at will, with coals of fire He tries.110Who doubts that God thus acts with uncontrolled will,His portion be the fire of tribulation still.”“‘My poverty’s my pride’ is not an empty word,Therein are hid a thousand blessings well assured.In anger, imprecations thou hast cast on me.I am a humble suitor; snake-catcher thou’dst see.If e’er a snake I catch, I still extract its fangs,That harm may never follow, when its head one bangs.Those fangs are enemies to every serpent’s life,When I extract them, then, I make him free from strife.”115“I never will submit to spell of lust and greed.For cov’tousness I’ve conquered. Its maw I’ll not feed.Thank God that greed is not among my sins, at least.Contentment fills my heart;—a true, perpetual feast.Thou lookest at the crown of pear-tree full of fruit,Come down from that idea; no good will it boot.In raising up thyself, thou giddy hast become;’Tis not the house that reels; thy brain’s grown troublesome.”“Once Abū-Jahl saw Ahmed; spitefully he said:‘Thou ugly portraiture from Banū-Hāshim bred!’120Said Ahmed: ‘True thou’st spoken, most veracious man;Thy words are worthy credit, let who cavil can!’Then Abū-Bekr saw him, said he was a sunOf perfect beauty; east, west, everywhere he’d run.To him, too, Ahmed answered: ‘Thou hast spoken true,O upright man, set free from all the nine spheres’ clew.’The company assembled marvelled at these words,And asked: ‘How can two contraries be what accords?’Said Ahmed then: ‘A mirror am I, polished bright.Both Turk and Hindū see in me reflection’s light.’”125“O wife! If ever thou hast thought me covetous,Come forth from such idea,—too preposterous.That which thou takest for greed is heaven’s mercy, sure.And how can greed and mercy both at once allure?Make trial of true poverty, but for one day, or two.Thou’lt find therein true riches, with contentment, too.Be patient with our poverty, and banish grief;For poverty’s a crown bestowed by our great Chief.Put off sour looks and see, how many thousand souls,Through sweet contentment are as happy as the fowls.130See other thousands, also, drinking dregs of grief:It permeates their being, as sugar scents roseleaf.”“Alas! Thou wast a treasure valued by my heart!I loved to pour my soul forth in thy ears apart!A kind of milk is speech; its teat the soul,—or gland.To make it freely flow requires a loving hand.If but the hearer listen, hang upon his lips,The speaker, though a corpse, grows eloquent, ne’er trips.Attentive audiences still confer the powers,To stutterers and stammerers, to speak for hours.135If strangers should break in upon my privacy,My womenkind retire, from mere delicacy.But if my visitor be confidant and kin,They come forth freely, play about with gladsome din.Whatever best they know, of work, or play, or jest,They do and say, for show, before a welcome guest.What use of sound of harp, of bass or treble notes,For deaf or senseless ear, that on no music dotes?”“Our God has made the earth, the sky, and all between;His light, and eke His fire, upon that stage is seen.140The Lord without a purpose gave not musk its scent.For odour ’twas, not for diseased nostrils, meant.The earth He stretched forth, and fixed as man’s abode.The heavens He upreared to be by angels rode.Th’ inferior creature, man, ’s at strife with all on high;He bids for every place he sees, for all he’ll sigh.”“Dear wife! Chaste, modest matron! Art thou well preparedInto the tomb to sink, ere thy doomed hour’s declared?Were I to fill the earth with pearls of countless price,Thy daily bread thee failing, could they thee entice?145Then cease from all contention, strive not ’gainst the Lord,Or separation from thee will be my last word.What taste have I for strife, contention, or annoy,When even in peacemakings I’ve no longer joy?Be quiet! Hold thy peace! Or, by the Lord of life,I’ll quit this tent for ever; thou’lt not be my wife!Much better to walk barefoot than with shoe too small!The toil of travel’s sweeter than strife in one’s wall!”She knew, thence, he was angered;—will had of his own;She burst in tears. Was ever woman tearless known?150Quoth she: “I’d never thought from thee such words to hear;Far different had I hoped; knew not I’d aught to fear.”She made herself most servile, thing of small amount;Remarked: “Thy humble servant am I; so me count.My soul and body, all I have, ’s at thy command;Sole arbiter art thou; dispose; I’ll not withstand,If I of poverty impatiently complained,Not for myself, for thee, was our sad lot disdained.In all afflictions thou our remedy hast been;I grieve to see thee want; my anguish thence grows keen.155Dear, darling spouse! For thee was all my deep dismay;My sighs and moans for thee came into bitter play.I call my God to witness, in my heart and mind,I’m ready life to lay down, if thou’rt so inclined.O that thy heart,—the life with which my soul’s endued,—Could trace aright the channel by my thoughts pursued!If merely through suspicion thou art vexed with me,My life I value not; breath,—body’s naught! Just see.I scorn all gold and silver, count them less than dirt,If they to thee bring anguish. No! I’m no such flirt.160Thine is the only picture painted on my heart;And canst thou talk of leaving me, from home depart?Discard me, if thou wilt. Thou hast the right and power,O thou for whose divorce excuse I make each hour!Recall to mind the time when I thy idol was,And thou, priest-like, didst worship me! Alas! Alas!My heart I cultivated just as thou desiredst.Thou thoughtest ’twas fond. I knew thou it with love inspiredst.Like potherbs o’er the fire, thou addedst what thou wouldst,Sharp vinegar, or honey. What thou wishedst, thou couldst.165If blasphemy I’ve uttered, lo, I faith profess!My life is in thy hands; but, be not pitiless!I wot not thou wouldst prove imperious, like a king;So, like an ass turned loose, before thee took my fling.Thy pardon now I crave. Let me know joy again!Contention I forswear, repentance I maintain.With sword and winding-sheet I fall at my lord’s feet;Should he decapitate me, death to me’ll be sweet.Thou’st talked of separation;—bitter, worse than gall;Do what thou will with me, that hideous word recall.170In thee, for me, a pleader ever will be found;If I be mute, thou’lt still hear intercession’s sound.My potent advocate is, in thyself, thy heart;Relying upon that, I dared to sin, with art.Have mercy slily,—see thy grace thyself not, Lord!To me far sweeter than a honeycomb full stored!”Thus pleaded she; in coaxing, wheedling terms, with skill.Her tears rolled down in streams, fast coursing at her will.Her weeping and her sighs were past endurance felt,Whose features, tearless, e’en his heart of steel could melt.175That shower precursor was of lightning’s vivid gleam,Whose flash lit in his breast a fire, with pity’s beam.She, of whose beauty was a slave her husband still,A double spell exerted through entreaty’s thrill.One, whose least coolness sets man’s heart in flames,By turning supplicant a twofold witchery claims.If he, whose pride at times pain causes to thy mind,To supplication stoop, thou’lt small resistance find.He, whose fierce tyranny our bleeding hearts most grieves,By tendering excuses, us excuseless leaves.180“Is goodly made to man”289’s a text from God’s own word;As truth made manifest, is by man ever heard.God, too, therein decreed: “that he with her may dwell;”290Whence Adam’s love for Eve survived lost Eden’s dell.A hero man may be, a Hercules to grieve,But slave to woman’s will is he, without reprieve.He, to whose words the universe has all bowed down,291Was he who sang: “Humayrā, speak to me!” Life’s crown!292Of fire and water, fire is quelled through water’s wet;Still, water boils through fire, when in a cauldron set.185The cauldron, like a veil, those lovers keeps apart;And water’s influence no longer cools fire’s heart.To outward show, as water, thou mayst rule thy wife;In stern reality, thou cleavest to her,—thy life.This attribute, humanity must own its force:“Man quails to sensual love,” which springs from failing’s source.The Prophet hath declared that woman, over sage,Despotic power e’er wields, and over men of age;That fools the upper-hand o’er women still maintain,190Because they’re harsh, gross, senseless, careless to cause pain.No gentleness, no pity, faith, or ruth have they;In that a bestial nature o’er them holds its sway.Humanity ’tis claims, for self, love, charity;While lusts and rage are marks of bestiality.Fair woman is a ray from out the sun of Truth;Not loved? A creator; not created, forsooth.293The husband, now, contrition felt for what he’d said,As sinner, at death’s door, repents of evil deed.Thought he: “I have assailed the life of my life’s life;I’ve plagued and broke the heart of my dear darling wife!”195When God decrees an ill, man’s judgment falls asleep.And perspicacity knows not which way to leap.The doom of ill struck home, man straight feels deep regret;Propriety outraged, he turns to mourn and fret.Addressing, then, his wife, he said: “My shame is great!I’ve acted as a heathen, ah! I’m ready to entreat!’Gainst thee I’ve trespassed, prithee, pardon to me grant;Upon me vengeance wreak not, root not up the plant!An infidel, however old, if he confess his sin,And make amends, God’s sheepfold opes and takes him in.200Thy heart is full of pity, goodness, kindness, grace;All being, eke nonentity, ’s in love with thy sweet face.True faith, e’en blasphemy, adores thy majesty;With that elixir all to gold turns instantly.”In Moses and in Pharaoh parables we see.’Twould seem that Moses’ faith was right; Pharaoh’s sin’s fee.By day would Moses pray unto the Lord of Hosts;At midnight Pharaoh, too, bewailed his impious boasts,And said: “Thou, Lord, this yoke upon my neck didst lay;Were’t not for yoke imposed, the egotist who’d play?205’Tis Thou’st enlightened Moses’ mind, of Thy free grace;And hence hast left me blindly groping on my face.The countenance of Moses Thou’st lit up, like day;My heart, like moon eclipsed, Thou’st darkened with dismay.My star was never brighter than the full-faced moon;When darkened with eclipse, it surely sets too soon.True, kings and princes sound my praises in their routs;My star eclipsed, the rabble raise their clamorous shouts:With cleavers, marrowbones, tongs, pokers, hideous ’larm,They seek to fright some monster; really, shame all charm.210Alas for Pharaoh, with those fearful yells and noise!Alas his ‘Lord Supreme,’294drowned in that discord’s voice!Both I and Moses servants are of Thee, our King;Like woodman’s axe on tree, Thy wrath on me takes swing.Some boughs Thou loppest, to plant. They quickly grow again.Some others but as firewood burn, or moulder on the plain.What can the bough, to cope with axe’s severing edge?Can bough resist, return the blow, as blacksmith’s sledge?I call on Thy omnipotence! Thy axe withhold!Thy mercy manifest! These wrongs set right! Behold!”215Then 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.220One 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!’295A 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?225The 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.296That 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 voidFor restitution asks,—encroachments would avoid!235Think 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’ callWas, 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 ballWithin 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.”245Thus 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;297shunned 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.250E’en as the bestial quality, in man aye found,Unto its human yokemate298slave 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.299Thy mind’s a camel-driver; thou, the camel, still,Urged by decree: “Command!”300it 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.255Look 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 seekThou 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!260Doubt 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 makesAround 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.”301Alas, for fools! They’re void of common sense in store.265The prophet Sālih’s camel was, in form, a beast;302His 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”303the text is, us to tell.270God’s vengeance, as pursuer, sought from that vile crewThe price of her shed blood, a country’s whole space through.

