Chapter V

Was it her soul? or the sapphire fire
That sang like the note of a Seraph's lyre?
Out of her mouth there came no word--
She spake with her soul, as a flower speaketh
Fragrant messages none hath heard,
Which the sense divines when the spirit seeketh....
And he seemed alone in a place so dim
That the spirit's face, who was gazing at him,
For its burning eyes he could not see:
Then he knew he had died; that she and he
Were one; and he saw that this was she.

THE NORMAN KNIGHT

Within the castle chamber
The Norman knight lay dead;
The quarterings of the casement
Shone holy round his head.

And first there came a maiden;
Her face was wet and white:
She kissed his mouth and murmured,
"Thou wast my own true knight."

Within the arrased chamber
The Norman knight lay dead;
And tapers four and twenty
Burnt at his feet and head.

And next there came a friar
And prayed beside the bier:
"Thou art a blesséd angel,
Who wast so noble here."

Within the lofty chamber
The Norman knight lay dead;
Dim through the carven casement
The moonbeams lit his head.

And then there came a varlet--
Loud laughed he in his face:
"Thus do I spit upon thee,
Thee and thy curséd race!"

Within the silent chamber
The Norman knight lay dead--
Nor Norman knight nor Saxon serf
Heard aught the dead man said.

THE KHALIF AND THE ARAB

Among the tales, wherein it hath been told,
In golden letters in a book of gold,
Of Hatim Tai's hospitality,
Who, substanceless and dead and shadowy,
Made men his guests upon a mountain top
Whereon his tomb grayed from a thistle crop;--
A tomb of rock where women, hewn of stone,
Rude figures, spread dishevelled hair, whose moan
From dark to daybreak made the silence sigh,
At which the camel-drivers, tented nigh,
"Ghouls or hyenas" shuddering would say,
But only granite women find at day:--
Among such tales--who questions of their truth?--
One tale still haunts me from my earliest youth;
Of that lost city, Sheddad son of Aad
Built 'mid the Sebaa sands,--a king who had
Dominion over many lands and kings,--
That city, built in pride and pow'r, of things
Unstable of the earth. For he had read
Of Paradise and to himself had said,
"Now in this life the like of Paradise
I'll build me and the Prophet's may despise,
Having no need of that he promises."
So for this city taxed the lands and seas,
And columned Irem, on a blinding height,
Blazed in the desert like a chrysolite;
The manner of its building, it is told,
Alternate bricks of silver and of gold.
But Sheddad with his women and his slaves,
His thousand viziers, armored troops, as waves
Of ocean countless, God with awful flame--
Shot sheer in thunder on him--overcame,
Confounded, and abolished; (ere his eyes
Had glimpsed bright follies of that paradise)
And blotted to a wilderness the land
Wherein accursed it lies and lost in sand.--
Sad tales and glad; and 'mid them one, in sooth,
That is recorded of an Arab youth.

The Khalif Hisham ben Abdulmelik,
Hunting one day, through some unusual freak
Rode, parted from his retinue, and gave
Chase to an antelope. Without a slave,
Vizier or amir to a pasture place
Of sheep he came, where dark, in tattered grace,
Watched one, an Arab youth. And as it came
The antelope drew off, with words of flame,
On fire with rage, unto the youth he turned,
Shouting, "Thou slave! ho, hast thou not discerned
The antelope escapes me? Up, dog, run!
Head him back this way!"

Rising in the sun,
The Arab flamed, "O ignorant of worth!
Unworthy of respect!--though high thy birth,--
In that thou look'st upon me,--vile of heart!--
As one fit for contempt, thou lack'st no part
Of my disdain!--Allah! I would not own
A dog of thine for friend, no other known!
Poor though I be, thou tyrant mixed with ass!"
And flung him, rags and rage, into the grass.

Incensed, astonished, frowning furiously,
Said Hisham, "Slave! thou know'st me not, I see!"
Calmly the youth, "Aye, verily I know!--
O mannerless! _who_ would command me so,
_Except thyself_, ere he said 'Peace to thee'?
Well art thou known, aye! all too well of me!"

"O dog! I am thy Khalif! by a hair
Thy life hangs raveling."

"Though it dangle there
And rot to nothing, still upon thy head
Would curses shower!--Of thy dwelling place
Would Allah be forgetful!--Go thy ways,
Hisham ben Merwan, king of many words,
Few generosities!"...

