Poems of James Clarence Mangan (Many hitherto uncollected): Centenary edition: Edited, with preface and notes by D. J. O'Donoghue: Introduction by John Mitchel |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | IV. | PART IV ORIENTAL VERSIONS AND PERVERSIONS |
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| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
 | Poems of James Clarence Mangan |  |
173
IV. PART IV
ORIENTAL VERSIONS AND PERVERSIONS
175
THE TIME OF THE BARMECIDES.
My eyes are filmed, my beard is grey,
I am bowed with the weight of years;
I would I were stretched in my bed of clay,
With my long lost youth's compeers;
For back to the Past, though the thought brings woe,
My memory ever glides—
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
I am bowed with the weight of years;
I would I were stretched in my bed of clay,
With my long lost youth's compeers;
For back to the Past, though the thought brings woe,
My memory ever glides—
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
To the old, old time, long, long ago,
The time of the Barmecides.
Then Youth was mine, and a fierce wild will,
And an iron arm in war,
And a fleet foot high upon Ishkar's hill,
When the watch-lights glimmered afar,
And a barb as fiery as any I know,
That Khoord or Beddaween rides,
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
And an iron arm in war,
And a fleet foot high upon Ishkar's hill,
When the watch-lights glimmered afar,
And a barb as fiery as any I know,
That Khoord or Beddaween rides,
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
Ere my friends lay low—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
One golden goblet illumed my board,
One silver dish was there;
At hand my tried Karamanian sword,
Lay always bright and bare;
For those were the days when the angry blow
Supplanted the word that chides—
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
One silver dish was there;
At hand my tried Karamanian sword,
Lay always bright and bare;
For those were the days when the angry blow
Supplanted the word that chides—
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides;
When hearts could glow—long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
176
Through city and desert my mates and I
Were free to rove and roam,
Our diapered canopy the deep of the sky,
Or the roof of the palace dome—
O! ours was that vivid life to and fro
Which only sloth derides—
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides,
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
Were free to rove and roam,
Our diapered canopy the deep of the sky,
Or the roof of the palace dome—
O! ours was that vivid life to and fro
Which only sloth derides—
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides,
Men spent Life so, long, long ago,
In the time of the Barmecides.
I see rich Bagdad once again,
With its turrets of Moorish mould,
And the Khalif's twice five hundred men,
Whose binishes flamed with gold;
I call up many a gorgeous show—
Which the Pall of Oblivion hides—
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides;
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides!
With its turrets of Moorish mould,
And the Khalif's twice five hundred men,
Whose binishes flamed with gold;
I call up many a gorgeous show—
Which the Pall of Oblivion hides—
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides;
All passed like snow, long, long ago,
With the time of the Barmecides!
But mine eye is dim, and my beard is grey,
And I bend with the weight of years—
May I soon go down to the House of Clay
Where slumber my Youth's compeers!
For with them and the Past, though the thought wakes woe,
My memory ever abides;
And I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
And I bend with the weight of years—
May I soon go down to the House of Clay
Where slumber my Youth's compeers!
For with them and the Past, though the thought wakes woe,
My memory ever abides;
And I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
I mourn for the Times gone long ago,
For the Times of the Barmecides!
177
THE KARAMANIAN EXILE.
I see thee ever in my dreams,
Karaman!
Thy hundred hills, thy thousand streams,
Karaman! O Karaman!
As when thy gold-bright morning gleams,
As when the deepening sunset seams
With lines of light thy hills and streams,
Karaman!
So thou loomest on my dreams,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
Thy hundred hills, thy thousand streams,
Karaman! O Karaman!
As when thy gold-bright morning gleams,
As when the deepening sunset seams
With lines of light thy hills and streams,
Karaman!
So thou loomest on my dreams,
Karaman! O Karaman!
The hot bright plains, the sun, the skies,
Karaman!
Seem death-black marble to mine eyes,
Karaman! O Karaman!
I turn from summer's blooms and dyes;
Yet in my dreams thou dost arise
In welcome glory to my eyes,
Karaman!
In thee my life of life yet lies,
Karaman!
Thou still art holy in mine eyes,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
Seem death-black marble to mine eyes,
Karaman! O Karaman!
I turn from summer's blooms and dyes;
Yet in my dreams thou dost arise
In welcome glory to my eyes,
Karaman!
In thee my life of life yet lies,
Karaman!
Thou still art holy in mine eyes,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Ere my fighting years were come,
Karaman!
Troops were few in Erzerome,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Their fiercest came from Erzerome,
They came from Ukhbar's palace dome,
They dragged me forth from thee, my home,
Karaman!
Thee, my own, my mountain home,
Karaman!
In life and death, my spirit's home,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
Troops were few in Erzerome,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Their fiercest came from Erzerome,
They came from Ukhbar's palace dome,
178
Karaman!
Thee, my own, my mountain home,
Karaman!
In life and death, my spirit's home,
Karaman! O Karaman!
O, none of all my sisters ten,
Karaman!
Loved like me my fellowmen,
Karaman! O Karaman!
I was mild as milk till then,
I was soft as silk till then;
Now my breast is as a den,
Karaman!
Foul with blood and bones of men,
Karaman!
With blood and bones of slaughtered men,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
Loved like me my fellowmen,
Karaman! O Karaman!
I was mild as milk till then,
I was soft as silk till then;
Now my breast is as a den,
Karaman!
Foul with blood and bones of men,
Karaman!
With blood and bones of slaughtered men,
Karaman! O Karaman!
My boyhood's feelings newly born,
Karaman!
Withered like young flowers uptorn,
Karaman! O Karaman!
And in their stead sprang weed and thorn;
What once I loved now moves my scorn;
My burning eyes are dried to horn,
Karaman!
I hate the blessed light of morn,
Karaman!
It maddens me, the face of morn,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
Withered like young flowers uptorn,
Karaman! O Karaman!
And in their stead sprang weed and thorn;
What once I loved now moves my scorn;
My burning eyes are dried to horn,
Karaman!
I hate the blessed light of morn,
Karaman!
It maddens me, the face of morn,
Karaman! O Karaman!
The Spahi wears a tyrant's chains,
Karaman!
But bondage worse than this remains,
Karaman! O Karaman!
His heart is black with million stains;
Thereon, as on Kaf's blasted plains,
Shall never more fall dews and rains
Karaman!
Save poison-dews and bloody rains,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Hell's poison dews and bloody rains,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
But bondage worse than this remains,
Karaman! O Karaman!
179
Thereon, as on Kaf's blasted plains,
Shall never more fall dews and rains
Karaman!
Save poison-dews and bloody rains,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Hell's poison dews and bloody rains,
Karaman! O Karaman!
But life at worst must end ere long,
Karaman!
Azreel avengeth every wrong,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Of late my thoughts rove more among
Thy fields; o'ershadowing fancies throng
My mind, and texts of bodeful song,
Karaman!
Azreel is terrible and strong,
Karaman!
His lightning sword smites all ere long,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
Azreel avengeth every wrong,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Of late my thoughts rove more among
Thy fields; o'ershadowing fancies throng
My mind, and texts of bodeful song,
Karaman!
Azreel is terrible and strong,
Karaman!
His lightning sword smites all ere long,
Karaman! O Karaman!
There's care to-night in Ukhbar's halls,
Karaman!
There's hope too, for his trodden thralls,
Karaman! O Karaman!
What lights flash red along yon walls?
Hark! hark!—the muster-trumpet calls!—
I see the sheen of spears and shawls,
Karaman!
The foe! the foe!—they scale the walls,
Karaman!
To-night Muràd or Ukhbar falls,
Karaman! O Karaman!
Karaman!
There's hope too, for his trodden thralls,
Karaman! O Karaman!
What lights flash red along yon walls?
Hark! hark!—the muster-trumpet calls!—
I see the sheen of spears and shawls,
Karaman!
The foe! the foe!—they scale the walls,
Karaman!
To-night Muràd or Ukhbar falls,
Karaman! O Karaman!
180
THE TIME OF THE ROSES.
Morning is blushing; the gay nightingales
Warble their exquisite songs in the vales;
Spring, like a spirit, floats everywhere,
Shaking sweet spice-showers loose from her hair,
Murmurs half-musical sounds from the stream,
Breathes in the valley and shines in the beam.
In, in at the portals that Youth uncloses,
It hastes, it wastes, the Time of the Roses!
Warble their exquisite songs in the vales;
Spring, like a spirit, floats everywhere,
Shaking sweet spice-showers loose from her hair,
Murmurs half-musical sounds from the stream,
Breathes in the valley and shines in the beam.
In, in at the portals that Youth uncloses,
It hastes, it wastes, the Time of the Roses!
Meadows, and gardens, and sun-lighted glades,
Palaces, terraces, grottoes, and shades
Woo thee; a fairy-bird sings in thine ear,
Come and be happy!—an Eden is here!
Knowest thou whether for thee there be any
Years in the Future? Ah! think on how many
A young heart under the mould reposes,
Nor feels how wheels the Time of the Roses!
Palaces, terraces, grottoes, and shades
Woo thee; a fairy-bird sings in thine ear,
Come and be happy!—an Eden is here!
Knowest thou whether for thee there be any
Years in the Future? Ah! think on how many
A young heart under the mould reposes,
Nor feels how wheels the Time of the Roses!
In the red light of the many-leaved rose,
Mahomet's wonderful mantle re-glows,
Gaudier far, but as blooming and tender,
Tulips and martagons revel in splendour.
Drink from the Chalice of Joy, ye who may!
Youth is a flower of early decay,
And Pleasure a monarch that Age deposes,
When past, at last, the Time of the Roses!
Mahomet's wonderful mantle re-glows,
Gaudier far, but as blooming and tender,
Tulips and martagons revel in splendour.
Drink from the Chalice of Joy, ye who may!
Youth is a flower of early decay,
And Pleasure a monarch that Age deposes,
When past, at last, the Time of the Roses!
181
See the young lilies, their scymitar-petals
Glancing like silver 'mid earthier metals:
Dews of the brightest in life-giving showers
Fall all the night on these luminous flowers,
Each of them sparkles afar like a gem;
Wouldst thou be smiling and happy like them?
O, follow all counsel that Pleasure proposes;
It dies, it flies, the Time of the Roses!
Glancing like silver 'mid earthier metals:
Dews of the brightest in life-giving showers
Fall all the night on these luminous flowers,
Each of them sparkles afar like a gem;
Wouldst thou be smiling and happy like them?
O, follow all counsel that Pleasure proposes;
It dies, it flies, the Time of the Roses!
Pity the roses! Each rose is a maiden,
Prankt, and with jewels of dew overladen:
Pity the maidens! The moon of their bloom
Rises, to set in the cells of the tomb.
Life has its Winter:—When Summer is gone,
Maidens, like roses, lie stricken and wan;
Though bright as the Burning Bush of Moses,
Soon fades, fair maids, the Time of your Roses!
Prankt, and with jewels of dew overladen:
Pity the maidens! The moon of their bloom
Rises, to set in the cells of the tomb.
Life has its Winter:—When Summer is gone,
Maidens, like roses, lie stricken and wan;
Though bright as the Burning Bush of Moses,
Soon fades, fair maids, the Time of your Roses!
Lustre and odours and blossoms and flowers,
All that is richest in gardens and bowers,
Teach us morality, speak of Mortality,
Whisper that Life is a swift Unreality!
Death is the end of that lustre, those odours;
Brilliance and Beauty are gloomy foreboders
To him who knows what this world of woes is,
And sees how flees the Time of the Roses!
All that is richest in gardens and bowers,
Teach us morality, speak of Mortality,
Whisper that Life is a swift Unreality!
Death is the end of that lustre, those odours;
Brilliance and Beauty are gloomy foreboders
To him who knows what this world of woes is,
And sees how flees the Time of the Roses!
Heed them not, hear them not! Morning is blushing,
Perfumes are wandering, fountains are gushing;
What though the rose, like a virgin forbidden,
Long under leafy pavilion lay hidden;
Now far around as the vision can stretch,
Wreaths for the pencils of angels to sketch,
Festoon the tall hills the landscape discloses.
O! sweet, though fleet, is the Time of the Roses!
Perfumes are wandering, fountains are gushing;
What though the rose, like a virgin forbidden,
Long under leafy pavilion lay hidden;
Now far around as the vision can stretch,
Wreaths for the pencils of angels to sketch,
Festoon the tall hills the landscape discloses.
O! sweet, though fleet, is the Time of the Roses!
182
Now the air—drunk from the breath of the flowers—
Faints like a bride whom her bliss overpowers;
Such and so rich is the fragrance that fills
Æther and cloud that its essence distils,
As through thin lily-leaves, earthward again,
Sprinkling with rose-water garden and plain,
O! joyously after the Winter closes,
Returns and burns the Time of the Roses!
Faints like a bride whom her bliss overpowers;
Such and so rich is the fragrance that fills
Æther and cloud that its essence distils,
As through thin lily-leaves, earthward again,
Sprinkling with rose-water garden and plain,
O! joyously after the Winter closes,
Returns and burns the Time of the Roses!
O! for some magical vase to imprison
All the sweet incense that yet has not risen!
And the swift pearls that, radiant and rare,
Glisten and drop through the hollows of Air!
Vain! they depart, both the Beaming and Fragrant!
So, too, Hope leaves us, and Love proves a vagrant,
Too soon their entrancing illusion closes,
It cheats, it fleets, the Time of the Roses!
All the sweet incense that yet has not risen!
And the swift pearls that, radiant and rare,
Glisten and drop through the hollows of Air!
Vain! they depart, both the Beaming and Fragrant!
So, too, Hope leaves us, and Love proves a vagrant,
Too soon their entrancing illusion closes,
It cheats, it fleets, the Time of the Roses!
Tempest and Thunder, and War were abroad;
Riot and Turbulence triumphed unawed;
Soliman rose, and the thunders were hushed,
Faction was prostrate, and Turbulence crushed;
Once again Peace in her gloriousness rallies;
Once again shine the glad skies on our valleys;
And sweetly anew the poet composes
His lays in praise of the Time of the Roses!
Riot and Turbulence triumphed unawed;
Soliman rose, and the thunders were hushed,
Faction was prostrate, and Turbulence crushed;
Once again Peace in her gloriousness rallies;
Once again shine the glad skies on our valleys;
And sweetly anew the poet composes
His lays in praise of the Time of the Roses!
I, too, MESEEHI, already renowned,
Centuries hence by my songs shall be crowned;
Far as the stars of the wide Heaven shine,
Men shall rejoice in this carol of mine.
Leila! Thou art as a rose unto me:
Think on the nightingale singing for thee;
For he who on love like thine reposes,
Least heeds how speeds the Time of the Roses!
Centuries hence by my songs shall be crowned;
Far as the stars of the wide Heaven shine,
Men shall rejoice in this carol of mine.
183
Think on the nightingale singing for thee;
For he who on love like thine reposes,
Least heeds how speeds the Time of the Roses!
THE TIME ERE THE ROSES WERE BLOWING.
I
Brilliantly sparkle, Meseehi, thy flowingNumbers, like streams amid lilies upgrowing,
Yet, wouldst thou mingle the sad and sublime,
Sing, too, the Time,
Sing the young Time ere the Roses were blowing!
II
Then was the Season when Hope was yet glowing,Then the blithe year of the Spring and the Sowing;
Then the Soul dwelt in her own fairy clime;
Then was the Time,
Then the gay Time ere the Roses were blowing!
III
Soon, ah! too soon, came the Summer, bestowingGlory and Light, but a Light ever showing
In the chill nearness the Autumn's grey rime.
Gone was the Time,
Gone the fresh Time ere the Roses were blowing!
184
IV
Life is at best but a Coming and Going,Now flitting past us on swift, now on slow wing;
Here fair with Goodness, there gloomy with Crime.
O, for the Time,
O, for the Time ere the Roses were blowing!
V
Coldly, O coldly, goes Truth overthrowingFancy's bright palaces, coldly goes mowing
Down the sweet blossoms of Boyhood's young prime.
Give us the Time,
Give us the Time ere the Roses were blowing!
VI
I am Zerba'yeh, the Least of the Knowing;Thou art Meseehi, the Golden and Glowing!
O, when again thou wouldst dazzle in rhyme
Sing of the Time,
Sing of the Time ere the Roses were blowing!
NIGHT IS NEARING.
Allah Akbar!
All things vanish after brief careering;
Down one gulf Life's myriad barks are steering;
Headlong mortal! hast thou ears for hearing?
Pause! Be wise! The Night, thy Night, is nearing!
Night is nearing!
All things vanish after brief careering;
Down one gulf Life's myriad barks are steering;
Headlong mortal! hast thou ears for hearing?
Pause! Be wise! The Night, thy Night, is nearing!
Night is nearing!
185
Allah Akbar!
Towards the Darkness whence no ray is peering,
Towards the Void from which no voice comes cheering,
Move the countless Doomed—none volunteering—
While the Winds rise and the Night is nearing!
Night is nearing!
Towards the Darkness whence no ray is peering,
Towards the Void from which no voice comes cheering,
Move the countless Doomed—none volunteering—
While the Winds rise and the Night is nearing!
Night is nearing!
Allah Akbar!
See the palace-dome its pride uprearing
One fleet hour, then darkly disappearing!
So must all of Lofty or Endearing
Fade, fail, fall;—to all the Night is nearing!
Night is nearing!
See the palace-dome its pride uprearing
One fleet hour, then darkly disappearing!
So must all of Lofty or Endearing
Fade, fail, fall;—to all the Night is nearing!
Night is nearing!
Allah Akbar!
Then, since nought abides, but all is veering,
Flee a world which Sin is hourly searing,
Only so mayest front thy fate unfearing
When Life wanes, and Death, like Night, is nearing!
Night is nearing!
Then, since nought abides, but all is veering,
Flee a world which Sin is hourly searing,
Only so mayest front thy fate unfearing
When Life wanes, and Death, like Night, is nearing!
Night is nearing!
THE HOWLING SONG OF AL-MOHARA.
My heart is as a House of Groans
From dusky eve to dawning grey;
Allah, Allah hu!
The glazed flesh on my staring bones
Grows black and blacker with decay;
Allah, Allah hu!
Yet am I none whom Death may slay;
I am spared to suffer and to warn;
Allah, Allah hu!
My lashless eyes are parched to horn
With weeping for my sin alway;
Allah, Allah hu!
For blood, hot blood that no man sees,
The blood of one I slew
Burns on my hands I cry therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
From dusky eve to dawning grey;
Allah, Allah hu!
The glazed flesh on my staring bones
Grows black and blacker with decay;
Allah, Allah hu!
Yet am I none whom Death may slay;
I am spared to suffer and to warn;
Allah, Allah hu!
186
With weeping for my sin alway;
Allah, Allah hu!
For blood, hot blood that no man sees,
The blood of one I slew
Burns on my hands I cry therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
Because I slew him over wine,
Because I struck him down at night,
Allah, Allah hu!
Because he died and made no sign,
His blood is always in my sight;
Allah, Allah hu!