An Arab woman once thus to her husband spake,

Insisting strongly he’d of these words notice take:

“How very poor we are! What hardships have we borne!

The whole world lives in pleasures; we’re the butt of scorn!

We have no bread; for condiment we’ve grief and cares.

Jug, pitcher we possess not; drink we naught but tears.

By day, our only raiment’s scorching solar heat;

Our bedclothes in the night, the moon’s rays pale and sweet.

The disk of Luna we may well imagine bread.

Our hands we lift to heaven; keen hunger’s pangs we dread.5

E’en mendicants feel shame at our dire poverty.

Our days are dark as night, through drear adversity.

Our kindred, as all strangers, sight of us now shun.

Just like the wandering Jew, for fear we should them dun.283

When I would borrow half a handful of lentils,

The neighbours wish me dead; their wrath on me distils.

Amongst us Arabs pride is felt in war and gifts,

Among those very Arabs thou’rt devoid of shifts.

What need of war have we? We’re wounded; we are slain;

The dart of want has pierced us through and through with pain.10

What need of faults, O sinless one? We’re in hell-fire!

What solace have we? Overwhelmed with deep desire!

What gifts have we to give? We silent beggars sit!

Could we but seize a gnat, its throat we’d straightway slit!

If guest should come to us, as sure as I’m alive,

When he was sunk in sleep, to strip him we would strive.”

Such grumblings, and as follows, going on all day,

She made her husband wish her fifty miles away:

“Unbroken destitution’s brought us both to straits.

My heart burns for our sorrows; hope’s gleam ne’er awaits.15

How long are we to suffer torture such as this?

With hunger’s agony, like coals of fire we hiss.

Should any stranger guest come unexpectedly,

What shame we’d feel him to receive dejectedly.

If any visitor should pass our way this eve,

Unless we eat his sandals, what food can we give?”

“Hence ’tis the wise have said in proverb, rendered free‘A guest should never go where he’ll not welcome be.’Who’d wish to be the guest confiding of a man,Who’ll strip thee to the skin, bare, gladly, if he can?20Unhappy in himself, can he thee happy make?He can impart no light; deep gloom’s his only stake.Not feeling gladsome in himself, with others met,He cannot yield to them what he has not as yet.Suppose a man ophthalmic start as oculist;Of granite-dust alone will his eye-salves consist.So ’tis with all in times of misery and need;Let no one, then, come blindly to our house to feed.”

