The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe Household Edition : with illustrations |
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THE GOLD-FINGERED BRAHMIN.
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 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
THE GOLD-FINGERED BRAHMIN.
A HINDOO TALE.
A famous merchant, who had made
A fine estate by honest trade
With foreign countries,—by mischance
(The failure of a firm in France
And several cargoes lost at sea),
Became as poor as poor could be;
Of all his riches saving naught,
Except, indeed, the pleasing thought
Of generous deeds in better days,
Which some remembered to his praise.
Of these, a Brahmin, who had known
The merchant ere his wealth had flown,
And how he helped the sick and poor,
Entered, one day, his open door,
And said, “My friend! I know you well;
Your former state; and what befell
That all was lost; and well I know
Your noble life, and fain would show
(Since I have power—Heaven be adored!)
How all your wealth may be restored.
Now please attend: whene'er you see
A Brahmin who resembles me
In looks and dress (and such an one
Will enter here at set of sun),
Just strike him on the forehead—thrice;
And lo! his fingers, in a trice,
Will turn to solid gold! Of these
Cut off as many as you please
(The ten will make a goodly sum),
And thus the Brahmin-form will come
Whenever you have need of gold.
Consider well what I have told!”
A fine estate by honest trade
With foreign countries,—by mischance
(The failure of a firm in France
And several cargoes lost at sea),
Became as poor as poor could be;
Of all his riches saving naught,
Except, indeed, the pleasing thought
Of generous deeds in better days,
Which some remembered to his praise.
Of these, a Brahmin, who had known
The merchant ere his wealth had flown,
And how he helped the sick and poor,
Entered, one day, his open door,
And said, “My friend! I know you well;
Your former state; and what befell
153
Your noble life, and fain would show
(Since I have power—Heaven be adored!)
How all your wealth may be restored.
Now please attend: whene'er you see
A Brahmin who resembles me
In looks and dress (and such an one
Will enter here at set of sun),
Just strike him on the forehead—thrice;
And lo! his fingers, in a trice,
Will turn to solid gold! Of these
Cut off as many as you please
(The ten will make a goodly sum),
And thus the Brahmin-form will come
Whenever you have need of gold.
Consider well what I have told!”
With this the Brahmin went away,
And, sure enough, at close of day,
A stranger, like the other, came,—
So like, indeed, he seemed the same,—
And sat him down; and, quick as thought,
The blows are struck, the charm is wrought,
And all his fingers turn to gold!
O wondrous sight!—And now behold
The happy merchant rich once more
As in his thrifty days of yore!
And, sure enough, at close of day,
A stranger, like the other, came,—
So like, indeed, he seemed the same,—
And sat him down; and, quick as thought,
The blows are struck, the charm is wrought,
And all his fingers turn to gold!
O wondrous sight!—And now behold
The happy merchant rich once more
As in his thrifty days of yore!
A barber, curious to know
Whence all this sudden wealth might flow,
By watching morning, noon, and night,
The magic Brahmin brought to light;
At last, he thought beyond a doubt
He 'd found the golden secret out;
And straight he called three Brahmins in,
And bade them sit: “For so I'll win,”
The fellow reasoned, “thrice as much
As if a single man I touch:
The more the men, the more the gold!
I'll have as much as I can hold
In all my pockets, at a blow!”
But when he struck the Brahmins, lo!
They turned not into golden ores,
But turned—the barber out of doors!
And, angry at his scurvy trick,
Each beat him soundly with a stick!
Whence all this sudden wealth might flow,
By watching morning, noon, and night,
The magic Brahmin brought to light;
At last, he thought beyond a doubt
He 'd found the golden secret out;
And straight he called three Brahmins in,
And bade them sit: “For so I'll win,”
The fellow reasoned, “thrice as much
As if a single man I touch:
The more the men, the more the gold!
I'll have as much as I can hold
In all my pockets, at a blow!”
But when he struck the Brahmins, lo!
They turned not into golden ores,
But turned—the barber out of doors!
And, angry at his scurvy trick,
Each beat him soundly with a stick!
MORAL.
To all who read this pleasant tale,The barber's fate may serve to teach,
How sadly imitators fail
Who aim at things beyond their reach!
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |