The Conference of the Birds (Mantiq ut-Tayr)

¹Once on a time from all the Circles seven Between the stedfast Earth and rolling Heaven

²THE BIRDS, of all Note, Plumage, and Degree, That float in Air, and roost upon the Tree;

³And they that from the Waters snatch their Meat, And they that scour the Desert with long Feet;

⁴Birds of all Natures, known or not to Man, Flock'd from all Quarters into full Divan,

⁵On no less solemn business than to find Or choose, a Sultan Khalif of their kind,

⁶For whom, if never theirs, or lost, they pined. The Snake had his, 'twas said; and so the Beast

⁷His Lion-lord: and Man had his, at least: And that the Birds, who nearest were the Skies,

⁸And went apparell'd in its Angel Dyes. Should be without — under no better Law

⁹Than that which lost all other in the Maw — Disperst without a Bond of Union — nay,

¹⁰Or meeting to make each the other's Prey — This was the Grievance — this the solemn Thing

¹¹On which the scatter'd Commonwealth of Wing, From all the four Winds, flying like to Cloud

¹²That met and blacken'd Heav'n, and Thunder-loud With Sound of whirring Wings and Beaks that clash'd

¹³Down like a Torrent on the Desert dash'd: Till by Degrees, the Hubbub and Pell-mell

¹⁴Into some Order and Precedence fell, And, Proclamation made of Silence, each

¹⁵In special Accent, but in general Speech That all should understand, as seem'd him best,

¹⁶The Congregation of all Wings addrest. And first, with Heart so full as from his Eyes

¹⁷Ran weeping, up rose Tajidar the Wise; The mystic Mark upon whose Bosom show'd

¹⁸That He alone of all the Birds THE ROAD Had travell'd: and the Crown upon his Head

¹⁹Had reach'd the Goal; and He stood forth and said: 'O Birds, by what Authority divine

²⁰I speak you know by His authentic Sign, And Name, emblazon'd on my Breast and Bill:

²¹Whose Counsel I assist at, and fulfil: At His Behest I measured as he plann'd

²²The Spaces of the Air and Sea and Land; I gauged the secret sources of the Springs

²³From Cloud to Fish: the Shadow of my Wings Dream'd over sleeping Deluge: piloted

²⁴The Blast that bore Sulayman's Throne: and led The Cloud of Birds that canopied his Head;

²⁵Whose Word I brought to Balkis: and I shared The Counsel that with Asaf he prepared.

²⁶And now you want a Khalif: and I know Him, and his whereabout, and How to go:

²⁷And go alone I could, and plead your cause Alone for all: but, by the eternal laws,

²⁸Yourselves by Toil and Travel of your own Must for your old Delinquency atone.

²⁹Were you indeed not blinded by the Curse Of Self-exile, that still grows worse and worse,

³⁰Yourselves would know that, though you see him not, He is with you this Moment, on this Spot,

³¹Your Lord through all Forgetfulness and Crime, Here, There, and Everywhere, and through all Time.

³²But as a Father, whom some wayward Child By sinful Self-will has unreconciled,

³³Waits till the sullen Reprobate at cost Of long Repentance should regain the Lost;

³⁴Therefore, yourselves to see as you are seen, Yourselves must bridge the Gulf you made between

³⁵By such a Search and Travel to be gone Up to the mighty mountain Kaf, whereon

³⁶Hinges the World, and round about whose Knees Into one Ocean mingle the Sev'n Seas;

³⁷In whose impenetrable Forest-folds Of Light and Dark "Symurgh" his Presence holds;

³⁸Not to be reach 'd, if to be reach'd at all But by a Road the stoutest might apal;

³⁹Of Travel not of Days or Months, but Years — Life-long perhaps: of Dangers, Doubts, and Fears

⁴⁰As yet unheard of: Sweat of Blood and Brain Interminable — often all in vain —

⁴¹And, if successful, no Return again: A Road whose very Preparation scared

⁴²The Traveller who yet must be prepared. Who then this Travel to Result would bring

⁴³Needs both a Lion's Heart beneath the Wing, And even more, a Spirit purified

⁴⁴Of Worldly Passion, Malice, Lust, and Pride: Yea, ev'n of Worldly Wisdom, which grows dim

⁴⁵And dark, the nearer it approaches Him, Who to the Spirit's Eye alone reveal'd,

⁴⁶By sacrifice of Wisdom's self unseal'd; Without which none who reach the Place could bear

⁴⁷To look upon the Glory dwelling there.' One Night from out the swarming City Gate

⁴⁸Stept holy Bajazyd, to meditate Alone amid the breathing Fields that lay

⁴⁹In solitary Silence leagues away, Beneath a Moon and Stars as bright as Day.

⁵⁰And the Saint wondering such a Temple were, And so lit up, and scarce one worshipper,

⁵¹A voice from Heav'n amid the stillness said: 'The Royal Road is not for all to tread,

⁵²Nor is the Royal Palace for the Rout, Who, even if they reach it, are shut out.

⁵³The Blaze that from my Harim window breaks With fright the Rabble of the Roadside takes;

⁵⁴And ev'n of those that at my Portal din, Thousands may knock for one that enters in.'

⁵⁵Thus spoke the Tajidar: and the wing'd Crowd, That underneath his Word in Silence bow'd,

⁵⁶Clapp'd Acclamation: and their Hearts and Eyes Were kindled by the Firebrand of the Wise.

⁵⁷They felt their Degradation: they believed The word that told them how to be retrieved,

⁵⁸And in that glorious Consummation won Forgot the Cost at which it must be done.

⁵⁹'They only long'd to follow: they would go Whither he led, through Flood, or Fire, or Snow' —

⁶⁰So cried the Multitude. But some there were Who listen'd with a cold disdainful air,

⁶¹Content with what they were, or grudging Cost Of Time or Travel that might all be lost;

⁶²These, one by one, came forward, and preferr'd Unwise Objection: which the wiser Word

⁶³Shot with direct Reproof, or subtly round With Argument and Allegory wound.

⁶⁴The Pheasant first would know by what pretence The Tajidar to that pre-eminence

⁶⁵Was raised — a Bird, but for his lofty Crest (And such the Pheasant had) like all the Rest —

⁶⁶Who answer'd — 'By no Virtue of my own Sulayman chose me, but by His alone:

⁶⁷Not by the Gold and Silver of my Sighs Made mine, but the free Largess of his Eyes.

⁶⁸Behold the Grace of Allah comes and goes As to Itself is good: and no one knows

⁶⁹Which way it turns: in that mysterious Court Not he most finds who furthest travels for't.

⁷⁰For one may crawl upon his knees Life-long, And yet may never reach, or all go wrong:

⁷¹Another just arriving at the Place He toil'd for, and — the Door shut in his Face:

⁷²Whereas Another, scarcely gone a Stride, And suddenly — Behold he is Inside ! —

⁷³But though the Runner win not, he that stands, No Thorn will turn to Roses in his Hands:

⁷⁴Each one must do his best and all endure, And all endeavour, hoping but not sure.

⁷⁵Heav'n its own Umpire is; its Bidding do, And Thou perchance shalt be Sulayman's too.'

⁷⁶One day Shah Mahmud, riding with the Wind A-hunting, left his Retinue behind,

⁷⁷And coming to a River, whose swift Course Doubled back Game and Dog, and Man and Horse,

⁷⁸Beheld upon the Shore a little Lad A-fishing, very poor, and Tatter-clad

⁷⁹He was, and weeping as his Heart would break. So the Great Sultan, for good humour's sake

⁸⁰Pull'd in his Horse a moment, and drew nigh, And after making his Salam, ask'd why

⁸¹He wept — weeping, the Sultan said, so sore As he had never seen one weep before.

⁸²The Boy look'd up, and 'O Amir,' he said, 'Sev'n of us are at home, and Father dead,

⁸³And Mother left with scarce a Bit of Bread: And now since Sunrise have I fish'd — and see!

⁸⁴Caught nothing for our Supper — Woe is Me!' The Sultan lighted from his horse. 'Behold,'

⁸⁵Said he, 'Good Fortune will not be controll'd: And, since Today yours seems to turn from you,

⁸⁶Suppose we try for once what mine will do, And we will share alike in all I win.'