“Hence ’tis the wise have said in proverb, rendered free

‘A guest should never go where he’ll not welcome be.’

Who’d wish to be the guest confiding of a man,

Who’ll strip thee to the skin, bare, gladly, if he can?20

Unhappy in himself, can he thee happy make?

He can impart no light; deep gloom’s his only stake.

Not feeling gladsome in himself, with others met,

He cannot yield to them what he has not as yet.

Suppose a man ophthalmic start as oculist;

Of granite-dust alone will his eye-salves consist.

So ’tis with all in times of misery and need;

Let no one, then, come blindly to our house to feed.”

Hast never seen reality of famine near?Look well at us; thou’lt see effects of food too dear.25Our outward look is black, like dark pretender’s heart.This lacks enlightenment, though his exterior’s smart.He has no hope of God, nor any good to show,Though more than Seth or Adam he pretend to know.Ev’n Satan unto him no trace of self has shown,And yet he claims to be a Vicar of God’s own.284Some Gnostic terms he uses as a plagiarist,That he may lead the people as though secretist.A critic, ’sooth, is he; complains of Bāyezīd;285Whereas Yezīd himself would blush at his bald creed.28630Of heavenly bread and table, nothing has he known;The barest bone to him, vile dog, God has not thrown.He pompously proclaims: “My table have I spread;Vicegerent’s son, God’s Vicar, here am I indeed!Then welcome, all ye simpletons! Come in; Come in!From table of my bounty fill yourselves within.”For years he dupes them with “To-morrow’s” promise still.The arrant arch-deceiver, whose “To-morrow’s”nil.

Hast never seen reality of famine near?

Look well at us; thou’lt see effects of food too dear.25

Our outward look is black, like dark pretender’s heart.

This lacks enlightenment, though his exterior’s smart.

He has no hope of God, nor any good to show,

Though more than Seth or Adam he pretend to know.

Ev’n Satan unto him no trace of self has shown,

And yet he claims to be a Vicar of God’s own.284

Some Gnostic terms he uses as a plagiarist,

That he may lead the people as though secretist.

A critic, ’sooth, is he; complains of Bāyezīd;285

Whereas Yezīd himself would blush at his bald creed.28630

Of heavenly bread and table, nothing has he known;

The barest bone to him, vile dog, God has not thrown.

He pompously proclaims: “My table have I spread;

Vicegerent’s son, God’s Vicar, here am I indeed!

Then welcome, all ye simpletons! Come in; Come in!

From table of my bounty fill yourselves within.”

For years he dupes them with “To-morrow’s” promise still.

The arrant arch-deceiver, whose “To-morrow’s”nil.

A long time is required to sound a human mind,To find out what defects may lurk the mask behind.35A buried treasure is there under body’s wall?Or is it hole of serpent, toad, or scorpion, all?At length when ’tis discovered, impostor is he,His pupil’s life is wasted; what use then to see?

A long time is required to sound a human mind,

To find out what defects may lurk the mask behind.35

A buried treasure is there under body’s wall?

Or is it hole of serpent, toad, or scorpion, all?

At length when ’tis discovered, impostor is he,

His pupil’s life is wasted; what use then to see?

But on some rare occasion, pupil of great partsWill come to the impostor, profit by his arts.He comes with good intention to the lecture-hall,Expects a guiding soul; he finds a carcase; all.As when, in dead of night, one does not know the east,287To offer one’s devotion’s licit, turning west.40Pretenders carry famine in their heart of hearts.We suffer only want of bread for our repasts.Why, then, pretender-like, should we our want disguise?Why, for appearance’ sake, our soul, too, bastardise?

But on some rare occasion, pupil of great parts

Will come to the impostor, profit by his arts.

He comes with good intention to the lecture-hall,

Expects a guiding soul; he finds a carcase; all.

As when, in dead of night, one does not know the east,287

To offer one’s devotion’s licit, turning west.40

Pretenders carry famine in their heart of hearts.

We suffer only want of bread for our repasts.

Why, then, pretender-like, should we our want disguise?

Why, for appearance’ sake, our soul, too, bastardise?

The woman’s husband answered: “Pray now, silence keep!Our life is most part o’er. What’s left us but to weep?”

The woman’s husband answered: “Pray now, silence keep!

Our life is most part o’er. What’s left us but to weep?”

“The wise man cares not for a little more or less.These both will pass away, like torrent’s waywardness.A torrent may be clear, or muddy, black as ink.It will not last. Why then should we about it think?”45

“The wise man cares not for a little more or less.

These both will pass away, like torrent’s waywardness.

A torrent may be clear, or muddy, black as ink.

It will not last. Why then should we about it think?”45

“Within this world what millions, living creatures all,A life of joy still lead, quite free from let or fall.A dove is always cooing praises to the Lord,Upon a tree, so long as day may light afford.A nightingale sings hymns, God’s name to bless alway.For unto Thee he trusts, Who hearest us when we pray.A falcon, when he sits upon a royal fist,No longer stoops to carrion, wherewith to subsist.And so from gnat to elephant like state we find,They all depend on God, the best of feeders’ kind.”50

“Within this world what millions, living creatures all,

A life of joy still lead, quite free from let or fall.

A dove is always cooing praises to the Lord,

Upon a tree, so long as day may light afford.

A nightingale sings hymns, God’s name to bless alway.

For unto Thee he trusts, Who hearest us when we pray.

A falcon, when he sits upon a royal fist,

No longer stoops to carrion, wherewith to subsist.

And so from gnat to elephant like state we find,

They all depend on God, the best of feeders’ kind.”50

“All those anxieties that fall on us like darts,Are but the vapours, tempests, of our human hearts.Those cares are like a sickle, made to cut us down.This is a fact, though we are slow the truth to own.Our ev’ry suffering, here, a portion is of death.This part of death, then, drive away whilst thou hast breath.If from this part of death thou findst thou canst not run;Thou’rt sure whole death will follow, as the light the sun.If thou canst learn to think this part of death is sweet,Thou knowest that God will make its whole thy tastes to meet.55Our troubles are the heralds of our death to come.Turn not thy face away from herald, as do some.”

“All those anxieties that fall on us like darts,

Are but the vapours, tempests, of our human hearts.

Those cares are like a sickle, made to cut us down.

This is a fact, though we are slow the truth to own.

Our ev’ry suffering, here, a portion is of death.

This part of death, then, drive away whilst thou hast breath.

If from this part of death thou findst thou canst not run;

Thou’rt sure whole death will follow, as the light the sun.

If thou canst learn to think this part of death is sweet,

Thou knowest that God will make its whole thy tastes to meet.55

Our troubles are the heralds of our death to come.

Turn not thy face away from herald, as do some.”