A flash of swords
In drifts of dust and, lo! the Khalif's troops
Around them rode.--As when a merlin stoops
Some stranger quarry, prey that swims the wind,
Heron or eagle; kenning not its kind
There, whence 'tis cast, until it, towering, feels
An eagle's tearing talons, and still deals
Blow upon blow, though hopeless;--so the youth,--
An Arab, fearless as the face of Truth,
Of all that made him certain of his death,--
Waited with eyes indifferent, equal breath.

The palace reached, "Bring me the prisoner,"
Commanded Hisham. And he came as were
He in no wise concerned; with eyes intent
On some far thing; and on the floor a bent
Dark gaze of scornful freedom unafraid,
Till at the Khalif's throne his steps were stayed:
And, unsaluting, standing head held down,
An armed attendant blazed him with a frown,
"Dog of a Bedouin! may thy eyes rot out!
Insulter! art thou blind? and must I shout
'Thou stand'st before the Sultan! bend thy knee'?"
To him the Arab, sneering, "Verily,
Packsaddle of an ass! it well may be!
I kneel to none but God."

The Khalif's rage
Exceeded now, and, "By my realm and age!
Arab, thy hour is come, thy very last!"
Then said, "Call in the headsman.--Fool, thou hast
Cast thy young life away. Its thread is past."

The shepherd answered, "Aye?--by Allah, then,
If through thy means it might be stretched again,
Unscissored of what Destiny ordain,
Back in thy face I'd fling it as in vain."

Then the chief Chamberlain: "O vilest one
Of all the Arabs! wilt thou not be done
Bandying thy baseness with the Ruler of
The Faithful? thou, with wordy filth enough
Within thy madman mouth to fill a jakes!
Viler than dirt that one from out it rakes,
Here's more for thee!" and spat into his face.

And the dark Arab, with that last disgrace
All fire, answered: "Thou, perhaps, hast heard
The Koran text that says--'tis God's own word!--
'The day will come when each soul shall be prompt
To bow before Me and to give accompt.'"

Then wroth indeed was Hisham: fiercely said,
"He braves us!--Headsman, ho! his peevish head!
See: canst thou medicine its speech anew;
Doctor its multiplying words to few:
Divorce them well."

So, where the Arab stood,
Bound him; made kneel upon the cloth of blood.
With curving sword the headsman leaned, at pause,
And,--as 'tis custom, made of Moslem laws,--
To the descendant of the Prophet quoth,
"O Khalif, shall I strike?"

"By Iblis' oath!
Strike!" answered Hisham. But again the slave
Questioned; and yet again the Khalif gave
His nodded "yea"; and for the third time then
He asked: and knowing neither men nor Jinn
Might save him if the Khalif spake assent,
Signalled the sword, the youth with body bent
Laughed--till the wang-teeth of each jaw appeared;
Laughed--as with scorn the King of kings he'd beard,
Deriding Death. So, with redoubled spleen,
Roared Hisham, rising, "It is truly seen
This one is mad who mocks at Azrael!"
Then said the Arab: "Listen!--Once befell,
Commander of the Faithful, that a hawk,
A hungry hawk, pounced on a sparrow-cock;
And winging nestward with his meal in claw,
To him the sparrow,--for the creature saw
The hawk's conceit,--addressed this slyly, 'Oh,
Most great, most royal, there is not, I know,
Aught in me that will stay thy stomach's stress:
I am too paltry for thy mightiness!'
With which the hawk was pleased, and flattered so
That, in a while, he let the sparrow go."

Then smiled the Khalif Hisham: and a sign
Staying the scimitar, that hung malign,
A threatening crescent, said: "God bless, preserve
The Prophet whom all true believers serve!--
Now, by my kinship to the Prophet! and
Had he at first but spake us thus this hand
Had ne'er been wrathful; and, instead of hate,
He had had all--except the Khalifate."
Bade stuff his mouth with jewels and entreat
Him courteously, then from the palace beat.

ARABAH

"_The third of these heroes, the blind Arabah._"--Gibbon.

And one brought pearls and one brought passion-flowers
To blind Arabah as he lay in dreams,
And one brought visions of the after hours.
And he beheld the rainbow-rolling streams
Of Eden on harmonious sands of gold,
And battlements, builded of prismatic beams.
He was not sightless now, nor weak, nor old;
For lo! the dark-eyed girls of Paradise
Rained on him gifts and kisses.

And 'tis told
How blind Arabah rose with unsealed eyes,
With seeing eyes; he who to Allah gave
All that he had; which happened in this wise:--
"Who's this that lies upon the mosque's cold pave?"--
"A blind man, whom an angel's hand shall lead."--
"A beggar, richer than the rich who have."--
"Behold the lesson, such as Sufis feed
The soul upon!--O faith, blind-praying, see,
Out of thyself how God repays indeed,
Ten-thousandfold, one generosity!"...

All Baghdad knew how, at the hour of prayer,
A slave beneath each shoulder, it was he,
Old, blind Arabah, whom a suppliant there,
Footsore and hungry, met and asked for bread.
"Alas! my son, God's poor are everywhere,"--
Hoar as a Koreish priest, Arabah said;--
"Richer than thou am I though poor indeed!
Take thou my slaves and sell, and buy thee bread."--
Thrust him his slaves and said, "Great is thy need.
Refuse, and I renounce them!"--And the wall
Struck with his staff, saying, "This now shall lead."
--While from the mosque rang the muezzin's call,
"God is most mighty! Allah seeth all!"

THE SEVEN DEVILS

There is a legend, lost in some old dusty
Tome of the East,--and who will question it?--
Concluding ancient wisdom, rather musty,
Wherein much war and wickedness and wit,
Insult and wrath and love and shame are writ:
Wherein is written that, when Mahomet
Fled out of Mecca from the people's wrath,
He met a shadow standing in his path,
A naked horror, blacker than hewn jet.

It in one hand held out a flaming jewel,
Wherein fierce colors burnt and blent like eyes
Of seven fires, merciless as cruel:
The horror said, "God cursed them for their lies.
These are the seven devils of the wise,
And I am Satan!" And the prophet saw
How he might punish Mecca for its pride;
And, gazing on the Fiend, "Allah," he cried,
"Let them be free!" His word, like God's, was law.

Since then these seven devils have descended
From nation unto nation, past the ken
Of Mahomet, who left earth undefended
Of any amulet of tongue or pen
'Gainst demons boring at the brains of men:
Demons, whose names I dare not breathe or write,
For fear of fear, despair and madness, born
Of horror, and of frenzy all forlorn,
And shadowy evils of the day and night.

THAMUS

And it is said that Thamus sailed
Off islands of Ægean seas
No seaman yet had ever hailed;
No vessel touched, no ship of Greece,
Phœnician or the Chersonese.

And, lying all becalmed, 'tis told
How wonderful with peace that night
Rolled out of dusk and dreamy gold
One star, whose splendor seemed to light
The world with majesty and might.

Like shadows on a shadow-ship
The dark-haired, dark-eyed sailors lay;
When from the island seemed to slip,
Borne overhead and far away,
A voice that "Thamus!" seemed to say.

Then silence: and the languid Greek,
The lounging Cretan, watched the sky,
Or, in carousal, ceased to speak
And sing. Again came rolling by
The voice, and "Thamus!" in its cry.

All were awake: tall, swarthy men
With bated breath stood listening,
Or gravely scanned the shore. And then,
Although they saw no living thing,
Again they heard the summons ring.

And "Thamus!" sounded shore and sea:
And at the third call leaned the Greek,
Full facing toward the isle; and he
Cried to the voice and bade it speak
The mission, message it would seek.

"Thou shalt sail on to such a place
Among the pagan seas," it said;
"To such a land: and thou shalt face
Against it when the east is red,
And cry aloud, 'Great Pan is dead!'"...

As fearful of unholy word
Their souls stood stricken with strange fear.
Then Thamus said, "Yea, I have heard.
Yet 'tis my purpose still to steer
Straight on. That land shall never hear!"

And so they sailed that night; and came
Into an unknown sea; and there
The east burnt like a sword of flame
A Cyclops forges: straight the air
Fell sick with calm: the morn was fair.

Then double dread was theirs; and dread
Was Thamus'; and he raised his hand
And shouted, "Pan! great Pan is dead!"
And all the twilight-haunted land
Cried, "Pan is dead!" from peak to strand.

They saw pale shrines and temples nod
Among the shaken trees: and pale
Wild forms of goddess and of god
Crawl forth with crumbling limbs and trail
Woe, till the dim land grew one wail.--

What tripods groaned?--Serapis first
Within Canopus' temples heard
The word, and his brute granite burst
Its monster bulk. Dodona stirred
And bowed its oaks before the word

That left them thunder-riv'n; then passed
To Aphaca where, marble-hewn,
Venus possessed a well that glassed
Her form, white-burning, like the moon--
And lo! her loveliness lay strewn.

Then o'er Cilicia swept, and bent
Sarpedon's oracle with scorn,
Apollo.--Yea! the gods lay rent
And Delphos dumb. And, lo! the morn
Flamed o'er the world where Christ lay born.

THE MAMELUKE