 | Poems from Eastern sources (1851) |  |
51
THANKFULNESS.
The good that one man flings aside,
Which in his discontent and pride
He treads on, and rejects no less
Out of his count of happiness,
Another wiser, even from this
Will build an edifice of bliss,
For whose fair shelter he will pay
Glad offerings of praise alway.
Which in his discontent and pride
He treads on, and rejects no less
Out of his count of happiness,
Another wiser, even from this
Will build an edifice of bliss,
For whose fair shelter he will pay
Glad offerings of praise alway.
This truth a Sage had need to learn,
This we may by his aid discern—
Who once, reduced to last distress,
Was culling a few herbs to dress,
With these his hunger to allay;
And flinging, as he went his way,
The coarse and outer leaves aside,
With rising discontent he cried,
“I marvel, if at all there be
A wretch so destitute as me
The wide world over?”—This he said,
And turning (not by chance) his head,
Behind him saw another Sage,
Whom a like office did engage,
Who followed with weak steps behind,
Seeking, like him, a meal to find,
But who, with anxious quest and pain,
To gather up the leaves was fain,
By him rejected with disdain.
This we may by his aid discern—
Who once, reduced to last distress,
Was culling a few herbs to dress,
With these his hunger to allay;
And flinging, as he went his way,
The coarse and outer leaves aside,
With rising discontent he cried,
“I marvel, if at all there be
A wretch so destitute as me
The wide world over?”—This he said,
And turning (not by chance) his head,
Behind him saw another Sage,
Whom a like office did engage,
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Seeking, like him, a meal to find,
But who, with anxious quest and pain,
To gather up the leaves was fain,
By him rejected with disdain.
Nor other lesson he would teach,
The Poet in his Persian speech,
Who tells how through the desert he
Was toiling once, how painfully!
While his unsandalled naked feet
Were scorched and blistered by the heat
Of fiery sands; and harsh and hard
He did his destiny regard;
And evil thoughts did in him stir,
That he a faithful worshipper,
A pilgrim to God's holy fane,
Should such necessities sustain.
Nor did a better mood succeed,
With glad endurance of his need,
Nor saw he what of sin was pent
In murmuring heart and malcontent,
Till entering a low chapel, there
One prostrate on his face in prayer
He marked, and unto him espied
Not shoes alone, but feet denied.
The Poet in his Persian speech,
Who tells how through the desert he
Was toiling once, how painfully!
While his unsandalled naked feet
Were scorched and blistered by the heat
Of fiery sands; and harsh and hard
He did his destiny regard;
And evil thoughts did in him stir,
That he a faithful worshipper,
A pilgrim to God's holy fane,
Should such necessities sustain.
Nor did a better mood succeed,
With glad endurance of his need,
Nor saw he what of sin was pent
In murmuring heart and malcontent,
Till entering a low chapel, there
One prostrate on his face in prayer
He marked, and unto him espied
Not shoes alone, but feet denied.
91
CHARITY.
For the man whose heart and eyeAre made wise by charity,
Something will appear always,
That may have his honest praise;
There will glimmer points of light
In the darkest, saddest night.
Gathered once the people round
The dead carcase of an hound;
Flung upon the open way,
In the market-place it lay;
And the idle multitude,
Vulture-like, around it stood,
One exclaiming, “I declare
That he poisons quite the air:”
But the next, “He is not worth
Pains of putting under earth;”
And against the poor dead thing
Each in turn his stone must fling:
Till one wiser passing by,
Just exclaimed, while eagerly
They were venting each his spite,—
“See his teeth, how pearly white!”
Straight the others with self-blame
Shrunk away in silent shame.
186
QUATRAINS.
THE PHŒNIX.
When Adam ate of that forbidden food,Sole bird that shared not in his sin was I;
And so my life is evermore renewed,
And I among the dying never die.
THE PELICAN.
I am the bird that from my bleeding breastDraw the dear stream that nourishes my brood,
And feebly unto men his love attest,
True pelican, that feeds them with his blood.
THE HALCYON.
For twice seven days, in winter's middle rage,The winds are hushed, the billows are at rest;
Heaven all for me their fury doth assuage,
While I am brooding o'er my fluctuant nest.
THE COCK.
What time an ass with horrid bray you hear,Believe he sees a wicked sprite at hand;
But when I make my carol loud and clear,
Know that an angel doth before me stand.
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THE PEACOCK.
I, glorying in my tail's extended pride,See my foul legs, and then I shriek outright;
So shrieks a human soul, that has descried
Its baseness 'mid vainglorious self-delight.
THE EAGLE.
I no degenerate progeny will raise,But try my callow offspring, which will look
In the sun's eye with peremptory gaze,
Nor other nurslings in my nest will brook.
THE ERMINE.
To miry places me the hunters drive,Where I my robes of purest white must stain;
Then yield I, nor for life will longer strive,
For spotless death ere spotted life is gain.
THE BEES.
We light on fruits and flowers and purest things;For if on carcases or ought unclean,
When homeward we returned, with mortal stings
Would slay us the keen watchers round our queen.
THE DIAMOND.
I only polished am in mine own dust,Nought else against my hardness will prevail:
And thou, O man, in thine own sufferings must
Be polished: every meaner art will fail.
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THE COCK.
I, clapping on my sides my wings with might,First to myself the busy morn proclaim:
Who others doth to tasks and toil incite
Should first himself have roused unto the same.
THE NIGHTINGALE.
Leaning my bosom on a pointed thorn,I bleed, and bleeding sing my sweetest strain;
For sweetest songs of saddest hearts are born,
And who may here dissever love and pain?
THE SNAKE.
Myself I force some narrowest passage through,Leaving my old and wrinkled skin behind,
And issuing forth in splendour of my new:
Hard entrance into life all creatures find.
THE TIGER.
Hearing sweet music, as in fell despight,Himself the tiger doth in pieces tear:
The melody of other men's delight
There are, alas! who can as little bear.
FALLING STARS.
Angels are we, that once from heaven exiled,Would climb its crystal battlements again;
But have their keen-eyed watchers not beguiled,
Hurled by their glittering lances back amain.
| Poems from Eastern sources (1851) | |