“Whoever leads a joyous life finds death severe.And he who’s slave to body, mars his soul’s career.When sheep come home from pasture in the meadows green,The fattest ones are slaughtered, soon as they are seen.The night is spent, the morn is come, my bosom friend,When wilt thou bring thy grumbling gossip to an end?Once thou wert young, and more content a hundredfold;Then covetous becamest, though thyself art gold.60A fruitful vine thou wert; a blight’s come over thee;Thy fruit will never ripe, ’twill shrivel on the tree.Sweet fruit, with flavour, give, thy inward worth to prove.Thou backwards shouldst not walk, as ropemakers all move.Thou art my helpmate fond; and fellow-workers all,Of one mind still should be, or their joint work must fall.A pair should ever be conformable in aim.A pair of shoes examine; pair of boots, the same.If one boot of a pair be too small for the foot,The pair is useless; vain, the other’s size to moot.65One boot is small; the other, ’haps, too large is found.Hast ever known a lion consort with a hound?Two packs upon a camel equipoise require;The one must not be half, the other bale entire.I choose the road that leads straight to contentment’s door,Why takest thou the path to sin and misery’s floor?”The woman’s husband, suffering, but resigned still,Thus spake unto his wife, to calm her restive will.

“Whoever leads a joyous life finds death severe.

And he who’s slave to body, mars his soul’s career.

When sheep come home from pasture in the meadows green,

The fattest ones are slaughtered, soon as they are seen.

The night is spent, the morn is come, my bosom friend,

When wilt thou bring thy grumbling gossip to an end?

Once thou wert young, and more content a hundredfold;

Then covetous becamest, though thyself art gold.60

A fruitful vine thou wert; a blight’s come over thee;

Thy fruit will never ripe, ’twill shrivel on the tree.

Sweet fruit, with flavour, give, thy inward worth to prove.

Thou backwards shouldst not walk, as ropemakers all move.

Thou art my helpmate fond; and fellow-workers all,

Of one mind still should be, or their joint work must fall.

A pair should ever be conformable in aim.

A pair of shoes examine; pair of boots, the same.

If one boot of a pair be too small for the foot,

The pair is useless; vain, the other’s size to moot.65

One boot is small; the other, ’haps, too large is found.

Hast ever known a lion consort with a hound?

Two packs upon a camel equipoise require;

The one must not be half, the other bale entire.

I choose the road that leads straight to contentment’s door,

Why takest thou the path to sin and misery’s floor?”

The woman’s husband, suffering, but resigned still,

Thus spake unto his wife, to calm her restive will.

The woman raised a shout: “O man of simple mind!I will no longer listen to thy words, though kind.70Talk not to me of claims, pretensions, and such stuff.I care not one pin’s point for pride and flimsy fluff.Why preach so loud of sentiment and honour’s call?Just look at our condition. Shame upon thee fall!Pride certainly is wrong; much worse in beggars’ camp.The day is cold and snowy; all our clothing’s damp.What nonsense and frivolity thy weak pate doles!And all the while thy tent, like cobweb, ’s full of holes.Where didst thou learn contentment’s rule to make thy pride?Has thy contentment taught thee shame from men to hide?75The Prophet has declared: ‘Content a treasure is.’But what knowest thou of treasure? Suffering’s all thy bliss.Contentment’s but a water-reservoir that leaks.Do hold thy tongue, thou plague; and cease these foolish freaks.Thou namest me thy helpmate; lower, pray, thy tone.I’m fellow unto justice; mate to knavery, none.Since thou equality with lords and princes claimest,Why suck the blood of locusts that by chance thou maimest?Thou fightest for a bone with dogs in this debate.How shall I not complain, with hunger at our gate?80Don’t look at me contemptuously, and all askance.Lest I tell all my mind, thy baseness to enhance.Thou holdest thyself much wiser than poor soul like me.Hast ever found me wanting sense to make thee see?Think not to fall upon me, wolf-like, unawares,O thou at whose great wisdom woman’s folly stares!The wisdom thou so holdest superior to all,Not wisdom is; but serpent’s, scorpion’s, deadly gall.A foe may God prove ever to thy drivelling guile!So mayst thou turn out weaker than weak woman’s wile!85Thou art both snake and snake-catcher, in one combined.A serpent-charming serpent! Arab’s pride enshrined!

The woman raised a shout: “O man of simple mind!

I will no longer listen to thy words, though kind.70

Talk not to me of claims, pretensions, and such stuff.

I care not one pin’s point for pride and flimsy fluff.

Why preach so loud of sentiment and honour’s call?

Just look at our condition. Shame upon thee fall!

Pride certainly is wrong; much worse in beggars’ camp.

The day is cold and snowy; all our clothing’s damp.

What nonsense and frivolity thy weak pate doles!

And all the while thy tent, like cobweb, ’s full of holes.

Where didst thou learn contentment’s rule to make thy pride?

Has thy contentment taught thee shame from men to hide?75

The Prophet has declared: ‘Content a treasure is.’

But what knowest thou of treasure? Suffering’s all thy bliss.

Contentment’s but a water-reservoir that leaks.

Do hold thy tongue, thou plague; and cease these foolish freaks.

Thou namest me thy helpmate; lower, pray, thy tone.

I’m fellow unto justice; mate to knavery, none.

Since thou equality with lords and princes claimest,

Why suck the blood of locusts that by chance thou maimest?

Thou fightest for a bone with dogs in this debate.

How shall I not complain, with hunger at our gate?80

Don’t look at me contemptuously, and all askance.

Lest I tell all my mind, thy baseness to enhance.

Thou holdest thyself much wiser than poor soul like me.

Hast ever found me wanting sense to make thee see?

Think not to fall upon me, wolf-like, unawares,

O thou at whose great wisdom woman’s folly stares!

The wisdom thou so holdest superior to all,

Not wisdom is; but serpent’s, scorpion’s, deadly gall.

A foe may God prove ever to thy drivelling guile!

So mayst thou turn out weaker than weak woman’s wile!85

Thou art both snake and snake-catcher, in one combined.

A serpent-charming serpent! Arab’s pride enshrined!

Did crows but realise their ugliness supreme,As white as snow they’d change, through rage and arrant shame.A charmer sings a charm against a snake, his foe;The snake charms him in turn; hence follows boundless woe.Were not his trap a charm prepared by the snake,Would he become the victim of some small mistake?The charmer first is caught in toils of greed and lust.And sees not ’tis the snake has charmed him, bound him fast.90The snake addresses him: ‘O charmer! See now! Look!Thy own work thou perceivest, my wiles hast mistook.Thou charmest in God’s name to make me thy bond-slave,And lead me captive, make me sport for fool and knave.The name of God it is that holds me fast enchained;That name thou usest as my trap. Art not soft-brained?That name will one day vengeance on thee for me take.In fear of that dread name, I, soul and body, quake.He’ll either take thy life with poison-fang of mine;Or, like me, unto prison He will thee consign!’”95Thus spake the woman bitterly unto her spouse,Whole volumes would not hold the words that she let loose.