Because I raised my arm to smite
While the foul cup was at his lips,
Allah, Allah hu!
Because I wrought his soul's eclipse
He comes between me and the Light;
Allah, Allah hu!
His is the form my terror sees,
The sinner that I slew;
My rending cry is still therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
Because I struck him down at night,
Allah, Allah hu!
Because he died and made no sign,
His blood is always in my sight;
Allah, Allah hu!
Because I raised my arm to smite
While the foul cup was at his lips,
Allah, Allah hu!
Because I wrought his soul's eclipse
He comes between me and the Light;
Allah, Allah hu!
His is the form my terror sees,
The sinner that I slew;
My rending cry is still therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
Under the all-just Heaven's expanse
There is for me no resting-spot;
Allah, Allah hu!
I dread Man's vengeful countenance,
The smiles of Woman win me not;
Allah, Allah hu!
I wander among graves where rot
The carcases of leprous men;
Allah, Allah hu!
I house me in the dragon's den
Till evening darkens grove and grot;
Allah, Allah hu!
But bootless all!—Who penance drees
Must dree it his life through;
My heartwrung cry is still therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
There is for me no resting-spot;
Allah, Allah hu!
I dread Man's vengeful countenance,
The smiles of Woman win me not;
Allah, Allah hu!
187
The carcases of leprous men;
Allah, Allah hu!
I house me in the dragon's den
Till evening darkens grove and grot;
Allah, Allah hu!
But bootless all!—Who penance drees
Must dree it his life through;
My heartwrung cry is still therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
The silks that swathe my hall deewān
Are damascened with moons of gold;
Allah, Allah hu!
Musk-roses from my Gulistān
Fill vases of Egyptian mould;
Allah, Allah hu!
The Koran's treasures lie unrolled
Near where my radiant night-lamp burns;
Allah, Allah hu!
Around me rows of silver urns
Perfume the air with odours old;
Allah, Allah hu!
But what avail these luxuries?
The blood of him I slew
Burns red on all—I cry therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
Are damascened with moons of gold;
Allah, Allah hu!
Musk-roses from my Gulistān
Fill vases of Egyptian mould;
Allah, Allah hu!
The Koran's treasures lie unrolled
Near where my radiant night-lamp burns;
Allah, Allah hu!
Around me rows of silver urns
Perfume the air with odours old;
Allah, Allah hu!
But what avail these luxuries?
The blood of him I slew
Burns red on all—I cry therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
Can Sultans, can the Guilty Rich
Purchase with mines and thrones a draught,
Allah, Allah hu!
From that Nutulian fount of which
The Conscience-tortured whilome quaffed?
Allah, Allah hu!
Vain dream! Power, Glory, Riches, Craft,
Prove magnets for the Sword of Wrath;
Allah, Allah hu!
Thornplant Man's last and lampless path,
And barb the Slaying Angel's shaft;
Allah, Allah hu!
O! the Bloodguilty ever sees
But sights that make him rue,
As I do now, and cry therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
Purchase with mines and thrones a draught,
Allah, Allah hu!
188
The Conscience-tortured whilome quaffed?
Allah, Allah hu!
Vain dream! Power, Glory, Riches, Craft,
Prove magnets for the Sword of Wrath;
Allah, Allah hu!
Thornplant Man's last and lampless path,
And barb the Slaying Angel's shaft;
Allah, Allah hu!
O! the Bloodguilty ever sees
But sights that make him rue,
As I do now, and cry therefóre,
All night long, on my knees,
Evermore,
Allah, Allah hu!
THE WAIL AND WARNING OF THE THREE KHALENDEERS.
La' laha, il Allah!
Here we meet, we three, at length,
Amrah, Osman, Perizad,
Shorn of all our grace and strength,
Poor, and old, and very sad!
We have lived, but live no more;
Life has lost its gloss for us,
Since the days we spent of yore
Boating down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
Old Time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of health and heart,
Upon the foamy Bosphorus.
Here we meet, we three, at length,
Amrah, Osman, Perizad,
Shorn of all our grace and strength,
Poor, and old, and very sad!
We have lived, but live no more;
Life has lost its gloss for us,
Since the days we spent of yore
Boating down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
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Old Time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of health and heart,
Upon the foamy Bosphorus.
La' laha, il Allah!
Days indeed! A shepherd's tent
Served us then for house and fold;
All to whom we gave or lent
Paid us back a thousand-fold;
Troublous years, by myriads wailed,
Rarely had a cross for us,
Never when we gaily sailed,
Singing down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
There never came a cross for us,
While we daily, gaily sailed,
Adown the meadowy Bosphorus.
Days indeed! A shepherd's tent
Served us then for house and fold;
All to whom we gave or lent
Paid us back a thousand-fold;
Troublous years, by myriads wailed,
Rarely had a cross for us,
Never when we gaily sailed,
Singing down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
There never came a cross for us,
While we daily, gaily sailed,
Adown the meadowy Bosphorus.
La' laha, il Allah!
Blithe as birds we flew along,
Laughed and quaffed and stared about;
Wine and roses, mirth and song
Were what most we cared about.
Fame we left for quacks to seek,
Gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week,
Boating down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
And gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week,
Aboating down the Bosphorus!
Blithe as birds we flew along,
Laughed and quaffed and stared about;
Wine and roses, mirth and song
Were what most we cared about.
Fame we left for quacks to seek,
Gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week,
Boating down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
And gold was dust and dross for us,
While we lived from week to week,
Aboating down the Bosphorus!
190
La' laha, il Allah!
Friends we were, and would have shared
Purses, had we twenty full,
If we spent, or if we spared,
Still our funds were plentiful;
Save the hours we passed apart
Time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of hope and heart
While we clove the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
For life has lost its gloss for us,
Since the days we spent of yore,
Upon the pleasant Bosphorus!
Friends we were, and would have shared
Purses, had we twenty full,
If we spent, or if we spared,
Still our funds were plentiful;
Save the hours we passed apart
Time brought home no loss for us;
We felt full of hope and heart
While we clove the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
For life has lost its gloss for us,
Since the days we spent of yore,
Upon the pleasant Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
Ah! for youth's delirious hours
Man pays well in after days,
When quenched hopes and palsied powers
Mock his love-and-laughter days;
Thorns and thistles on our path
Took the place of moss for us,
Till false fortune's tempest wrath
Drove us from the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
When thorns took place of moss for us,
Gone was all! Our hearts were graves
Deep, deeper than the Bosphorus!
Ah! for youth's delirious hours
Man pays well in after days,
When quenched hopes and palsied powers
Mock his love-and-laughter days;
Thorns and thistles on our path
Took the place of moss for us,
Till false fortune's tempest wrath
Drove us from the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
When thorns took place of moss for us,
Gone was all! Our hearts were graves
Deep, deeper than the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
Gone is all! In one abyss
Lie Health, Youth, and Merriment!
All we've learned amounts to this—
Life's a sad experiment;
What it is we trebly feel
Pondering what it was for us,
When our shallop's bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
We wail for what life was for us,
When our shallop's bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus!
Gone is all! In one abyss
Lie Health, Youth, and Merriment!
All we've learned amounts to this—
Life's a sad experiment;
191
Pondering what it was for us,
When our shallop's bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
We wail for what life was for us,
When our shallop's bounding keel
Clove the joyous Bosphorus!
THE WARNING.
La' laha, il Allah!
Pleasure tempts, yet man has none
Save himself t' accuse, if her
Temptings prove, when all is done,
Lures hung out by Lucifer.
Guard your fire in youth, O Friends!
Manhood's is but Phosphorus,
And bad luck attends and ends
Boatings down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
Youth's fire soon wanes to Phosphorus,
And slight luck or grace attends
Your boaters down the Bosphorus!
Pleasure tempts, yet man has none
Save himself t' accuse, if her
Temptings prove, when all is done,
Lures hung out by Lucifer.
Guard your fire in youth, O Friends!
Manhood's is but Phosphorus,
And bad luck attends and ends
Boatings down the Bosphorus!
La' laha, il Allah!
The Bosphorus, the Bosphorus!
Youth's fire soon wanes to Phosphorus,
And slight luck or grace attends
Your boaters down the Bosphorus!
THE WORST LOSS.
I
“Merchant! I have lost the bright and beauteousJewelled shawl thou soldest me so lately.”
—“Art, my lord, is in these days a duteous
And withal a most industrious handmaid.
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Finer shawl, believe me, at command made.”
—“Thanks, good Merchant! Make me, then, I pray thee,
A much finer shawl, and I will pay thee!”
II
“Architect! my handsome country villaYesterday took fire, and nought could save it.
It now lies a ruin!”—“Allah-el-illah!
Fire, like Air, will find or force expansion—
Fire must burn, and woodwork may not brave it!
But—I'll build thee a far handsomer mansion.”
—“Thanks, good Architect! The cost may make me
Poorer, but, Inshallah! 'twill not break me.”
III
“Boatman! I have dropped a golden casketOf rich pearls (my whole wealth) in this river.
I shall die!”—“Not so! Take up a basket,
And hawk figs! The river hath bereft thee
But of rubbish. Thank the Bounteous Giver
Of all Good that Health and Hope are left thee,
And be calm!”—“Well, Boatman, thou advisest!
Action, Action, is in all states wisest!”
IV
“Hakim! All thy skill proves unavailing—Lo! he dies! My charming boy hath perished!”
—“Be consoled, my friend, and cease thy wailing—
This dear youth departs to another Father.
Four sons, too, are left thee yet, as cherished,
And more charming still. O! learn to gather
Flowers amid thorns, and Comfort from bereavements—
Peace and Patience are Life's true achievements!”
193
V
“Moolah! Moolah! I feel broken-hearted.”—“And why so, son? Whence this bitter anguish?”
—“All is gone! My last stay hath departed,
I have lost my Name!”—“Oh, wretched mortal!
Lost thy name! Then, henceforth must thou languish
In lone woe, shut out from Hope's last portal!
Go, and consecrate thy soul to God by Sorrow,
For on thy Life's Night shall never dawn a Morrow!”
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF SULTAN SULEÍMAUN THE MAGNIFICENT.
I
Like to a stately tree, down-smitten in its pride and prime,Wulla-hu!
Like to a tower o'erthrown, a tower that stood from elder time,
Wulla-hu!
Lies he, the Light of Ages,
The world-illuming Star,
The King of Earth, the Sage of Sages,
The Wise, the Brave, the True,
Who harnessed victory to his car,
Wull-wullahu, Wull-wullahu!
194
II
So fares the queenly ship over the ocean-wave at noon,Wulla-hu!
Her poop of gold, her sails of silver, like to sun and moon,
Wulla-hu!
Bright shines the skies:—from them Pest
Nor Storm can come:—so thinks
The looker-on, when, lo! a tempest!—
Loud shrieks burst from the crew,
And down, down, the lost vessel sinks!
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
III
So, in his pomp and power, the Pasha leaves his palace-hall.Wulla-hu!
Follows his cavalcade; ride forth his troops and Djanzrees all—
Wulla-hu!
His glory—to o'er-dusk it
All human power were vain!—
So dream we again—but, hark! that musquet!
Its fire was all—too true
The god lies lifeless on the plain.
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
IV
The nightingale is mute; the tulip wastes away for grief;Wulla-hu!
The violet and rose, they both are yellow in the leaf;
Wulla-hu!
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Her flowers and fruits lie dead;
Her very self is fain to borrow
From Autumn a faint hue
For sky and earth of blue and red—
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
V
We who remain behind, we wither all from day to day,Wulla-hu!
The sight hath left our eyes; our very beards show crisped and grey:
Wulla-hu!
For Plague, and Thirst, and Famine
Have come down on the land:
Each of us, black-skinned as a Brahmin,
Sits weeping; scarce a few
Take even the Koran now in hand—
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
VI
To God we all belong; to His decree we all must bow.Wulla-hu!
Nushrévan and Djemsheed, the Kings of Earth, where are they now?
Wulla-hu!
Prayer Allah ever heareth,
While Prayer may yet be heard,
But when the dreary death-hour neareth,
In vain men sigh and sue.
Forth goes the irrevocable Word—
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
VII
Woe to us for the Lost! the Thunderer of a thousand years—Wulla-hu!
196
Wulla-hu!
Heaven's lightning was less mortal
Than his fierce eye in wrath—
Yet oped he Mercy's palace-portal
Where Mercy's alms were due.
God's lamp illumed his path!
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
VIII
He, in his manhood's day, whom now we mourn in darkling weeds,Wulla-hu!
Fought against Gog and Magog, and against their hell-born creeds;
Wulla-hu!
He upheld the Eagle and Arrow
With superhuman arm.
This mean world seemed a sphere too narrow
For him: his grand soul grew
Perpetually more warm—
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
IX
O, God! God! in thy love, give thou to us the Judgment Morn!Wulla-hu!
197
Wulla-hu!
God! let the Archangel's clarion
Resound throughout the Dwawn,
Yet not to arraign Earth's carcase-carrion,
But that we all anew
May see him, even on that dread Dawn—
Wull-wullahu! Wull-wullahu!
THE SOFFEES' DITTY.
I.
Bismillah! Thou art warned, O Soffee! that mere outward austerities, however excellent in themselves, will not make thee perfect.
Haircloth and vigils and fasts, and a vow against coffee,
Cleansers from sin though they be, will make no one a Soffee.
Much is essential besides the bare absence of sleekness,
Namely: Docility, Poverty, Courage, and Meekness,
Wisdom, and Silence, and Patience, and Prayer without ceasing:—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Cleansers from sin though they be, will make no one a Soffee.
Much is essential besides the bare absence of sleekness,
Namely: Docility, Poverty, Courage, and Meekness,
Wisdom, and Silence, and Patience, and Prayer without ceasing:—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
II.
Bismillah! Beware lest thou live in the habitual commission of any single sin; for, though the sin itself may be slight, the constant repetition of it renders it most grievous.
198
Woe unto those who but banish one vice for another!
Far from thy thoughts be such damning delusion, O brother
Pluck thy heart out, and abjure all it loves and possesses
Rather than cherish one sin in its guilty recesses.
Donning new raiment is nobler than patching and piecing:—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Far from thy thoughts be such damning delusion, O brother
Pluck thy heart out, and abjure all it loves and possesses
Rather than cherish one sin in its guilty recesses.
Donning new raiment is nobler than patching and piecing:—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
III.
Bismillah! And, O Soffee! whensoever the glitter of money meets thine eye, avert thy face! It were better for thee to lodge a serpent in thy bosom than a money-purse.
Money (saith Seyd Ul-ud-Deen) eats the soul as a cancer,
Whoso loves money has more than the guilt of Ben-Manser.
Wouldst thou, O Soffee! keep clear of the snare that entangles
Those whom at night on their couches the Evil One strangles,
Ask not and task not, abstain from extortion and fleecing—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Whoso loves money has more than the guilt of Ben-Manser.
Wouldst thou, O Soffee! keep clear of the snare that entangles
Those whom at night on their couches the Evil One strangles,
Ask not and task not, abstain from extortion and fleecing—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
IV.
Bismillah! There is no strength or wisdom but in God, the High, the Great! Thou, O Soffee, art but a creature of clay; therefore, indulge not in pride!
199
Cast away Pride as the bane of thy soul: the Disdainful
Swallow much mire in their day, and find everything painful.
Still in its cave shall the diamond beam on, because humble.
When the proud pillar, that stands as a giant, must crumble.
Stoop! and thy burden will keep, like the camel's, decreasing.
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Swallow much mire in their day, and find everything painful.
Still in its cave shall the diamond beam on, because humble.
When the proud pillar, that stands as a giant, must crumble.
Stoop! and thy burden will keep, like the camel's, decreasing.
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
V.
Bismillah! The devil, O Soffee! will doubtless try to make thee very miserable. But be thou consoled; for the seven hells are closed hereafter against those who descend into them here.
Art thou made wretched by memories, and fears, and chimeras?
Grieve not! for so were the Soffees and saints of past eras.
All must abandon Life's lodgings, but none who depart take
Any invalider passport to Hell than the heart-ache.
Satan enslaveth, and Pain is God's mode of releasing—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Grieve not! for so were the Soffees and saints of past eras.
All must abandon Life's lodgings, but none who depart take
Any invalider passport to Hell than the heart-ache.
Satan enslaveth, and Pain is God's mode of releasing—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
VI.
Bismillah! It is good for thee to be much afflicted. As Suleymán-Ben-Daood hath said: The heart is made better by the sadness of the countenance.
Like the lone lamp that illumines a Sheikh's mausoleum,
Like a rich calcedon shrined in some gloomy museum,
Like the bright moon before Midnight is blended with Morrow,
Shines the pure pearl of the soul in the Chalice of Sorrow!
Mourners on earth shall be solaced with pleasures unceasing—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Like a rich calcedon shrined in some gloomy museum,
Like the bright moon before Midnight is blended with Morrow,
Shines the pure pearl of the soul in the Chalice of Sorrow!
Mourners on earth shall be solaced with pleasures unceasing—
Such are the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
200
VII.
Bismillah! As Man soweth so doth he reap; his thoughts and deeds come back to him in another world; and as these are good or ill so is he for ever happy or miserable. Ponder this well; and let each fleeting hour impress thee deeplier with the awful truth, that Time is the purchase-money of Eternity.
Life is an outlay for infinite blessings or curses—
Evil or Good—which Eternity's Bank reimburses.
Thou, then, O Soffee, look well to each moment expended!
So shall thy hands overflow, and thy guerdon be splendid,
When thy brow faces the wall, and thy pangs are increasing—
These be the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
Evil or Good—which Eternity's Bank reimburses.
Thou, then, O Soffee, look well to each moment expended!
So shall thy hands overflow, and thy guerdon be splendid,
When thy brow faces the wall, and thy pangs are increasing—
These be the tone and the tune of the ditty that we sing.
THE LAST WORDS OF AL-HASSAN.
Farewell forever to all I love!
To river and rock farewell!
To Zoumlah's gloomful cypress-grove,
And Shaarmal's tulipy dell!
To Deenween-Kûllaha's light blue bay,
And Oreb's lonely strand!
My race is run—I am called away—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
I am called away from the light of day
To my tent in the Dark, Dark Land!
To river and rock farewell!
To Zoumlah's gloomful cypress-grove,
And Shaarmal's tulipy dell!
To Deenween-Kûllaha's light blue bay,
And Oreb's lonely strand!
My race is run—I am called away—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
I am called away from the light of day
To my tent in the Dark, Dark Land!
201
I have seen the standard of Ali stained
With the blood of the Brave and Free,
And the Kaaba's Venerable Stone profaned
By the truculent Wahabee.
O Allah, for the light of another sun,
With my Bazra sword in hand!—
But I rave in vain—my course is run—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My course is run—my goal is won—
I go to the Dark, Dark Land!
With the blood of the Brave and Free,
And the Kaaba's Venerable Stone profaned
By the truculent Wahabee.
O Allah, for the light of another sun,
With my Bazra sword in hand!—
But I rave in vain—my course is run—
I go to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My course is run—my goal is won—
I go to the Dark, Dark Land!
Yet why should I live a day—an hour?
The friends I valued lie low;
My sisters dance in the halls of the Giaour;
My brethren fight for the foe.
None stood by the banner this arm unfurled
Save Khárada's mountain-band.
'Tis well that I leave so base a world,
Though to dwell in the Lampless Land—
'Llah Hu!
'Tis well that I leave so false a world,
Though to dwell in the Dark, Dark Land!
The friends I valued lie low;
My sisters dance in the halls of the Giaour;
My brethren fight for the foe.
None stood by the banner this arm unfurled
Save Khárada's mountain-band.
'Tis well that I leave so base a world,
Though to dwell in the Lampless Land—
'Llah Hu!
'Tis well that I leave so false a world,
Though to dwell in the Dark, Dark Land!
Even she, my loved and lost Ameen,
The moon-white pearl of my soul,
Could pawn her peace for the show and sheen
Of silken Istamból!
How little did I bode what a year would see,
When we parted at Samarkhànd—
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Lampless Land!
'Llah Hu!
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Dark, Dark Land!
The moon-white pearl of my soul,
Could pawn her peace for the show and sheen
Of silken Istamból!
How little did I bode what a year would see,
When we parted at Samarkhànd—
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Lampless Land!
'Llah Hu!
My bride in the harem of the Osmânlee,
Myself in the Dark, Dark Land!
202
We weep for the Noble who perish young,
Like flowers before their bloom—
The great-souled Few who, unseen and unsung,
Go down to the charnel's gloom;
But, written on the brow of each, if Man
Could read it and understand,
Is the changeless decree of Heaven's Deewàn—
We are born for the Lampless land!
'Llah Hu!
By the dread firmàn of Heaven's Deewàn—
All are born for the Dark, Dark Land!
Like flowers before their bloom—
The great-souled Few who, unseen and unsung,
Go down to the charnel's gloom;
But, written on the brow of each, if Man
Could read it and understand,
Is the changeless decree of Heaven's Deewàn—
We are born for the Lampless land!
'Llah Hu!
By the dread firmàn of Heaven's Deewàn—
All are born for the Dark, Dark Land!
The wasted moon has a marvellous look
Amiddle of the starry hordes—
The heavens, too, shine like a mystic book,
All bright with burning words,
The mists of the dawn begin to dislimn
Zahàra's castles of sand.
Farewell!—farewell! Mine eyes feel dim—
They turn to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My heart is weary—mine eyes are dim—
I would rest in the Dark, Dark Land!
Amiddle of the starry hordes—
The heavens, too, shine like a mystic book,
All bright with burning words,
The mists of the dawn begin to dislimn
Zahàra's castles of sand.
Farewell!—farewell! Mine eyes feel dim—
They turn to the Lampless Land.
'Llah Hu!
My heart is weary—mine eyes are dim—
I would rest in the Dark, Dark Land!
THE HUNDRED-LEAFÈD ROSE.
I am, saith the Rose, as the Voice from the Bush
That spake upon Horeb to Mose:
Hence hangs, like Manszur, her head with a blush
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
That spake upon Horeb to Mose:
203
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like crispèd gold, laid fold over sold,
Like the sun that at Eventide glows,
Like the furnace-bed of Al-Khalill
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like the sun that at Eventide glows,
Like the furnace-bed of Al-Khalill
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Her cloak is green, with a gloomy sheen,
Like the garment of beauteous Jose,
And prisoned round by a sentinelled wall
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like the garment of beauteous Jose,
And prisoned round by a sentinelled wall
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like Issa, whose breath first woke from Death
The souls in this world of woes,
She vivifies all the fainting air,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
The souls in this world of woes,
She vivifies all the fainting air,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Profound as the wells where Harut and Marut
Of Babel are hung by the toes,
Are the damask deeps where the odour sleeps
Of the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Of Babel are hung by the toes,
204
Of the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
As the Prophet's word in the Solitudes
Made the doors of the rock unclose,
The Summer's voice unrolls the buds
Of the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Made the doors of the rock unclose,
The Summer's voice unrolls the buds
Of the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like Solomon's throne in olden years
Her crimson richness shews;
And the Dives protect with a ring of spears
The seal of the sacred ROSE.
Her crimson richness shews;
And the Dives protect with a ring of spears
The seal of the sacred ROSE.
The Flower of Flowers as a convent towers
Where Virtue and Truth repose;
The leaves are the halls, and the convent walls
Are the thorns that fence the ROSE.
Where Virtue and Truth repose;
The leaves are the halls, and the convent walls
Are the thorns that fence the ROSE.
Like Balkis Queen for her queenly mien,
Like Balkis for queenly clothes,
Is the bride of the bowers, the pride of the flowers,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like Balkis for queenly clothes,
Is the bride of the bowers, the pride of the flowers,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like Daoud King on the psaltery playing,
Each wooing Zephyr that goes,
At will from flower to flower a-maying,
Hath sweetest airs for the ROSE.
Each wooing Zephyr that goes,
At will from flower to flower a-maying,
Hath sweetest airs for the ROSE.
205
Who sees the sun set round and red
Over Lebanon's brow of snows,
May dream how burns in a lily-bed
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Over Lebanon's brow of snows,
May dream how burns in a lily-bed
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
The sun is an archer swift and strong,
With a myriad silver bows,
And each beam is a barb to pierce the garb
Of the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
With a myriad silver bows,
And each beam is a barb to pierce the garb
Of the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
While the moon all the long, long, spectral night
Her light o'er the garden throws,
Like a beauty shrinking away from sight
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Her light o'er the garden throws,
Like a beauty shrinking away from sight
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Like the tears of a maiden, whose heart, ever laden
With sorrowful thought, overflows
At her weeping eye, are the dews that lie
On the feminine cheek of the ROSE.
With sorrowful thought, overflows
At her weeping eye, are the dews that lie
On the feminine cheek of the ROSE.
As Man after Fame, as the moth round the flame,
As the steer when his partner lows,
Is the Nightingale, when his fruitless wail
Is poured to the silent ROSE.
As the steer when his partner lows,
Is the Nightingale, when his fruitless wail
Is poured to the silent ROSE.
A Princess tranced by a talisman's power,
Who bloomingly slumbers, nor knows
That the sorcerer's spell encircles her bower,
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Who bloomingly slumbers, nor knows
That the sorcerer's spell encircles her bower,
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Alas! that her kiosk of emerald rare
Should be powerless all to oppose
The venom of Serpent Envy's glare
When its eye is fixed on the ROSE.
Should be powerless all to oppose
The venom of Serpent Envy's glare
When its eye is fixed on the ROSE.
206
A virgin alone in an alien land,
Whose friends are but smiling foes,
A palace plundered by every hand
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Whose friends are but smiling foes,
A palace plundered by every hand
Is the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Oh! why should she dwell in a desert dell
With the darnel and mandrake?—Those
Were never meet mates for her, the proud,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
With the darnel and mandrake?—Those
Were never meet mates for her, the proud,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
In an Eden which Heat hath never consumed,
Where Winter-night never froze,
Should only bloom, should ever have bloomed,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Where Winter-night never froze,
Should only bloom, should ever have bloomed,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Oh! give her the gardens of Peristan,
Where only the musk-wind blows,
And where she need fear nor Storm nor Man,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Where only the musk-wind blows,
And where she need fear nor Storm nor Man,
The Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
For the Summer's hand of love and light
In the luminous flowers it strows
Earth's valleys withal, drops none so bright
As the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
In the luminous flowers it strows
Earth's valleys withal, drops none so bright
As the Hundred-leafèd ROSE.
Hail, Suleiman Sultan! Shadow of God!
Great Prince, whose bounty bestows
And scatters jewels like dust abroad,
As the Wind the leaves of the ROSE.
Great Prince, whose bounty bestows
And scatters jewels like dust abroad,
As the Wind the leaves of the ROSE.
The pining world felt sick and sad,
And laboured with troubles and throes,
Till thine avatar bade all be glad.
Like the young Spring's earliest ROSE.
And laboured with troubles and throes,
Till thine avatar bade all be glad.
Like the young Spring's earliest ROSE.
207
Now light is in Heaven and health upon Earth,
June joyously comes and goes;
Rich Plenty has drowned the remembrance of Dearth,
And the Thistle gives way to the ROSE.
June joyously comes and goes;
Rich Plenty has drowned the remembrance of Dearth,
And the Thistle gives way to the ROSE.
The shepherd is piping a tune of delight,
The husbandman reaps as he sows;
The gardens forget the black seasons of blight,
And Summer is vain of the ROSE.
The husbandman reaps as he sows;
The gardens forget the black seasons of blight,
And Summer is vain of the ROSE.
Reign, Sultan, for ever! and this be thy praise,
Though Eulogy overflows
With the marvels thy marvellous era displays,
That thou raisedst the perishing ROSE.
Though Eulogy overflows
With the marvels thy marvellous era displays,
That thou raisedst the perishing ROSE.
LAMENT.
Like a cypress-tree,
Mateless in a death-black valley,
Where no lily springeth,
Where no bulbul singeth,
Whence gazelle is never seen to sally,
Such am I; woe is me!
Poor, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
Mateless in a death-black valley,
Where no lily springeth,
Where no bulbul singeth,
Whence gazelle is never seen to sally,
Such am I; woe is me!
Poor, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
Like a wandering bee,
Alien from his hive and fellows,
Humming moanful ditties;
Far from men and cities,
Roaming glades which Autumn rarely mellows,
Such am I; woe is me!
