Chapter XVIII: Preface (4)

Joy not o’er great prosperity. It does not last.
Airs give not thou thyself; thou’rt but a passing guest.
They whose eternal kingship lasts beyond all times,[177]
Who sing God’s praise beyond the seven spheres and climes, 490
They more endure than transient reigns of kings’ short rolls.
They are the never-failing feeders of men’s souls.

If thou the pleasures of the world short time forego,
Eternal bliss may compensate th’ imbroglio.
Know that this nether world but for a period lasts.
T’ abandon it, eternal rest to man forecasts.
Give ear. Forsake all mundane ease, all earthly rest;
Then will thy soul enjoy heaven’s cup with double zest.
Cast thou the carcase vile of earthly pomp to dogs.
The cup of mere surmise reject; the soul it clogs. 495

VI.

The Greater (Spiritual) Warfare.

Great Princes all! We’ve killed our dread external foe.
Within us, still, a worse than he remains, I trow.
To slay this inner foe is not the task of mind;
Our moral lion’s not destroyed by tricks refined.

Our flesh, a hell; that hell a fiery dragon is.
Whole oceans can’t extinguish those fierce flames of his.
Earth’s seven oceans all were lost within his maw;
His raging fires would still burn high, to mankind’s awe.
Pitcoal, hard-hearted miscreants; these are its food;[178]
They sink within it, miserable, abject brood. 5
Withal, its craving hunger ne’er will be appeased,
Until the voice of God cry unto it: “Art eased?”
“Eased?” will it answer; “No; not yet awhile by far;
Behold my flame, my fury,--burning, fiery roar.”
It swallows down a universe in its fell mood;
And instantly shrieks out: “More food! More food! More food!”
God, from nubiquity,[179] His foot will stamp on hell.
Then will it cease to burn: “He willed, and it befell!”[180]

Our fleshly lusts in us are but a part of hell;
Parts have the qualities of their universal. 10
The foot of God alone can stamp out hell’s alarms.
Who else but God supreme to bend such bow has arms?
Straight arrows serve alone to be shot from a bow;
But lust’s distorted spring shoots crooked arrows too.
Be thou in mind upright as arrow straight for bow.
A bow will not shoot straight, unless the arrow’s so.

We’ve fought our fight and conquered in our outward strife.
Now turn we our attention to the inner life.
We’ve done with outer warfare, lesser as it is;
And as the Prophet, wage the greater warfare, his. 15
We put our trust in God; from Him we ask for aid;
With His assistance faith can move a mountain staid.
To rout an armed foe is nothing very fresh;
A lion true is he who conquers his own flesh.
To illustrate this truth, give ear unto a tale,
That thou of these few words the moral mayest inhale.

From Cæsar[181] an ambassador to ‘Umer came,[182]
Through deserts far-extending, from Madīna’s fame.[183]
He asked: “Where is the palace of the Caliph, men;[184]
That I to it may lead my cavalcade, my train?” 20
The people answered: “Thou’lt no Caliph’s palace find,
Our Caliph’s sole pavilion’s his enlightened mind.
Through his ‘_Commandership_’ his fame to Rome has come;[185]
But like our other poor, a hut’s his ample home.
How shouldst thou see _that_ palace, brother, stranger, guest,
When in thy mind’s eye thou a beam hast, unconfessed?
Cast out that beam; make clear thy eye from every mote
Then mayst thou entertain the hope to see his cote.”

Whoever shall his heart cleanse from all passions’ bale,
Will soon perceive therein a court and presence hale. 25
When Ahmed’s heart was cleansed of evil’s fire and smoke,[186]
Whichever way he turned, God’s countenance bespoke.[187]
So long as man keeps company with evil thought,
How can he understand God’s countenance in aught?
He that a window’s pierced from heart towards heaven’s recess,
Sees in each mote a ray from Sun of Righteousness.[188]
God shines apparent in the midst of other things,
As moon in majesty among the stars’ twinklings.

Place thou two finger-tips upon thy two eyeballs.
What seest thou now of all the world? Darkness befalls. 30
Thou seest it not; but that the world exists, thou’lt trust.
Our vices are the finger-tips of fleshly lust.
Thy finger-tips remove; _instanter_, as before,
Thou lookest around and seest whate’er thou wilt explore.
His people asked of Noah where righteousness might be.
He said: “Lo, there! With muffled heads you cannot see.
You’ve wrapped your cloaks in folds about your heads and eyes.
Your sense of sight cannot see what before you lies.”

The world’s eye man is; all the rest’s mere skin and shell.
A real eye’s he who strives his “Friend” to see right well.[189] 35
Unless we see our Friend, ’twere better we were blind,
A friend that is not constant’s better out of mind.

When Rome’s ambassador had heard those words so wise,[190]
His eager curiosity began to rise.
He sought for ‘Umer with redoubled zeal and zest;
But in so doing lost his horse, and eke his chest.
He wandered everywhere to seek the Caliph out.
Like one distracted asked each passer-by his route.
“Is’t possible,” he said, “that such a man there be,
When like the soul to sight invisible is he?” 40

He sought for him as though he ’d been his truant slave,
But: “He who seeks shall find” ’s a very well-known stave.
A desert-Arab woman saw he at the last,
Who told him ‘Umer, then, beneath date-palm slept fast.
Beneath a date-palm! Far from mankind’s busy plod.
That date-palm’s shadow shaded the Shadow of God![191]

He went towards the tree; a station took afar;
He saw ‘Umer; a fit of trembling showed his fear.
On that ambassador did awe and dread alight.
While o’er his heart there stole a sense of sweet delight. 45
Two feelings, love and dread, by nature opposites,
Were mingled in his bosom by some occult rites.
He thought within himself: “I’ve many princes seen;
In sovereign presence I have ever welcome been.
This fit of awe and trembling’s very strange to me;
And yet without dismay this man I cannot see.
I’ve been in forests where the lions make their lair;
I’ve met them face to face; yet knew not what was fear.
In battle I’ve been, oft; in thickest of the fight.
My arm’s upheld our cause, when in most desperate plight. 50
Wounds have I dealt, received, that threatened life to take,
Among the brave, the bravest; my heart knew no quake.
This man is weaponless, supine upon the ground.
Why then this tremor? It my every limb has bound.
A ghostly awe is this; it’s not a mortal fear.
Most certainly it’s not a dread of this man here.

He who fears God has admonition of the Lord;
Both men and demons stand in awe of his mere word.”
Mute he remained in reverential attitude,
Till ‘Umer woke from his trance of beatitude. 55

Profound obeisance and grave salutation made,
As said the Prophet: “First, salute; then, embassade.”
The Caliph answered: “And on thee be peace! Draw near;”
Assured him of protection; bade him put off fear.
“Fear not” a word of comfort is to trembling soul;
A generous tribute ’tis, when strong with weak condole.
Men set at ease the object whom they wish to raise,—
Relieve his heart from palpitation; bid fears cease.
But unto one who feels no dread how say: “Fear not”?
What lesson’s this thou givest to one whose lesson’s got? 60

So ‘Umer put at ease that much perturbed man;
And calmed his wavering mind, as noble hearts best can.
To him he then addressed some subtle words of sense,
Set forth the attributes of God,--man’s best defence,
Declared the goodness of the Lord to all who trust
In Him alone; the rank they gain in trance combust.

Saint’s ecstasy springs from a glimpse of God, his pride.
His station’s that of intimate. He’s bridegroom; God is bride.[192]
A bride’s veiled graces are not seen by groom alone;
Her unveiled charms solely to him in private shown. 65
In state she first appears before the people all;
Her veil removed, the groom alone is at her call.
Entranced are many Gnostic worshippers, I ween;
Few gain admission to the presence-chamber scene.

‘Umer told all the stations passed through by his soul;—
Its flights, fights, tribulations, ere it was made whole.
He spoke of times when flight of time’s of no account;
Of Holiness’s station, glorious to recount.
He talked of atmospheres in which his righteous soul
Had soared to seek fresh conquests of devotion’s whole. 70
Its every flight had been beyond th’ horizon scant;
Beyond the hope, or e’en desire, of aspirant.

He found a willing list’ner in the stranger guest,
Whose mind was framed t’ investigate such mysteries blest.
The teacher was perfection; novice full of zeal;
Like clever jockey on a steed with lightning heel.
He found his scholar apt, of great capacity.
So good seed sowed in fertile soil sagacity.

Th’ ambassador now asked: “Of true believers Prince!
How can a soul from heaven come down to earth’s province;— 75
How can so great a bird be cooped up in a cage?”

He answered: “God speaks words of power, most sage.
Those words, addressed to nothings without eyes or ears,
Set them in motion. Like a ferment, fruit it bears.
Those words no sooner spoken, quick those nothings all
In motion put themselves, and reach existence’ hall.
Or He commands these beings, creatures of His own;
And they return to nothing, whence He them had drawn.
He speaks unto the flowers; they forthwith burst in bloom.
His voice the flint hears; lo, it’s a cornelian stone. 80
A spell He laid on matter; spirit it became.
By charm from Him the sun sprang forth, a lambent flame.
If He but whisper words of awe, the sun again
Is seized with darkness of eclipse, like night amain.
What is’t He says, by which the teeming eye of cloud
Sheds forth its tears, as drops from water-skin unsewed?

What incantation to the earth addresses He,
To make it produce cattle,--whose hides used may be?
The hesitations of each puzzled child of thought
Arise from some enigma by which God’s him caught. 85
On horns of a dilemma is he fixed, poor man.
‘Shall I do this,’ says he, ‘when ’ts opposite I can?’
From God, too, is the power to make selection’s choice
Of two solutions. One is taken, through inward voice.
Wouldst thou be always free from hesitation, fool?
Stuff not thy mind’s ear tight with doubt’s dull cotton-wool;
That thou mayst solve the riddles God may set for thee;—
That thou mayst understand the full of mercy free.
Then shall thy heart receive His inspiration’s gift,—
A power of speaking from an inward impulse’ drift. 90
The ear and eye of soul are organs not of sense;
The ears of sense and mind are not like soul’s, intense.
The word “_compulsion_” puts me out of humour quite.
Who hath not love of God, compulsion’s slave’s, by right.
This union’s based on truth (compulsion is too proud);
It is a glimpse of sunshine breaking through a cloud.
Be it compulsion. Man’s compulsion it is not;—
Not the compulsion of browbeating from a sot.
Compulsion’s felt by them, my very worthy friend,
Whose eyes of faith, ope’d in their hearts, on God attend. 95
The absent and the future patent are to them;
To speak about the past is what they most contemn.
Election and compulsion, theirs, are not the same.
As dewdrops in the oyster-shell rare pearls became.[193]
Outside, they’re dewdrops, solely, whether great or small;
Inside they’re pearls of price, whose value knows no fall.
Such men by nature are just like the musk-deer’s pod;
It’s fed with blood of artery, musk it yields, through God.
Ask not how ’tis that outward blood can change like this;
Becoming musk when in the pod secreted ’tis. 100
Ask not how copper vile, by wise alchemist’s art,
Is changed to gold when solved by elixir in part.[194]
Election and compulsion, fancies both, in thee;
But when by saints they’re viewed, God’s glory may they be.
Upon the table, bread’s a lifeless, senseless mass;
When taken in man’s mouth, the soul it joins, in class.
On table transubstantiation takes not place;[195]
The soul it is transforms it, nourished by God’s grace.
Such is the soul’s great power; most perspicacious man,
So long as that soul life and power retain can. 105
A human being, mass of mingled flesh and blood,
Moved by the Lord, can cleave hill, dale, mine, and sea’s flood.
The strength of strongest man can merely split a stone;[196]
The Power that informs man’s soul can cleave the moon.[197]
If man’s heart but untie the mouth of mystery’s sack,
His soul soon soars aloft beyond the starry track.
If heaven’s mystery divulged should, ’haps, become,
The whole world ’twould burn up, as fire doth wood consume.”

Let’s contemplate the acts of God, the deeds of men;
Know, men’s deeds do exist. This truth is patent, then. 110
If men’s deeds be not in this nether world of ours,
Say not thou unto others: “Why these deeds of yours?”
God’s act it is through which those deeds of ours arise;
Our acts are but the sequels of God’s agencies.

The letter, or the spirit, ’tis, our reason weighs.
But both at once it cannot comprehend always.
Examining the spirit, letter we neglect;
At one time forwards, backwards we cannot prospect.
If thou straight forward look at any point of time,
Thou canst not backwards see, whatever be the clime. 115
Our souls not taking in the letter, spirit too,
How could they e’er create these predicates, one, two?
God comprehendeth all things;--all things doth ensue;
One act’s no hindrance, with Him, other acts to do.

The reason Satan gave: “Since Thou hast tempted me,”[198]
The scheming demon strove to hide his sin, we see.
His trespass Adam owned: “Against ourselves we’ve sinned.”[199]
God’s act he, like as we, then left not out of mind.
Through shame the act of Satan Adam secret kept.
Self-accusation’s fruit, in consequence, he reaped. 120
Repentance shown by Adam, God in mercy said:
“In thee ’twas I created, sin thou hast displayed.
Was it not My decree and providence that thou,
In asking pardon, shouldst the tempter disavow?”
Said Adam: “Thee I feared; most bitter shame I felt.”
God added: “It was I who gave thee shame heartfelt.”

Consideration he who shows considered is;
So he who brings the sugar, share of cake is his.
For whom, then, benefits, but practisers of good?[200]
Keep pleased thy friend. Offend him; see what ensue would. 125
One sole example study,--instance of this law,—
Compulsion and election’s difference to draw.
“There is a hand that shakes from palsy or from fear.
Another hand also thou shakest when thou’rt near.
Know: God it is creates the movement in them both;
And yet there’s no resemblance in their motions loth.
Thou’rt sorry that thou shakedst that man’s hand anon,
When thou seest him annoyed at what thou’st just now done.”

A question ’tis of judgment; judgment shrewdness is,
Until some weakness intervene to mar all this. 130
A question, now, of judgment as to corals, pearls,
Is not the same as one about the soul, you churls.
A question of the soul’s another matter quite;
The wine that feeds the soul comes not from grapes, black, white.

When any matter is a question of judgment,
‘Umer with Abū-Jahl’s in one predicament.
‘Umer gave up his judgment; rested on his soul.
’Bū-Jahl received this name through lack of self-control.[201]
In sense and reason Abū-Jahl a master was;
But as to soul, in ignorance he fell, alas! 135
Of sense and reason questions are cause and effect;
But miracles and wonders show soul is a fact.
Enlightenment of soul, whatever it may see.
By quibbles of school logic cannot silenced be.

We now return again our tale to take in hand,
Though certainly we’ve never left it out of mind.

In ignorance, our souls are in God’s prison chained.
In wisdom, by God’s help, their liberty’s regained.
In sleep, God’s lethargy it is in which we sink.
Awake, we’re in God’s hands, whatever we may think. 140
In weeping, we are clouds from which His mercy flows.
In laughter, we’re the flash with which His lightning glows.
In anger, we’re reflections of the wrath of God.
In amity, the mirrors of His favour’s nod.
What are we in this world? All tortuous and bent.
There is not one upright, straightforward, innocent.

Cæsar’s ambassador no sooner ‘Umer heard,
Than light broke on his heart; at which he stroked his beard.
All questions and all answers from his mind went quite;
All sense of right and wrong had vanished from his sight. 145
He’d found the source; what need, then, of the streams?
To gather further wisdom, pondering on the means,
He said: “‘Umer, pray tell me what’s the end and use
Of shutting up that thing of light in darkness’ house?
How can clear water be expected from black mud?
Why then is the pure soul combined with flesh and blood?”
He answered: “Most important question hast thou raised.
A sense, a spirit, by the letter paraphrased.
The free, the jocund spirit prisoner thou’st made;
As though the mind, the air, could into letter fade. 150
Thou hast done this for explanation’s sake,—[202]
Thou, who beyond the explanation place wouldst take.
How should the man in whom the explanation’s gleamed,
Not yet distinguish what’s to me so clearly beamed?
Ten thousand explanations are there, each of which
Is most momentous,--than ten thousand others, rich.
With that, thy speech, now compoundly particular,
A universal explanation were,--no bar.
Thou art a partial,--seekest explanation still;
Why set thyself, then, to deny th’ universal? 155
Unless thy speech contain some use, propound it not;
And if it have, objection quit; give what thou’st got.

Thanks are incumbent upon every mortal’s head;
Contention and sour looks are surely no one’s bread.
If to put on sour looks, of thankfulness sign be,
Then vinegar the sweetest-spoken thing we’d see.
If vinegar desire to hearts a way to find,
It oxymel becomes, with honey sweet combined.
True, verse is not best vehicle for sense abstract.
It’s like a sling; one’s never certain how ’t will act.“ 160

Th’ ambassador his senses lost with this one cup
Of wine spiritual. His mission he gave up.
O’erwhelmed with wonder at the power of God, he fell.
He came ambassador; now sovereign was, as well.

A river overflooded constitutes a lake.
Some grains, when sown in earth, a field of corn can make.
When eaten, bread assimilated is by man,
That bread inanimate takes life, and reason can.
When wood or candle is made victim unto fire,
Its substance dark becomes a source of light entire. 165
Black _stibium_, a stone, when placed in human eye,
Expands the power of vision, objects can descry.
Good luck to him who’s saved from his own fleshly self,
And has become a parcel of some living elf.
Alas for him, who, living, sits among the dead.
He’s dead himself, his life from out of him has fled.

If thou take refuge in the Qur’ān, God’s own book,
With spirit of Muhammed thou’lt soon exchange look.
The Qur’ān is the essence of all prophets right.
They were the whales who swam in ocean of God’s might. 170
If thou canst read or not, the Qur’ān take to heart,
The saints and prophets study; they were as thou art.
Read thou it carefully; read, mark, digest its tales;
Thy soul, like bird in cage, will long to break its rails.
The bird shut up, imprisoned in a little cage,
That seeks not to get out, is ignorant, not sage.

The souls who’ve freed themselves from cages of the flesh,
Are worthy fellow-travellers with prophets, fresh.
Their voices they lift up, religion to impart:
“The way of sure deliverance is here. Take heart! 175
Religion hath us saved from fleshly cages, sure.
No other way is there, salvation to secure.
You then upon yourselves will chastisements inflict,
That you may be delivered from the world’s respect.”

