THE 
 
 POETRY OF THE ORIENT. 
 
 BY 
 
 n 
 
 WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER. 
 
 What precious things I found in Oriental lands, 
 Returning home, I brought them in my votive hands. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1865. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 
 
 WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER, 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS: 
 
 WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY, 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
TO 
 
 THE DEAR AND PURE MEMORY 
 OF MY DEAD BOY, 
 
 HENRY LODGE ALGER, 
 
 WHO LOVED MANY THINGS IN THIS BOOK, 
 I NOW DEDICATE IT. 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 THE whole field of Oriental literature, so far as ac 
 cessible through English, Latin, German, and French 
 translations, has long been with me a favorite province 
 for excursions in such leisure hours as I could com 
 mand. And during that time I have been in the 
 habit of versifying the brief passages which struck 
 me most forcibly. From the enjoyment these pecu 
 liar fragments of meditation and imagery gave me, 
 from the conviction that others too would enjoy them, 
 from the difficulty of finding them where they now 
 lie, dispersed and buried amidst repelling masses of 
 dry detail, and from the expressed desire of several 
 friends, arose the resolve to venture the present 
 publication. 
 
 There seems to me also a striking propriety, and 
 the promise of profit, in bringing to the acquaintance 
 of Americans the most marked mental peculiarities of 
 the Orientals. Must not a spiritual contact between 
 the enterprising young West and the meditative old 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 East be a source of uncommon stimulus and culture ? 
 It is a noble ambition to desire to master all the 
 varieties of lawful human experience ; and Oriental 
 poetry offers to our attention fields of thought, modes 
 of feeling, styles of imagination, the most impressively 
 unlike our own. Whoever, born and nurtured in the 
 midst of Western civilization, wishes to 1 understand 
 the whole of human nature and the whole of human 
 consciousness, especially in its more ideal depart 
 ments, will nowhere else find so much instruction 
 and excitement as in the province to which the pres 
 ent work essays to introduce him. 
 
 Many persons seem to think that this region 
 the poetic literature of the East is fitted to yield 
 only a barren crop of verbiage, or a tawdry mass of 
 sentimental extravagance. It often has these charac 
 teristics. It also possesses all kinds of wealth, in 
 their most exalted degrees, and in their most wonder 
 ful profusion. The poetry of the unimaginative Chi 
 nese is noticeable* for ethical good sense, a wholesome 
 vein of homely truth. Its beat is circumscribed to 
 the ranges of practical experience, neither plunging to 
 metaphysical depths, nor soaring to rapturous heights. 
 The Muse of China is a ground-sparrow. With the 
 Arabs passion is carried to its most fiery ecstasies, its 
 most tenacious lengths. Their ideas seem to be trans 
 muted into sensations, rather than their sensations to 
 
PREFACE. Vil 
 
 be represented in ideas. Imagination itself is heated, 
 vascular, vibrating with the blood. Sanscrit and Hin- 
 dostanee poetry is characterized, in its most peculiar 
 phases, by an unrivalled idealization. Imagination 
 often takes the reins from judgment, and runs riot, 
 and language breaks into a blossoming wilderness of 
 metaphor. But the richness and originality of the 
 result in ideas and emotions, as well as in imagery, 
 are frequently grand and exhilarating. The most 
 distinctive Persian poetry exhibits an exquisite deli 
 cacy of sense elsewhere unparalleled, a vast and ethe 
 real play of fancy and sentiment, a fetterless jubilancy 
 of reason and faith, the very transcendentalism of wit. 
 All seems strained through the imagination, deprived 
 of grossness, held in solution, ready to. dart in electric 
 freedom. The dying Sufi, Mewlana Rumi,. says, in 
 anticipation of his funeral, to the friends weeping 
 around him : 
 
 " While your dim eyes but see, through the haze of earth s 
 
 sadness, 
 
 My frame doomed to mix with the mouldering clod, 
 I am treading the courts of the seventh heaven in gladness, 
 And basking unveiled in the vision of God." 
 
 Where has the divine lesson, " Bless them that 
 injure you," been more charmingly rendered than 
 in the following lines from Hafiz, translated by Sir 
 William Jones ? 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 " Learn from yon Orient shell to love thy foe, 
 And store with pearls the hand that brings thee woe : 
 Free, like yon rock, from base vindictive pride, 
 Imblaze with gems the wrist that tears thy side ; 
 Mark where yon tree rewards the stony shower 
 With fruit nectareous or balmy flower. 
 All nature calls aloud, Shall man do less 
 Than heal the smiter, and the railer bless ? " 
 