Poor, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
Alien from his hive and fellows,
Humming moanful ditties;
Far from men and cities,
208
Such am I; woe is me!
Poor, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
Like a bark at sea,
All whose crew by night have perished,
Drifting on the ocean
Still with shoreward motion,
Though none live by whom Hope's throb is cherished,
Such am I; woe is me!
Poor, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
All whose crew by night have perished,
Drifting on the ocean
Still with shoreward motion,
Though none live by whom Hope's throb is cherished,
Such am I; woe is me!
Poor, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
So I pine and dree
Till the night that knows no morrow
Sees me wrapped in clay-vest:
Thou, chill world, that gavest
Me the bitter boon alone of Sorrow,
Give, then, a grave to me,
Dark, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
Till the night that knows no morrow
Sees me wrapped in clay-vest:
Thou, chill world, that gavest
Me the bitter boon alone of Sorrow,
Give, then, a grave to me,
Dark, sad, all unknown,
Lone, lone, lone!
A TRIPLET ON THE REIGN OF THE GREAT SULTAN.
Such are the stillness and peace that prevail through the Sultan's dominionsThat the dread Angel of Death, when he startles thy couch with his pinions,
Can bring thee no stillier peace than is found in the Sultan's dominions.
209
TO MIRIAM, ON HER HAIR.
Ethiopian are thy locks;In each hair
Lurks a snare
Worse than Afric's gulfs and rocks;
They who swear
By that hair
Swear the Koran's oath aright:
By the black Abyss of Night!
ADVICE.
Traverse not the globe for lore! The sternest
But the surest teacher is the heart.
Studying that and that alone, thou learnest
Best and soonest whence and what thou art.
But the surest teacher is the heart.
Studying that and that alone, thou learnest
Best and soonest whence and what thou art.
Time, not travel, 'tis which gives us ready
Speech, experience, prudence, tact, and wit.
Far more light the lamp that bideth steady
Than the wandering lantern doth emit.
Speech, experience, prudence, tact, and wit.
Far more light the lamp that bideth steady
Than the wandering lantern doth emit.
Moor; Chinese, Egyptian, Russian, Roman,
Tread one common downhill path of doom:
Everywhere the names are Man and Woman,
Everywhere the old sad sins find room.
Tread one common downhill path of doom:
Everywhere the names are Man and Woman,
Everywhere the old sad sins find room.
210
Evil angels tempt us in all places.
What but sands or snows hath Earth to give?
Dream not, friend, of deserts and oäses,
But look inwards, and begin to live.
What but sands or snows hath Earth to give?
Dream not, friend, of deserts and oäses,
But look inwards, and begin to live.
ADAM'S OATH.
Medreamt I was in Paradise, and there, a-drinking wine,
I saw our Father Adam, with his flowing golden hair—
O, Father! was my greeting, my heart is faint with care;
Tell me, tell me, are the Mooslemin of Aälya sons of thine?
I saw our Father Adam, with his flowing golden hair—
O, Father! was my greeting, my heart is faint with care;
Tell me, tell me, are the Mooslemin of Aälya sons of thine?
But the Noble Senior frowned, and his wavy golden hair
Grew black as clouds at Evening, when thunder thrills the air.
No! the Mooslemin of Aälya I disown for sons of mine!
Grew black as clouds at Evening, when thunder thrills the air.
No! the Mooslemin of Aälya I disown for sons of mine!
Then methought I wept and beat my breast, and begged of him a sign,
O, swear it Father Adam! So, dilating out, he sware—
If the Mooslemin of Aälyastan be kith or kin of mine
Let dust for ever darken the glory of my hair!
O, swear it Father Adam! So, dilating out, he sware—
If the Mooslemin of Aälyastan be kith or kin of mine
Let dust for ever darken the glory of my hair!
FRONTI NULLA FIDES.
Beware of blindly trusting
To outward art
And specious sheen,
For Vice is oft encrusting
The hollow heart
Within unseen.
To outward art
And specious sheen,
For Vice is oft encrusting
The hollow heart
Within unseen.
211
See that black pool below thee!
There Heaven sleeps
In golden fire,
Yet, whatsoe'er they show thee,
The mirror's deeps
Are slime and mire.
There Heaven sleeps
In golden fire,
Yet, whatsoe'er they show thee,
The mirror's deeps
Are slime and mire.
LOVE.
From Eternity the Course of Love was writ on leaves of Snow,
Hence it wanders like a vagrant when the Winds of Coldness blow,
And the Lamp of Love is pale and chill where Constancy is weak,
And the Lily comes to pine upon deserted Beauty's cheek.
Hence it wanders like a vagrant when the Winds of Coldness blow,
And the Lamp of Love is pale and chill where Constancy is weak,
And the Lily comes to pine upon deserted Beauty's cheek.
From Eternity the Might of Love was writ on leaves of Fire,
Hence the Soul of Love in spiral flames would mount for ever higher,
And the vermeil Sun of Eden won, leaves Hope no more to seek,
And the damask Rose ascends her throne on happy Beauty's cheek.
Hence the Soul of Love in spiral flames would mount for ever higher,
And the vermeil Sun of Eden won, leaves Hope no more to seek,
And the damask Rose ascends her throne on happy Beauty's cheek.
From Eternity the Fate of Love was writ on leaves of Gloom,
For the Night of its Decay must come, and Darkness build its tomb,
Then the Waste of Life, a Garden once, again is black and bleak,
And the Raven Tresses mourningly o'ershadow Beauty's cheek.
For the Night of its Decay must come, and Darkness build its tomb,
Then the Waste of Life, a Garden once, again is black and bleak,
And the Raven Tresses mourningly o'ershadow Beauty's cheek.
212
O! the joys of Love are sweet and false—are sorrows in disguise,
Like the cheating wealth of golden Eve, ere Night breaks up the skies.
If the graves of Earth were opened—O! if Hades could but speak,
What a world of ruined souls would curse the sheen of Beauty's cheek!
Like the cheating wealth of golden Eve, ere Night breaks up the skies.
If the graves of Earth were opened—O! if Hades could but speak,
What a world of ruined souls would curse the sheen of Beauty's cheek!
THE ANGEL OF DEATH.
A Persian Legend.
I
Great Zuleimaun was King of Kings.He ruled o'er Deevs and men.
For him had Allah's hand updrawn
The veil that shrouds all mystic things.
On Earth shall reign agen
No King like Zuleimaun!
II
He sate within his Council-roomOne morn in Summer-time,
And held high converse with Azreel,
The Messenger of Death and Doom,
On Fate, and Good, and Crime,
And future woe and weal:
213
III
When, slowly oped the chamber-door,And Meerza Ibrahim,
Vezeer, walked in, with tottering pace.
The old man's locks showed scant and hoar;
His eyes were very dim,
And Fear was on his face.
IV
“O King!” he spake, “I dreamed last nightA dream. . . . But who is here?—
Ha!—'tis Azreel that blasts mine eyes!”—
The Angel vanished out of sight,
First giving the Vezeer
A look of deep surprise.
V
“For me!—for me! He comes for me!”The shuddering Meerza cried.
“Oh, Master! grant me, I beseech,
Thy fleetest barb, that I may flee
Into the Desert wide,
Beyond his wrath and reach!”—
VI
“Friend!” spake the Monarch, “dream not thouThat clay may war with Fate!
Thou canst not baulk the Almighty Will.
214
His Life, his Love, his Hate,
His endless Bliss or Ill!”—
VII
“True!” cried the Meerza, “all too true,O King, is that thou sayest,
Yet grant me still the boon I crave!”—
“'Tis thine!” said Zuleimaun. “But who
Shall flee from Doom? Thou mayest
Be riding to thy grave!”
VIII
Began the Meerza then his flight,Borne on his coal-black barb,
O'er mount, and mead, and marish dank.
Spectators marvelled at the sight,
For, from his jewelled garb,
All guessed his princely rank.
IX
And soon as Evening's first faint starRose on the pallid air,
And day was lost in Twilight's gloom,
215
His face to earth, in prayer,
Anear an open tomb!
X
There, prostrate, long time doth he kneel,Amid the swarthy sands;
Till glancing up all desolate,
Lo! sight of sights!—once more Azreel!
The Dark-winged Angel stands
Beside the tomb's grey gate!
XI
“And must it be?” the Meerza cries.“Then Allah's will be done!
Yet say, before I close my race,
Why spake such wonder from thine eyes,
This morn, O Dreaded One,
When first thou sawest my face?”
XII
The Angel raised his looks to Heaven.“O, most Mysterious Lord!”
He spake, “How hidden be thy ways!
O, for the marvel of this even,
Let Earth, with one accord,
Arise and hymn Thy praise!”
XIII
Then, turning to that old man lone,“Know, Ibrahim,” he said,
“That God foreknew all this as near!
He knew that thou, ere moonlight shone,
Shouldst rest among the Dead,
And bade me wait thee here!
216
XIV
“So when, this morn, I met thee inThy Sovereign's Council-room,
I asked myself or why, or how,
Thou couldst have nerve or will to win
Thy way to this far tomb,
And hence my wondering brow.
XV
“Enough! Thus end all earthly dreamsOf Riches and Renown!”—
. . . His hand just touched his victim's face,
And in an hour the moon's blue beams
Were glancing coldly down
On Ibrahim's burial-place.
TO MIHRI.
My starlight, my moonlight, my midnight, my noonlight,
Unveil not, unveil not! or millions must pine.
Ah, didst thou lay bare those dark tresses of thine,
Even night would seem bright
To the hue of thy hair,
Which is black as despair!
Unveil not, unveil not! or millions must pine.