Respect of mortal man a heavy fetter is;
Within religion’s path the gravest bond is this.
Consider well this tale, ingenuous young friend; 179
’Twill teach thee many lessons may thy morals mend.

VII.

The Merchant and the Parrot.

A merchant there was, who a parrot did own;
Confined in a cage, wisest bird in the town.
This merchant to journeying made up his mind
To fair Hindūstān, there some rich wares to find.
From generous motives, to each of his slaves,
To male, and to female, some gift to bring craves.
He made them all tell him what best they would like;
And promised to bring it, most gentlemanlike.
He said to the parrot: “Poll! Poll! With the rest,
From Hind I must bring thee what thou mayst like best.” 5

The parrot replied: “Sure, thou’lt see parrots there,
To them pray impart how it is that I fare.
Inform them, a parrot who loves them all well,
By thee’s kept confined, close shut up in a cell.
He sends you his love, and his very best wish;
Desiring from you wise advice, parrotish.
He fears he may pine, through longing to see
His dear absent friends,--die in foreign countree.
He asks if it is altogether thing fit,
That he should be caged, while you on the trees sit. 10
If this is the way in which true friends should act;
Leave him in his cage, while you forests affect.
He wishes you’d call to your mind your lost friend,
When drinking your bumpers, ere fieldward you wend.[203]

’Tis sweet to be thought of by far-away dame,
One’s sweetheart, whose love’s set one’s heart in a flame.
While you are disporting with those you love best,
He’s eating his heart out; grief gives him no rest.
One bumper you’ll drink for the love of poor Poll,[204]
If only you wish him your love to extol. 15
Or, thinking of him who’s in slavery kept,
Your bowl’s whole contents dash to earth, as though wept.
O where is the promise, and where is the oath,
Th’ engagements sworn to him by sugarsome tooth?[205]
If absence of his came from truancy’s pranks,
You’ve set your forgetfulness ’gainst his sin’s ranks.
The ills you inflict out of spite and disdain
Are sweet to your lover, he does not complain.
Your petulance prized is beyond fairy gifts;
Your vengeance most dear is; his hope it uplifts. 20
No soul can imagine what pleasure is felt,
Or grace seen, in all the fell blows you have dealt.
Your wrath is thus sweet; how much more so your grace!
If mourning so grieve, what from feast would take place?
He weeps; but he hopes you’ll believe not his tears;
And, out of affection, not lessen his fears.
He loves your great kindness, your anger as well.
He equally dotes on those opposites fell.
The thorn escape should he, and visit the rose,
He’d warble as nightingale, moved by love’s throes. 25
Most wondrous this bird’s strangest use of his bill;
With thorns, as with roseleaves, he would his mouth fill.
Not nightingale this; fiery dragon it is;
All wrongs seem to him, through his love, purest bliss.
He loveth a rose, and himself is a rose.
He loveth himself; and seeks love for its woes.”

Just so is the soul. Its tale, just parrot’s tale.
O where is the One to whom all souls make wail?
Where is the man, feeble, who’s yet innocent?
His heart, Solomon and his whole armament. 30
When he, with tears bitter, is heard to complain,
The seven vaults of heaven re-echo the strain.
In anguish he groans; God, in mercy, him hears.
His cry is: “O Lord!” And God wipes off his tears.
Abasement in him, is by God highly prized.
His blasphemies, o’er other men’s faith are raised.[206]
Each instant, in soul, he ascends to heaven’s gate;
His mitre’s with crowns capped, of infinite state.[207]
His frame’s here on earth; his pure soul with the Lord
In heaven’s highest sphere, above man’s thought or word. 35
A heaven such as this thou contemplatest not;
Thou every moment imaginest--what?
With him “_where_” and “_nowhere_” are quite equal felt.
To angels the “_four rivers_” seem a mere belt.[208]

Break off we this theme. Let’s discuss other things.
Cease trifling. “’Tis God who knows best” sense’s rings.[209]
Let’s seek to inquire how it fares with our friends,—
The merchant, his parrot. Who is’t understands?

The former had promised, at latter’s request,
To give to the birds of far Hind his bequest. 40
So when he had reached that land, greatly renowned
In wooded retreat, flock of parrots he found.
He stopped his beast, cried out, at top of his voice,
That message his Polly had made, as his choice.
One bird of the flock, he saw, then took to quake,
Fell prone to the earth; no more breath seemed to take.
The merchant regret felt for what he had done,
Exclaiming: “Alas! The poor bird I’ve slain, lone!
That creature was surely related to Poll;
Two bodies; one soul; just as is magic doll. 45
Why did I deliver that fatal message?
I’ve killed a collateral of Poll’s lineage!”

The tongue, by itself, acts just like flint and steel.
A word from it, fire-like, we scathing can feel.
Strike not, then, so rashly, fire’s sparks from thy tongue,
In message or talk, feeble hearers among.
The night is pitch dark; strewn around, cotton beds.
Amongst beds of cotton, ’tis, sparks one most dreads.
He sins who, unmindful of dire consequence,
Lets fall spoken spark,--fires a whole world, immense. 50
One rash word may set an assembly ablaze.
Molehills into mountains, and higher, it can raise.

In basis, our souls would appear Jesus-like.
To kill, to resuscitate, words are godlike.
If lifted could be from our souls the dark veil,
Each word of each soul would with miracles trail.

Dost wish to speak always to men with sweet words?
Have patience. Impatience must not fret the cords.
’Tis patience beloved is by all men of sense.
Impatience a fault is, of children, intense. 55
Who patience exhibits shall mount to heaven’s dome.
Impatience who showeth, tastes wrath that’s to come.

A saint is not hurt, whate’er else may betide,[210]
To swallow fell poison should he once decide.
He’s whole, and he’s sound; strict diet’s his rule.
Poor students are healthy in fever’s dread school.
The Prophet has cautioned: “Brave though you may be,
Commit not mad rashness, howe’er the foe flee.”

Within thee’s a Nimrod. Approach not the fire.
Approach it thou must? To be Abr’am aspire. 60
A swimmer thou art not;--nor seaman by trade;
From headstrongness strive not the deep sea to wade.
From fire Abr’am brought forth a fresh-plucked red rose.
A diver, from sea-bottom, pearls’ store can choose.
A saint handles earth, turns it straightway to gold.
A sinner, by touch, to earth turns this;--behold.
A just man’s accepted of God, the Most High.
His deeds are the works of God’s hand, still. Eigh! Eigh!
Th’ imperfect one’s hand is aye Satan’s foul limb;
Responsible rests he, howe’er he may climb.[211] 65
To him wisdom’s self’s but a mere misguidance.
Th’ imperfect man’s science is crass ignorance.
Whatever as cause acts, as cause counted is;
A perfect man’s blasphemy’s pure faith, my quiz.[212]
Rash combatant, fight’st thou on foot ’gainst horseman!
Thy point thou’lt not carry;--as sure as thou’rt man.

So, Egypt’s magicians, in old Pharaoh’s days,
Contended ’gainst Moses; and rashly, always.
At length they owned Moses superior was;
Men honour, revere him, who most of power has. 70
They said to him, then: “Command ’s thine! See! Purely!
‘Thy rod cast down’ first.[213] This thy wish is; surely.”
He answered: “Nay, nay! First cast ye down your wands.
Produce to our sight the tricks ye’ve in your hands.”
The honour thus paid was a slur on their faith,
Removing contention from out of their path.
When they had perceived what was thus due to him,
They error acknowledged, though somewhat too dim.

The “perfect man” ’s free both to eat and to speak.[214]
If thou art “imperfect,” eat, speak not, in freak. 75
Thou art but an ear. He’s a tongue;--not like thee.
To ear was addressed God’s word: “Silent be.”[215]

A newly-born infant, still sucking the breast,
Is speechless some while. He’s all ear, at the best.
His lips to keep closed he has, for a set time;
To speak till he learns,--words to frame and to chime.
If ear he lend not, he’ll not learn common sense;
Becomes laughingstock;--folly shows, most immense.
If hearing he have not, deaf being at root,
He mute must remain; no tongue has he, to boot. 80
Since, then, we must listen, before we can speak,
Lend ear to thy teachers, to guide thee who seek.
A room should be entered, as rule, through its door.
Effects ever seek where thou seest their cause’ spoor.
The speech that has need to be heard by no ear,
The voice is of God; it’s to us ever near.
Inventor is He. From no one has He learnt.
Of all, He’s the stay; not a prop does He want.
All others require, as in speech, so in deed,
From others, instruction; they all patterns need. 85

If thou art not negligent,--hear’st what’s been said,
Adopt dervish frock; go and weep in homestead.
Himself Adam saved from all blame by his tears.
So tears run wherever repentance appears.
To weep, Adam came down to this nether world;
To sigh, moan, and groan; far from sweet Eden hurled,
From paradise shut out, from heaven driven down,
Like schoolboy in fool’s-cap, his great sin to drown.

If thou’rt seed of Adam;--if from his loins sprung;
Like him, do thou seek for God’s pardon, whilst young. 90
With burnings of heart, and with moisture of eyes,
As sun and as rain, do thou sorrow’s fruit raise.
Of all the rich solace, what knowest thou of tears?
Thou beggest still for bread, like a blind man, with leers.
Thy stomach make void of foul greed’s lust for bread.
Thy heart thou’lt find filled with deep love for Godhead.
Thy infant soul wean from the gross milk of greed,
Then teach it to join, next, in angel’s pure creed.
So long thou remainest in darkness and thrall,
A bantling of Satan thou art, out at call. 95

The morsel that brings a pure light to the soul
Is earned by endeavour; not begged with a bowl.
Should oil, upon trimming, extinguish a lamp,
Not oil may we name it; ’tis water; ’tis damp.
The honestly-earned morsel, wisdom imparts;
Gives softness to souls, and a warmness to hearts.
If thou be aware that from thy morsel spring
Heartburnings and hate, know it’s not a blest thing.
Hast wheat ever sown, and reaped barley instead?
Hast known colt of ass from a mare in birth bred? 100
A morsel, when eaten, ’s a seed; its fruit, thought.
A morsel, when swallowed, ’s a sea pearls has brought.
From good, honest morsels come, taken in mouth,
Good works, and firm strivings to shun the soul’s drought.
Reflections, though true, we’ll now bring to an end.
To merchant and parrot’s tale ear we will lend.

Our merchant his trading had quickly despatched,
Then homeward he turned; with joy housedoor unlatched.
To ev’ry male slave a rare present he brought;
For each of his handmaids some gift he had bought. 105
The parrot him questioned: “What news bringest thou me?
And whom hast thou seen? What’s been said? Tell. Let’s see.”
The merchant him answered: “I’m sorry for that.
I’d rather my hand eat, than tell it thee;--flat.
In thoughtlessness, folly, ah! why did I prate
About thy fool’s message, until ’twas too late?”

The parrot then asked: “What’s this fuss all about?
What’s caused tribulation? Let’s hear it right out.”
The merchant now said: “I told all thy sad grief
To flock of green parrots;--so like thee, their chief. 110
Of them, one, affected with thy tale of woe,
Heart-broken, a gasp gave, expired, and fell low.
I conscience-struck was for the words I had said.
But what is the use? A word breathed can’t be stayed.”

A spoken word’s arrow swift shot from a bow,
It can’t be recalled, whate’er we may do.
An arrow once shot off will never come back.
At source, inundation alone can have check.
An outlet once found, there’s no stoppage for it.
A world is then ruined, through lack of quick wit. 115
Act, consequence little dreamt of may produce.
The progeny’s far ’yond our power to reduce.

The work of one Maker ’s this universe all.
Our acts’ consequences to our accounts fall.
Jack shoots off an arrow;--directs it to Jill.
The arrow poor Jill hits;--straightway does her kill.
If only it wound her, for great length of time
It tortures. Pain’s God’s work; wherever the clime.
Should Jack, at that moment, expire from his fright,
To plague her Jill’s wound would not cease, day or night. 120
If from the effect of great pain, then, she die,
Remote cause is Jack, still, of her misery.
Account he must render for those pangs of hers.
Although they’re God’s acts, man to man them refers.
And so propagation, seed-sowing, and all;
Effects of them operate. God’s sole, the call.