⁸⁷So the Shah took, and flung his Fortune in, The Net; which, cast by the Great Mahmud's Hand,

⁸⁸A hundred glittering Fishes brought to Land. The Lad look'd up in Wonder — Mahmud smiled

⁸⁹And vaulted into Saddle. But the Child Ran after — 'Nay, Amir, but half the Haul

⁹⁰Is yours by Bargain' — 'Nay, Today take all,' The Sultan cried, and shook his Bridle free —

⁹¹'But mind — Tomorrow All belongs to Me — ' And so rode off. Next morning at Divan

⁹²The Sultan's Mind upon his Bargain ran, And being somewhat in a mind for sport

⁹³Sent for the Lad: who, carried up to Court, And marching into Royalty's full Blaze

⁹⁴With such a Catch of Fish as yesterday's, The Sultan call'd and set him by his side,

⁹⁵And asking him, 'What Luck?' The Boy replied, 'This is the Luck that follows every Cast,

⁹⁶Since o'er my Net the Sultan's Shadow pass'd.' Then came The Nightingale, from such a Draught

⁹⁷Of Ecstasy that from the Rose he quaff d Reeling as drunk, and ever did distil

⁹⁸In exquisite divisions from his Bill To inflame the Hearts of Men — and thus sang He —

⁹⁹'To me alone, alone, is giv'n the Key Of Love; of whose whole Mystery possesst,

¹⁰⁰When I reveal a little to the Rest, Forthwith Creation listening forsakes

¹⁰¹The Reins of Reason, and my Frenzy takes: Yea, whosoever once has quaint this wine

¹⁰²He leaves unlisten'd David's Song for mine. In vain do Men for my Divisions strive,

¹⁰³And die themselves making dead Lutes alive: I hang the Stars with Meshes for Men's Souls:

¹⁰⁴The Garden underneath my Music rolls. The long, long Morns that mourn the Rose away

¹⁰⁵I sit in silence, and on Anguish prey: But the first Air which the New Year shall breathe

¹⁰⁶Up to my Boughs of Message from beneath That in her green Harim my Bride unveils,

¹⁰⁷My Throat bursts silence and her Advent hails, Who in her crimson Volume registers

¹⁰⁸The Notes of Him whose Life is lost in hers. The Rose I love and worship now is here;

¹⁰⁹If dying, yet reviving, Year by Year; But that you tell of, all my Life why waste

¹¹⁰In vainly searching; or, if found, not taste?' So with Division infinite and Trill

¹¹¹On would the Nightingale have warbled still, And all the World have listen'd; but a Note

¹¹²Of sterner Import check'd the lovesick Throat. 'O watering with thy melodious Tears

¹¹³Love's Garden, and who dost indeed the Ears Of men with thy melodious Fingers mould

¹¹⁴As David's Finger Iron did of old: Why not, like David, dedicate thy Dower

¹¹⁵Of Song to something better than a Flower? Empress indeed of Beauty, so they say,

¹¹⁶But one whose Empire hardly lasts a Day, By Insurrection of the Morning's Breath

¹¹⁷That made her hurried to Decay and Death: And while she lasts contented to be seen,

¹¹⁸And worshipt, for the Garden's only Queen, Leaving thee singing on thy Bough forlorn,

¹¹⁹Or if she smile on Thee, perhaps in Scorn.' Like that fond Dervish waiting in the throng

¹²⁰When some World-famous Beauty went along, Who smiling on the Antic as she pass'd —

¹²¹Forthwith Staff, Bead and Scrip away he cast, And grovelling in the Kennel, took to whine

¹²²Before her Door among the Dogs and Swine. Which when she often went unheeding by,

¹²³But one day quite as heedless ask'd him — Why?' — He told of that one Smile, which, all the Rest

¹²⁴Passing, had kindled Hope within his Breast — Again she smiled and said, 'O self -beguiled

¹²⁵Poor Wretch, at whom and not on whom I smiled.' Then came the subtle Parrot in a coat

¹²⁶Greener than Greensward, and about his Throat A Collar ran of sub-sulphureous Gold;

¹²⁷And in his Beak a Sugar-plum he troll'd, That all his Words with luscious Lisping ran,

¹²⁸And to this Tune — 'O cruel Cage, and Man More iron still who did confine me there,

¹²⁹Who else with him whose Livery I wear Ere this to his Eternal Fount had been,

¹³⁰And drunk what should have kept me ever-green. But now I know the Place, and I am free

¹³¹To go, and all the Wise will follow Me. Some' — and upon the Nightingale one Eye

¹³²He leer'd — 'for nothing but the Blossom sigh: But I am for the luscious Pulp that grows

¹³³Where, and for which the Blossom only blows: And which so long as the Green Tree provides

¹³⁴What better grows along Kaf's dreary Sides? And what more needful Prophet there than He

¹³⁵Who gives me Life to nip it from the Tree?' To whom the Tajidar — 'O thou whose Best

¹³⁶In the green leaf of Paradise is drest, But whose Neck kindles with a lower Fire —

¹³⁷O slip the collar off of base Desire, And stand apparell'd in Heav'n's Woof entire!

¹³⁸This Life that hangs so sweet about your Lips But, spite of all your Khizar, slips and slips,

¹³⁹What is it but itself the coarser Rind Of the True Life withinside and behind,

¹⁴⁰Which he shall never never reach unto Till the gross Shell of Carcase he break through?'

¹⁴¹For what said He, that dying Hermit, whom Your Prophet came to, trailing through the Gloom

¹⁴²His Emerald Vest, and tempted — 'Come with Me, And Live.' The Hermit answered — 'Not with Thee.

¹⁴³Two Worlds there are, and This was thy Design, And thou hast got it; but The Next is mine;

¹⁴⁴Whose Fount is this life's Death, and to whose Side Ev'n now I find my Way without a Guide.'

¹⁴⁵Then like a Sultan glittering in all Rays Of Jewelry, and deckt with his own Blaze,

¹⁴⁶The glorious Peacock swept into the Ring: And, turning slowly that the glorious Thing

¹⁴⁷Might fill all Eyes with wonder, thus said He. 'Behold, the Secret Artist, making me,

¹⁴⁸With no one Colour of the skies bedeckt, But from its Angel's Feathers did select

¹⁴⁹To make up mine withal, the Gabriel Of all the Birds: though from my Place I fell

¹⁵⁰In Eden, when Acquaintance I did make In those blest days with that Sev'n-headed Snake,

¹⁵¹And thence with him, my perfect Beauty marr'd With these ill Feet, was thrust out and debarr'd.

¹⁵²Little I care for Worldly Fruit or Flower, Would you restore me to lost Eden's Bower,

¹⁵³But first my Beauty making all complete With reparation of these ugly Feet.'

¹⁵⁴'Were it,' 'twas answer'd, 'only to return To that lost Eden, better far to burn

¹⁵⁵In Self-abasement up thy plumed Pride, And ev'n with lamer feet to creep inside —

¹⁵⁶But all mistaken you and all like you That long for that lost Eden as the true;

¹⁵⁷Fair as it was, still nothing but the shade And Out-court of the Majesty that made.

¹⁵⁸That which I point you tow'rd, and which the King I tell you of broods over with his Wing,

¹⁵⁹With no deciduous leaf, but with the Rose Of Spiritual Beauty, smells and glows:

¹⁶⁰No plot of Earthly Pleasance, but the whole True Garden of the Universal Soul.'

¹⁶¹For so Creation's Master- Jewel fell From that same Eden: loving which too well,

¹⁶²The Work before the Artist did prefer, And in the Garden lost the Gardener.

¹⁶³Wherefore one Day about the Garden went A voice that found him in his false Content,

¹⁶⁴And like a bitter Sarsar of the North Shrivell'd the Garden up, and drove him forth

¹⁶⁵Into the Wilderness: and so the Eye Of Eden closed on him till by and by.

¹⁶⁶Then from a Ruin where conceal'd he lay Watching his buried Gold, and hating Day,

¹⁶⁷Hooted The Owl. — T tell you, my Delight Is in the Ruin and the Dead of Night

¹⁶⁸Where I was born, and where I love to wone All my Life long, sitting on some cold stone

¹⁶⁹Away from all your roystering Companies, In some dark Corner where a Treasure lies;

¹⁷⁰That, buried by some Miser in the Dark, Speaks up to me at Midnight like a Spark;

¹⁷¹And o'er it like a Talisman I brood, Companion of the Serpent and the Toad.

¹⁷²What need of other Sovereign, having found, And keeping as in Prison underground,

¹⁷³One before whom all other Kings bow down, And with his glittering Heel their Foreheads crown?'

¹⁷⁴'He that a Miser lives and Miser dies, At the Last Day what Figure shall he rise?'

¹⁷⁵A Fellow all his life lived hoarding Gold, And, dying, hoarded left it. And behold,

¹⁷⁶One Night his Son saw peering through the House A Man, with yet the semblance of a Mouse,

¹⁷⁷Watching a crevice in the Wall — and cried 'My Father?' — 'Yes,' the Musulman replied,

¹⁷⁸'Thy Father!' — 'But why watching thus?' — For fear Lest any smell my Treasure buried here.'

¹⁷⁹'But wherefore, Sir, so metamousified?' 'Because, my Son, such is the true outside

¹⁸⁰Of the inner Soul by which I lived and died.' Aye,' said The Partridge, with his Foot and Bill

¹⁸¹Crimson with raking Rubies from the Hill, And clattering his Spurs — Wherewith the Ground

¹⁸²I stab,' said he, 'for Rubies, that, when found I swallow; which, as soon as swallow'd, turn

¹⁸³To Sparks which though my beak and eyes do burn. Gold, as you say, is but dull Metal dead,

¹⁸⁴And hanging on the Hoarder's Soul like Lead: But Rubies that have Blood within, and grown

¹⁸⁵And nourisht in the Mountain Heart of Stone, Burn with an inward Light, which they inspire,

¹⁸⁶And make their Owners Lords of their Desire.' To whom the Tajidar — As idly sold

¹⁸⁷To the quick Pebble as the drowsy Gold, As dead when sleeping in their mountain mine

¹⁸⁸As dangerous to Him who makes them shine: Slavish indeed to do their Lord's Commands,

¹⁸⁹And slave-like aptest to escape his Hands, And serve a second Master like the first,

¹⁹⁰And working all their wonders for the worst.' Never was Jewel after or before

¹⁹¹Like that Sulayman for a Signet wore: Whereby one Ruby, weighing scarce a grain

¹⁹²Did Sea and Land and all therein constrain, Yea, ev'n the Winds of Heav'n — made the fierce East

¹⁹³Bear his League-wide Pavilion like a Beast, Whither he would: yea, the Good Angel held

¹⁹⁴His subject, and the lower Fiend compell'd. Till, looking round about him in his pride,

¹⁹⁵He overtax'd the Fountain that supplied, Praying that after him no Son of Clay

¹⁹⁶Should ever touch his Glory. And one Day Almighty God his Jewel stole away,

¹⁹⁷And gave it to the Div, who with the Ring Wore also the Resemblance of the King,

¹⁹⁸And so for forty days play'd such a Game As blots Sulayman's forty years with Shame.

¹⁹⁹Then The Shah-Falcon, tossing up his Head Blink-hooded as it was — 'Behold,' he said,

²⁰⁰'I am the chosen Comrade of the King, And perch upon the Fist that wears the Ring;

²⁰¹Born, bred, and nourisht, in the Royal Court, I take the Royal Name and make the Sport.

²⁰²And if strict Discipline I undergo And half my Life am blinded — be it so;

²⁰³Because the Shah's Companion ill may brook On aught save Royal Company to look.

²⁰⁴And why am Ito leave my King, and fare With all these Rabble Wings I know not where?' —

²⁰⁵'O blind indeed' — the Answer was, 'and dark To any but a vulgar Mortal Mark,

²⁰⁶And drunk with Pride of Vassalage to those Whose Humour like their Kingdom comes and goes;

²⁰⁷All Mutability: who one Day please To give: and next Day what they gave not seize:

²⁰⁸Like to the Fire: a dangerous Friend at best, Which who keeps farthest from does wiseliest.

²⁰⁹A certain Shah there was in Days foregone Who had a lovely Slave he doted on,

²¹⁰And cherish'd as the Apple of his Eye, Clad gloriously, fed sumptuously, set high,

²¹¹And never was at Ease were He not by, Who yet, for all this Sunshine, Day by Day

²¹²Was seen to wither like a Flower away. Which, when observing, one without the Veil

²¹³Of Favour ask'd the Favourite — Why so pale And sad?' thus sadly answer'd the poor Thing —

²¹⁴'No Sun that rises sets until the King, Whose Archery is famous among Men,

²¹⁵Aims at an Apple on my Head, and when The stricken Apple splits, and those who stand

²¹⁶Around cry "Lo! the Shah's unerring Hand!" Then He too laughing asks me "Why so pale

²¹⁷And sorrow-some? as could the Sultan fail, Who such a master of the Bow confest,

²¹⁸And aiming by the Head that he loves best.'" Then on a sudden swoop 'd The Phoenix down

²¹⁹As though he wore as well as gave The Crown: And cried — 'I care not, I, to wait on Kings,

²²⁰Whose crowns are but the Shadow of my Wings!' Aye,' was the Answer — And, pray, how has sped,

²²¹On which it lighted, many a mortal Head?' A certain Sultan dying, his Vizier

²²²In Dream beheld him, and in mortal Fear Began — 'O mighty Shah of Shahs ! Thrice-blest' —

²²³But loud the Vision shriek'd and struck its Breast, And 'Stab me not with empty Title!' cried —

²²⁴'One only Shah there is, and none beside, Who from his Throne above for certain Ends

²²⁵Awhile some Spangle of his Glory lends To Men on Earth; but calling in again

²²⁶Exacts a strict account of every Grain. Sultan I lived, and held the World in scorn:

²²⁷O better had I glean'd the Field of Corn! O better had I been a Beggar born,

²²⁸And for my Throne and Crown, down in the Dust My living Head had laid where Dead I must!

²²⁹0 wither'd, wither'd, wither'd, be the Wing Whose overcasting Shadow made me King!'

²³⁰Then from a Pond, where all day long he kept, Waddled the dapper Duck demure, adept

²³¹At infinite Ablution, and precise In keeping of his Raiment clean and nice.

²³²And 'Sure of all the Race of Birds,' said He, 'None for Religious Purity like Me,

²³³Beyond what strictest Rituals prescribe — Methinks I am the Saint of all our Tribe,

²³⁴To whom, by Miracle, the Water, that 1 wash in, also makes my Praying-Mat.'

²³⁵To whom, more angrily than all, replied The Leader, lashing that religious Pride,

²³⁶That under ritual Obedience To outer Law with inner might dispense:

²³⁷For, fair as all the Feather to be seen, Could one see through, the Maw was not so clean:

²³⁸But He that made both Maw and Feather too Would take account of, seeing through and through.

²³⁹A Shah returning to his Capital, His subjects drest it forth in Festival,

²⁴⁰Thronging with Acclamation Square and Street, And kneeling flung before his Horse's feet

²⁴¹Jewel and Gold. All which with scarce an Eye The Sultan superciliously rode by:

²⁴²Till coming to the public Prison, They Who dwelt within those grisly Walls, by way

²⁴³Of Welcome, having neither Pearl nor Gold, Over the wall chopt Head and Carcase roll'd,

²⁴⁴Some almost parcht to Mummy with the Sun, Some wet with Execution that day done.

²⁴⁵At which grim Compliment at last the Shah Drew Bridle: and amid a wild Hurrah

²⁴⁶Of savage Recognition, smiling threw Silver and Gold among the wretched Crew,

²⁴⁷And so rode forward. Whereat of his Train One wondering that, while others sued in vain

²⁴⁸With costly gifts, which carelessly he pass'd, But smiled at ghastly Welcome like the last;

²⁴⁹The Shah made answer — All that Pearl and Gold Of ostentatious Welcome only told:

²⁵⁰A little with great Clamour from the Store Of hypocrites who kept at home much more.

²⁵¹But when those sever'd Heads and Trunks I saw — Save by strict Execution of my Law

²⁵²They had not parted company; not one But told my Will not talk'd about, but done.'

²⁵³Then from a Wood was heard unseen to coo The Ring-dove — Yusuf ! Yusuf ! Yiisuf ! Yu-'

²⁵⁴(For thus her sorrow broke her Note in twain, And, just where broken, took it up again)

²⁵⁵'-suf! Yusuf! Yusuf! Yusuf!'— But one Note, Which still repeating, she made hoarse her throat:

²⁵⁶Till checkt — 'O You, who with your idle Sighs Block up the Road of better Enterprise;

²⁵⁷Sham Sorrow all, or bad as sham if true, When once the better thing is come to do;

²⁵⁸Beware lest wailing thus you meet his Doom Who all too long his Darling wept, from whom

²⁵⁹You draw the very Name you hold so dear, And which the World is somewhat tired to hear.'

²⁶⁰When Yusuf from his Father's Home was torn, The Patriarch's Heart was utterly forlorn,

²⁶¹And, like a Pipe with but one stop, his Tongue With nothing but the name of Yusuf rung.

²⁶²Then down from Heaven's Branches flew the Bird OfHeav'n and said 'God wearies of that word:

²⁶³Hast thou not else to do and else to say?' So Jacob's lips were sealed from that Day.

