 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
ABD'S LESSON.
Down in an eastern valley where
The herbage was both short and rare,
And where alone from earnest toil
Came profit from the grudging soil,
Dwelt one of life laborious, which,
With thrift, had made him passing rich.
He tilled his fields in quiet peace,
Beheld his flocks and herds increase,
His purse grew full of silver coin,
New acres to his acres join;
And while the proud effendis round
In chase or revel pleasure found,
Let them their way of life pursue,
And, following his, the richer grew.
The herbage was both short and rare,
And where alone from earnest toil
Came profit from the grudging soil,
Dwelt one of life laborious, which,
With thrift, had made him passing rich.
He tilled his fields in quiet peace,
Beheld his flocks and herds increase,
His purse grew full of silver coin,
New acres to his acres join;
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In chase or revel pleasure found,
Let them their way of life pursue,
And, following his, the richer grew.
But never yet was mortal known
To let the well-enough alone,
And Abd-ul-Assis, though no fool,
Made no exception to the rule.
He fretted at his growing store,
And, having much, he wanted more;
Sighed for the honors and the state
Attending movements of the great;
And, ere his life was half-way spent
Felt envy move, and discontent.
He envied much the life of those
Whose stately mansions round him rose;
And most of all the grand vizier,
Whose summer palace standing near
Rose from a park of trees and flowers,
Studded with minarets and towers.
To let the well-enough alone,
And Abd-ul-Assis, though no fool,
Made no exception to the rule.
He fretted at his growing store,
And, having much, he wanted more;
Sighed for the honors and the state
Attending movements of the great;
And, ere his life was half-way spent
Felt envy move, and discontent.
He envied much the life of those
Whose stately mansions round him rose;
And most of all the grand vizier,
Whose summer palace standing near
Rose from a park of trees and flowers,
Studded with minarets and towers.
“The palm,” said Abd, “its shadow throws
Upon the small and lowly rose:
How lordly that, how humble this!
Nature has done her work amiss.
That stands in leafy glory where
Its plumy top adorns the air;
This scarcely shows of life a sign
Beneath the other's shade malign.
As to the shrub the lofty tree,
So is the grand vizier to me.
Why have not I as proud a fate?
Why am not I among the great?
I'll sell my herds; I'll sell my land;
I'll make my way to Samarcand.
Who knows but, in a wider sphere,
I may not rise to be vizier?”
Upon the small and lowly rose:
How lordly that, how humble this!
Nature has done her work amiss.
That stands in leafy glory where
Its plumy top adorns the air;
This scarcely shows of life a sign
Beneath the other's shade malign.
As to the shrub the lofty tree,
So is the grand vizier to me.
Why have not I as proud a fate?
Why am not I among the great?
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I'll make my way to Samarcand.
Who knows but, in a wider sphere,
I may not rise to be vizier?”
That night, reposing on his bed,
Bright visions flitted through his head.
Far from his native vale he dwelt,
Where wondering crowds before him knelt,
Bey, then pacha, and sultan last,
Reigning assured o'er countries vast,
Imposing on the mass his yoke,
He made viziers from meaner folk,
And found his highest hopes were gained,
And all his heart desired, attained.
Bright visions flitted through his head.
Far from his native vale he dwelt,
Where wondering crowds before him knelt,
Bey, then pacha, and sultan last,
Reigning assured o'er countries vast,
Imposing on the mass his yoke,
He made viziers from meaner folk,
And found his highest hopes were gained,
And all his heart desired, attained.
While Abd was wrapt in fearless sleep,
A storm had risen the vale to sweep,
So when he rose, his vision found
Wrecks from the tempest scattered round.
The palm he much admired before
Lay prostrate at his cottage door;
But, blooming in its beauty fair,
The rose, erect, refreshed, was there.
A storm had risen the vale to sweep,
So when he rose, his vision found
Wrecks from the tempest scattered round.
The palm he much admired before
Lay prostrate at his cottage door;
But, blooming in its beauty fair,
The rose, erect, refreshed, was there.
Just then a neighbor neared the place,
And stopped, a story in his face.
“Great news,” he said, “you needs must hear—
Ill-fortune to the grand vizier.
His towering pride his place has cost;
His master's favor has been lost;
His wealth is gone; in dungeon grim
The fatal bowstring waits for him.
How lucky, Abd, are you and I,
Who never reached such station high.
We are not subject to the fate
That seems the noble to await;
The storm the palm-tree overthrows,
But kindly spares the humble rose;
The wrath that struck the proud vizier
Has left unscathed us peasants here.”
And stopped, a story in his face.
“Great news,” he said, “you needs must hear—
Ill-fortune to the grand vizier.
His towering pride his place has cost;
His master's favor has been lost;
His wealth is gone; in dungeon grim
The fatal bowstring waits for him.
How lucky, Abd, are you and I,
Who never reached such station high.
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That seems the noble to await;
The storm the palm-tree overthrows,
But kindly spares the humble rose;
The wrath that struck the proud vizier
Has left unscathed us peasants here.”
The neighbor passed; Abd closed the door,
Sat down to think, and dreamed no more.
Henceforth he worked with busy hand,
And fed his flocks, and tilled his land;
And gave his thanks to Allah, since
He was nor bey, pacha, nor prince;
But just a man whom kindly fate
Had given a safe and low estate.
Sat down to think, and dreamed no more.
Henceforth he worked with busy hand,
And fed his flocks, and tilled his land;
And gave his thanks to Allah, since
He was nor bey, pacha, nor prince;
But just a man whom kindly fate
Had given a safe and low estate.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |