Masnavi

God said to them: “If you both shine with virtue’s ray, No notice take of man’s backslidings from its way. Give thanks and praises, rather, you’re not made like them. Lusts of the flesh, concupiscence, soil not your stem. 125 Had I imposed upon you that great burden, sore; The heavens would not have been your home for evermore. The chastity that decks your spirit-nature now, Reflection is of purity that lights My brow. Know, this is but a quality you hold from Me. So shall th’ accursed one not make you slaves to be!” E’en as the Prophet’s scribe, with self-importance puffed, Imagined holy wisdom’s light shone as he’d stuffed. Himself he fancied equal of prophetic quire; His raven croak as their sweet song he dared admire. 130 He who sets up to write the notes of every bird, Knows not th’ inspiring springs within their bosom stirred. Could man acquire the note of nightingale so sweet, Would he have learnt as well its love the rose to meet? Should he achieve a notion of that love’s intent; ’Twould be mere surmise, like deaf man’s from lips’ consent. Such deaf man once was made aware by some kind friend, That next door dwelt an invalid near to his end. The poor man thought within himself: “I’m deaf as stone, How can I hope to comprehend this neighbour’s tone? 135 More ’specially as sick men speak so very low. Still, go I must; mere decency demands my bow. When I advance, he’ll me address, - his lips will move. From thence I’ll glean a notion, may not quite false prove. I’ll ask him how he feels to-day, ’mid so much pain. He’ll answer surely: ‘Thank you; better in the main.’ Reply I will: ‘Most happy! How’s the appetite?’ He’ll answer: ‘Pretty good, if chicken-broth invite.’ I’ll say: ‘Good! Good! And what are you allowed to drink? Who is your doctor?’ He’ll respond, as one may think. 140 Then I’ll remark: ‘With so much talent at command, You can’t do better. Soon I hope to see you stand. I’ve had experience of his skill; I know his worth; With him as guide, you’ll not go wrong.’ So forth.”

Thus having got his fancied answers all by heart, He goes to see the sick man; deftly plays his part. On asking: “How are you?” the patient says: “Near dead.” The deaf man straight rejoins: “Of that I’m very glad.” The sufferer felt insulted by this joy expressed. The deaf one had surmised, - had failed in what he’d guessed. 145 He now inquired the diet: “Oh! It’s poison all!” Complained the sick man. “Glad to hear it,” he let fall. Still more the patient wondered. “Who attends you, pray?” Asked Deafy; “whose advice is’t leads you on your way?” “Death tracks my hours!” said he; “pray leave me now to rest.” The other answered: “Better can’t be found; he’s best.” The visitor retired, quite pleased with his rich art; And offered thanks for having played so kind a part. The sick man, on the contrary, was all on fire: “Whence comes this malice? Who has roused his soul to ire?” 150 So, turning in his mind the matter o’er and o’er, A message he determines that shall pay the score. Just so, a man who’s eaten ill-digesting food, Can have no rest till it’s ejected, well and good. Long-suffering is thy better part, reject it not; With patience, thou shalt find soft words best heal a plot. But our sick man found no such solace for his mind; He called the deaf one “Ass,” and “Fool,” and “Sot,” and “Blind.” Said he: “I’ll serve him out; I’ll pay him what’s his due! Till then, my spirit will his hateful visit rue! 155 A visit to the sick’s for consolation’s sake; His visit I abhor, his insults I’ll not take. He’s wished to gloat on foe laid prostrate at his feet; Some joy to gather thence his secret hate to greet.”

How many pious men there are, to outward view, Reward of joy in heaven, as object, who pursue. At heart they’re sinners still, despite the show they make. Alas! Hypocrisy for righteousness they take! Just as our deaf man thought he’d done a friendly act; And yet, withal, had vexed his neighbour, as a fact. 160 He soothed his soul by thinking: “Kindly part I’ve played! I’ve acted as a neighbour! Sorrow I’ve allayed!” Whereas, in truth, a fire he’d lighted for himself; And his sick neighbour’s heart inspired with vengeful elf. Beware the fires you kindle by such acts as this! Beware offence to give, while proffering a kiss! The Prophet said one was a hypocrite, he knew: “Go, worship, friend; thy act’s no worship, as I trew!” For fear lest we should trespass, even as we pray, Our worship has the prayer: “Lord, guide us in Thy way!” 165 “Permit not Thou, O God, that my devotion’s act Be counted erring hypocrite’s unwelcome pact!”

The surmise of our deaf man wide was of the mark. A ten years’ friendship ’twould have wrecked! Beware such spark! Man’s judgment, friend, that’s based on sense’s treacherous sand, Can never be compared with revelation’s wand. Hast ear to hear? Hast mind to recognise the truth? Know, then, thy moral ear is deaf to godly sooth! The first who followed sense, and reason - as he thought - Instead of God’s true light, the devil was, we’re taught. 170 He judged: “The fire more noble is than sordid earth; From fire was I created; clay gave Adam birth. The stock from whence it springs decides each kind of fruit; From darkness Adam’s sprung; light at my birth did suit.” The Lord replied: “’Tis not a question of descent. Pre-eminence is here the prize of righteous bent. ’Tis not a heritage of worldly wealth to share. Why talk of ancestry? Heart’s qualities declare. The heritage we’ve now to give is prophecy; The heirs thereto are they whose spirits hate a lie. 175 The son of Abū-Jahl believed, and saved his soul; A son of Noah rebelled; became perdition’s goal. The son of earth was made resplendent as the moon; Thou, son of fire, begone, disgraced, cursed, none too soon!”

Investigations, reasonings, on days of cloud, By night, in darkness, guide the doubting crowd; But, when the sun shines, - when God’s temple’s clearly seen, No doubt remains which way to turn one’s face, I ween. The temple hidden, its direction quite unknown,— Then use thy judgment. God this method’s kindly shown. 180 Whene’er you hear a note of God’s truth-warbling bird, You straightway seize its literal sense, just as ’tis heard. You then use suppositions of your darksome mind, And form, through wrong conclusions, guesses worse than blind. The saints use terms of technical significance, Unknown to worldly reasoners’ crass ignorance. The language of the bird you learn, as to its notes; But clean destroy its sense; as sure as fancy dotes.

E’en as the sick man of our tale, saints’ hearts are grieved; Though, like the deaf man, you suppose you’ve good achieved. 185 The scribe of writ inspired had all its text by heart; Then thought himself inspired; - would play a prophet’s part. The Prophet, warbler-like, smote him with powerful wing; He forthwith sank to blind despair, through conscience’ sting. So ’tis with you. Perversely, or with vain surmise, You would interpret words descended from the skies. Like Hārūt, and like Mārūt, well you’ve learnt the tune They sang of old in pride: “We’re God’s elect,” jejune. You pray for grace on all the sins of wicked men; You curse your own foul egotism, greed’s hungry ken. 190 Beware lest God’s just jealousy break forth amain, And smite you to the earth, ne’er more to rise again.

Those angels owned, in words: “To rule is Thine, O God. Without Thy strong protection, safety’s soon downtrod.” Such were their lip-words. But their hearts’ rebellious pride, With foolish boasting, thought: “No harm can us betide.” They never ceased to brood on vanities thus framed, Till fire of arrogance burst forth from breasts inflamed; Then proclamation made: “O elemental men! How little have ye known the range of angel’s ken. 195 We’ll weave dense curtains o’er the sky’s revolving face; Descending then to earth, we’ll there our temple place. We’ll justice distribute, and worship we’ll commend, Returning every night to heaven, whence we descend. So shall we be admired by all who dwell on earth, And fill the world with gladness, safety, peace, and mirth.” Alas! Such fancy’s false! Earth cannot heaven be; Their difference is radical, as all may see! 199 XIV. The Chinese and Roman Artists.

Give ear to this advice from one who’s well informed: “Lay down your head where’er by wine you’ve been transformed.” Whene’er a drunken man reels forth from tavern door, A laughingstock he’s made by urchin and by boor. Now here, now there, he lurches, stumbling on his road; Falls in the mire; is mocked and jeered, scorned as a toad. The children of the neighbourhood his steps surround, Unconscious what is wine’s hilarity profound. So are all people children, round the saints of God; 5 None adults are, save they who’ve cast off passion’s clod. ’Twas said: “The world’s a toy, a plaything; and men all Are infants.” These are God’s words. True in sense they fall. No child but loves his toys, his playthings, games, and sports; By cultivation of the mind man sense imports.

Man’s love for worldly things is like child’s love for toys; The child and man, in these, repeat each other’s joys. The child, in play, performs the very selfsame part, He’ll act when grown a hero, learnt debating art. Men’s quarrels are the same as those fought out by boys; They’re senseless, reasonless; they squabble for mere toys. 10 Their weapons are but wooden swords, as used in play; Their objects are not worth a thought, by night or day. They mount their hobby-horses, ride about on sticks; Declaring ’tis Bucephalus, Eclipse, that kicks. ’Tis they who bear a burden, pack-horse-like, or ass; Their vanity converts them into horsemen’s mass. So let it be till that day when God’s riders shall, On steeds of fire, transcend the seventh heaven’s rolling ball. “The spirit and the angels mount unto their God.” The spheres shall shake, when under saintly footsteps trod. 15 Whereas the raff of mankind mount their own coat-tails; Imagining they’re horsemen, prancing as ship sails.

The Lord hath said: “Imagining’s of no avail.” Imagination’s steed to scale heaven’s heights must fail. Imagination’s best is but a choice of doubts; Man ne’er disputes about the sun, whate’er the whim he flouts. The time will come, he’ll see what wretched screw he rides; That which he deemed a courser’s but his own shanks’ sides. His senses, thoughts, and reasonings, he then will find, Are but the infant’s hobby, - pa’s cane, more refined. 20 The wisdom of the saints is what bears them aloft. The science of the worldly is their load; - how oft! The wisdom of the heart sustains and elevates; But knowledge sensuously acquired as burden rates. ’Tis God hath said: “An ass with volumes for his load.” So knowledge is a burden, when not of God’s code. All science not received from word of God direct, Hath no endurance; paint it is; our eyes detect.

Still, if man bear his burden well, he’s recompensed; His burden is removed; ease to him is dispensed. 25 See, then, you bear not science’ load from fleshly lust; Lest you should suffer inwardly fatigue, - disgust; But mount the agile steed of sacred lore divine; So shall the burden on your back at once decline. Unless you drink His cup, how ’scape from fleshly lust? O you, who, in His name, content are with the Just! When from His name and attributes some inkling’s born, This inkling points the road to union one fair morn. Thou’st never known a guide, but some one must be led; And when no road is travelled, gnome can’t dog man’s tread. 30 Thou’st never heard a name, but indicates a thing; A flower thou’st never plucked from verbal rosa’s ding. Hast thou pronounced a name? Straightway the thing ensue. The moon seek in the sky; - not in lake-waters, blue. But wouldst thou cast aside all names and words, as vain, Thyself, then, purge of self. Abstraction thou shalt gain. Wouldst be a sword? Cast off soft iron’s yield refined; By discipline the mirror burnish of thy mind. Discharge thyself of every particle of self; So shalt thou see thyself pure, free from soil of pelf. 35 Within thy heart thou’lt see the wisdom of the saints, Without a book, a teacher, or professor’s plaints.

The Prophet said: “That man is one of my true flock, Whose heart and mind are hewn from my own calling’s rock. His soul perceives me through the selfsame holy light That unto me reveals his soul serenely bright. Reports, traditions, chains of evidence, are lost; When soul communes with soul, minds freely can accost.” This riddle solve: “A Kurd I last night was, by birth; And then, this morning, Arab am, by afterbirth.” 40 If one, sincere, a Kurdish boor was overnight, Sincerity an Arab made him by daylight. Example seekest of science springing in the heart? This contest heed of Chinaman and Roman’s art. The Chinese urged they had the greater painter’s skill. The Romans pleaded they of art the throne did fill. The sovereign heard them both; decreed a contest fair; Results the palm should give the worthiest of the pair. The parties twain a wordy war waged in debate; The Romans’ show of science did predominate. 45 The Chinamen then asked to have a house assigned For their especial use; and one for Rome designed, Th’ allotted houses stood on either side one street; In one the Chinese, one the Roman, artists meet.

The Chinese asked a hundred paints for their art’s use; The sovereign his resources would not them refuse. Each morning from the treasury rich colours’ store Was served out to the Chinese till they asked no more. The Romans argued: “Colour or design is vain; We simply have to banish soil and filth amain.” 50 They closed their gate. To burnish then they set themselves; As heaven’s vault, simplicity filled all their shelves. Vast difference there is ’twixt colours and not one. The colours are as clouds; simplicity’s the moon. Whatever tinge you see embellishing the clouds, You know comes from the sun, the moon, or stars in crowds. At length the Chinamen their task had quite fulfilled. With joy intense their hearts did beat, their bosoms thrilled. The sovereign came, inspected all their rich designs, And lost his heart with wonder at their talents’ signs. 55 He then passed to the Romans, that his eyes might see. The curtains were withdrawn, to show whate’er might be. The Chinese paintings all, their whole designs in full, Reflected truly were on that high-burnished wall. Whatever was depicted by the Chinese art Was reproduced by mirrors, perfect every part.

Those Romans are our mystics; - know, my worthy friend; No art, no learning; study, none; - but gain their end. They polish well their bosoms, burnish bright their hearts, Remove all stain of lust, of self, pride, hate’s deep smarts. 60 That mirror’s purity prefigures their hearts’ trust; With endless images reflections it incrust. The formless Form the thousand thousand hidden forms Flashed in his breast on Moses’ heart, like mirrored storms. That Form, ’tis true, the heaven of heavens cannot contain; Nor all the space between the zenith and the main. These numbered are, and limited within their bounds; The mirror of the heart is boundless in its rounds. Here, reason stands aghast, O erring child of sense; The heart’s with God, - the heart is God, - boundless, immense! 65 From all eternity, the figures of all things, Unnumbered, multitudinous, gleam in heart’s wings. To all eternity each new-created form In heart of saint reflected is, most multiform. His polished heart is cleansed from being’s soiling stain; And at each moment contemplates fresh beauty’s train. The outward gilt, the shell, of science they despise; The banner of real certitude floats where they rise. They’ve thought abandoned; light and life they’ve truly found; Their breasts and hearts are filled with love’s inspiring sound. 70

Death, that dread thing of which all mankind stand in fear, Is laughed and mocked at by the saints, when it draws near. No man has power to dominate their tranquil minds. The shell may injured be; the pearl harm never finds. The rhetor’s art, the jurist’s skill, they set at naught; But poverty, abasement, to themselves they’ve taught. The scenes of all eight paradises are consumed In that full blaze with which their holy heart’s illumed. They’re more exalted than the heavens and what’s beyond; Their place is in the court of love divine, all-fond. 75 XV. Zeyd’s Inspiration. The Prophet asked one morn of Zeyd, in tender tone, “How art thou, dear disciple, faithful to the bone?” “I’m pious; - a believer,” Zeyd replied; and he Inquired again: “What proof of faith resides in thee?” He said: “Whole days I’ve burnt with parching fever’s thirst; By night I’ve watched; with love’s sweet pangs my heart’s nigh burst. Thus have I traversed days’ and nights’ enduring space, As point of spear through shield makes way in war’s embrace. For, in love’s view, the church of faith one body is; Ten million years, one instant, are alike, when His. 5 The past eternity and future join in one; Though reason cannot compass how the marvel’s done.”

The Prophet then: “Bring forth some souvenir from thence, Shall satisfy all men of judgment and of sense.” Said Zeyd: “As men behold the sky above their heads, So I survey the heavens, and all their flowery meads. Eight paradises, seven deep hells, are in my view, As patent as the idol to its silly crew. Apart, and one by one, I can discern all men, As wheat and barley well are known to miller’s ken. 10 I see who’s heavenward bound, who takes the other road; As men distinguish fish from snake in walks abroad.”