Ah, didst thou lay bare those dark tresses of thine,
Even night would seem bright
To the hue of thy hair,
Which is black as despair!
My starlight, my moonlight, my midnight, my noonlight,
Unveil not, unveil not! or millions must pine.
Ah, didst thou disclose those bright features of thine,
The Red Vale would look pale
By thy cheek which so glows
That it shames the rich rose!
Unveil not, unveil not! or millions must pine.
Ah, didst thou disclose those bright features of thine,
The Red Vale would look pale
By thy cheek which so glows
That it shames the rich rose!
217
My starlight, my moonlight, my midnight, my noonlight,
Unveil not, unveil not! or millions must pine.
Ah, didst thou lay bare that white bosom of thine,
The bright sun would grow dim
Nigh a rival so rare
And so radiantly fair!
My starlight, my moonlight, my midnight, my noonlight.
Unveil not! Unveil not!
Unveil not, unveil not! or millions must pine.
Ah, didst thou lay bare that white bosom of thine,
The bright sun would grow dim
Nigh a rival so rare
And so radiantly fair!
My starlight, my moonlight, my midnight, my noonlight.
Unveil not! Unveil not!
THE WORLD—A GHAZEL.
To this Khan, and from this Khan,How many pilgrims came and went, too!
In this Khan—and by this Khan
What arts were spent—what hearts were rent, to!
To this Khan—and from this Khan
Which for penance man is sent to,
Many a van and caravan
Crowded came—and shrouded went, too!
Christian man and Moslem man,
Guebre, Heathen, Jew, and Gentoo,
To this Khan—and from this Khan
Weeping came and weeping went, too!
A riddle this since time began
Which many a sage his mind hath bent to.
All came and went, but never man
Knew whence they came or where they went to.
218
HEAVEN FIRST OF ALL WITHIN OURSELVES.
I stood where the home of my boyhood had been,
In the Bellflower Vale, by the Lake of Bir-ból;
And I pensively gazed on the wreck of a scene
Which the dreams of the Past made so dear to my soul.
In the Bellflower Vale, by the Lake of Bir-ból;
And I pensively gazed on the wreck of a scene
Which the dreams of the Past made so dear to my soul.
For its light had grown dim while I wandered afar,
And its glories had vanished, like leaves on the gale,
And the frenzy of Man and the tempests of War
Had laid prostrate the pride of my Bellflower Vale.
And its glories had vanished, like leaves on the gale,
And the frenzy of Man and the tempests of War
Had laid prostrate the pride of my Bellflower Vale.
I thought how long years of disaster and woe
Scarce woke in my bosom one sigh for the Past,
How my hopes, like the home of my childhood, lay low,
While the spirit within remained calm to the last.
Scarce woke in my bosom one sigh for the Past,
How my hopes, like the home of my childhood, lay low,
While the spirit within remained calm to the last.
Then I looked on the lake that lay deep in the dell
As pellucidly fair as in summers gone by,
And amid the sad ruins of cottage and cell
Still mirrored the beautiful face of the sky.
As pellucidly fair as in summers gone by,
And amid the sad ruins of cottage and cell
Still mirrored the beautiful face of the sky.
And I said, So may Ruin o'ertake all we love,
And our minds like Bir-ból, abide bright evermore;
So the heart that in grief looks to Allah above,
Still reflects the same heaven from its depths as before!
And our minds like Bir-ból, abide bright evermore;
So the heart that in grief looks to Allah above,
Still reflects the same heaven from its depths as before!
LEARNING.
See how those worlds that roll afar
Serenely beam on one another!
There nowhere burns a sun or star
But helps to cheer some darker brother.
Serenely beam on one another!
There nowhere burns a sun or star
But helps to cheer some darker brother.
219
Wouldst thou, O man! be good and wise,
Share thus thy light among thy neighbours:
In giving, not in hoarding, lies
The truest meed of Learning's labours!
Share thus thy light among thy neighbours:
In giving, not in hoarding, lies
The truest meed of Learning's labours!
GOOD COUNSEL.
Tutor not thyself in science: go to masters for perfection;
Also speak thy thoughts aloud:
Whoso in the glass beholdeth nought besides his own reflection
Bides both ignorant and proud.
Also speak thy thoughts aloud:
Whoso in the glass beholdeth nought besides his own reflection
Bides both ignorant and proud.
Study not in one book only: bee-like, rather, at a hundred
Sources gather honeyed lore:
Thou art else that helpless bird which, when her nest has once been plundered,
Ne'er can build another more.
Sources gather honeyed lore:
Thou art else that helpless bird which, when her nest has once been plundered,
Ne'er can build another more.
AN EPITAPH.
Rests within this lonely mausoléum,
After Life's distractions and fatigue,
Leeh Rewáán, a man to hear and see whom
Monks and Meerzas journeyed many a league.
After Life's distractions and fatigue,
Leeh Rewáán, a man to hear and see whom
Monks and Meerzas journeyed many a league.
Yet not Leeh Rewáán himself, but rather
Leeh Rewáán's worn-out and cast-off dress;
He, the Man, dwells with his Heavenly Father
In a land of light and loveliness.
Leeh Rewáán's worn-out and cast-off dress;
He, the Man, dwells with his Heavenly Father
In a land of light and loveliness.
220
Shah of Song he was, and fond of laughter,
Sweet sharaab, and silver-spangled shawls.
Stranger! mayest thou quaff with him hereafter
Life's red wine in Eden's palace-halls!
Sweet sharaab, and silver-spangled shawls.
Stranger! mayest thou quaff with him hereafter
Life's red wine in Eden's palace-halls!
RELIC OF SULTAN AMURATH II.
A score and ten fleeting years I swayedThis world as its Master,
And mine was the Palace thereof, with its halls:
I deemed them eternal—but now, dismayed,
I see arch and pilaster
Evanish in mist, while the cupola falls,
And is blent with the dust where my slain hopes are laid,
And the rotting pilaster
Drops piecemeal away from the naked walls!—
O wretched, saith Amurad Abuzade,
The man whom Disaster,
Unlooked for and fierce, in the Night-time befals!
LINES ON THE LAUNCHING OF THE BASHTARDAH.
“Weigh anchor!” cried the Padishah,
“Quick! ere the day be a moment older,
And launch the peerless Bashtardah!
No nobler vessel sails, or bolder.”
Who hear the order must obey: they get the Proud one under weigh,
And along her dark blue road she sweeps—
The Jewel of the world—behold her!
“Quick! ere the day be a moment older,
And launch the peerless Bashtardah!
No nobler vessel sails, or bolder.”
Who hear the order must obey: they get the Proud one under weigh,
And along her dark blue road she sweeps—
The Jewel of the world—behold her!
221
Walking the Bosphorus like a queen,
Unparalleled and uncontrolled, her
Green flag will centuries hence be seen
When kiosks and mosques and deereks moulder.
Unparalleled and uncontrolled, her
Green flag will centuries hence be seen
When kiosks and mosques and deereks moulder.
Let Venice' galleys menace now—armed all and manned from poop to prow;
There goes the empress of the seas!
The Jewel of the World—behold her!
There goes the empress of the seas!
The Jewel of the World—behold her!
Long as her gallant main-mast towers,
Long as the joyous waves uphold her,
So long her crew will dare the Giaours,
Will meet them shoulder up to shoulder—
O the days of Selim shall return—again the
Moslem's breast shall burn,
Pondering what Marmora was of yore
When rich in such—our boast—behold her!
Long as the joyous waves uphold her,
So long her crew will dare the Giaours,
Will meet them shoulder up to shoulder—
O the days of Selim shall return—again the
Moslem's breast shall burn,
Pondering what Marmora was of yore
When rich in such—our boast—behold her!
Cold is the Captain-Pasha's lay,
But may his heart be even colder,
May his eyes and mouth be filled with clay,
And a winding-sheet be his enfolder,
When he shall see, with heedless eye, yon glorious pennon flout the sky!
It is her pennon—there she goes!
The Jewel of the World—behold her!
But may his heart be even colder,
May his eyes and mouth be filled with clay,
And a winding-sheet be his enfolder,
When he shall see, with heedless eye, yon glorious pennon flout the sky!
It is her pennon—there she goes!
The Jewel of the World—behold her!
222
GHAZEL.
Red are her cheeks like rubies, so red that every night,Despairing to outglow them, the sun withdraws from sight.
All day I drink this ruby wine, those rubies rich and bright,
But these distil in pearls that fill my dim eyes every night.
The nightingale rebukes me; he says my song is trite;
But can I sing when tortures wring my bosom night by night?
While others woo her in their dreams and slumbers of delight,
I groan and weep, I cannot sleep, I weep the livelong night.
Oh! I am slain with deadly pain—slain, slain with pain outright,
That on her breast her locks should rest so softly all the night.
Of Ahmed's tears and torments, and love's unhappy blight
The lamp will tell that in his cell burns lower night by night.
VOLTO SCIOLTO E PENSIERI STRETTI.
Lock up thy heart within thy breast alway,And wear it not as bait upon thy face,
For there be more devouring beasts of prey
Than haunt the woods among the human race.
223
WHAT IS LOVE?
What is Love? I asked a lover—Liken it, he answered, weeping,
To a flood unchained and sweeping
Over shell-strewn grottoes, over
Beds of roses, lilies, tulips,
O'er all flowers that most enrich the
Garden, in one headlong torrent,
Till they shew a wreck from which the
Eye and mind recoil abhorrent.
Hearts may woo hearts, lips may woo lips,
And gay days be spent in gladness,
Dancing, feasting, lilting, luting,
But the end of all is Sadness,
Desolation, Devastation,
Spoliation and Uprooting!
