The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe :: :: University of Virginia Library

Once on a time, at Erivan,
There dwelt a poor but honest man
Who kept a little garden, where
There grew much fruit, so fine and fair,
So large and juicy, ripe and sound,
'T was known for many leagues around.
One day a neighbor, looking o'er
The autumn's wealth, a goodly store,
Advised the owner thus: “Good man,
Take some of these to Ispahan;
'T will please the King, who, I am told,
Cares more for luxury than gold;
And so your fortune you'll increase
By many a shining golden piece.”
“Faith! so I will!” the man replies
Then to the market-place he hies;
The finest basket he can find
He buys, then stores it to his mind
With choicest fruit of every sort,
And off he starts for king and court.

Arrived, the Marshal asks his name,
And, learning whence and why he came,
He bade him enter. That 's the way
It was in Persia,—and to-day
In every land, except our own,
The same partiality is shown;
The giver finds an open gate,
While he who seeks may stand and wait!

The King, delighted with the fruit,
Returned his thanks,—and would it suit
The worthy man to bring some more?
Ah, that it would! Was e'er before
A man so lucky? Now, the while
He waits to catch the royal smile,
And get his pay, he stares at all
So new and strange—the lofty hall,
And people there; among the rest,
To put his manners to the test,
An ugly little dwarf he spies,
A hunchback of such paltry size
The gardener laughed aloud. Alack.
“The fellow with the crooked back
And bandy legs!—who could have known
That he in rank was next the throne?
Though small in size, in honor great,
In fact, Prime Minister of State!”
His Honor scowled and looked around,
And on the stranger grimly frowned.
Enough! the guard, who understand
The hint, now take the chap in hand,
And, quicker than you read the tale,
The gardener finds himself in jail!

Here, quite forgotten, he remained,
Of light and liberty restrained,
For twelve long months; and might, no doubt,
Have been still longer getting out,
Had not the king, grown hard to suit,
Made mention of the finer fruit
The stranger brought a year ago,
And thus his Majesty would know
What it might mean, and why the man
Had come no more to Ispahan?
Now, when the truth was brought to light,
The King—who laughed with all his might
To hear about the strange mishap—
Said, “Go, my men! and bring the chap;
'T is fit I make him some amends.”
Forth comes the gardener, and attends
Upon the King, who says, “I 've heard
The story, fellow, every word,

197

And fain some recompense would make;
Indeed, it was a grave mistake,
Although it makes me laugh to split
My sides—ha! ha!—to think of it!
Now, name your wish,—an easy task,—
And I will grant whate'er you ask.”
“Then grant me this,” replied the man,
“An axe, some salt, an Alkoran.
Well, that will do; of all your store
Those will suffice,—I ask no more.”
“Strange things to ask!” exclaimed the King,
“Now tell the meaning of this thing.”
“The axe I want to fell the tree
That bore the fruit I gave to thee;
The salt, upon the earth to sow,
That none thereon again may grow;
The Alkoran, that I may swear,
While I enjoy God's blessed air,
That I will never darken more
(With my consent) a palace door!”