’Tis thus that saints, within the bounds of present life, See who’ll be blessed, who cursed, when tried in judgment’s strife; Before each soul contracts the sins will cause its shame; While yet in mother’s womb, - while yet without a name. The wretch is he conceived for wretchedness’ sad thirst. Each soul is marked for future bliss or woe, at first. The body, as a mother, bears within a soul. Death’s but the throes that launch the spirit to its goal. 15 Departed souls are all agog at each fresh birth, To see what class the new-born enters in its mirth. The blacks presume ’twill prove to be of their dark gang; The pale-faced Romans hope they’ll profit by the pang. But when the little stranger shows itself at last, No room remains for doubt; the question’s judged and cast. The new-born black is borne in triumph by its kind; The rosy-cheeked fair bantling’s claimed by Roman mind. Until its birth the child’s a riddle to all men. Who knows an unborn infant’s rare sage in this glen. 20 Unless, mayhap, he see with light divine’s blest aid; For this can penetrate through densest shell e’er made. The life-conveying fluid’s colourless and clear; But living men their various shades of colour bear. The soul sustains complexions in our mortal frames, Until our halves material find rest from their games. But turn we now away to other subjects, high; For fear events should leave us to regret and sigh.

“When settling-day ‘brings forth the colour of each face,’ Mankind are separated sharply, race from race. 25 Within the womb nor Turk, nor Hindū, yet is seen; So soon as born, all, high and low, know what to ween. As in the day of judgment all men all will know, So now to me each man and woman forms a show. Say: Shall I all declare; or shall I hold my peace?” To this the Prophet in reply made motion: “Cease.” “Ha! Prophet of the Lord! I’ll tell that secret, all! To men I will declare the deeds of that dread hall! Permit me to tear off the veil that hides it now; My heart shall light the world as sun in midday glow. 30 I will eclipse that lamp, by giving out more light. I will set plainly forth the thorn and fig-tree right. Th’ events of judgment day I’ll lay before all men. I’ll separate the gold from spurious coin, as then. They of the left hand shall be maimed to public view, And all shall then the fruits of misbelief eschew. I will expose the seven pits of wrath divine, By aid of light from truth’s great luminary’s shine. I’ll rend away the rags that veil the wicked’s shame. I’ll sound the trump, that all may hear the Prophet’s name. 35 Hell, heaven, the gulf between, I’ll set before men’s eyes, That misbelievers may be warned of error’s dyes. The fountain of ‘Kawthar’ shall throw its highest jet; Its rush shall greet their ears, its spray their faces wet. They who will flock around it, burning with fierce thirst, I’ll make apparent unto all, from last to first. Their shoulders jostle ’gainst my shoulders in the crowd; Their shrieks are sounding in my ears, as thunder loud. While heaven’s citizens, rejoicing with delight, Hug one another lovingly, to glad my sight. 40 They visit one another’s thrones, high rapture’s seats; They kiss each other fondly; each all others greets. My ears grow deaf through listening to those cries of grief, And sorrow’s anguish from the lips where sin sat chief. These are slight indications; much more could I say; I pause; the Prophet’s wearied; cease from speech I may.”

Thus spake the Prophet’s servant, in delirious guise. The Prophet shook his collar, - sign of deep surprise. Then spake: “Rein in thy steed! He risks to run away! Reflected Truth declares: ‘God blushes not.’ Heyday! 45 The mirror’s fallen out from its protecting case! A mirror and a balance never truth debase! A mirror and a balance never facts conceal, Although some one be hurt by what they do reveal! The mirror and the balance tests are of my rule; Though for a thousand years thou serve it’s strict formule. Hide not the truth from thought of deep respect for me. Show forth the whole, in full. Deficiency mayn’t be. What is’t that tells thee: ‘Play not, joke not with the truth?’ The mirror, balance, God, - who smites falsehood with truth! 50 Sure, God hath raised me up for that one sole intent, That through me truth be preached unto its full extent. Were this not so, what value’s in me, valued friend? Did I become instructor, only good to mend? But shut thy mirror tight within its felten sack, If Sion’s miracle’s repeated in thy track.”

Said Zeyd: “Can man e’er grasp beneath his feeble arm The sun of truth, eternal luminary, warm? ’Twould burst his grasp asunder; all his wiles were vain, Though madness he should add to reason in his brain!” 55

Replied the Prophet: “On thy eye thy finger place; The world is straight deprived of all the sun’s bright face! A finger-tip suffices to blot out the moon; A symbol, this, of God’s great sin-effacing boon. A point can cover up a whole world with its shade; The sun can be eclipsed by what’s a mere monade. Shut close thy lips. Consider now the mighty sea. By God’s command the ocean man’s meek slave must be. Ev’n as the fountains Selsabīl and Zenjabīl Are given for use of angels, Michael, Isrāfīl. 60 The rivers four of paradise are at our beck; Not by our merit, but by God’s constraining check. Where’er we will, they flow, obedient to our call; Like magical effect, magician’s docile thrall. So also are our eyes, those founts of sentient beams, Subservient to our will, whichever way it streams. As we direct, they look; see what’s like adder’s sting; Or notice facts that to our minds their warnings bring. If so we will, they scrutinise objectiveness; As we desire, they lend themselves to study dress. 65 By our direction, universals are their bound; If so we wish, they prisoners are in partials’ ground. Each of the senses five acts thus but as a spout, To bring unto the mind that which it cares about. Whichever way

the heart directs them forth to stroll, They turn, and glean a harvest for its pleasure sole. The hands and feet are servants to the heart’s request, As Moses’ rod obedient was to his behest. At heart’s desire, the feet begin the nimble dance, Or seek advantage, or avoid some sore mischance. 70 The heart commands, the hands to calculations fall; Should it prefer, they write a book or treatise small. A hand there is, ’twould seem, within these hands of ours; A hidden hand, that moves the body’s wondrous powers. If that incites, this wages battle with the foe; Should that induce, this aids a friend to stand tiptoe. It pushes; straightway spoon’s plunged into soup; It wills; a ponderous club forthwith attacks some group. What is it that the heart says to them all by turns? Most wonderful accord! Most marvellous alterns! 75 The ancient seal of Solomon the heart has found! With that alone it guides the senses o’er their ground. Externally, five senses serve its high command; Internally, five faculties obey its hand. Ten senses, thus, seven organs, wait upon its wants; Besides a host of minor servants, confidants. As Solomon thou sittest, O heart! Thou reignest supreme! On fairy and on demon, set thy seal, thy scheme. In this thy realm be upright; practise thou

no fraud; No demon, then, shall rob thee of thy seal, thy gaud. 80 The world shall learn thy name, shall practise all thy rites; Time and eternity remain thy perquisites. But should a demon carry off thy seal, perchance, Thy reign is o’er; thy fortune loses all advance. Thenceforward vain regret shall canker in thy breast, Until the day thou’rt called to thy account at last. Unless thy heart renounce all selfish use of wit, By mirror and by balance canst thou be held quit?”

Luqmān the sage, in presence of his noble lord, Among the slaves and servants was a mere byword. 85 The lord one day commanded; straight some slaves were sent To gather fruit from orchard for his throat’s content. With them did Luqmān go, as parasite to feast, Brimful of wisdom, black as night, a negro beast. Their labour o’er, the slaves lay down to rest awhile; The fruit they tasted, tasted still, consumed the pile. Returning home, on Luqmān the whole blame they laid; His lord was angered mightily at what they said. Luqmān inquired the cause of this estrangement keen. The lord gave vent in loud abuse to his roused spleen. 90 Said Luqmān: “Lord, I swear by God’s most holy name, Dishonest servant ne’er can hope for aught but blame. Make proof of us. ’Tis easy. Lord thou art of all. Command. We’ll drink our fill of water hot as gall. Then make us run about within the meadow’s bound. On horseback thou, on foot we, ’ll all trudge quickly round. Thou soon shalt witness sights to show ‘the milk who spilt.’ Hearts’ secrets’ Great Revealer will disclose the guilt.”