Did crows but realise their ugliness supreme,

As white as snow they’d change, through rage and arrant shame.

A charmer sings a charm against a snake, his foe;

The snake charms him in turn; hence follows boundless woe.

Were not his trap a charm prepared by the snake,

Would he become the victim of some small mistake?

The charmer first is caught in toils of greed and lust.

And sees not ’tis the snake has charmed him, bound him fast.90

The snake addresses him: ‘O charmer! See now! Look!

Thy own work thou perceivest, my wiles hast mistook.

Thou charmest in God’s name to make me thy bond-slave,

And lead me captive, make me sport for fool and knave.

The name of God it is that holds me fast enchained;

That name thou usest as my trap. Art not soft-brained?

That name will one day vengeance on thee for me take.

In fear of that dread name, I, soul and body, quake.

He’ll either take thy life with poison-fang of mine;

Or, like me, unto prison He will thee consign!’”95

Thus spake the woman bitterly unto her spouse,

Whole volumes would not hold the words that she let loose.

He answered her: “My wife! Art woman? Art thou mad?‘My poverty’s my pride.’288Reproach me not when sad.Possessions, wealth, are but a cap the scalp to hide.The scaldheads or baldpates alone in caps confide.Whoever’s hair has grown in curls or tresses full.Is always proud when he his cap away can pull.A man of God resembles precious sense of sight.Our eyes should not be bandaged, or we can’t see right.100

He answered her: “My wife! Art woman? Art thou mad?

‘My poverty’s my pride.’288Reproach me not when sad.

Possessions, wealth, are but a cap the scalp to hide.

The scaldheads or baldpates alone in caps confide.

Whoever’s hair has grown in curls or tresses full.

Is always proud when he his cap away can pull.

A man of God resembles precious sense of sight.

Our eyes should not be bandaged, or we can’t see right.100

The dealer who exposes slaves free from defects,Strips off the useless cloak that hides all ill effects.Were they not sound, would he the sheltering mantle strip?Nay! Contrary! With clothing he’d their vices clip,And say as an excuse: ‘He’s timid; she’s shamefaced,And shrinks from being here bare of vestments placed.’”

The dealer who exposes slaves free from defects,

Strips off the useless cloak that hides all ill effects.

Were they not sound, would he the sheltering mantle strip?

Nay! Contrary! With clothing he’d their vices clip,

And say as an excuse: ‘He’s timid; she’s shamefaced,

And shrinks from being here bare of vestments placed.’”

“A man of wealth may full of sundry vices be.His riches are his mantle; none his failings see.Men all are covetous; their greed ’tis blinds them all,One touch of fellow-feeling binds them as one ball.105But should a poor man say what’s precious more than goldHis saying is not heeded by the world so cold.”

“A man of wealth may full of sundry vices be.

His riches are his mantle; none his failings see.

Men all are covetous; their greed ’tis blinds them all,

One touch of fellow-feeling binds them as one ball.105

But should a poor man say what’s precious more than gold

His saying is not heeded by the world so cold.”

“The functions of a dervish far transcend thy ken.The aim of mendicancy’s folly to most men.True dervishes retire away from wealth and power.Their bread the Lord, majestic, furnishes each hour.Our God is just. When had it happened that the justHave acted with injustice towards the poor who trust?To one, all blessings God gives, favours, luxuries;Another one, at will, with coals of fire He tries.110Who doubts that God thus acts with uncontrolled will,His portion be the fire of tribulation still.”

“The functions of a dervish far transcend thy ken.

The aim of mendicancy’s folly to most men.

True dervishes retire away from wealth and power.

Their bread the Lord, majestic, furnishes each hour.

Our God is just. When had it happened that the just

Have acted with injustice towards the poor who trust?

To one, all blessings God gives, favours, luxuries;

Another one, at will, with coals of fire He tries.110

Who doubts that God thus acts with uncontrolled will,

His portion be the fire of tribulation still.”

“‘My poverty’s my pride’ is not an empty word,Therein are hid a thousand blessings well assured.In anger, imprecations thou hast cast on me.I am a humble suitor; snake-catcher thou’dst see.If e’er a snake I catch, I still extract its fangs,That harm may never follow, when its head one bangs.Those fangs are enemies to every serpent’s life,When I extract them, then, I make him free from strife.”115

“‘My poverty’s my pride’ is not an empty word,

Therein are hid a thousand blessings well assured.

In anger, imprecations thou hast cast on me.

I am a humble suitor; snake-catcher thou’dst see.

If e’er a snake I catch, I still extract its fangs,

That harm may never follow, when its head one bangs.

Those fangs are enemies to every serpent’s life,

When I extract them, then, I make him free from strife.”115

“I never will submit to spell of lust and greed.For cov’tousness I’ve conquered. Its maw I’ll not feed.Thank God that greed is not among my sins, at least.Contentment fills my heart;—a true, perpetual feast.Thou lookest at the crown of pear-tree full of fruit,Come down from that idea; no good will it boot.In raising up thyself, thou giddy hast become;’Tis not the house that reels; thy brain’s grown troublesome.”

“I never will submit to spell of lust and greed.

For cov’tousness I’ve conquered. Its maw I’ll not feed.

Thank God that greed is not among my sins, at least.

Contentment fills my heart;—a true, perpetual feast.

Thou lookest at the crown of pear-tree full of fruit,

Come down from that idea; no good will it boot.

In raising up thyself, thou giddy hast become;

’Tis not the house that reels; thy brain’s grown troublesome.”

“Once Abū-Jahl saw Ahmed; spitefully he said:‘Thou ugly portraiture from Banū-Hāshim bred!’120Said Ahmed: ‘True thou’st spoken, most veracious man;Thy words are worthy credit, let who cavil can!’Then Abū-Bekr saw him, said he was a sunOf perfect beauty; east, west, everywhere he’d run.To him, too, Ahmed answered: ‘Thou hast spoken true,O upright man, set free from all the nine spheres’ clew.’The company assembled marvelled at these words,And asked: ‘How can two contraries be what accords?’Said Ahmed then: ‘A mirror am I, polished bright.Both Turk and Hindū see in me reflection’s light.’”125

“Once Abū-Jahl saw Ahmed; spitefully he said:

‘Thou ugly portraiture from Banū-Hāshim bred!’120

Said Ahmed: ‘True thou’st spoken, most veracious man;

Thy words are worthy credit, let who cavil can!’

Then Abū-Bekr saw him, said he was a sun

Of perfect beauty; east, west, everywhere he’d run.

To him, too, Ahmed answered: ‘Thou hast spoken true,

O upright man, set free from all the nine spheres’ clew.’

The company assembled marvelled at these words,

And asked: ‘How can two contraries be what accords?’

Said Ahmed then: ‘A mirror am I, polished bright.