²⁶⁴But one Night in a Vision, far away His darling in some alien Field he saw

²⁶⁵Binding the Sheaf; and what between the Awe Of God's Displeasure and the bitter Pass

²⁶⁶Of passionate Affection, sigh'd Alas — ' And stopp'd — But with the morning Sword of Flame

²⁶⁷That oped his Eyes the sterner Angel's came For the forbidden Word not utter'd by

²⁶⁸Thy Lips was yet sequester'd in that Sigh.' And the right Passion whose Excess was wrong

²⁶⁹Blinded the aged Eyes that wept too long. And after these came others — arguing,

²⁷⁰Enquiring and excusing — some one Thing, And some another — endless to repeat,

²⁷¹But, in the Main, Sloth, Folly, or Deceit. Their Souls were to the vulgar Figure cast

²⁷²Of earthly Victual not of Heavenly Fast. At last one smaller Bird, of a rare kind,

²⁷³Of modest Plume and unpresumptuous Mind, Whisper'd 'O Tajidar, we know indeed

²⁷⁴How Thou both knowest, and would'st help our Need; For thou art wise and holy, and hast been

²⁷⁵Behind the Veil, and there The Presence seen. But we are weak and vain, with little care

²⁷⁶Beyond our yearly Nests and daily Fare — How should we reach the Mountain? and if there

²⁷⁷How get so great a Prince to hear our Prayer? For there, you say, dwells The Symurgh alone

²⁷⁸In Glory, like Sulayman on his Throne, And we but Pismires at his feet: can He

²⁷⁹Such puny Creatures stoop to hear, or see; Or hearing, seeing, own us — unakin

²⁸⁰As He to Folly, Woe, and Death, and Sin?' — To whom the Tajidar, whose Voice for those

²⁸¹Bewilder'd ones to full Compassion rose 'O lost so long in exile, you disclaim

²⁸²The very Fount of Being whence you came, Cannot be parted from, and, will or no,

²⁸³Whether for Good or Evil must re-flow ! For look — the Shadows into which the Light

²⁸⁴Of his pure Essence down by infinite Gradation dwindles, which at random play

²⁸⁵Through Space in Shape indefinite — one Ray Of his Creative Will into defined

²⁸⁶Creation quickens: We that swim the Wind, And they the Flood below, and Man and Beast

²⁸⁷That walk between, from Lion to the least Pismire that creeps along Sulayman's Wall —

²⁸⁸Yea, that in which they swim, fly, walk, and crawl — However near the Fountain Light, or far

²⁸⁹Removed, yet His authentic Shadows are; Dead Matter's Self but the dark Residue

²⁹⁰Exterminating Glory dwindles to. A Mystery too fearful in the Crowd

²⁹¹To utter — scarcely to Thyself aloud — But when in solitary Watch and Prayer

²⁹²Consider'd: and religiously beware Lest Thou the Copy with the Type confound;

²⁹³And Deity, with Deity indrown'd, — For as pure Water into purer Wine

²⁹⁴Incorporating shall itself reline While the dull Drug lies half-re solved below,

²⁹⁵With Him and with his Shadows is it so: The baser Forms, to whatsoever Change

²⁹⁶Subject, still vary through their lower Range: To which the higher even shall decay,

²⁹⁷That, letting ooze their better Part away For Things of Sense and Matter, in the End

²⁹⁸Shall merge into the Clay to which they tend. Unlike to him, who straining through the Bond

²⁹⁹Of outward Being for a Life beyond, While the gross Worldling to his Centre clings,

³⁰⁰That draws him deeper in, exulting springs To merge him in the central Soul of Things.

³⁰¹And shall not he pass home with other Zest Who, with full Knowledge, yearns for such a Rest,

³⁰²Than he, who with his better self at strife, Drags on the weary Exile call'd This Life? —

³⁰³One, like a child with outstretcht Arms and Face Upturn'd, anticipates his Sire's Embrace;

³⁰⁴The other crouching like a guilty Slave Till flogg'd to Punishment across the Grave.

³⁰⁵And, knowing that His glory ill can bear The unpurged Eye; do thou Thy Breast prepare:

³⁰⁶And the mysterious Mirror He set there, To temper his reflected Image in,

³⁰⁷Clear of Distortion, Doubleness, and Sin: And in thy Conscience understanding this,

³⁰⁸The Double only seems, but The One is, Thyself to Self-annihilation give

³⁰⁹That this false Two in that true One may live. For this I say: if, looking in thy Heart,

³¹⁰Thou for Self-whole mistake thy Shadow-part, That Shadow-part indeed into The Sun

³¹¹Shall melt, but senseless of its Union: But in that Mirror if with purged eyes

³¹²Thy Shadow Thou for Shadow recognise, Then shalt Thou back into thy Centre fall

³¹³A conscious Ray of that eternal All.' He ceased, and for awhile Amazement quell'd

³¹⁴The Host, and in the Chain of Silence held: A Mystery so awful who would dare —

³¹⁵So glorious who would not wish — to share? So Silence brooded on the feather'd Folk,

³¹⁶Till here and there a timid Murmur broke From some too poor in honest Confidence,

³¹⁷And then from others of too much Pretence; Whom both, as each unduly hoped or fear'd,

³¹⁸The Tajidar in answer check'd or cheer'd. Some said their Hearts were good indeed to go

³¹⁹The Way he pointed out: but they were slow Of Comprehension, and scarce understood

³²⁰Their present Evil or the promised Good: And so, tho' willing to do all they could,

³²¹Must not they fall short, or go wholly wrong, On such mysterious Errand, and so long?

³²²Whom the wise Leader bid but Do their Best In Hope and Faith, and leave to Him the rest,

³²³For He who fix'd the Race, and knew its Length And Danger, also knew the Runner's Strength.

³²⁴Shah Mahmud, absent on an Enterprise, Ayas, the very Darling of his eyes,

³²⁵At home under an Evil Eye fell sick, Then cried the Sultan to a soldier 'Quick!

³²⁶To Horse! to Horse! without a Moment's Stay, — The shortest Road with all the Speed you may, —

³²⁷Or, by the Lord, your Head shall pay for it!' — Off went the Soldier, plying Spur and Bit —

³²⁸Over the sandy Desert, over green Valley, and Mountain, and the Stream between,

³²⁹Without a Moment's Stop for rest or bait, Up to the City — to the Palace Gate —

³³⁰Up to the Presence-Chamber at a Stride — And Lo! The Sultan at his Darling's side! —

³³¹Then thought the Soldier — I have done my Best, And yet shall die for it.' The Sultan guess'd

³³²His Thought and smiled. 'Indeed your Best you did, The nearest Road you knew, and well you rid:

³³³And if / knew a shorter, my Excess Of Knowledge does but justify thy Less.'

³³⁴And then, with drooping Crest and Feather, came Others, bow'd down with Penitence and Shame.

³³⁵They long'd indeed to go; 'but how begin, Mesh'd and entangled as they were in Sin

³³⁶Which often-times Repentance of past Wrong As often broken had but knit more strong?'

³³⁷Whom the wise Leader bid be of good cheer, And, conscious of the Fault, dismiss the Fear,

³³⁸Nor at the very Entrance of the Fray Their Weapon, ev'n if broken, fling away:

³³⁹Since Mercy on the broken Branch anew Would blossom were but each Repentance true.

³⁴⁰For did not God his Prophet take to Task? 'Sev'n-times of Thee did Karun Pardon ask;

³⁴¹Which, hadst thou been like Me his Maker — yea, But present at the Kneading of his Clay

³⁴²With those twain Elements of Hell and Heav'n, — One prayer had won what Thou deny'st to Sev'n.'

³⁴³For like a Child sent with a fluttering Light To feel his way along a gusty Night

³⁴⁴Man walks the World: again and yet again The Lamp shall be by Fits of Passion slain:

³⁴⁵But shall not He who sent him from the Door Relight the Lamp once more, and yet once more?

³⁴⁶When the rebellious Host from Death shall wake Black with Despair of Judgment, God shall take

³⁴⁷Ages of holy Merit from the Count Of Angels to make up Man's short Amount,

³⁴⁸And bid the murmuring Angel gladly spare Of that which, undiminishing his Share,

³⁴⁹Of Bliss, shall rescue Thousands from the Cost Of Bankruptcy within the Prison lost.

³⁵⁰Another Story told how in the Scale Good Will beyond mere Knowledge would prevail.

³⁵¹In Paradise the Angel Gabriel heard The Lips of Allah trembling with the Word

³⁵²Of perfect Acceptation: and he thought 'Some perfect Faith such perfect Answer wrought,

³⁵³But whose?' — And therewith slipping from the Crypt Of Sidra, through the Angel-ranks he slipt

³⁵⁴Watching what Lip yet trembled with the Shot That so had hit the Mark — but found it not.

³⁵⁵Then, in a Glance to Earth, he threaded through Mosque, Palace, Cell and Cottage of the True

³⁵⁶Belief — in vain; so back to Heaven went And — Allah's Lips still trembling with assent!

³⁵⁷Then the tenacious Angel once again Threaded the Ranks of Heav'n and Earth — in vain —

³⁵⁸Till, once again return'd to Paradise, There, looking into God's, the Angel's Eyes

³⁵⁹Beheld the Prayer that brought that Benison Rising like Incense from the Lips of one

³⁶⁰Who to an Idol bowed — as best he knew Under that False God worshipping the True.

³⁶¹And then came others whom the summons found Not wholly sick indeed, but far from sound:

³⁶²Whose light inconstant Soul alternate flew From Saint to Sinner, and to both untrue;

³⁶³Who like a niggard Tailor, tried to match Truth's single Garment with a worldly Patch.

³⁶⁴A dangerous Game; for, striving to adjust The hesitating Scale of either Lust,

³⁶⁵That which had least within it upward flew, And still the weightier to the Earth down drew,

³⁶⁶And, while suspended between Rise and Fall, Apt with a shaking Hand to forfeit all.

³⁶⁷There was a Queen of Egypt like the Bride Of Night, Full-moon-faced and Canopus-eyed,

³⁶⁸Whom one among the meanest of her Crowd Loved — and she knew it (for he loved aloud),

³⁶⁹And sent for him, and said 'Thou lov'st thy Queen: Now therefore Thou hast this to choose between:

³⁷⁰Fly for thy Life: or for this one night Wed Thy Queen, and with the Sunrise lose thy Head.'

³⁷¹He paused — he turn'd to fly — she struck him dead. For had he truly loved his Queen,' said She,

³⁷²'He would at once have giv'n his Life for me, And Life and Wife had carried: but he lied;

³⁷³And loving only Life, has justly died.' And then came one who having clear'd his Throat

³⁷⁴With sanctimonious Sweetness in his Note Thus lisp'd — 'Behold I languish from the first

³⁷⁵With passionate and unrequited Thirst Of Love for more than any mortal Bird.

³⁷⁶Therefore have I withdrawn me from the Herd To pine in Solitude. But Thou at last

³⁷⁷Hast drawn a line across the dreary Past, And sure I am by Foretaste that the Wine

³⁷⁸I long'd for, and Thou tell'st of, shall be mine.' But he was sternly checkt. 'I tell thee this:

³⁷⁹Such Boast is no Assurance of such Bliss: Thou canst not even fill the sail of Prayer

³⁸⁰Unless from Him breathe that authentic Air That shall lift up the Curtain that divides

³⁸¹His Lover from the Harim where He hides — And the Fulfilment of thy Vows must be,

³⁸²Not from thy Love for Him, but His for Thee.' The third night after Bajazyd had died,

³⁸³One saw him, in a dream, at his Bedside, And said, 'Thou Bajazyd? Tell me O Pyr,

³⁸⁴How fared it there with Munkar and Nakyr?' And Bajazyd replied, 'When from the Grave

³⁸⁵They met me rising, and "If Allah's slave" Ask'd me, "or collar'd with the Chain of Hell?"

³⁸⁶I said "Not I but God alone can tell: My Passion for his service were but fond

³⁸⁷Ambition had not He approved the Bond: Had He not round my neck the Collar thrown

³⁸⁸And told me in the Number of his own; And that He only knew. What signifies

³⁸⁹A hundred Years of Prayer if none replies?'" 'But,' said Another, 'then shall none the Seal

³⁹⁰Of Acceptation on his Forehead feel Ere the Grave yield them on the other Side

³⁹¹Where all is settled?' But the Chief replied —

³⁹²'Enough for us to know that who is meet Shall enter, and with unreproved Feet,

³⁹³(Ev'n as he might upon the Waters walk) The Presence-room, and in the Presence talk

³⁹⁴With such unbridled Licence as shall seem To the Uninitiated to blaspheme.'

³⁹⁵Just as another Holy Spirit fled, The Skies above him burst into a Bed

³⁹⁶Of Angels looking down and singing clear 'Nightingale! Nightingale! thy Rose is here!'

³⁹⁷And yet, the Door wide open to that Bliss, As some hot Lover slights a scanty Kiss,

³⁹⁸The Saint cried All I sigh'd for come to thisl I who lifelong have struggled, Lord, to be

³⁹⁹Not of thy Angels one, but one with Thee!' Others were sure that all he said was true:

⁴⁰⁰They were extremely wicked, that they knew: And much they long'd to go at once — but some,

⁴⁰¹They said, so unexpectedly had come Leaving their Nests half-built — in bad Repair —

⁴⁰²With Children in — Themselves about to pair — 'Might he not choose a better Season — nay,

⁴⁰³Better perhaps a Year or Two's Delay, Till all was settled, and themselves more stout

⁴⁰⁴And strong to carry their Repentance out — And then' —

⁴⁰⁵'And then, the same or like Excuse, With harden'd Heart and Resolution loose

⁴⁰⁶With dallying: and old Age itself engaged Still to shirk that which shirking we have aged:

⁴⁰⁷And so with Self-delusion, till, too late, Death upon all Repentance shuts the Gate;

⁴⁰⁸Or some fierce blow compels the Way to choose, And forced Repentance half its Virtue lose.'

⁴⁰⁹As of an aged Indian King they tell Who, when his Empire with his Army fell

⁴¹⁰Under young Mahmud's Sword of Wrath, was sent At sunset to the Conqueror in his Tent;

⁴¹¹But, ere the old King's silver head could reach The Ground, was lifted up — with kindly Speech,

⁴¹²And with so holy Mercy reassured, That, after due Persuasion, he abjured

⁴¹³His idols, sate upon Mahmud's Divan, And took the Name and Faith of Musulman.

⁴¹⁴But when the Night fell, in his Tent alone The poor old King was heard to weep and groan

⁴¹⁵And smite his Bosom; which, when Mahmud knew, He went to him and said 'Lo, if Thou rue

⁴¹⁶Thy lost Dominion, Thou shalt wear the Ring Of thrice as large a Realm.' But the dark King

⁴¹⁷Still wept, and Ashes on his Forehead threw And cried 'Not for my Kingdom lost I rue:

⁴¹⁸But thinking how at the Last Day, will stand The Prophet with The Volume in his Hand,

⁴¹⁹And ask of me "How was't that, in thy Day Of Glory, Thou didst turn from Me and slay

⁴²⁰My People; but soon as thy Infidel Before my True Believers' Army fell

⁴²¹Like Corn before the Reaper — thou didst own His Sword who scoutedst Me." Of seed so sown

⁴²²What profitable Harvest should be grown?' Then after cheering others who delay'd,

⁴²³Not of the Road but of Themselves afraid, The Tajidar the Troop of those address'd,

⁴²⁴Whose uncomplying Attitude confess'd Their Souls entangled in the old Deceit,

⁴²⁵And hankering still after forbidden Meat — 'O ye who so long feeding on the Husk

⁴²⁶Forgo the Fruit, and doting on the Dusk Of the false Dawn, are blinded to the True:

⁴²⁷That in the Maidan of this World pursue The Golden Ball which, driven to the Goal,

⁴²⁸Wins the World's Game but loses your own Soul: Or like to Children after Bubbles run

⁴²⁹That still elude your Fingers; or, if won, Burst in Derision at your Touch; all thin

⁴³⁰Glitter without, and empty Wind within. So as a prosperous Worldling on the Bed

⁴³¹Of Death — "Behold, I am as one," he said, "Who all my Life long have been measuring Wind,

⁴³²And, dying, now leave even that behind" — This World's a Nest in which the Cockatrice

⁴³³Is warm'd and hatcht of Vanity and Vice: A false Bazaar whose Wares are all a lie,

⁴³⁴Or never worth the Price at which you buy: A many-headed Monster that, supplied

⁴³⁵The faster, faster is unsatisfied; So as one, hearing a rich Fool one day

⁴³⁶To God for yet one other Blessing pray, Bid him no longer bounteous Heaven tire

⁴³⁷For Life to feed, but Death to quench, the Fire. And what are all the Vanities and Wiles

⁴³⁸In which the false World decks herself and smiles To draw Men down into her harlot Lap?

⁴³⁹Lusts of the Flesh that Soul and Body sap, And, melting Soul down into carnal Lust,

⁴⁴⁰Ev'n that for which 'tis sacrificed disgust: Or Lust of worldly Glory — hollow more

⁴⁴¹Than the Drum beaten at the Sultan's Door, And fluctuating with the Breath of Man

⁴⁴²As the Vain Banner flapping in the Van. And Lust of Gold — perhaps of Lusts the worst;

⁴⁴³The mis-created Idol most accurst That between Man and Him who made him stands:

⁴⁴⁴The Felon that with suicidal hands He sweats to dig and rescue from his Grave,

⁴⁴⁵And sets at large to make Himself its Slave. For lo, to what worse than oblivion gone

⁴⁴⁶Are some the cozening World most doted on. Pharaoh tried Glory: and his Chariots drown'd:

⁴⁴⁷Karun with all his Gold went underground: Down toppled Nembroth with his airy Stair:

⁴⁴⁸Schedad among his Roses lived — but where! 'And as the World upon her victims feeds

⁴⁴⁹So She herself goes down the Way she leads. For all her false allurements are the Threads

⁴⁵⁰The Spider from her Entrail spins, and spreads For Home and hunting-ground: And by and by

⁴⁵¹Darts at due Signal on the tangled Fly, Seizes, dis-wings, and drains the Life, and leaves

⁴⁵²The swinging Carcase, and forthwith re- weaves Her Web: each Victim adding to the store

⁴⁵³Of poison'd Entrail to entangle more. And so She bloats in Glory: till one Day

⁴⁵⁴The Master of the House, passing that way, Perceives, and with one flourish of his Broom

⁴⁵⁵Of Web and Fly and Spider clears the Room. 'Behold, dropt through the Gate of Mortal Birth,

⁴⁵⁶The Knightly Soul alights from Heav'n on Earth; Begins his Race, but scarce the Saddle feels,

⁴⁵⁷When a foul Imp up from the distance steals, And, double as he will, about his Heels

⁴⁵⁸Closer and ever closer circling creeps, Then, half-invited, on the Saddle leaps,

⁴⁵⁹Clings round the Rider, and, once there, in vain The strongest strives to thrust him off again.