Their lord so ordered. Scalding water soon was sought. Each had to drink his fill, as hot as could be brought. 95 Then all were made to run as fast as they could tear, All up and down the meadow, as their legs could bear. Now lo! What happens? Sickness on them, each, soon falls; To vomit they’re constrained, with starting of eyeballs. The stolen fruit contained within their stomach’s sack, The water’s stimulus compelled them to give back. When Luqmān’s turn was come to cast up his accounts, Clear water was the only issue from his founts. Luqmān’s philosophy this trial could evolve; God’s wisdom far abstruser riddles will resolve. 100 “The day when our hearts’ secrets shall be all revealed,” Man’s secret foe in ambush shall not lie concealed. Hell’s victims, then, shall taste of scalding water’s pang; And all veils be torn off from sins they overhang. Hell-fire’s decreed to be the lot of misbelief; Since fire the ordeal is by which stones come to grief.

How often have we spoken to those hearts of stone, In softest accents of advice! They would hear none! To foulest ulcer, sharpest remedy’s applied. The teeth of dogs alone are fit for ass’s hide. 105 “Filth to the filthy” is philosophy right sound. “Birds of a feather flock together” goes its round. What mates soever for thyself thou choose at last, Their habits and their qualities acquire thou fast. Wouldst glory have? To glory must thou raise pretence. Wouldst it reject? Think well; and take thy road from thence. Wouldst find a way out of this dismal dungeon vile? Submit to God; bow down in worship with a smile. Again we’ll turn. Again we’ll hear what Zeyd may say; What road he’ll follow, on his steed, in reason’s way. 110 When reason sets itself t’ expose the faults of men, It pulls aside the veils that hide them from our ken. God sometimes wills that actions should concealed remain, Drives reason’s drum away, forbids its noisy strain.

Loose not thy tongue alone; it bridle; hidden’s best. Let each be happy in his own opinion’s zest. God wills that they who might despair to win His grace, Shall persevere, not slacken, in their worship’s pace That they may seek a hopeful one, and him ensue;— In his society may follow worship’s clue. 115 God wishes that His peace should light upon us all; That His salvation should embrace good, bad, great, small. That princes and that captives all should turn their face, In hope and fear, up heavenward, looking for His grace. That hope and fear are nourished by a curtain’s shade. ’Tis through uncertainty that hope and fear invade. But tear away that veil; where then are hope and fear? ’Tis veiledness lends interest to landscapes drear. Upon a river’s bank a youth, who chanced to spy A fisherman at work, guessed: “Solomon, surely! 120 If he it be, why here, in secret and alone? If not, whence come those features, fit to grace a throne?” So he remained in doubt, ’twixt two opinions tossed, Till Solomon recovered all the power he’d lost.

The foul usurping demon fled the royal state; The king’s avenging sword pursued and sealed his fate. The signet-ring of power once more on royal hand, The demons and the fairies flocked to his command. Mankind came crowding to his court, by levee swelled; Among them came the youth who’d that opinion held. 125 He saw the signet-ring. This sufficed. Doubt was past. No room was left for surmise. All was clear at last.

Opinion may be formed of what’s behind a veil. Conjecture lends its aid where knowledge ’gins to fail. Conjecture’s potent when the subject’s hid from view. Let it be visible; no surmise can we brew. Although the sky of light is not without its rain, The earth of darkness, too, produces plants and grain. I love that text: “They who believe what is not seen.” Thence have I closed my eyes, the body’s windows keen. 130 But should I cleave the firmament with my swift glance, Could I exclaim: “Perceivest thou a flaw, perchance?” To scrutinise what’s hid behind the darkness’ screen, Each man his method chooses; guesses what’s between. A certain space of time confusion reigns supreme. The robbers hang the magistrates by their own scheme, Until at length a chief, blessed with a genius rare, Springs up to serve his servants; all their troubles share. To render secret service is a thing beloved. To hide a service rendered adds to what’s approved. 135 What’s he, commends his king with lies before his face, And in his absence needs lament his lack of grace?

The warden of a castle on the marches laid, Far from his sovereign, distant from much-needed aid, Defends his post with valour from beleaguering foe, Disdains to be bought over, scorns the tempter’s moe. His station’s on a frontier, no eye sees him act; To duty true, he honestly fulfils his pact. Then in his monarch’s presence honours due he gains, Above the brave men fighting in the royal trains. 140 More merit’s in a little secret service given, Than in much more performed when by an eye it’s driven. Man’s faith and piety on earth are prized of God. But after death professed, less value have than clod. The absent and the hidden being thus the best, The silent mouth and sealed lip surpass the rest. Then boast not, brother; whatsoever thou hast done, God knows thy merits; will requite them every one. The sun requires no other witness but his face. Man has a greater. God’s his witness. Vast the grace! 145 If I proclaim it not, how many are prepared To witness to each fact! God, angels, men, full wared. “God will bear witness, angels, and all they who’ve known,” That: “Lord there is no other, save th’ Eternal One.”

When God himself our witness is, who’ll angels need, That they should share, participate, in His sole deed? Unless it be that, as the fervent, blazing sun, Pours forth such beams no mortal eye can look upon. Just like the bat, man cannot bear full light of day; So, in despair, he seeks the darkness, shuns noon’s ray. 150

Thus, like us, know, the angels are a loving crew, Who bask in beams of heaven’s Sun, beyond our view. They say: “Our light we have received from a sun; As substitutes we shine upon the weak, outrun.” As new-born moon, or five days old, or at the full, Each angel has his rank, degree, place, wonderful. His glorious wings in pairs, two, three, and even, four; So that his beams are doubled, trebled, fourfold, more. Just like the grades that mark the various human minds, Do differences vast exist in angels’ kinds. 155 Thus every man’s companion-angel’s like himself, Or good, or bad, or high, or low, as china, delf. When weak-eyed mortals cannot look upon the sun, They have to seek for taper’s aid, ere they may run. The Prophet hath declared: “Stars, my disciples are; They’re lights to them who seek; though devils they may scare.” If every man had strength, and faculty of sight, To look straight at the sun, trust him alone for light, What need were for the stars, or lamps, of feeble ray, To help them on their path, in quest of source of day? 160

The moon declares to man, as do the clouds, the shade, “I, too, ’d been human, but for revelation made. Like you, I had been darksome, as within, without. But revelation gave me sunlight, shade to rout. Compared with the sun, I’m darksome as a cloud; Compared with men’s dark bosoms, I may well be proud. I shed a feeble light, that men may bear my beams, He cannot look upon the sun’s too ardent streams. I’ve mixed with honey vinegar; made oxymel; A remedy to bring to man’s diseases fell.” 165 Art rid of thy disease, my friend? Then set aside The vinegar. Rejoice thy soul with honey’s tide. When freed from lusts, the heart of man in full health shines. God said: “The Merciful on heaven’s high throne reclines.” God rules the heart direct, free from all means to aid, So soon as it is purged from dross that low it laid. We’ll now go back to Zeyd, and proffer him advice; We’ll warn him not to risk dishonour, paltering’s price.

Thou shalt not Zeyd now find; he’s surely run away, He’s clean absconded by the door; had naught to say. 170 Had’st thou been Zeyd, like him thou’dst lost been in a maze; As stars die out when sunlight sets the skies ablaze. E’en as no track points out where was galaxy’s place; Thou’lt find no signs of Zeyd, no footstep, sign, or trace. Our senses falter, all our reasoning is lost, In splendour of the wisdom of th’ All-Ruling Ghost. Men’s senses, and their reasons, must be shut within, “In waves when all before us to appear begin.” When night returns, the sky again a court appears, The hidden stars shine forth, and mark the rolling years. 175 The senseless dead unto, will God their wits restore; In circles, like attendants, Him they’ll stand before. They’ll foot the dance, they’ll spread their hands, they’ll shout His praise; They’ll sing their song: “Thou, Lord, us from the dead didst raise.” Their mortal skins and bones they’ll shake off in the earth; On angel-wings they’ll ride, and whirlwind-dust call forth. Their course they’ll take from nullity to entity, In judgment day, ungrateful, grateful laity.

