Chronicles and Characters By Robert Lytton (Owen Meredith): In Two Volumes |
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| THE ROSES OF SAADI. |
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| II. |
| III. |
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 | Chronicles and Characters |  |
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THE ROSES OF SAADI.
I.MOSES AND THE DERVISH.
God, that heaven's seven climates hath spread forth,
To every creature, even as is the worth,
The lot apportions, and the use of things.
If to the creeping cat were given wings,
No sparrow's egg would ever be a bird.
To every creature, even as is the worth,
The lot apportions, and the use of things.
If to the creeping cat were given wings,
No sparrow's egg would ever be a bird.
Moses the Prophet, who with God conferr'd,
Beheld a Dervish, that, for dire distress
And lack of clothes to hide his nakedness,
Buried his body in the desert sand.
This Dervish cried
“O Moses, whom the Hand
Of the Most High God favours! make thy prayer
That He may grant me food and clothes to wear
Who knows the misery of me, and the need.”
Beheld a Dervish, that, for dire distress
And lack of clothes to hide his nakedness,
Buried his body in the desert sand.
This Dervish cried
“O Moses, whom the Hand
Of the Most High God favours! make thy prayer
That He may grant me food and clothes to wear
Who knows the misery of me, and the need.”
Then Moses pray'd to God, that He would feed
And clothe that Dervish.
Nine days after this,
Returning from Mount Sinai in bliss,
Having beheld God's face, the Prophet met
The Dervish in the hands of Justice, set
Between two officers; and, all about,
The rabble follow'd him with hoot, and shout,
And jeer.
The Prophet ask'd of those that cried
“What hath befallen this man?”
And clothe that Dervish.
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Returning from Mount Sinai in bliss,
Having beheld God's face, the Prophet met
The Dervish in the hands of Justice, set
Between two officers; and, all about,
The rabble follow'd him with hoot, and shout,
And jeer.
The Prophet ask'd of those that cried
“What hath befallen this man?”
And they replied
“He hath drunk wine, and, having slain a man,
Is going to the death.”
“He hath drunk wine, and, having slain a man,
Is going to the death.”
Moses began
To praise the Maker of the Universe,
Seeing that his prayer, tho' granted, proved perverse,
Since God to every living soul sets forth
The circumstance according to the worth.
To praise the Maker of the Universe,
Seeing that his prayer, tho' granted, proved perverse,
Since God to every living soul sets forth
The circumstance according to the worth.
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II.THE BOY AND THE RING.
Fair chance, held fast, is merit. A certain king
Of Persia had a jewel in a ring.
He set it on the dome of Azud high;
And, when they saw it flashing in the sky,
Made proclamation to his royal troop,
That whoso sent an arrow thro' the hoop
That held the gem, should have the ring to wear.
Of Persia had a jewel in a ring.
He set it on the dome of Azud high;
And, when they saw it flashing in the sky,
Made proclamation to his royal troop,
That whoso sent an arrow thro' the hoop
That held the gem, should have the ring to wear.
It chanced there were four hundred archers near,
Of the king's company, about the king.
Of the king's company, about the king.
Each took his aim, and shot, and miss'd the ring.
A boy, at play upon the terraced roof
Of a near building, bent his bow aloof
At random, and behold! the morning breeze
His little arrow caught, and bore with ease
Right thro' the circlet of the gem. The king,
Well-pleased, unto the boy assign'd the ring.
Then the boy burnt his arrows and his bow.
Of a near building, bent his bow aloof
At random, and behold! the morning breeze
His little arrow caught, and bore with ease
Right thro' the circlet of the gem. The king,
Well-pleased, unto the boy assign'd the ring.
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The king, astonish'd, said “Why dost thou so,
Seeing thy first shot hath had great success?”
Seeing thy first shot hath had great success?”
He answer'd “Lest my second make that less.”
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III.THE EYES OF MAHMUD.
Sultàn Mahmùd, son of Sabaktogin,
Swept with his sceptre the hot sands of Zin,
Spread forth his mantle over Palestine,
And made the carpet of his glory shine
From Cufah to Cashmere; and, in his pride
Said “All these lands are mine.”