⁴⁶⁰In Childhood just peeps up the Blade of 111, That Youth to Lust rears, Fury, and Self-will:

⁴⁶¹And, as Man cools to sensual Desire, Ambition catches with as fierce a Fire;

⁴⁶²Until Old Age sends him with one last Lust Of Gold, to keep it where he found — in Dust.

⁴⁶³Life at both ends so feeble and constrain'd How should that Imp of Sin be slain or chain'd?

⁴⁶⁴And woe to him who feeds the hateful Beast That of his Feeder makes an after-feast!

⁴⁶⁵We know the Wolf: by Strategem and Force Can hunt the Tiger down: but what Resource

⁴⁶⁶Against the Plague we heedless hatch within, Then, growing, pamper into full-blown Sin

⁴⁶⁷With the Soul's self: ev'n, as the wise man said, Feeding the very Devil with God's own Bread;

⁴⁶⁸Until the Lord his Largess misapplied Resent, and drive us wholly from his Side?

⁴⁶⁹For should the Greyhound whom a Sultan fed, And by a jewell'd String a-hunting led,

⁴⁷⁰Turned by the Way to gnaw some nasty Thing And snarl at Him who twitch'd the silken String,

⁴⁷¹Would not his Lord soon weary of Dispute, And turn adrift the incorrigible Brute?

⁴⁷²'Nay, would one follow, and without a Chain, The only Master truly worth the Pain,

⁴⁷³One must beware lest, growing over-fond Of even Life's more consecrated Bond,

⁴⁷⁴We clog our Footsteps to the World beyond. Like that old Arab Chieftain, who confess'd

⁴⁷⁵His soul by two too Darling Things possess'd — That only Son of his: and that one Colt

⁴⁷⁶Descended from the Prophet's Thunderbolt. "And I might well bestow the last," he said,

⁴⁷⁷"On him who brought me Word the Boy was dead." And if so vain the glittering Fish we get,

⁴⁷⁸How doubly vain to dote upon the Net, Call'd Life, that draws them, patching up this thin

⁴⁷⁹Tissue of Breathing out and Breathing in, And so by husbanding each wretched Thread

⁴⁸⁰Spin out Death's very terror that we dread — For as the Raindrop from the sphere of God

⁴⁸¹Dropt for a while into the Mortal Clod So little makes of its allotted Time

⁴⁸²Back to its Heav'n itself to re- sublime, That it but serves to saturate its Clay

⁴⁸³With Bitterness that will not pass away.' One day the Prophet on a River Bank,

⁴⁸⁴Dipping his Lips into the Channel, drank A Draught as sweet as Honey. Then there came

⁴⁸⁵One who an earthen Pitcher from the same Drew up, and drank: and after some short stay

⁴⁸⁶Under the Shadow, rose and went his Way. Leaving his earthen Bowl. In which, anew

⁴⁸⁷Thirsting, the Prophet from the River drew, And drank from: but the Water that came up

⁴⁸⁸Sweet from the Stream, drank bitter from the Cup. At which the Prophet in a still Surprise

⁴⁸⁹For Answer turning up to Heav'n his Eyes, The Vessel's Earthen Lips with Answer ran —

⁴⁹⁰'The Clay that I am made of once was Man, Who dying, and resolved into the same

⁴⁹¹Obliterated Earth from which he came Was for the Potter dug, and chased in turn

⁴⁹²Through long Vicissitude of Bowl and Urn: But howsoever moulded, still the Pain

⁴⁹³Of that first mortal Anguish would retain, And cast, and re-cast, for a Thousand years

⁴⁹⁴Would turn the sweetest Water into Tears.' And after Death? — that, shirk it as we may,

⁴⁹⁵Will come, and with it bring its After-Day — For ev'n as Yusuf (when his Brotherhood

⁴⁹⁶Came up from Egypt to buy Corn, and stood Before their Brother in his lofty Place,

⁴⁹⁷Nor knew him, for a Veil before his Face) Struck on his Mystic Cup, which straightway then

⁴⁹⁸Rung out their Story to those guilty Ten: — Not to them only, but to every one;

⁴⁹⁹Whatever he have said and thought and done, Unburied with the Body shall fly up,

⁵⁰⁰And gather into Heav'n's inverted Cup, Which, stricken by God's Finger, shall tell all

⁵⁰¹The Story whereby we must stand or fall. And though we walk this World as if behind

⁵⁰²There were no Judgement, or the Judge half-blind, Beware, for He with whom we have to do

⁵⁰³Outsees the Lynx, outlives the Phoenix too — So Sultan Mahmud, coming Face to Face

⁵⁰⁴With mightier numbrs of the swarthy Race, Vow'd that if God to him the battle gave,

⁵⁰⁵God's Dervish People all the Spoil should have. And God the Battle gave him; and the Fruit

⁵⁰⁶Of a great Conquest coming to compute, A Murmur through the Sultan's Army stirr'd

⁵⁰⁷Lest, ill committed to one hasty Word, The Shah should squander on an idle Brood

⁵⁰⁸What should be theirs who earn'd it with their Blood, Or go to fill the Coffers of the State.

⁵⁰⁹So Mahmud's Soul began to hesitate: Till looking round in Doubt from side to side

⁵¹⁰A raving Zealot in the Press he spied, And call'd and had him brought before his Face,

⁵¹¹And, telling, bid him arbitrate the case. Who, having listen'd, said — 'The Thing is plain:

⁵¹²If Thou and God should never have again To deal together, rob him of his share:

⁵¹³But if perchance you should — why then Beware!' So spake the Tajidar: but Fear and Doubt

⁵¹⁴Among the Birds in Whispers went about: Great was their Need: and Succour to be sought

⁵¹⁵At any Risk: at any Ransom bought: But such a Monarch — greater than Mahmud

⁵¹⁶The Great Himself! Why how should he be woo'd To listen to them? they too have come

⁵¹⁷O So suddenly, and unprepared from home With any Gold, or Jewel, or rich Thing

⁵¹⁸To carry with them to so great a King — Poor Creatures! with the old and carnal Blind,

⁵¹⁹Spite of all said, so thick upon the Mind, Devising how they might ingratiate

⁵²⁰Access, as to some earthly Potentate. 'Let him that with this Monarch would engage

⁵²¹Bring the Gold Dust of a long Pilgrimage: The Ruby of a bleeding Heart, whose Sighs

⁵²²Breathe more than Amber-incense as it dies; And while in naked Beggary he stands

⁵²³Hope for the Robe of Honour from his Hands.' And, as no gift this Sovereign receives

⁵²⁴Save the mere Soul and Self of him who gives, So let that Soul for other none Reward

⁵²⁵Look than the Presence of its Sovereign Lord.' And as his Hearers seem'd to estimate

⁵²⁶Their Scale of Glory from Mahmud the Great, A simple Story of the Sultan told

⁵²⁷How best a subject with his Shah made bold — One night Shah Mahmud who had been of late

⁵²⁸Somewhat distemper'd with Affairs of State Stroll'd through the Streets disguised, as wont to do —

⁵²⁹And, coming to the Baths, there on the Flue Saw the poor Fellow who the Furnace fed

⁵³⁰Sitting beside his Water-jug and Bread. Mahmud stept in — sat down — unask'd took up

⁵³¹And tasted of the untasted Loaf and Cup, Saying within himself, 'Grudge but a bit,

⁵³²And, by the Lord, your Head shall pay for it!' So having rested, warm'd and satisfied

⁵³³Himself without a Word on either side, At last the wayward Sultan rose to go.

⁵³⁴And then at last his Host broke silence — 'So? — Art satisfied? Well, Brother, any Day

⁵³⁵Or Night, remember, when you come this Way And want a bit of Provender — why, you

⁵³⁶Are welcome, and if not — why, welcome too.' — The Sultan was so tickled with the whim

⁵³⁷Of this quaint Entertainment and of him Who offer'd it, that many a Night again

⁵³⁸Stoker and Shah forgather'd in that Vein — Till, the poor Fellow having stood the Test

⁵³⁹Of true Good-fellowship, Mahmud confess'd One Night the Sultan that had been his Guest:

⁵⁴⁰And in requital of the scanty Dole The Poor Man offer'd with so large a soul,

⁵⁴¹Bid him ask any Largess that he would A Throne — if he would have it, so he should.

⁵⁴²The Poor Man kiss'd the Dust, and All,' said he, 'I ask is what and where I am to be;

⁵⁴³If but the Shah from time to time will come As now and see me in the lowly Home

⁵⁴⁴His presence makes a palace, and my own Poor Flue more royal than another's Throne.'