Why turn away thy head, pretend not to have seen? Hast thou not, first, in nullity, a truant been? 180 In nullity, so firm thou settedst down thy foot, And ask’dst: “Who shall remove me when I’ve taken root?” Dost thou not see the wondrous works of God’s high will? How He it is who “leads thee by thy forelock” still? He draws thee into states, conditions, turns of weal, That never entered in thy mind to seek with zeal. Nonentity obedient is to His command. Of demon, and of Solomon, He rules the hand. A demon can contrive “the trays of fishpond size.” He dares not make refusal these to organise. 185 Contemplate now thyself in agony of fear; And know, nonentity, too, quakes His wrath to hear. Thou stretchest forth thy hand to seize preferment’s place; From fear of thee, some soul itself must quick efface. All else but love of God, the Truest and the Best, Though sweet to thought, is but a snare to break thy rest. What’s all thy effort worth? Thou hast to die at last; Put out thy hand and grasp the cup of life right fast.

Men fix their eyes on what is dust and ashes, death; Refuse belief in what is life and healthful breath. 190 Exert thyself. Reduce thy doubts from ten to nine. Employ the night. Thou sleepest. Night’s not so supine. Employ the night to seek the everlasting day, Increase in knowledge. Wisdom ’tis shall light thy way. Though night be dark, and darkness be of woe the doom, Much good is in it. Fount of Life’s in land of gloom. How can a mortal hope to raise his head from sleep, When seeds of slothfulness are all he cares to reap? The dead man’s sleep’s the body-snatcher’s open door. Householders slumber, robbers rifle every floor. 195 Thou knowest not who are thy foes around thee placed. The imps of hell are enemies to man high graced. The fire’s the foe of water and of water’s brood; As water’s foe to fire, and drowns it in a flood. To water, and its cousins all, the fire swears death; To fire shall water never quarter give, or breath. ’Tis water puts the fire out; and the reason’s plain; The fire has mission to destroy the water’s strain.

And then, the fire’s the heat of passion’s baneful lusts. And lust, the root of frailty, sin, misdeeds, mistrusts. 200 Material, outer fire, ’s by water soon put out; The fire of lust may carry man to hell, no doubt. No water can avail to quench the flames of lust; For lust is hell-born. Torments end not; last they must. Religion’s light, alone, can quench lust’s fiercest flame,— The light that can put out the Syntheist’s wicked game. What can extinguish fire of sin, save light of God? My master, see that Abr’am’s light be ne’er downtrod; That from the fire of lust, by inner Nimrod fanned, Thy body may escape; not be, as firewood, banned. 205 The lust of man’s desires cannot be driven forth; But may resisted be, reduced to what it’s worth. So long as thou shalt fuel pile upon that flame, Canst thou expect the fire will die away and tame? So soon as fuel is withheld, a fire goes out; Through piety is lust brought down, and put to rout. Shall that sweet face e’er blacken through sin’s dismal smoke, That’s brightened by such sheen as virtue must invoke?

A conflagration raged in days of great ‘Umer, Stones were devoured therein, as firewood in the air. 210 The buildings it consumed, and left whole households waste; The nests and nestlings were destroyed; - last trump’s foretaste. One half Medīna fell a prey to ruthless flame, Whereat th’ aqueous element might well feel shame. Whole cisterns were exhausted in the combat wild; And vinegar was added. Hope was thus beguiled. The fire grew fiercer under stimulus of strife; Extension gave it wings, success infused new life. The people now came flocking to the Caliph’s gate, In marvel, that, through water, fire would not abate. 215 He told them that the fire burnt by divine command; That all those flames arose from their too frugal hand: “What use are water, vinegar? Distribute bread; Eschew cold avarice, if by me you’ll be led.” They answered: “Wide our doors stand open every day, We’ve ever lavish been; almsgiving is our play.”

‘Umer replied: “In form and custom, bread you’ve given. But not from love of God. You’re hands to dole were driven. ’Twas pride and ostentation led to your display; Not charity, not pity, sense of duty, say. 220 Your riches are your seed. Cast not such seed to waste. Place not a sword in robber’s hand with senseless haste. Distinction make ’twixt friend and foe to truth divine; Seek out God’s saints, and leave them not to starve, to pine. You’ve spent your stuff upon your cherished kindred sole, And fancied stupidly you’d followed God’s law whole.” 223 XVI. Ali’s Forbearance. From ‘Alī may we learn sincerity of meeds. “God’s Lion” we may hold free from all gross misdeeds. In fight he’d conquered one who’d earned a hero’s crown. His sword he’d swiftly raised, his victim to hew down. That champion spat in ‘Alī’s face, to mark disdain; The face of one, the Prophet’s pride, all saints’ chieftain. He spat upon a face to which the moon bowed low, And offered adoration in the temple’s show. That instant ‘Alī dropped his sword, high poised in air, And left the spitter harmless; - action debonnair. 5 This raised the foe’s astonishment; called forth his awe. That pardon, that forgiveness, grew not from war’s law.

He said to ‘Alī: “Thou thy sword hadst raised to slay. Why hast thou dropt it now, - prolonged my forfeit day? What hast thou seen, surpassing prowess of my arm, That thus thou hast repented, - left me free from harm? What may it be has calmed the fury of thy breast, Which as the lightning gleamed, and straightway sank to rest? What didst thou see, that, by reflection on me cast, A spark has leapt to life in my despairing breast? 10 What was thy vision, far above the world of fact, Than life far sweeter, whence my life receives new pact? For bravery, ‘God’s Lion’ art thou justly named. For kindness, I now know, thou art too little famed. For generosity, thou’rt Moses’ cloud divine, From which poured forth the quails and manna, as from mine!”

The clouds rain wheat. Man, then, by labour and by skill, Reduces this to food, when finely ground in mill. But Moses’ cloud, more generous far, with open hand, Sent down in plenty food prepared, by God’s command. 15 For them who ate at Providence’s table, free, God’s mercy was displayed; - a banner all could see. For forty years that daily bread - abounding grace - Failed not. Fond expectation’s utmost stretch took place. But satisfaction followed not. The thankless crew Demanded “leeks and onions;” as of old they knew. Ye who are Ahmed’s people, graced beyond compare, Are promised spiritual blessings till last judgment’s blare. Whoever says, at heart: “My trust is in the Lord,” God’s promise: “Him I’ll feed,” will find a faithful word. 20 Without a twist accept this promise, as is meet; You’ll find it in your mouth as milk and honey sweet. To twist a term, and so deny gift’s incidence, Is to invent a cloak to change the word’s true sense. To think th’ expression’s wrong sad weakness shows of mind; Wisdom divine’s a kernel; human reason, rind. Twist then thyself; change not the sense of words divine; Conceive thy nose at fault; chide not the sweet woodbine.

O ‘Alī! Thou who mind and eye entirely art! Relate a little of the knowledge in thy heart. 25 Thy calmness is a sword that cleaves our minds in twain; The fountain of thy wisdom makes us whole again. Speak out! I know these mysteries are Jehovah’s own; To kill without a sword’s a power of God well known. He is Creator, without limbs and without tools; The Giver of all blessings, copious as sea’s pools. How many kinds of wine are savoured by our souls, While eye and ear perceive not whence the wave that rolls! Pray tell us, ‘Alī, - falcon, soaring in heaven’s heights,— What didst thou see that instant, to forego thy rights? 30 Thy eyes have learnt to catch seraphic visions’ gleam; Around thee, all unconscious are, as in a dream. Thou seest the moon, all brightly shining in the sky; We see but darkness, clouds above us seem to fly. Thou seest three moons together, shining bright, outspread; While three of us are scarcely sure one’s overhead. All three have eyes and ears fixed on thee, in suspense, In keenest expectation. I’m stone of offence.

“Is this a spell to witch the eyes? Is it the truth? To me thou art a wolf; I’m Joseph to thee, sooth. 35 Though worlds there may be, eighteen thousand globes, and more; Not every eye has power to witness all their store. Disclose thy secret, ‘Alī, - God’s own ‘Chosen One!’ How many ‘judges’ errors’ work God’s will alone! Pray tell me what, just now, has been revealed to thee; Or I’ll disclose the vision I’ve been made to see. If thou the secret keep, I will declare its sense, Moon-like, on me thy knowledge shines, with light intense. But if the moon’s bright disk break forth from ’neath the cloud, Poor midnight travellers safely, then, pursue their road. 40 They then are safe from error, risk no wandering vain; Protection of the moonlight shields from terror’s chain. The mutely-teaching promptings of the silvery moon, If couched in words, would homewards guide us doubly soon.”