A saint acquires powers, most astounding, from God.[216]
The flying bolt he can avert with a nod.
The door can be shut between cause, consequence,
On saint’s reclamation, by God’s prescience. 125
He makes said unsaid, from beginning to end.
Hence, neither does skewer burn, roast to coal trend.[217]
From every mind that has knowledge of fact,
Remembrance effaced is, though brains may be racked.
Of this, dost thou proof require, most worthy friend,
The text read: “What verse We annul, or We mend.”[218]
Again: “They my warning made you to forget.”[219]
By these is oblivion’s great power ’fore us set.

To make us remember, forget, they power have.
They’ve hearts subjugated o’er creation’s wave. 130
Whene’er dull forgetfulness blinds eye of man,
No act can he do, howe’er wide his scan.
Dost dare, thou, great saints to make laughingstock?[220]
To words of the Prophet give heed, silly block.
Earth’s lords have dominion o’er bodies of clay.
Enlightened saints rule hold o’er hearts;--their own sway.
All acts are fruits, doubtless, of experience.
Man, then, is but pupil. All’s, else, mere pretence.[221]
I’ll close now this subject; much more I might say;
Prevented I am by the rules I obey. 135

Remembrance, forgetfulness, both are of God.
Support and aid, too, must depend on His nod.
Of thoughts, God, men’s good and bad souls voids, each night,
By millions. Since this has seemed good in His sight.
By day, their hearts fill with their thoughts all, again,
Those oystershells He fills with rich pearls amain.
He knows all the thoughts that here trouble our frames.
’Tis He that gives guidance to souls in their games.

Thy talent, thy judgment, unto thee are given,
That means thou may’st have to redeem thy fallen leaven. 140
The goldsmith’s rich art’s not by weaver possessed,
By jocund vein here, there another’s distressed.
Though mind’s frame and talents endowments are, all,
They seem to a foe mere machines for his thrall.
When sleep is departed, thoughts, talents return,
One’s foe so comes back, has of war one more turn.
With dawn, all our thoughts, all our talents, awake,
As erst, good or bad; ere repose we could take.
So carrier pigeons, wherever they’ve been,
Return to their homes, quit the woodlands all green. 145
We see, thus, that all things revert to their source.
Parts ever must go shares in whole’s intercourse.

So soon as our bird heard that parrot’s sad state,
A shudder he gave, fainted, grew stiff as slate.
The merchant, on seeing this, seized with dismay,
Himself dashed to earth; wished he’d been far away.
His clothes rent in sorrow; his beard he plucked out;
And moaned, in distress wildly sobbing, throughout:

“My parrot, why, dearest, thus broken of heart?
Dead art thou, now, really? So fain to depart? 150
Poor pet! Darling bird! With thee, hours I could talk.
My sweetheart! My second self! Loved was thy walk.
Alas for poor Polly! Where’s now his sly chat?
Alas, my companion! How shall I bear that?
Had Solomon seen a green parrot like mine,
What pleasure had he felt in other birds’ line?
Dear prattler, in whose words I took such delight!
And then, thus to leave me, with naught in my sight!
Thy tongue to me dearer than gold’s wealth untold;
At sound of thy sweet voice my joy was tenfold.” 155

O tongue! Thou’rt a fire, and also a cornstack![222]
My patience, the cornstack! Hark! How its flames crack!
My soul doth, in secret, of thee complain sore;
But whate’er thou wishest, it does evermore.
O tongue: Thou’rt a treasure, beyond all earth’s price!
And yet thou’rt a plague, that’s not always too nice!
A whistle art thou, birds decoying afield.
A solace to love’s wayward, fitful, spoilt child.
To men thou’rt all darkness, and blasphemy’s bale;
To saints, guide, companion too, through this dark vale. 160
Thou’rt pitiless! Pity on me take, awhile.
Thy bow thou hast strung, on poor me to work guile.
Thou hast taken my bird; thou hast flustered my soul.
So cruel why be? Why delight take so foul?
An answer pray give; or else, deal out justice;
Or hope let me have to taste joy’s chalice.
My dawn! Thou dispellest my deep’ning darkness.
My light! Day with thee is all sunshine brightness.
Alas! That swift bird, boldly soaring, of mine,
My lowest fall plumbed, traced my lineage divine. 165
The ignorant, wooers of trouble are, all.
“I swear,” down to “misery” read, thou poor thrall.[223]
From misery free made me thy countenance.
From spume, so the clear stream of thy assistance.
Regret is a nursing of phantoms by day.
Neglect, stern realities drives not away.
A zeal for the truth is in God, there’s no doubt.
The heart, with God’s will, is constrained to burst out.
He’s zeal, Who is “other,” far, than all things else,[224]
Beyond all praise, laud, blessing, thanks, in heart’s pulse. 170
Alas! my hot tears have become briny lake,—
An offering worthy my lost idol’s sake.
My parrot! My wise bird! My starling art thou!
Interpreter, reader of thoughts, secrets, thou.
All daily events, results, just or unjust,
By Him ordained were, as I know, from the first.
The Parrot, inspired, who by voice of man spoke,
Existed ere dawn of existence first broke.
That Parrot is plainly within thyself felt;
Around thee His motto is ev’rywhere spelt. 175
Art joyful? From Him, know, all joys here do spring.
Art wronged? Thou submittest. Thou’rt under His wing.
O thou, who for body dost injure thy soul,
Thy proud flesh to pamper, dost wrong to thy whole.
I, too, am in flames. Who, then, seeks burning brand,
The trash to consume of conceit from the land?
That which is once burnt cannot blaze out again.
Select flaming brand, living fire choose, amain.
Alas! Lackaday! What has thus come to me?
My full moon in clouds why thus hidden to be? 180
I scarcely can breathe; with deep sorrow heart burns;
Male-lion-like, grief all kind condolence spurns.
He who in his senses has thus become drunk,
How fierce would he rage, if in cups he were sunk.
A lion in heat, he, despising all bounds;
No forest would hold him, nor dense jungle-grounds.

Of rhymes do I dream? ’Tis my love orders me[225]
Of love still to dream;--swain devoted to be:
“Thyself make thou happy. Rhymes leave, now, alone.
The rhyme I seek, thou art. I love thee, my own. 185
What’s rhyme, that thou turnest thy thoughts thitherward?
Mere bramble on wall, hedging round our vineyard.
I care not for words, for asseverations;
My time if I pass in these sweet delusions.
Suggestion there is, one, kept secret from men.
To thee I’ll impart. Thou keep’st secrets, like pen.
Suggestion occult, Abr’am knew not one jot.
One secret, that Gabriel as yet conceives not.
One mystery, to Jesus that never was known,
In jealousy God spake to me all alone.”[226] 190

What do we with tongue? We affirm; we deny.
I’m no affirmation; denial am I.
In impersonality, person I find.
In ungenerosity, goodness of mind.
Earth’s potentates slaves are of their own slaves’ will.
All mortals, mere corpses of dead corpses, still.
Kings, subject are here to their own subjects’ whim.
Man’s drunk with those intoxicated of him.
The hunter of birds them entraps in his toils,
Himself is then pounced on, despite of his foils. 195
A beauty makes prey of the men soft of heart.
Sweethearts fall the victims of false lover’s dart.
If lover thou see, know, a sweetheart he’s, too,
’Tis but a relation. Each one’s one of two.
If thirst seeks for water in this wide domain,
The water, on its side, the thirst courts again.

Should any one love thee, do thou silent be.
Thy ear claims he then, thou attentive should’st be.
The torrent bank up that threats dire overflow;
Or ravage ’twill make of the lands down below. 200
What care I if cities in ruins should fall,
In ruins we treasures find dear to us all.
Man merged in God, most entirely is drowned
As wave of a sea, soul but goes a set round.
Is bottom of that sea preferred more, or top?
Is God’s shaft desired more, or shield, it to stop?
By doubts and by fears thou’lt piecemeal be torn, heart.
If thou well distinguish from joy, sorrow’s smart.
Desir’st thou to taste, then, true happiness, joy?
’Tis not thine to choose. Beauty ever’s most coy. 205
Each spangle of beauty’s star outshines the moon.
To wreck a whole world’s naught to beauty’s full moon.
What is it we’re good for? To sacrifice self.
Then hasten, my good friend, to offer thyself.
A lover’s whole life is but self-sacrifice;
He wins not a heart, save his own heart’s the price.
A heart I once courted with soft blandishment;
With pretexts was put off, most magniloquent.
I said my heart brimful was quite with her love;
Said she: “Hold thy tongue, now; that theme let’s not move.” 210
What have you been doing, you two eyes of mine?
Why saw you that cruel one? Left me to pine?
Presumptuous man! Didst thou hold her so cheap,
Because, by her kindness, made easy thy sleep?
What’s easily got in this world, ’s easy spent.
A child will give jewels at cake’s allurement.
With love I’m o’erwhelm’d, now, of such a sad sort,
That ancients and moderns to it are all sport.

I’ve made short my story; details are not given.
’Twould otherwise scorch heart and tongue’s whole joint leaven. 215
When I may say “lip,” I mean “margin of sea;”
When “No!” you may take its true sense “Yes!” to be.
My sourness of looks by much sweetness is caused.
By words’ multitude, silence strict I’ve imposed.
My sweetness I’ll hide, in this world, in the next.
As veil, austere features I’ve firmly annexed.
My secrets to shield from the ken of all ears,
One out of a hundred, alone, here appears.

The world is right jealous, for reason that best:
God first jealous was, long before all the rest.[227] 220
He’s soul. The two worlds His august body form.[228]
The body, through soul must receive good or harm.
Whoso in his worship turns truly to God,
Foul shame ’twould be for him to bow to faith’s rod.
Whoever’s a keeper of wardrobe to king,
Brings loss to his sovereign by petty trading.
With potentate, whoso, by grade, council holds,
If placed as a guard at a gate, roundly scolds.
Admitted to honour by kissing of hands,
To stoop, kiss the foot, degradation now stands. 225
To kiss foot of sovereign’s a great honour, sure.
Compared with hands-kissing, ignominy pure.
A king would be jealous of servant so base
His foot who should kiss, when his hand was the place.
God’s jealousy wheat is on full threshing-floor;
Man’s jealousy, chaff blown away out of door.
Know: Jealousy rise doth take, still, in our God;
Man’s jealousy budded from that noble rod.

Let’s quit that deep subject; take up plaint and wail,
Against the great hardship of love’s chastening flail.[229] 230
I cry, for that He loves to hear all my cries.
My moans, lamentations, are what He enjoys.
How should I cease wailing at His fell caprice?
I’m not of His darlings, nor in His service.
How should I not be, in my soul, black as night?
Deprived of His look, sweetness, warmth, and mild light.
All his disagreements are pleasant to me.
My life I’d give up, sacrifice I would be.
I love all my anguish; I dote on my pain,
So long as it pleases my heart’s treasured swain. 235
My sorrow’s my eyes’ choicest collyrium;
My tears are as pearls from deep-sea tedium.
Tears poured forth by lovers at His adored feet,
Are pearls; though we’re used them as tears to misgreet.
My soul’s Soul’s the tyrant of whom I complain.
Complaint I make not. I describe but my pain.
My heart but pretends it has been too much hurt;
Excuse is this merely. I smile at such blurt.

Do justice now, God, of all justice the fount!
Thou sittest in justice’ seat; threshold I count. 240
From chief seat to threshold! How far raised above!
Where stand “_we_” and “_I_” in the sight of our love?[230]
O Thou who art free, quite from “_I_” and from “_we_,”
Thou heart’s-joy of all men and women that be;
Where men and where women join, One art Thou, Sole!
Where units appear, Thou’rt the sum of the whole!
This “_I_” and this “_we_” Thou’st ordained for Thy state;
That psalms, hymns, and lauds may still rise to Thy gate.
When “I” and when “we” shall unite both in One,
Absorbed they’ll be in Thy essence alone. 245
Existencies, potencies, all rise from Thee.
Denial and potency, Thou’rt from these free.
Can eye now behold Thee as truly Thou art?
Can heart Thy love picture, and smiles, e’en in part?

The heart that’s a slave to a love or a smile
Can never be worthy to see Thee awhile.
Engrossed he that’s now with pleasure and pain,
Can he, by these accidents, live o’er again?
Green pastures of love, in their infinitude,
More fruits yield than care, and than beatitude. 250
Love’s far above these evanescent two states;
Without spring and autumn, its verdant estates.

Pay beauty’s high toll, Beauty, on Thy sweet face;
Set forth lover’s torments with all due preface.
That archness of look of my coquettish Swain
Anew has my heart fired with love’s brand of pain.
I gave Him permission to pour out my blood.
I spoke of permission. He fled me for good.
Why fleest thus, always, the groans of complaint?
Why pourest Thou suffering’s floods on the faint? 255
O Thou, whom each morn, as it dawns in the East,
Has found, like the sun, full prepared for a feast,
What cause have I furnished for all this sad pain,
O Thou, whose lips sweeter than sugar remain?
Thou ever new life givest to this old world;
The prayer hear of one whom from life Thou hast hurled!
For heaven’s sake, quit talking of spring’s roses red,
And think of the nightingale banished their bed.
My eagerness grows not from joy, or from grief;
My senses cajoled will not be by whim’s thief. 260
My state is just one very often not seen;
Contest not; truth’s ever victorious been.
Think not my state that of all these common men;
Be not benefactor, to tyrannise then.
If kindness and tyranny, joy, grief, are new;
All new things must die. God inherits.[231] That’s true.
’Tis dawn. O of dawn Thou who art the sole cause!
Excuse for me make to Husāmu-’d-Dīn’s laws.[232]
Excuses for angels and souls Thou canst see;
Thou art the soul’s life; coral’s shine is from Thee.[233] 265
From Thy light have sprung men and brightness of dawn.[234]
We’re all aided by Thee, Thou cup of wine drawn.
Why does Thy gift keep me in constant suspense;—
Thy spiritual wine, that still charms ev’ry sense.
A beggar from me’s wine in fermentation!
Spheres lessons take from me in revolution!
With me wine gets drunk; I get not drunk with it.
From me body grows; I spring thence not one bit.
We’re bees, all of us; and our bodies, the wax;
With it we build cells to conceal our dark tracks. 270

These considerations would grow longer still.
We’ll turn to our merchant. We left him so ill.
He thus, lamentations, sad groans, sadder moans,
Shot forth, with sighs, burning;--grieved hearts’ crater-stones.
Complaints, contradictions, petitions, like words,
Now literal, then keen metaphors, sharp as swords.
The drowning, ’tis known to each one who breath draws,
To save threatened life, will, though vain, grasp at straws;
In hopes that some aid to his rescue will come,
He struggles, he flounders, he thinks of his home. 275
His sweetheart takes pleasure his struggles to see;
An effort’s more noble than despondency.
A bridegroom is, surely, not quite free from cares.
His moans we expect not. Pain’s not what he fears.
The reason this, why the Lord’s blest scripture says:
“Each day He’s engaged in some one of His ways.”[235]
Therefore thou, my dear son, thyself still exert
Until thy last breath. Seek not toil to avert.
Then, at the last moment, the time may have come,
When favor ’ll be shown thee for all thou hast done. 280
How much, and how long, strives the soul of each man,
The king’s at the window;--hear, see all, he can.

Our merchant the parrot cast out from his cage.
The parrot flew up; on a tree took high stage.
The bird that was thought dead, now swift flew away.
His course like the sun’s from the morn to midday.

The merchant sore marvelled at his flying bird;
Could not understand it; thought: “What has occurred?”
Then cried, looking upwards: “Come, pretty Poll mine!
Relate all about this freak strangest of thine. 285
What was that bird’s game, there, of whom then thou spokest?
What trick was ’t he played? Grief in me thou awokest.”

The parrot him answered: “He taught me the trick.
He came and said: ‘Free thyself now. Up! Be quick!’
No sooner had sounded thy voice in his ears,
He, as was agreed on, fell dead, it appears.
As much as to say, here, to me in my cage:
‘Thou death counterfeit; so thou savest thy old age.’”

Become thou but grain; thou’lt be pecked up by birds.
A flower make thyself; all the children go thirds. 290
Thy grain hidest thou? Thou’rt naught else but brick-trap.
Thy flower shuttest up? Thou’rt a weed on house-top.
His beauty whoever may offer for sale,
Invites many troubles his heart to assail.
Hopes, fears, wraths, and jealousies strike him at once;
As rain on his head pours in winter;--the nonce.
All sorts of opponents, by jealousy moved;
With them, even friends joy to see him so proved.
Whoever may put off to sow seed in spring,
Ignores the true value of time’s swiftest wing. 295
Let each one take refuge in mercy of God,
Who grace manifold on our souls has bestowed.
Then shalt thou find shelter, when shelter thou needest.
Fire’s, water’s protection thou’lt have, as thou heedest.
It was not the sea alone Noah, Moses, saved.
Nor sea alone was it, their foes that ingraved.
It was not the fire that stood Abr’am in stead,
Till God conquered Nimrod by gnat in his head.
It was not the mountain that called John to it, 300
And drove back pursuers with huge rocks that hit.
It cried: “Hither, John; refuge come take with me.
Thy life I will save from foe’s sharp sword. Come; see.”

“Adieu, master dear; I’m now off to my home.
May’st thou, too, be free, when the judgment shall come.
Good-bye, my kind master; compassion thou’st shown.
From tyranny’s chains, now, through thee, have I flown.”
He gave to our merchant some words of advice.
Then flew away, shouting: “Good-bye! Very nice!”
The merchant a “Safe journey” augured to him.
Then thought: “Useful lesson I’ve learned, and trim. 305
His doings may serve as a pattern for me.
I’ll imitate him. Better teacher can’t be.
My soul is not, sure, inferior to his.
See how souls should act, to gain heavenly bliss.”

The body’s a cage and a thorn to the soul.
Hence, seldom are body and soul wholly whole.
The body says: “I’ll follow where thou mayest lead.”
The soul answers: “Nay! Thy desire’s all I heed.”
The body then argues: “There’s none like to thee,
Thou’rt perfect, kind, beautiful, good as needs be.” 310
The soul now demurs: “This and next worlds are thine.
All hearts to the feast hasten, where thou’rt to shine.”
The body then says: “’Tis a time for delight.”
And soul responds quick: “Season, sure, to bedight.”