JEALOUSY.
“My darling, tiny, little girl,
I'll give thee jewelled shoes and dresses,
I'll give thee zones of silk and pearl:
And tell me who has combed thy hair?
I'll give thee kisses and caresses,
And say, what youth has combed thy hair?”
I'll give thee jewelled shoes and dresses,
I'll give thee zones of silk and pearl:
And tell me who has combed thy hair?
I'll give thee kisses and caresses,
And say, what youth has combed thy hair?”
“O, by my word! O, by my truth!
O, by the life of Ali Shah!
Aminah knows no other youth.
By all the times that thou hast kissed her,
Her hair was combed by Zillalah,
Her own beloved sister!”
O, by the life of Ali Shah!
Aminah knows no other youth.
224
Her hair was combed by Zillalah,
Her own beloved sister!”
“My own, my whitest girl, I vow
I'll bring thee sweetmeats sugared newly;
And tell me, only tell me now,
Who over-darked thine eyes with kohl?”
My white Aminah, tell me truly,
Who over-darked thine eyes with kohl?”
I'll bring thee sweetmeats sugared newly;
And tell me, only tell me now,
Who over-darked thine eyes with kohl?”
My white Aminah, tell me truly,
Who over-darked thine eyes with kohl?”
“O, by my word! O, by my soul!
O, by the soul of Ali Shah!
Myself o'er-darked mine eyes with kohl!
'Twas given me by my own dear mother,
My whitest mother, Fatimah:
I had it from none other.”
O, by the soul of Ali Shah!
Myself o'er-darked mine eyes with kohl!
'Twas given me by my own dear mother,
My whitest mother, Fatimah:
I had it from none other.”
“My playful girl, I'll give thee rings,
And gold, and gems beyond comparing;
I'll give thee thousand costly things!
And say, who bit those lips of thine?
Come, tell what Kuzzilbash so daring
Hath bitten those red lips of thine?”
And gold, and gems beyond comparing;
I'll give thee thousand costly things!
And say, who bit those lips of thine?
Come, tell what Kuzzilbash so daring
Hath bitten those red lips of thine?”
“O, by my love! O, by my life!
'Twas by a bright red rose this morn
Give me by Zayde, my brother's wife,
These guiltless lips of mine were bitten.
(For brightest rose hath sharpest thorn:
This, as thou knowest, is written).”
'Twas by a bright red rose this morn
Give me by Zayde, my brother's wife,
These guiltless lips of mine were bitten.
(For brightest rose hath sharpest thorn:
This, as thou knowest, is written).”
“Thou crafty girl, I know thine art!
Dread thou my wrath: I give thee warning.
But if thou wouldst regain my heart
Speak, tell me who has torn thy shawl!
Say what young Galionjee this morning
Tore thus in twain thy scarlet shawl?
Dread thou my wrath: I give thee warning.
But if thou wouldst regain my heart
Speak, tell me who has torn thy shawl!
Say what young Galionjee this morning
Tore thus in twain thy scarlet shawl?
225
“O faithless, truthless, worthless jade!
I have tracked thee, then, thro' all thy lying.
Away! No jewels, no brocade,
No sweetmeats shalt thou have of me.
Away, false girl! thy tears and sighing
Seem worse than even thy lies to be!”
I have tracked thee, then, thro' all thy lying.
Away! No jewels, no brocade,
No sweetmeats shalt thou have of me.
Away, false girl! thy tears and sighing
Seem worse than even thy lies to be!”
TRANSORANIAN PHILOSOPHY.
Make the round world thy Book of Examples!
Man and his mind are a study for sages:
He who would mount to the firmament tramples
Under his feet the experience of ages.
Man and his mind are a study for sages:
He who would mount to the firmament tramples
Under his feet the experience of ages.
Love what thou hast with a willing devotion!
Drink of the stream, if thou meet not the fountain!
Though the best pearls lie low in the ocean,
Gold is at hand in the mines of the mountain!
Drink of the stream, if thou meet not the fountain!
Though the best pearls lie low in the ocean,
Gold is at hand in the mines of the mountain!
A NEW MOON.
Darksome through the Night of SeparationUnto two fond hearts must ever prove,
Those twin sorcerers, Hope—Imagination—
Raise a moon up from the Well of Love.
226
LAMII'S APOLOGY FOR HIS NONSENSE.
I was a parrot mute and happy, tillOnce on a time,
The fowlers pierced the wood and caught me.
Then blame me not; for I but echo still
In wayward rhyme
The melancholy wit they taught me.
TO SULTAN MURAD II.
Earth sees in theeHer Destiny:
Thou standest as the Pole—and she
Resembles
The Needle, for she turns to thee,
And trembles.
TO AMINE, ON SEEING HER ABOUT TO VEIL HER MIRROR.
Veil not thy mirror, sweet Amine,Till Night shall also veil each star;
Thou see'st a two-fold marvel there—
The only face as fair as thine,
The only eyes that near or far
Can gaze on thine without despair!
227
SAYING OF NEDSCHATI.
The world is one vast caravanserai,Where none may stay,
But where each guest writes on the wall this word,
O Mighty Lord!
FOUR PROVERBS.
I
An hour of Good, a day of Ill,This is the lot of mourning Man,
Who leaves the world whene'er he will,
But goes to Heaven whene'er he—can.
II
The steed to the man who bestrides it newly,The sabre to him who best can wield it,
The damsel to him who has wooed her truly,
And the province to him who refuses to yield it.
III
Thy thoughts are but Silver when told;Locked up in thy breast they are Gold.
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IV
Nought, I hear thee say,Can fill the greedy eye;
Yet a little clay
Will fill it by and by.
SAYINGS OF DJELIM.
I, too, was reared in Djelim's house; and thus his precepts run and are:When Folly sells thee Wisdom's crown, 'tis idly gained and dearly bought:
O! foremost man of all his race, born under some diviner star,
Who, early trained, self-reined, self-chained, can practise all that Lokman taught,
The joys and cares of Earth are snares: Heed lest thy soul too late deplore
The power of Sin to wile and win her vision from the Eight and Four.
Lock up thyself within thyself; distrust the Stranger and the Fair;
The fool is blown from whim to whim by every gust of Passion's gales;
229
Avert thine eyes from Woman's face when Twilight falls and she unveils.
Be circumspect; be watchmanlike; put pebbles in thy mouth each day;
Pause long ere thou panegyrise; pause doubly long ere thou condemn.
Thy thoughts are Tartars, vagabonds; imprison all thou canst not slay.
Of many million drops of rain perchance but one turns out a gem.
RELIC OF PRINCE BAYAZEED SHAHI.
Slow through my bosom's veins their last cold blood is flowing,Above my heart even now I feel the rank grass growing.
Hence to the Land of Nought! the caravan is starting—
Its bell already tolls the signal of departing.
Rejoice, my soul! Poor bird, thou art at last delivered!
Thy cage is crumbling fast; its bars will soon be shivered.
Farewell, thou troubled world, where Sin and Crime run riot,
For Shahi henceforth rests in God's own House of Quiet!
DOUBLE TROUBLE.
I am blinded by thy hair and by thy tears together—The dark night and the rain come down on me together.
230
ARCHERS AND ARCHES.
Turn away those eye-brows,Archer of the glossy ebon bow!
Look not thus on my brows!
Mine are clouds that dull the orbs below,
Or deserted bridges,
Underneath whose dreary arches flow,
In unresting ridges,
Evermore the waters of deep woe.
RELIC OF YUSUF SHEICKI.
What a senseless dream of the reason of Man,To think it can rifle the Great Caravan
Of Allah's inscrutable Will and Existence;
When the tinkling tones of the Caravan-bell,
As the Caravan moves through the misty Dell
Of the world, are themselves half-lost in the Distance,
A NONDESCRIPT.
I scarce know how, in verse or prose,For listener's ear or eye of reader,
To give my Lulu's form its merit;
For when she sits, she seems a Rose,
And when she stands, a queenly Cedar,
And when she moves, a Peri-spirit.
231
EFFECTS OF LAZINESS.
I left the Fabric of my Hopes to other hands to rear;It fell, and then I wept for grief, and wondered at its fall.
Be wiser thou, one Hand hath framed the Universal All;
That wrought alone; do thou the same, or swift Decay is near!
JUSTICE ALONE IS ETERNAL.
Tyrant! With sweat of man, with widows' tears,With orphans' blood
Thou moistenest the accursed clay
Of the proud palace walls thine avarice rears.
And callest thou thine evil good!
Yet what avail thy triumphs? Look at the decay
Of the serais of Afrazeeb! Long years
Hath darkness wrapped these in a ten-fold hood;
And owls hoot in their chambers night and day!
Only those Gates which no soul nears
Except by Penance' road and over Sorrow's flood,
Those Gates through which thou canst not find thy way
Those only, and the burning marble piers
Of Iblis' halls—as they have stood
From immemorial time—shall stand for aye!
232
RELIC OF SERVI.
When the mourner sits at the Feast of Woe,
The wine is gall and the lights burn low.
How bounded my heart in my younger years,
Ere Grief had unlocked the fount of my tears!
The wine is gall and the lights burn low.
How bounded my heart in my younger years,
Ere Grief had unlocked the fount of my tears!
Now dead are the roses of Hope and their bloom,
And those that I loved are dust in the tomb;
And of all that gave Servi pleasure or pain,
His songs and his sorrows alone remain.
And those that I loved are dust in the tomb;
And of all that gave Servi pleasure or pain,
His songs and his sorrows alone remain.
| Poems of James Clarence Mangan | |