⁵⁴⁵So said the cheery Tale: and, as they heard, Again the Heart beneath the Feather stirr'd:

⁵⁴⁶Again forgot the Danger and the Woes Of the long Travel in its glorious Close: —

⁵⁴⁷'Here truly all was Poverty, Despair And miserable Banishment — but there

⁵⁴⁸That more than Mahmud, for no more than Prayer Who would restore them to their ancient Place,

⁵⁴⁹And round their Shoulders fling his Robe of Grace.' They clapp'd their Wings, on Fire to be assay'd

⁵⁵⁰And prove of what true Metal they were made, Although defaced, and wanting the true Ring

⁵⁵¹And Superscription of their rightful King. 'The Road! The Road!' in countless voices cried

⁵⁵²The Host — 'The Road! and who shall be our Guide?' And they themselves 'The Tajidar!' replied:

⁵⁵³Yet to make doubly certain that the Voice Of Heav'n according with the People's Choice,

⁵⁵⁴Lots should be drawn; and He on whom should light Heav'n's Hand — they swore to follow him outright.

⁵⁵⁵This settled, and once more the Hubbub quell'd, Once more Suspense the Host in Silence held,

⁵⁵⁶While, Tribe by Tribe, the Birds their fortune drew; And Lo ! upon the Tajidar it flew.

⁵⁵⁷Then rising up again in wide and high Circumference of wings that mesh'd the sky

⁵⁵⁸'The Tajidar! The Tajidar!' they cry — 'The Tajidar! The Tajidar!' with Him

⁵⁵⁹Was Heav'n, and They would follow Life and Limb ! Then, once more fluttering to their Places down,

⁵⁶⁰Upon his Head they set the Royal Crown As Khalif of their Khalif so long lost,

⁵⁶¹And Captain of his now repentant Host; And setting him on high, and Silence call'd,

⁵⁶²The Tajidar, in Pulpit-throne install'd, His Voice into a Trumpet-tongue so clear

⁵⁶³As all the winged Multitude should hear Raised, to proclaim the Order and Array

⁵⁶⁴Of March; which, many as it frighten'd — yea, The Heart of Multitudes at outset broke,

⁵⁶⁵Yet for due Preparation must be spoke. — A Road indeed that never Wing before

⁵⁶⁶Flew, nor Foot trod, nor Heart imagined — o'er Waterless Deserts — Waters where no Shore —

⁵⁶⁷Valleys comprising cloud-high Mountains: these Again their Valleys deeper than the Seas:

⁵⁶⁸Whose Dust all Adders, and whose vapour Fire: Where all once hostile Elements conspire

⁵⁶⁹To set the Soul against herself, and tear Courage to Terror — Hope into Despair,

⁵⁷⁰And Madness; Terrors, Trials, to make stray Or Stop where Death to wander or delay:

⁵⁷¹Where when half dead with Famine, Toil, and Heat, 'Twas Death indeed to rest, or drink, or eat.

⁵⁷²A Road still waxing in Self-sacrifice As it went on: still ringing with the Cries

⁵⁷³And Groans of Those who had not yet prevail'd, And bleaching with the Bones of those who fail'd:

⁵⁷⁴Where, almost all withstood, perhaps to earn Nothing: and, earning, never to return. —

⁵⁷⁵And first the VALE OF SEARCH: an endless Maze, Branching into innumerable Ways

⁵⁷⁶All courting Entrance: but one right: and this Beset with Pitfall, Gulf, and Precipice,

⁵⁷⁷Where Dust is Embers, Air a fiery Sleet, Through which with blinded Eyes and bleeding Feet

⁵⁷⁸The Pilgrim stumbles, with Hyena's Howl Around, and hissing Snake, and deadly Ghoul,

⁵⁷⁹Whose Prey he falls if tempted but to droop, Or if to wander famish'd from the Troop

⁵⁸⁰For fruit that falls to ashes in the Hand, Water that reacht recedes into the Sand.

⁵⁸¹The only word is 'Forward!' Guide in sight, After him, swerving neither left nor right,

⁵⁸²Thyself for thine own Victual by Day, At night thine own Self s Caravanserai.

⁵⁸³Till suddenly, perhaps when most subdued And desperate, the Heart shall be renew'd

⁵⁸⁴When deep in utter Darkness, by one Gleam Of Glory from the far remote Harim,

⁵⁸⁵That, with a scarcely conscious Shock of Change, Shall light the Pilgrim toward the Mountain Range

⁵⁸⁶Of KNOWLEDGE: where, if stronger and more pure The Light and Air, yet harder to endure;

⁵⁸⁷And if, perhaps, the Footing more secure, Harder to keep up with a nimble Guide,

⁵⁸⁸Less from lost Road than insufficient Stride — Yet tempted still by false Shows from the Track,

⁵⁸⁹And by false Voices call'd aside or back, Which echo from the Bosom, as if won

⁵⁹⁰The Journey's End when only just begun, And not a Mountain Peak with Toil attain'd

⁵⁹¹But shows a top yet higher to be gain'd. Wherefore still Forward, Forward! Love that fired

⁵⁹²Thee first to search, by Search so re-inspired As that the Spirit shall the carnal Load

⁵⁹³Burn up, and double wing Thee on the Road; That wert thou knocking at the very Door

⁵⁹⁴Of Heav'n, thou still would'st cry for More, More, More! Till loom in sight Kaf s Mountain Peak ashroud

⁵⁹⁵In Mist — uncertain yet Mountain or Cloud, But where the Pilgrim 'gins to hear the Tide

⁵⁹⁶Of that one Sea in which the Sev'n subside; And not the Sev'n Seas only: but the sev'n

⁵⁹⁷And self-enfolded Spheres of Earth and Heav'n — Yea, the Two Worlds, that now as Pictures sleep

⁵⁹⁸Upon its Surface — but when once the Deep From its long Slumber 'gins to heave and sway —

⁵⁹⁹Under the Tempest shall be swept away With all their Phases and Phenomena:

⁶⁰⁰Not senseless Matter only, but combined With Life in all Varieties of Kind;

⁶⁰¹Yea, ev'n the abstract Forms that Space and Time Men call, and Weal and Woe, Virtue and Crime,

⁶⁰²And all the several Creeds like those who fell Before them, Musulman and Infidel

⁶⁰³Shall from the Face of Being melt away, Cancell'd and swept as Dreams before the Day.

⁶⁰⁴So hast thou seen the Astrologer prepare His mystic Table smooth of sand, and there

⁶⁰⁵Inscribe his mystic figures, Square, and Trine, Circle and Pentagram, and heavenly Sign

⁶⁰⁶Of Star and Planet: from whose Set and Rise, Meeting and Difference, he prophesies;

⁶⁰⁷And, having done it, with his Finger clean Obliterates as never they had been.

⁶⁰⁸Such is when reacht the Table Land of One And Wonder: blazing with so fierce a Sun

⁶⁰⁹Of Unity that blinds while it reveals The Universe that to a Point congeals,

⁶¹⁰So, stunn'd with utter Revelation, reels The Pilgrim, when that Double- seeming House,

⁶¹¹Against whose Beams he long had chafed his Brows, Crumbles and cracks before that Sea, whose near

⁶¹²And nearer Voice now overwhelms his Ear. Till blinded, deafen'd, madden 'd, drunk with doubt

⁶¹³Of all within Himself as all without, Nay, whether a Without there be, or not,

⁶¹⁴Or a Within that doubts: and if, then what? — Ev'n so shall the bewilder'd Pilgrim seem

⁶¹⁵When nearest waking deepliest in Dream, And darkest next to Dawn; and lost what had

⁶¹⁶When All is found: and just when sane quite Mad — As one that having found the Key once more

⁶¹⁷Returns, and Lo! he cannot find the Door He stumbles over — So the Pilgrim stands

⁶¹⁸A moment on the Threshold — with raised Hands Calls to the eternal Saki for one Draught

⁶¹⁹Of Light from the One Essence: which when quaff d, He plunges headlong in: and all is well

⁶²⁰With him who never more returns to tell. Such being then the Race and such the Goal,

⁶²¹Judge if you must not Body both and Soul With Meditation, Watch and Fast prepare.

⁶²²For he that wastes his body to a Hair Shall seize the Locks of Truth: and He that prays

⁶²³Good Angels in their Ministry waylays: And the Midnightly Watcher in the Folds

⁶²⁴Of his own Darkness God Almighty holds. He that would prosper here must from him strip

⁶²⁵The World, and take the Dervish Gown and Scrip: And as he goes must gather from all Sides

⁶²⁶Irrelevant Ambitions, Lusts and Prides, Glory and Gold, and sensual Desire,

⁶²⁷Whereof to build the fundamental Pyre Of Self-annihilation: and cast in

⁶²⁸All old Relations and Regards of Kin And Country: and, the Pile with this perplext

⁶²⁹World platform'd, from the Fables of the Next Raise it tow'rd Culmination, with the torn

⁶³⁰Rags and Integuments of Creeds out-worn; And top the giddy Summit with the Scroll

⁶³¹Of Reason that in dingy Smoke shall roll Over the true Self-sacrifice of Soul:

⁶³²(For such a Prayer was his — 'O God, do Thou With all my Wealth in the other World endow

⁶³³My Friends: and with my Wealth in this my Foes, Till bankrupt in thy Riches I repose!')