Thou art “the Gate;” the Prophet, “Science’ City” is, Thou art the ray that beams from lustrous sun of his. Then open, Gate! Unfold thyself to those who seek! Let rind of science overgrow their minds, all meek. Stand open, Gate! Thou portal of God’s mercy sure! Thy court’s the court of Him “who hath no peer,” secure! 45 True, every breath and atom’s watching to get in. But if kept closed, who’d say there is a gate to win? Unless the Keeper open wide the portal’s wing, No soul would dream an entry were an easy thing. E’en when the gate is opened, lo! surprise is felt. Hope and desire are scared; each suitor’s heart must melt. As one who finds a treasure in a ruined maze, Seeks evermore for ruins; - treasures are his craze. Unless a man receive a pearl from beggar’s hand, He’ll never venture pearls from beggars to demand. 50 For years, should mere opinion wander up and down, It never will outpass the rents of its torn gown. Until a fragrance strike thy nostrils from above, Thou’lt follow thy own nose, but never meet thy love.

Thus spake that new-converted warrior in surprise; Expressing wonder, such as words may symbolise. Then added: “O! Command, of Faithful Church thou Prince. That as a babe a spirit new I may evince.” The planets seven o’er every unborn babe keep watch, Each for a stated period, ere its birth’s despatch. 55 When life’s infused into the nascent atom’s form, The sun takes charge, as watcher o’er the feeble worm. The babe its life derives from Sol’s all-quickening rays. That radiant orb’s the fount of life’s all-wondrous ways. The other planets help to modify its limbs; Each, when the sun has life infused, then onward climbs. What is the channel of connection with the sun, Discovered in the womb by fœtus ere’t can run? Deep-hidden from our senses, many an occult road Leads to the sun in heaven, and needs nor whip, nor goad. 60 One road, by which gold draws its nutriment from thence; Another, whence the ruby’s colour grows intense. A road, by which the garnet gathers igneous glow; A path, pursued by lightning to the horseshoe low. A channel, through which fruits their ripeness draw, select; A track, for wit to flow, and senseless form inject.

“Declare, thou falcon, with thy glistening plumage, bright,— Our chief’s companion, on his gauntlet sitting, light;— Make known, thou phœnix-hunting bird of prey,— Thou conqueror of foes, - sole, - clear of troops’ array. 65 A nation in its millions, one sole man art thou. Speak! Speak! I cast myself upon thy mercy now! Instead of anger, what has moved thee to relent,— To proffer to a foe forgiveness transcendent?”

To him made ‘Alī answer: “For the truth I fight. God’s servant am I. Slave I’m not to fleshly might. ‘God’s lion’ I’ve been named; not ‘Ravening Wolf of Lust;’ My actions are the proof my faith is in the Just. God is the Archer. I’m His bow; - and arrow, too. He is the Smiter. I’m the weapon; - sword, bamboo. 70 ‘Thou castedst not, when stones thou castedst in the fight.’ God is the Warrior mighty. I’m dust in His sight. Thought of myself I’ve banished, wholly, from my path. Save God, all else as naught I hold; - a mower’s swath. I’m but a shadow; - shadow cast by Sun of Truth. Door-keeper am I; - veil, I’m not, to hide His sooth. I’m a sword. My trenchancy’s union with God. In battle, life I give. I slay not whom’s downtrod. Blood does not soil the blade I wield in righteous cause; Nor gusts of passion raise a craving for applause. 75 A straw I’m not. A mountain am I; - firm, staid, fast. No whirlwind can remove me with its tearing blast. ’Tis sticks and straws, alone, are driven by the storm. Their nature is to move; - to every breath conform. The gust of anger, breath of lust, and blast of greed,— Each agitates the man not anchored in Truth’s creed. Firm mountain am I. God it is that firmness gives. Were I a straw, His whirlwind is the force that drives. A breath from God alone has power to move my soul. My love for God’s the motive o’er me has control. 80 Their anger rules e’en kings. My anger is my slave. My wrath I’ve bridled; - bitted; - leave, it aye must crave. My anger’s stifled by reflection’s strong embrace. God’s wrath to me’s a message of His pardoning grace. My roof’s a ruin, true; but light pours through the rent. I’m dust. But from my soil flowers blow, and yield sweet scent.

“Just cause if I perceive, with foes when waging war, I make no scruple, but my sword from blood debar. For God’s sake do I love. Such is my fame with men. My hate’s in Truth’s sole cause. I’m raging lion then. 85 My generosity springs all from love of God. For God’s sake, too, I’m parsimonious as clod. I’m avarice, munificence, to one sole end. I’m God’s in all things. To myself I ne’er attend. That which I do, for God’s sake flows; not from schedule. ’Tis not a guess, an inference;—’tis sight’s safe rule. I’ve no occasion to investigate, to seek. God’s prompting’s what I follow, docile, meek. “Is soaring my vocation? Heaven’s my pinions’ goal. Do I revolve? My centre’s fixed in highest shoal. 90 If load I carry, I well know where this is due. I’m but a moon; a Sun before me gives the cue. I’ve no desire for converse with material things. An ocean flows not from a meadow brook’s scant springs. I frame discourse to suit the feeble minds of men. This system has no fault; it met our Prophet’s ken.

“I’m free from prejudice; accept a free man’s oath. Against one free man, crowds of slaves possess no truth. By law, in canon of Islām, the word of slaves No value has, as evidence; - the chain depraves. 95 Ten thousand slaves may witness bear in court of law; Their testimony weighs not in the scales one straw. The slave to passion bondsman is, in sight of God. He’s lower than the captive ’neath taskmaster’s rod. A slave may be enfranchised by his owner’s word; Lust’s victim, though freeborn, dies bound with strongest cord. The slave to passion cannot loose his heavy chain. God’s mercy, special grace, can set him free again. He’s fallen into a pit, unfathomed, bottomless. His own sin this. Compulsion ’tis not, fate, nor cess. 100 Into a pit he’s cast himself, for which my mind Cannot imagine sounding-line, its depth to find.

“It’s useless to continue further in this strain. Not hearts alone, but rocks, may weep at folly’s train. If men’s hearts break not, ’tis that they are harder still, Through carelessness, preoccupation, sloth, ill-will. They’ll break and bleed one day, when tears will not avail. Be contrite, then, before repentance’ sighs must fail. Since slavish testimony’s not accepted there, His word alone is valid who from lust is clear. 105 The Lord’s Commissioned One’s a valid witness. See! Because, from all eternity, from slavery’s stain he’s free. I, too, am free. Wrath cannot bind my soul with chains. God’s attributes, alone, have power to rule my brains. “Come in, thou. Grace of God hath set thy spirit free. A flint thou wert. Rich pearl henceforward shalt thou be. Thou’rt plucked from blasphemy’s vast thorny desert sands. A flowering shrub henceforth in faith’s rich garden lands. Thou art become myself; I, thee; beloved friend! Thou’rt Alī. Can I ‘Alī slay? May heaven forfend! 110 Thy past transgression rank’s as highest virtue’s deed. In twinkling of an eye heaven’s bounds thou mayest outspeed.

“How blest is the transgression pardoned of the Lord! The rose, from thorny stem, He calls forth at a word! Remember ‘Umer’s guilt, - his murderous design Against the Prophet! This brought him to faith benign. Was’t not to practise magic Pharaoh called his priests? The grace of God converted them to saints from beasts. Had they not been magicians, he not obstinate, They’d ne’er been made assemble, truth excogitate. 115 How would they e’er have seen the staff, the miracles? Your sin proved your conversion, reprehensibles! “The Lord can far remove our state of deep despair, Our sin can change to righteousness; foulness to fair. God can our worst offences purge away, make clean; Imputing virtue to us, spite of vice’s mien. For this is Satan chased away with igneous bolts; His proud inflation bursts in twain, from envy’s jolts. He strives to multiply the direful load of sin, That, under its dead weight, he man in hell may pin. 120 And when he finds unrighteousness as service told, His torment is redoubled, heartache twenty-fold.

