University of Virginia Library


62

THE WORLD'S WAY

At Haroun's court it chanced, upon a time,
An Arab poet made this pleasant rhyme:
“The new moon is a horseshoe, wrought of God,
Wherewith the Sultan's stallion shall be shod.”
On hearing this, the Sultan smiled, and gave
The man a gold-piece. Sing again, O slave!
Above his lute the happy singer bent,
And turned another gracious compliment.
And, as before, the smiling Sultan gave
The man a sekkah. Sing again, O slave!
Again the verse came, fluent as a rill
That wanders, silver-footed, down a hill.
The Sultan, listening, nodded as before,
Still gave the gold, and still demanded more.
The nimble fancy that had climbed so high
Grew weary with its climbing by and by:

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Strange discords rose; the sense went quite amiss;
The singer's rhymes refused to meet and kiss:
Invention flagged, the lute had got unstrung,
And twice he sang the song already sung.
The Sultan, furious, called a mute, and said,
O Musta, straightway whip me off his head!
Poets! not in Arabia alone
You get beheaded when your skill is gone.