⁶³⁴Then, all the Pile completed of the Pelf Of either World — at last throw on Thyself,

⁶³⁵And with the torch of Self-negation fire; And ever as the Flames rise high and higher,

⁶³⁶With Cries of agonising Glory still All of that Self 'burn up that burn up will,

⁶³⁷Leaving the Phoenix that no Fire can slay To spring from its own Ashes kindled — nay,

⁶³⁸Itself an inextinguishable Spark Of Being, now beneath Earth-ashes dark,

⁶³⁹Transcending these, at last Itself transcends And with the One Eternal Essence blends.

⁶⁴⁰The Moths had long been exiled from the Flame They worship: so to solemn Council came,

⁶⁴¹And voted One of them by Lot be sent To find their Idol. One was chosen: went.

⁶⁴²And after a long Circuit in sheer Gloom, Seeing, he thought, the TAPER in a Room

⁶⁴³Flew back at once to say so. But the chief Of Mothistan slighted so slight Belief,

⁶⁴⁴And sent another Messenger, who flew Up to the House, in at the window, through

⁶⁴⁵The Flame itself; and back the Message brings, With yet no sign of Conflict on his wings.

⁶⁴⁶Then went a Third, and spurr'd with true Desire, Plunging at once into the sacred Fire,

⁶⁴⁷Folded his Wings within, till he became One Colour and one Substance with the Flame.

⁶⁴⁸He only knew the Flame who in it burn'd; And only He could tell who ne'er to tell return'd.

⁶⁴⁹After declaring what of this declared Must be, that all who went should be prepared,

⁶⁵⁰From his high Station ceased the Tajidar — And lo ! the Terrors that, when told afar,

⁶⁵¹Seem'd but as Shadows of a Noonday Sun, Now that the talkt-of Thing was to be done,

⁶⁵²Lengthening into those of closing Day Strode into utter Darkness: and Dismay

⁶⁵³Like Night on the husht Sea of Feathers lay, Late so elate — 'So terrible a Track!

⁶⁵⁴Endless — or, ending, never to come back! — Never to Country, Family, or Friend!' —

⁶⁵⁵In sooth no easy Bow for Birds to bend! — Even while he spoke, how many Wings and Crests

⁶⁵⁶Had slunk away to distant Woods and Nests; Others again in Preparation spent

⁶⁵⁷What little Strength they had, and never went: And others, after preparation due —

⁶⁵⁸When up the Veil of that first Valley drew From whose waste Wilderness of Darkness blew

⁶⁵⁹A Sarsar, whether edged of Flames or Snows, That through from Root to Tip their Feathers froze —

⁶⁶⁰Up went a Multitude that overhead A moment darken'd, then on all sides fled,

⁶⁶¹Dwindling the World- assembled Caravan To less than half the Number that began.

⁶⁶²Of those who fled not, some in Dread and Doubt Sat without stirring: others who set out

⁶⁶³With frothy Force, or stupidly resign'd, Before a League, flew off or fell behind.

⁶⁶⁴And howsoever the more Brave and Strong In Courage, Wing, or Wisdom push'd along,

⁶⁶⁵Yet League by League the Road was thicklier spread By the fast falling Foliage of the Dead:

⁶⁶⁶Some spent with Travel over Wave and Ground; Scorcht, frozen, dead for Drought, or drinking drown'd.

⁶⁶⁷Famisht, or poison'd with the Food when found: By Weariness, or Hunger, or Affright

⁶⁶⁸Seduced to stop or stray, become the Bite Of Tiger howling round or hissing Snake,

⁶⁶⁹Or Crocodile that eyed them from the Lake: Or raving Mad, or in despair Self-slain:

⁶⁷⁰Or slaying one another for a Grain: — Till of the mighty Host that fledged the Dome

⁶⁷¹Of Heav'n and Floor of Earth on leaving Home, A Handful reach'd and scrambled up the Knees

⁶⁷²Of Kaf whose Feet dip in the Seven Seas; And of the few that up his Forest- sides

⁶⁷³Of Light and Darkness where The Presence hides, But Thirty — thirty desperate draggled Things,

⁶⁷⁴Half-dead, with scarce a Feather on their Wings, Stunn'd, blinded, deafen'd with the Crash and Craze

⁶⁷⁵Of Rock and Sea collapsing in a Blaze That struck the Sun to Cinder — fell upon

⁶⁷⁶The Threshold of the Everlasting One, With but enough of Life in each to cry,

⁶⁷⁷On THAT which all absorb'd— And suddenly

⁶⁷⁸Forth flash'd a winged Harbinger of Flame And Tongue of Fire, and 'Who?' and 'Whence they came?'

⁶⁷⁹And Why?' demanded. And the Tajidar For all the Thirty answer'd him — We are

⁶⁸⁰Those Fractions of the Sum of Being, far Dis- spent and foul disfigured, that once more

⁶⁸¹Strike for Admission at the Treasury Door.' To whom the Angel answer'd — 'Know ye not

⁶⁸²That He you seek recks little who or what Of Quantity and Kind — himself the Fount

⁶⁸³Of Being Universal needs no Count Of all the Drops o'erflowing from his Urn,

⁶⁸⁴In what Degree they issue or return?' Then cried the Spokesman, 'Be it even so:

⁶⁸⁵Let us but see the Fount from which we flow, And, seeing, lose Ourselves therein!' and, Lo!

⁶⁸⁶Before the Word was utter'd, or the Tongue Of Fire replied, or Portal open flung.

⁶⁸⁷They were within — they were before the Throne, Before the Majesty that sat thereon,

⁶⁸⁸But wrapt in so insufferable a Blaze Of Glory as beat down their baffled Gaze.

⁶⁸⁹Which, downward dropping, fell upon a Scroll That, Lightning-like, flash'd back on each the whole

⁶⁹⁰Past half-forgotten Story of his Soul: Like that which Yusuf in his Glory gave

⁶⁹¹His Brethren as some Writing he would have Interpreted; and at a Glance, behold

⁶⁹²Their own Indenture for their Brother sold! And so with these poor Thirty: who, abasht

⁶⁹³In Memory all laid bare and Conscience lasht, By full Confession and Self-loathing flung

⁶⁹⁴The Rags of carnal Self that round them clung; And, their old selves self-knowledged and self-loathed,

⁶⁹⁵And in the Soul's Integrity re-clothed, Once more they ventured from the Dust to raise

⁶⁹⁶Their Eyes — up to the Throne — into the Blaze, And in the Centre of the Glory there

⁶⁹⁷Beheld the Figure of — Themselves — as 'twere Transfigured — looking to Themselves, beheld

⁶⁹⁸The Figure on the Throne en-miracled, Until their Eyes themselves and That between

⁶⁹⁹Did hesitate which Seer was, which Seen; They That, That They: Another, yet the Same:

⁷⁰⁰Dividual, yet One: from whom there came A Voice of awful Answer, scarce discern'd

⁷⁰¹From which to Aspiration whose return'd They scarcely knew; as when some Man apart

⁷⁰²Answers aloud the Question in his Heart — 'The Sun of my Perfection is a Glass

⁷⁰³Wherein from Seeing into Being pass All who, reflecting as reflected see

⁷⁰⁴Themselves in Me, and Me in Them: not Me, But all of Me that a contracted Eye

⁷⁰⁵Is comprehensive of Infinity: Nor yet Themselves: no Selves, but of The All

⁷⁰⁶Fractions, from which they split and whither fall. As Water lifted from the Deep, again

⁷⁰⁷Falls back in individual Drops of Rain Then melts into the Universal Main.

⁷⁰⁸All you have been, and seen, and done, and thought, Not You but /, have seen and been and wrought:

⁷⁰⁹I was the Sin that from Myself rebell'd: I the Remorse that tow'rd Myself compell'd:

⁷¹⁰I was the Tajidar who led the Track: I was the little Briar that pull'd you back:

⁷¹¹Sin and Contrition — Retribution owed, And cancell'd — Pilgrim, Pilgrimage, and Road,

⁷¹²Was but Myself toward Myself: and Your Arrival but Myself at my own Door:

⁷¹³Who in your Fraction of Myself behold Myself within the Mirror Myself hold

⁷¹⁴To see Myself in, and each part of Me That sees himself, though drown'd, shall ever see.

⁷¹⁵Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw, And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw:

⁷¹⁶Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wide Return, and back into your Sun subside.' —

⁷¹⁷This was the Parliament of Birds: and this The Story of the Host who went amiss,

⁷¹⁸And of the Few that better Upshot found; Which being now recounted, Lo, the Ground

⁷¹⁹Of Speech fails underfoot: But this to tell — Their Road is thine — Follow — and Fare thee well.