Both Turk and Hindū see in me reflection’s light.’”125

“O wife! If ever thou hast thought me covetous,Come forth from such idea,—too preposterous.That which thou takest for greed is heaven’s mercy, sure.And how can greed and mercy both at once allure?Make trial of true poverty, but for one day, or two.Thou’lt find therein true riches, with contentment, too.Be patient with our poverty, and banish grief;For poverty’s a crown bestowed by our great Chief.Put off sour looks and see, how many thousand souls,Through sweet contentment are as happy as the fowls.130See other thousands, also, drinking dregs of grief:It permeates their being, as sugar scents roseleaf.”

“O wife! If ever thou hast thought me covetous,

Come forth from such idea,—too preposterous.

That which thou takest for greed is heaven’s mercy, sure.

And how can greed and mercy both at once allure?

Make trial of true poverty, but for one day, or two.

Thou’lt find therein true riches, with contentment, too.

Be patient with our poverty, and banish grief;

For poverty’s a crown bestowed by our great Chief.

Put off sour looks and see, how many thousand souls,

Through sweet contentment are as happy as the fowls.130

See other thousands, also, drinking dregs of grief:

It permeates their being, as sugar scents roseleaf.”

“Alas! Thou wast a treasure valued by my heart!I loved to pour my soul forth in thy ears apart!A kind of milk is speech; its teat the soul,—or gland.To make it freely flow requires a loving hand.If but the hearer listen, hang upon his lips,The speaker, though a corpse, grows eloquent, ne’er trips.Attentive audiences still confer the powers,To stutterers and stammerers, to speak for hours.135If strangers should break in upon my privacy,My womenkind retire, from mere delicacy.But if my visitor be confidant and kin,They come forth freely, play about with gladsome din.Whatever best they know, of work, or play, or jest,They do and say, for show, before a welcome guest.What use of sound of harp, of bass or treble notes,For deaf or senseless ear, that on no music dotes?”

“Alas! Thou wast a treasure valued by my heart!

I loved to pour my soul forth in thy ears apart!

A kind of milk is speech; its teat the soul,—or gland.

To make it freely flow requires a loving hand.

If but the hearer listen, hang upon his lips,

The speaker, though a corpse, grows eloquent, ne’er trips.

Attentive audiences still confer the powers,

To stutterers and stammerers, to speak for hours.135

If strangers should break in upon my privacy,

My womenkind retire, from mere delicacy.

But if my visitor be confidant and kin,

They come forth freely, play about with gladsome din.

Whatever best they know, of work, or play, or jest,

They do and say, for show, before a welcome guest.

What use of sound of harp, of bass or treble notes,

For deaf or senseless ear, that on no music dotes?”

“Our God has made the earth, the sky, and all between;His light, and eke His fire, upon that stage is seen.140The Lord without a purpose gave not musk its scent.For odour ’twas, not for diseased nostrils, meant.The earth He stretched forth, and fixed as man’s abode.The heavens He upreared to be by angels rode.Th’ inferior creature, man, ’s at strife with all on high;He bids for every place he sees, for all he’ll sigh.”

“Our God has made the earth, the sky, and all between;

His light, and eke His fire, upon that stage is seen.140

The Lord without a purpose gave not musk its scent.

For odour ’twas, not for diseased nostrils, meant.

The earth He stretched forth, and fixed as man’s abode.

The heavens He upreared to be by angels rode.

Th’ inferior creature, man, ’s at strife with all on high;

He bids for every place he sees, for all he’ll sigh.”

“Dear wife! Chaste, modest matron! Art thou well preparedInto the tomb to sink, ere thy doomed hour’s declared?Were I to fill the earth with pearls of countless price,Thy daily bread thee failing, could they thee entice?145Then cease from all contention, strive not ’gainst the Lord,Or separation from thee will be my last word.What taste have I for strife, contention, or annoy,When even in peacemakings I’ve no longer joy?Be quiet! Hold thy peace! Or, by the Lord of life,I’ll quit this tent for ever; thou’lt not be my wife!Much better to walk barefoot than with shoe too small!The toil of travel’s sweeter than strife in one’s wall!”

“Dear wife! Chaste, modest matron! Art thou well prepared

Into the tomb to sink, ere thy doomed hour’s declared?

Were I to fill the earth with pearls of countless price,

Thy daily bread thee failing, could they thee entice?145

Then cease from all contention, strive not ’gainst the Lord,

Or separation from thee will be my last word.

What taste have I for strife, contention, or annoy,

When even in peacemakings I’ve no longer joy?

Be quiet! Hold thy peace! Or, by the Lord of life,

I’ll quit this tent for ever; thou’lt not be my wife!

Much better to walk barefoot than with shoe too small!

The toil of travel’s sweeter than strife in one’s wall!”

She knew, thence, he was angered;—will had of his own;She burst in tears. Was ever woman tearless known?150Quoth she: “I’d never thought from thee such words to hear;Far different had I hoped; knew not I’d aught to fear.”She made herself most servile, thing of small amount;Remarked: “Thy humble servant am I; so me count.My soul and body, all I have, ’s at thy command;Sole arbiter art thou; dispose; I’ll not withstand,If I of poverty impatiently complained,Not for myself, for thee, was our sad lot disdained.In all afflictions thou our remedy hast been;I grieve to see thee want; my anguish thence grows keen.155Dear, darling spouse! For thee was all my deep dismay;My sighs and moans for thee came into bitter play.I call my God to witness, in my heart and mind,I’m ready life to lay down, if thou’rt so inclined.O that thy heart,—the life with which my soul’s endued,—Could trace aright the channel by my thoughts pursued!If merely through suspicion thou art vexed with me,My life I value not; breath,—body’s naught! Just see.I scorn all gold and silver, count them less than dirt,If they to thee bring anguish. No! I’m no such flirt.160Thine is the only picture painted on my heart;And canst thou talk of leaving me, from home depart?Discard me, if thou wilt. Thou hast the right and power,O thou for whose divorce excuse I make each hour!Recall to mind the time when I thy idol was,And thou, priest-like, didst worship me! Alas! Alas!My heart I cultivated just as thou desiredst.Thou thoughtest ’twas fond. I knew thou it with love inspiredst.

She knew, thence, he was angered;—will had of his own;

She burst in tears. Was ever woman tearless known?150

Quoth she: “I’d never thought from thee such words to hear;

Far different had I hoped; knew not I’d aught to fear.”

She made herself most servile, thing of small amount;

Remarked: “Thy humble servant am I; so me count.

My soul and body, all I have, ’s at thy command;

Sole arbiter art thou; dispose; I’ll not withstand,

If I of poverty impatiently complained,

Not for myself, for thee, was our sad lot disdained.

In all afflictions thou our remedy hast been;

I grieve to see thee want; my anguish thence grows keen.155

Dear, darling spouse! For thee was all my deep dismay;

My sighs and moans for thee came into bitter play.

I call my God to witness, in my heart and mind,

I’m ready life to lay down, if thou’rt so inclined.

O that thy heart,—the life with which my soul’s endued,—

Could trace aright the channel by my thoughts pursued!

If merely through suspicion thou art vexed with me,

My life I value not; breath,—body’s naught! Just see.

I scorn all gold and silver, count them less than dirt,

If they to thee bring anguish. No! I’m no such flirt.160

Thine is the only picture painted on my heart;

And canst thou talk of leaving me, from home depart?

Discard me, if thou wilt. Thou hast the right and power,

O thou for whose divorce excuse I make each hour!

Recall to mind the time when I thy idol was,

And thou, priest-like, didst worship me! Alas! Alas!

My heart I cultivated just as thou desiredst.

Thou thoughtest ’twas fond. I knew thou it with love inspiredst.

Like potherbs o’er the fire, thou addedst what thou wouldst,Sharp vinegar, or honey. What thou wishedst, thou couldst.165If blasphemy I’ve uttered, lo, I faith profess!My life is in thy hands; but, be not pitiless!I wot not thou wouldst prove imperious, like a king;So, like an ass turned loose, before thee took my fling.Thy pardon now I crave. Let me know joy again!Contention I forswear, repentance I maintain.With sword and winding-sheet I fall at my lord’s feet;Should he decapitate me, death to me’ll be sweet.Thou’st talked of separation;—bitter, worse than gall;Do what thou will with me, that hideous word recall.170In thee, for me, a pleader ever will be found;If I be mute, thou’lt still hear intercession’s sound.My potent advocate is, in thyself, thy heart;Relying upon that, I dared to sin, with art.Have mercy slily,—see thy grace thyself not, Lord!To me far sweeter than a honeycomb full stored!”

Like potherbs o’er the fire, thou addedst what thou wouldst,

Sharp vinegar, or honey. What thou wishedst, thou couldst.165

If blasphemy I’ve uttered, lo, I faith profess!

My life is in thy hands; but, be not pitiless!

I wot not thou wouldst prove imperious, like a king;

So, like an ass turned loose, before thee took my fling.

Thy pardon now I crave. Let me know joy again!

Contention I forswear, repentance I maintain.

With sword and winding-sheet I fall at my lord’s feet;

Should he decapitate me, death to me’ll be sweet.

Thou’st talked of separation;—bitter, worse than gall;

Do what thou will with me, that hideous word recall.170

In thee, for me, a pleader ever will be found;

If I be mute, thou’lt still hear intercession’s sound.

My potent advocate is, in thyself, thy heart;

Relying upon that, I dared to sin, with art.

Have mercy slily,—see thy grace thyself not, Lord!

To me far sweeter than a honeycomb full stored!”

Thus pleaded she; in coaxing, wheedling terms, with skill.Her tears rolled down in streams, fast coursing at her will.Her weeping and her sighs were past endurance felt,Whose features, tearless, e’en his heart of steel could melt.175That shower precursor was of lightning’s vivid gleam,Whose flash lit in his breast a fire, with pity’s beam.She, of whose beauty was a slave her husband still,A double spell exerted through entreaty’s thrill.

Thus pleaded she; in coaxing, wheedling terms, with skill.

Her tears rolled down in streams, fast coursing at her will.

Her weeping and her sighs were past endurance felt,

Whose features, tearless, e’en his heart of steel could melt.175

That shower precursor was of lightning’s vivid gleam,

Whose flash lit in his breast a fire, with pity’s beam.

She, of whose beauty was a slave her husband still,

A double spell exerted through entreaty’s thrill.

One, whose least coolness sets man’s heart in flames,By turning supplicant a twofold witchery claims.If he, whose pride at times pain causes to thy mind,To supplication stoop, thou’lt small resistance find.He, whose fierce tyranny our bleeding hearts most grieves,By tendering excuses, us excuseless leaves.180“Is goodly made to man”289’s a text from God’s own word;As truth made manifest, is by man ever heard.God, too, therein decreed: “that he with her may dwell;”290Whence Adam’s love for Eve survived lost Eden’s dell.A hero man may be, a Hercules to grieve,But slave to woman’s will is he, without reprieve.He, to whose words the universe has all bowed down,291Was he who sang: “Humayrā, speak to me!” Life’s crown!292

One, whose least coolness sets man’s heart in flames,

By turning supplicant a twofold witchery claims.

If he, whose pride at times pain causes to thy mind,

To supplication stoop, thou’lt small resistance find.

He, whose fierce tyranny our bleeding hearts most grieves,

By tendering excuses, us excuseless leaves.180

“Is goodly made to man”289’s a text from God’s own word;

As truth made manifest, is by man ever heard.

God, too, therein decreed: “that he with her may dwell;”290

Whence Adam’s love for Eve survived lost Eden’s dell.

A hero man may be, a Hercules to grieve,

But slave to woman’s will is he, without reprieve.

He, to whose words the universe has all bowed down,291

Was he who sang: “Humayrā, speak to me!” Life’s crown!292

Of fire and water, fire is quelled through water’s wet;Still, water boils through fire, when in a cauldron set.185The cauldron, like a veil, those lovers keeps apart;And water’s influence no longer cools fire’s heart.To outward show, as water, thou mayst rule thy wife;In stern reality, thou cleavest to her,—thy life.This attribute, humanity must own its force:“Man quails to sensual love,” which springs from failing’s source.The Prophet hath declared that woman, over sage,Despotic power e’er wields, and over men of age;That fools the upper-hand o’er women still maintain,190Because they’re harsh, gross, senseless, careless to cause pain.No gentleness, no pity, faith, or ruth have they;In that a bestial nature o’er them holds its sway.Humanity ’tis claims, for self, love, charity;While lusts and rage are marks of bestiality.Fair woman is a ray from out the sun of Truth;Not loved? A creator; not created, forsooth.293The husband, now, contrition felt for what he’d said,As sinner, at death’s door, repents of evil deed.Thought he: “I have assailed the life of my life’s life;I’ve plagued and broke the heart of my dear darling wife!”195

Of fire and water, fire is quelled through water’s wet;

Still, water boils through fire, when in a cauldron set.185

The cauldron, like a veil, those lovers keeps apart;

And water’s influence no longer cools fire’s heart.

To outward show, as water, thou mayst rule thy wife;

In stern reality, thou cleavest to her,—thy life.

This attribute, humanity must own its force:

“Man quails to sensual love,” which springs from failing’s source.

The Prophet hath declared that woman, over sage,

Despotic power e’er wields, and over men of age;

That fools the upper-hand o’er women still maintain,190

Because they’re harsh, gross, senseless, careless to cause pain.

No gentleness, no pity, faith, or ruth have they;

In that a bestial nature o’er them holds its sway.