Swept with his sceptre the hot sands of Zin,
Spread forth his mantle over Palestine,
And made the carpet of his glory shine
From Cufah to Cashmere; and, in his pride
Said “All these lands are mine.”
At last he died.
Then his sons laid him with exceeding state
In a deep tomb. Upon the granite gate
Outside they graved in gold his titles all,
And all the names of kingdoms in his thrall,
And all his glory. And beside his head
They placed a bag of rice, a loaf of bread,
And water in a pitcher. This they did
In order that, if God should haply bid
His servant Death to let this sultan go
Because of his surpassing greatness, so
He might not come back hungry. But he lay
In his high marble coffin night and day
Motionless, without majesty or will.
In a deep tomb. Upon the granite gate
Outside they graved in gold his titles all,
And all the names of kingdoms in his thrall,
And all his glory. And beside his head
They placed a bag of rice, a loaf of bread,
And water in a pitcher. This they did
In order that, if God should haply bid
His servant Death to let this sultan go
Because of his surpassing greatness, so
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In his high marble coffin night and day
Motionless, without majesty or will.
Darkness sat down beside him, and was still.
Afterwards, when a hundred years had roll'd,
A certain king, desiring to behold
This famous sultan, gave command to unlock
The granite gate of that sepulchral rock,
And, with a lamp, went down into the tomb,
And all his court.
A certain king, desiring to behold
This famous sultan, gave command to unlock
The granite gate of that sepulchral rock,
And, with a lamp, went down into the tomb,
And all his court.
Out of the nether gloom
There rose a loathsome stench intolerable.
Hard by the marble coffin, on a sill
Of mildew'd stone the earthen pitcher stood,
Untouch'd, untasted. Rats, a ravenous brood,
Had scatter'd all the rice, and gnaw'd the bread.
All that was left upon his marble bed
Of the great Sultan was a little heap
Of yellow bones, and a dry skull, with deep
Eye-sockets. But in those eye-sockets, lo!
Two living eyes were rolling to and fro,
Now left, now right, with never any rest.
There rose a loathsome stench intolerable.
Hard by the marble coffin, on a sill
Of mildew'd stone the earthen pitcher stood,
Untouch'd, untasted. Rats, a ravenous brood,
Had scatter'd all the rice, and gnaw'd the bread.
All that was left upon his marble bed
Of the great Sultan was a little heap
Of yellow bones, and a dry skull, with deep
Eye-sockets. But in those eye-sockets, lo!
Two living eyes were rolling to and fro,
Now left, now right, with never any rest.
Then was the king amazed, and smote his breast
And call'd on God for grace. But not the less
Those dismal eyes with dreadful restlessness
Continually in their socket-holes
Roll'd right and left, like pain'd and wicked souls.
Then said the king “Call here an Abid, wise
And righteous, to rebuke those wicked eyes
That will not rest.”
And when the Abid came
The king said “O mine Abid, in the name
Of the High God that judges quick and dead,
Speak to those eyes.”
And call'd on God for grace. But not the less
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Continually in their socket-holes
Roll'd right and left, like pain'd and wicked souls.
Then said the king “Call here an Abid, wise
And righteous, to rebuke those wicked eyes
That will not rest.”
And when the Abid came
The king said “O mine Abid, in the name
Of the High God that judges quick and dead,
Speak to those eyes.”
The Abid, trembling, said
“Eyes of Mahmud, why is your rest denied
In death? What seek ye here?”
“Eyes of Mahmud, why is your rest denied
In death? What seek ye here?”
The eyes replied,
Still rolling in their wither'd sockets there,
“God's curse upon this darkness! Where, O where
Be my possessions? For with fierce endeavour
Ever we seek them, but can find them never.”
Still rolling in their wither'd sockets there,
“God's curse upon this darkness! Where, O where
Be my possessions? For with fierce endeavour
Ever we seek them, but can find them never.”
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