“Come in! A door I’ve opened for thy entrance, wide. Thou spattest on me. I reply with favour’s tide. On him who injured me I benefits bestow; My head I lay before the feet of friends, below; Thou mayest conceive what gifts I hold in store for them, My faithful servants; - treasures, thrones, and diadem. I’m such a man that whoso strives to shed my blood Forgiven is, and overwhelmed with favour’s flood. 125 The Prophet quiet notice whispered to my slave, The day would come when he to take my life would crave. Me, also, he informed, through revelation’s voice, That I should die, smote by a hand of my own choice. That servant begged and prayed for instant death’s release, So he’d be spared from sin so heinous, - love’s decease. But I replied: ‘Since ’tis decreed that by thy hand My life be ta’en, why should I seek a countermand?’ Before me prone he fell, this prayer he warmly made: ‘Hew me in twain! For love of God, let me persuade! 130 Pray save me from so vile, so villainous, a fate. Remorse for ever as its prey will hold my hate.’

“Again I firmly answered him, - decidedly: ‘No counsel will avail. Pen’s mark must needs apply. I bear no grudge against thee in my inmost soul; I hold thee not responsible for deed so foul. Thou’rt but the instrument, ’tis God that strikes the blow! How can I chide His instrument, - His arrow’s bow?’ “He asked: ‘Why, then, this sentence sternly passed on me?’ My answer was: ‘God knows the germ of His decree! 135 Should He find fault with what results from His resolve, From reprehension’s self He can a heaven evolve. He hath a right to take exception to His deed. He’s Lord of grace. But Lord of wrath, also! Take heed! He’s Prince of all within this sphere of new events. He’s Arbiter of all; - of kingdoms, as of tents. If He see fit to break the weapon of His will, The broken tool still hastens His word to fulfil.

“The mystery of His word: ‘We abrogate, annul,’ Remember, straight is followed by: ‘We better cull.’ 140 Whatever law the Lord hath abrogated yet, Is but a weed plucked up; - a rose blooms where ’twas set. The night He promulgates; day’s work refrains from act. Consider! Mind becomes like inorganic fact. Again, night disappears; the light of day is spread; And nature shows its marvels; reason wakes from dead. With darkness comes the sleep that locks our reason fast, But spirits know not darkness; life’s stream still goes past. Is’t not that mind’s refreshed in darkest hours of night? Its silence ’tis gives birth to every voice of light.” 145 By contraries are contraries brought forth to view, From out of darkness was the light created new. The Prophet’s wars have brought about the peace that reigns; These tranquil latter days the fruits are of his pains. How many heads lay low beneath that hero’s blows, That peace might be enjoyed by faith’s true yoke-fellows! ’Tis thus the gardener prunes away the surplus twigs, That fruitful boughs may prosper, yield their loads of figs. Sagacity roots out all weeds from cultured space. The orchard, thence, new vigour finds, and blooms apace. 150 A wise physician will extract a tooth decayed, To give relief from pain to his beloved maid.

How much increase grows out of decrease here below. The martyr gains eternal life by death in show. Man, fed by bread, cuts down the harvest corn when ripe; “Partakes the blessing joyfully,” with drum and pipe. When brutes are slaughtered with due sense of wisdom’s law, Man’s life is nurtured; - learning, science, vigour draw. If man be slaughtered, see what woes from thence arise. Compare the two; - their difference you’ll recognise. 155 The vegetable world lives by God’s sun and rain, God’s care takes charge of it. His care is not in vain. The slaughtered beasts have food and drink as well as those. They die, because they’ve throats. Those have no life to lose.

Withhold thy hand in season, man of little sense! That so thy food suffice. Thy life’s thy recompense. Thou art as fruitless as the barren willow-branch, Because thy honour’s sacrificed mere bread to scranch. If thy brute nature will not practise abstinence, Administer the remedy. Bring it to sense. 160 If thou wouldst cleanse thy garments - free them from all soil,— Despise not thou the bleacher, nor his useful toil. If greed of food have fractured abstinence in thee; Lay hold on Him who fractures heals. From self get free. No sooner shall the fracture be by Him fast bound, New union will take place, - the broken part grow sound. If thou hadst made the fracture, it would thee invite To make it whole again, - the sundered bones unite. Thou canst not? Thence we see, the right is His to break Who can unite the fractured limb - make strong whatever’s weak. 165 Who knows to mend hath privilege a cloth to tear. Who knows to sell, to buy hath also learnt, ’tis clear. He may disturb a house, and turn it upside down, Who can arrange it better than the whole wide town. If God destroy one creature in His boundless might, By thousands He creates, and brings again to light.

Had He not set a punishment for each offence, Or had not said: “Lex talionis is life’s fence,” Who’d had audacity, of his own will, To put to death a man who should another kill? 170 He knows each creature by His power endued with sight. And He’s aware a slayer does but work His might. If His command be set on mortal’s head to slay,— Albeit his own child, - he must the word obey. Go! Stand in fear! Blame not, too much, the bad! Know, thou art equally a slave with him who’s mad! The eye of Adam fell upon a demon foul, Him viewed with proud disdain, with haughty scowl. His self-esteem, his egotistic pride him drove, With smile sarcastical, the cursed imp to reprove. 175 God’s wrath was roused. He him addressed: “Ho! Adam! Ho! Hast thou no insight into mysteries of woe? If I tear fiercely off a hide from heels to head, A mountain I can also wrench from its firm stead. A hundred Adams of their fig-leaves I can strip; A thousand demons into true believers whip.” In terms contrite and meek was Adam’s answer couched: “Forgive, Lord God! I stand reproved! My fault’s avouched! Henceforth, I vow, I never will repeat such fault. Repentance I profess. Do Thou forego assault.” 180

O Answerer of prayer! In mercy guide us right! Our knowledge, as our riches, null is in Thy sight! Lead not astray a heart enlightened by Thy grace! Turn from us every evil threatening to take place! Reprieve our souls from judgment merited, severe! Repel us not from out the fold of saints, sincere! More bitter is there naught than severance from Thee. Without Thy shelter, naught but anguish can we see. Our minds’ accomplishments impede our hearts’ advance. Our flesh the deadly enemy that wrecks our souls’ best chance. 185 Our hands, like robbers, seize on all our feet may earn. Unless Thou prove our refuge, life’s not worth concern. If we perchance escape with life from danger’s snares. Our fears and anguish make it prey to carking cares. Should not our souls in union be with Thee, O Lord, Eternal tears our eyes will blind, and mad discord. A way shouldst Thou not open, lost must be our souls. Without Thy presence, life is death; - all smiles are scowls. Shouldst Thou find fault with service rendered unto Thee, Thy chiding’s merited, no doubt; as all may see. 190 If Thou be discontented with the sun and moon, Or if Thou call the cypress “hunchback,” “macaroon,” Or if Thou say the skies and spheres are all too low, Or find the mines, the seas, a paltry puppet-show, All this, compared with Thy perfections, is the truth. Thine is the kingdom; Thine the power to mend all ruth. Thou art removed from danger, as from nullity. To non-existences Thou givest being. Why?

He who makes all things grow, can make them wither, too. For He can all repair, as He can ruin woo. 195 Each autumn, vegetation dwindles by His will; Again ’tis He calls forth the flowers in dale, on hill. His voice is heard: “Come forth, ye withered ones, anew; Once more put on your beauty, - charm each mortal’s view.” Narcissus’ eye was blinded; lo! its twinkle’s seen. The reed, that down was mowed, becomes sweet music’s queen. We are but creatures. To create we have no power. Our weakness we confess. Contentment’s our best dower. We’re things of flesh. The flesh to vanity unites. Unless Thou call us, we become rebellious sprites. 200 From Satan we escape, because Thou’st paid a price; And bought our souls, to set us free from vice. Thou art the Guide of all who live upon the earth. Without his staff and guide, what is a blind man worth? Besides Thee, all that’s goodly, all that shocks our sense, Is fatal unto man, - consuming fire intense. If any seek the fire, to make thereof a shield, A Magian he becomes, of Zoroaster’s yield. All else besides the Lord is vain, and of no worth. The mercies of our God, a bounteous rain, poured forth. 205

Now turn again to ‘Alī and his destined foe. His great forbearance contemplate; this wretch’s woe. He made remark: “My murderer’s before my eyes, All day and night. No anger towards him in me lies. Death is to me as sweet as life; - as my own self; My death and resurrection, two sides of one shelf. A deathless death’s a welcome change to loving heart; A lifeless life has been its present counterpart.” Death to appearance, life is, - in the main; Externally a loss; - intrinsically, gain. 210 Within its mother’s womb a child’s lot is to roam. It has to blossom in the world, as ocean’s foam. I have a wish, a longing, towards the world of doom; But God forbids: “Cast not your lives away,” in gloom. All prohibition’s but a bar from what is loved; No prohibition’s needed from a thing reproved. A grain with bitter kernel, still more bitter rind, Full prohibition carries in itself, we find.

The fruit of death is savoury, in my esteem. Nay more. “The slain do live” a blessed text must seem. 215 Then slay me, O my trusty friends, without reproach. My death is life eternal. Let it, then, approach. In death I’ll find my love. My dearest friends, adieu! How long shall I be barred from darling interview? Unless our separation be from one we mourn, Why should we say: “Forsooth, to Him we shall return?” ’Tis only he returns, who comes back to his home. Our true return’s from severance to union’s dome. That servant once again appealed and begged: “‘Alī! Put me to death, that sin so heinous I may flee! 220 My life’s at thy behest; forthwith pour out my blood! So shall my soul escape the burden of crime’s brood.”

Then ‘Alī answered: “Should each sun-mote take a knife, Or sword draw, with design to sacrifice thy life, One single hair’s-breadth could they not, yet, take effect, Since Providence decrees ’tis thou must work that act. But sorrow not! Thy intercessor I will be! Lord of my soul am I; - not slave to fleshly fee. My body frail no value has now in my sight; From flesh when liberated shall my soul feel light. 225 The dagger and the sword may take root in my limbs. Death’s but a banquet; wounds, a flower that graceful climbs.” Now, who can thus despise his body in his heart, And yet feel greed for empire, or for pontiffs part? He strove, ’tis evident, upon the judgment seat, To set a good example to all future great; To breathe a righteous spirit into monarchs’ breasts; Make sure that goodly fruit come from their deeds and gests.

The Prophet’s high endeavour, Mekka to subdue, Had no foundation in a lust for revenue. 230 He had refused the treasures of the lofty spheres; On day of trial shut his heart to hopes and fears. To catch a glimpse of him the blest angelic train Had crowded heaven’s bounds full as they could contain; In dainty guise, to honour him themselves arrayed; He took no note. On God alone his thoughts were stayed. His heart was filled with sense of his great Maker’s grace. The angels, or the prophets, there could find no place. He said: “I’m he whose eyes swerved not;” no crow, I! See! “The Limner is my love; from juice of vine I’m free.” 235 The treasures of “the spheres,” their “animating souls,” As rubbish were accounted, driven by breeze that rolls. What, then, would Mekka weigh, - the Persian, Syrian lands,— That he should covet them, spoil make them for his bands? Suspicion such as this springs from a jaundiced mind. It judges by itself; - all, tinged as self must find.

Green spectacles who sets upon his foolish nose, To view the sun, will find him green, we must suppose. Take off the spectacles, the source of colour’s tinge, He straightway sees aright. Now, nature’s hues impinge. 240 A horseman had stirred up the dust in clouds, not faint. A distant looker-on supposed the dust a saint. Thus Satan saw a dust; and cried: “This son of earth Excites in me much envy, hatred, malice, wrath.”

If thou, too, so observe God’s saints with envy’s eyes, Be sure thy vision’s tainted. Satan’s hatching lies. Thou obstinate! Art not one of that hell-hound’s sons? Then, whence this heritage of hate’s foul orisons? “I am no hound, God’s Lion am I. God I love. I’m ‘Lion of the Truth.’ Mere form I aye reprove.” 245 A lion of the world may hunt for prey and spoil. A lion of eternity, death’s freedom from turmoil. In death he sees a hundred thousand modes of life. So, mothlike, death he courts; his candle, murderer’s knife. To court grim death’s a collar round the true man’s neck. This was the text proposed, that wrought recusant’s wreck. God’s word revealed hath said: “O men of human race! Death to the faithful is a blessing, and a grace.” A love of gain is innate in the human breast. To court death’s doubtless profit, is to wish the best. 250 Then, O ye stiff-necked people, do, for honour’s sake, The wish for speedy death upon your tongues’ ends take.

No recusant was found who dared to lisp that prayer, When thus Muhammed put it as the truth’s assayer. He knew that should they venture that ordeal to prove, In all the world no recusant would thenceforth move. They all preferred to pay their tribute for their lives, And begged: “O lamp of truth, destroy us not, our wives!” How many more examples could be pointed out! But, if thou seest the truth, give me thy hand. Quit doubt. 255 Forsake thy dunghill. Enter our abode of bliss. From darkness thee to guide, a light shines o’er th’ abyss. Shake off all hesitation. Enter heaven’s gate. Avoid the pit that’s bottomless! Be not too late! The Prince of all Believers thus addressed that chief, In tones serenest: “Know, that in our contest brief, When thou didst spit upon me, giving scorn its vent, My choler was aroused; - to wreck my patience went. Half warmed with zeal for God, half stirred with anger’s fire, Unholy partnership was formed ’twixt truth and ire. 260 Thou wast designed and fashioned by a hand divine. To God dost thou belong; - no creature art of mine. Defacement of God’s work should be by God’s decree; To break God’s pitcher, man a stone of God should see.”

The Magian heard. The light flashed on his heart and soul. The clouds of misbelief, as fog, away did roll. He spake: “The seed of wrongfulness is what I’ve sown. Thou’rt altogether different from what I’ve known. Thou art a balance, with an equitable soul; Or rather, index art thou, of just balance-bowl. 265 Thou art become my kith and kin, - my brother true; Thou art a ray to light the path I shall pursue. The slave I have become of that fair Source of light, From whence thou hast derived the beam that charms my sight. The slave of every billow of that glorious Sea, That casts such pearls ashore, as I admire in thee. Teach me to formulate the motto of thy creed; For, henceforth thou’rt my guide, of whom I stand in need.” Full fifty of his household, - of his stock and race, With zealous love the noble law of Islām did embrace. 270 Thus ’twas, the hero, by decisive wisdom’s stroke, Averted death from many, slavery’s fetters broke. The sword of wisdom’s sharper than the finest steel; Its words more efficacious than an army’s wheel. XVII. Conclusion.

Alas! By one poor morsel, tasted through a sin, The fount of thought’s congealed; heart’s blood diluted thin. One grain of wheat has cast eclipse o’er sun of mind, As “dragon’s tail” doth dull the full moon, when inclined. Behold! How delicate is thought! One mite of clay, From full-moon glory, it reduced to disarray. The bread of life, received, digested, gives man power. Material bread excites distrusts, contentions, sour. The thorn, while green, cropped by the camel, far from fords, Not only pleasure gives, but nutriment affords. 5 That selfsame thorn, grown dry and void of juicy sap, If ventured on by starving beast in desert gap, His palate and his lips will puncture, blood make flow; As if conserve of roses should with daggers glow. The word of life’s the green, the tender, juicy thorn. Material become, it’s dry, as hard as horn. And thou, poor flesh, expectant of the living word, Bitest at the word material, dreaming not of sword;— Snappest at the hard, unyielding dictum, with fond zest; And findest it horny, flinty, irksome to digest. 10 It has become a stone. It wounds; it draws forth blood. Then shun it, human camel. Seek it not for food.

Words are most foully mixed with troubling thoughts of earth. The water’s muddy. Close the spring whence it comes forth. Until the Lord, again, shall make it clear and sweet;— Shall purify the inky stream, as He deems meet,— Shall patience add to wish, - not haste and oversight,— Wait thou contentedly. God best knows what is right. 14