Humanity ’tis claims, for self, love, charity;

While lusts and rage are marks of bestiality.

Fair woman is a ray from out the sun of Truth;

Not loved? A creator; not created, forsooth.293

The husband, now, contrition felt for what he’d said,

As sinner, at death’s door, repents of evil deed.

Thought he: “I have assailed the life of my life’s life;

I’ve plagued and broke the heart of my dear darling wife!”195

When God decrees an ill, man’s judgment falls asleep.And perspicacity knows not which way to leap.The doom of ill struck home, man straight feels deep regret;Propriety outraged, he turns to mourn and fret.

When God decrees an ill, man’s judgment falls asleep.

And perspicacity knows not which way to leap.

The doom of ill struck home, man straight feels deep regret;

Propriety outraged, he turns to mourn and fret.

Addressing, then, his wife, he said: “My shame is great!I’ve acted as a heathen, ah! I’m ready to entreat!’Gainst thee I’ve trespassed, prithee, pardon to me grant;Upon me vengeance wreak not, root not up the plant!An infidel, however old, if he confess his sin,And make amends, God’s sheepfold opes and takes him in.200Thy heart is full of pity, goodness, kindness, grace;All being, eke nonentity, ’s in love with thy sweet face.True faith, e’en blasphemy, adores thy majesty;With that elixir all to gold turns instantly.”

Addressing, then, his wife, he said: “My shame is great!

I’ve acted as a heathen, ah! I’m ready to entreat!

’Gainst thee I’ve trespassed, prithee, pardon to me grant;

Upon me vengeance wreak not, root not up the plant!

An infidel, however old, if he confess his sin,

And make amends, God’s sheepfold opes and takes him in.200

Thy heart is full of pity, goodness, kindness, grace;

All being, eke nonentity, ’s in love with thy sweet face.

True faith, e’en blasphemy, adores thy majesty;

With that elixir all to gold turns instantly.”

In Moses and in Pharaoh parables we see.’Twould seem that Moses’ faith was right; Pharaoh’s sin’s fee.By day would Moses pray unto the Lord of Hosts;At midnight Pharaoh, too, bewailed his impious boasts,And said: “Thou, Lord, this yoke upon my neck didst lay;Were’t not for yoke imposed, the egotist who’d play?205’Tis Thou’st enlightened Moses’ mind, of Thy free grace;And hence hast left me blindly groping on my face.The countenance of Moses Thou’st lit up, like day;My heart, like moon eclipsed, Thou’st darkened with dismay.My star was never brighter than the full-faced moon;When darkened with eclipse, it surely sets too soon.True, kings and princes sound my praises in their routs;My star eclipsed, the rabble raise their clamorous shouts:With cleavers, marrowbones, tongs, pokers, hideous ’larm,They seek to fright some monster; really, shame all charm.210Alas for Pharaoh, with those fearful yells and noise!Alas his ‘Lord Supreme,’294drowned in that discord’s voice!Both I and Moses servants are of Thee, our King;Like woodman’s axe on tree, Thy wrath on me takes swing.Some boughs Thou loppest, to plant. They quickly grow again.Some others but as firewood burn, or moulder on the plain.What can the bough, to cope with axe’s severing edge?Can bough resist, return the blow, as blacksmith’s sledge?I call on Thy omnipotence! Thy axe withhold!Thy mercy manifest! These wrongs set right! Behold!”215

In Moses and in Pharaoh parables we see.

’Twould seem that Moses’ faith was right; Pharaoh’s sin’s fee.

By day would Moses pray unto the Lord of Hosts;

At midnight Pharaoh, too, bewailed his impious boasts,

And said: “Thou, Lord, this yoke upon my neck didst lay;

Were’t not for yoke imposed, the egotist who’d play?205

’Tis Thou’st enlightened Moses’ mind, of Thy free grace;

And hence hast left me blindly groping on my face.

The countenance of Moses Thou’st lit up, like day;

My heart, like moon eclipsed, Thou’st darkened with dismay.

My star was never brighter than the full-faced moon;

When darkened with eclipse, it surely sets too soon.

True, kings and princes sound my praises in their routs;

My star eclipsed, the rabble raise their clamorous shouts:

With cleavers, marrowbones, tongs, pokers, hideous ’larm,

They seek to fright some monster; really, shame all charm.210

Alas for Pharaoh, with those fearful yells and noise!

Alas his ‘Lord Supreme,’294drowned in that discord’s voice!

Both I and Moses servants are of Thee, our King;

Like woodman’s axe on tree, Thy wrath on me takes swing.

Some boughs Thou loppest, to plant. They quickly grow again.

Some others but as firewood burn, or moulder on the plain.

What can the bough, to cope with axe’s severing edge?

Can bough resist, return the blow, as blacksmith’s sledge?

I call on Thy omnipotence! Thy axe withhold!

Thy mercy manifest! These wrongs set right! Behold!”215

Then to himself did Pharaoh think: “O wondrous thing!All night I’ve prayed ‘Good Lord’ to heaven’s Almighty King!In secret I’m humility, a very worm!But when I Moses meet, how greatly changed my form!Base coin, if tenfold gilded o’er with finest gold,Upon the fire when cast, its baseness all behold!Are not my heart and body wholly in his hand?Why brain me, flay me, thus? So cunning, soft, and bland!Commandest Thou me to flourish? As cornfield I’m green.Decreest Thou me to wither? Straight I’m sallow seen.220One 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!’295A 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.”

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!’295A 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?225The wonder is how colour rose from hueless source;How colour, huelessness, in ceaseless warfare course!

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.296That 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 voidFor restitution asks,—encroachments would avoid!235Think 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’ callWas, really, like a wrong shoe on one’s foot. That’s all.

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.296

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.”

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 ballWithin 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.”

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.”

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

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;297shunned 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.250E’en as the bestial quality, in man aye found,Unto its human yokemate298slave and serf is bound.This human element, too, in saints’ hands, my friend,Is pliant, like the bestial; to their wish they’t bend.

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;297shunned 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 yokemate298slave 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.299

By true faith, Ahmed called the world, his docile sons,

To table spread: “Say: ‘Servants mine!’” Thus God’s text runs.299

Thy mind’s a camel-driver; thou, the camel, still,Urged by decree: “Command!”300it 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.255Look 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 seekThou 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.

Thy mind’s a camel-driver; thou, the camel, still,

Urged by decree: “Command!”300it 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!260Doubt 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 makesAround 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.”301Alas, for fools! They’re void of common sense in store.265

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.”301

Alas, for fools! They’re void of common sense in store.265

The prophet Sālih’s camel was, in form, a beast;302His 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”303the text is, us to tell.270God’s vengeance, as pursuer, sought from that vile crewThe price of her shed blood, a country’s whole space through.

The prophet Sālih’s camel was, in form, a beast;302

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”303the 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.

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