 The substance of many of the pieces in the ensuing 
 pages, from the great Eastern authors, will be found 
 most surprising. Some pieces will be found merely 
 odd, quaint, grotesque, or bizarre ; some are unques 
 tionably trivial ; but nearly all, it is hoped, possess, 
 for one reason or other, some peculiarity which lends 
 them a justifying interest, if not value. There is a 
 naivete in the mythological rhetoric of the old Hindu 
 bards mentally provocative in a singular degree. 
 What a glimpse into the pre-historic state and habits 
 of man, in the primeval Aryan world, is opened, 
 when we find, in the Rig Veda, the clouds called 
 cows, the winds calves, and the rain milk ! The cow 
 bellows for her calf; that is, the thunder-cloud roars 
 for the wind to draw the rain from its breast ! 
 Again, the colors of the spectrum are seven sisters 
 riding together in the chariot of the year, drawn by 
 seven horses. The axle of the chariot is never heated, 
 the nave never worn ; its journeying damages not the 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 four quarters of the horizon ; the team never sweats 
 nor snorts, and is unsullied by dust ! 
 
 The form, also, of Eastern poetry is in many cases 
 very peculiar. The ghazel consists usually of not less 
 than five, or more than fifteen couplets, all with the 
 same rhyme. Here is an imperfect one, translated 
 by Vans Kennedy. In perusing it the reader must 
 know that " cell," in the Sufi dialect, means chapel ; 
 " pagans," priests ; " wine," Divine love. 
 
 " The shade that cypress here bestows, to me s enough. 
 The joy that from the goblet flows, to me s enough. 
 The cell where pagans wine expose, to me s enough. 
 The sign how swift each moment goes, to me s enough. 
 If not to you, the joy it shows to me s enough. 
 The bliss her converse fond bestows, to me s enough. 
 Love sweeter far than angel knows, to me s enough. 
 A guileless heart, with verse that glows, to me s enough." 
 
 A divan is a body of ghazels arranged in alpha 
 betical order, according to their isocatalectic letters. 
 
 The larger proportion of the specimens given here 
 are faithful representations of Hindu, Persian, and 
 Arab thoughts, sentiments, and fancies, which I have 
 met with in the voluminous records of the different 
 Asiatic Societies, in prose versions from the Vedas 
 and Puranas, and in a thousand scattered sources. 
 Of the rest, the originating hint and impulse alone, 
 or merely the character and style, are Oriental. 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 I have prefixed to each piece which is strictly a 
 translation the name of the original author, whenever 
 it was known to me. The specimens derived through 
 the German of Herder and of Riickert I am com 
 pelled to leave anonymous, as no clew is given to 
 the authors from whom they were derived. I have 
 affixed the letter H. to those drawn from Herder, the 
 letter R. to those drawn from Riickert. All the 
 pieces remaining, in addition to those now designated, 
 are to be ascribed, under the conditions before stated, 
 to the present writer. 
 
 . With small pretensions, with fervid interest in the 
 subject, this humble offering, brought from the altar 
 of the Oriental Muses, and laid on the shrine of 
 American Literature, is commended to the kind notice 
 of those whose curiosity or sympathy responds to the 
 fascination of Eastern gorgeousness, reverie, and pas 
 sion. 
 
 An edition of this work, numbering sixteen hundred 
 copies, was published in 1856. It is now out of print. 
 The present edition is enlarged by considerable new 
 introductory matter, and by over a hundred additional 
 specimens ; also, by an Appendix consisting of poems 
 not of an Oriental character. 
 
 BOSTON, March, 1865. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Purposes of this Essay, 3 
 
 Desirableness of such a Work, 4 
 
 Range and Variety of Eastern Poetry, .... 4 
 
 Alliterations ; Puns ; Ingenious Compositions in Geometrical 
 
 Shapes, 5 
 
 Immense Amount of Eastern Poetry, 7 
 
 English Translations from the Eastern Tongues, . . 8-10 
 
 Southey and Moore, . .11 
 
 French Translations from the Eastern Tongues, . . 12 
 German Translations from the Eastern Tongues, . . .13 
 Mirtsa Schaffy, a Living Persian Poet, . . . . 15 
 
 Goethe s West-Oestlicher Divan, 16 
 
 Oriental Metrical Forms, 16 
 
 Comparison of Eastern and Western Poetry, . . 17-21 
 
 Peculiarities of Eastern Literature, 22 
 
 Chinese Poetry, 23, 24 
 
 Hebrew Poetry, 25 
 
 Dr. Noyes s Translations, 26 
 
 The distinctive Hindu, Persian, Arab, and Sufi Muses, . 27 
 
 The Hindu Drama, 28 
 
 The Ram^yana, Valmiki s Epic, 29 
 
 Episode of RAVANA AND SITA, 30-36 
 
 The Mahablwrata, Vyasa s Epic, 37 
 
 THE CLOSE OF THE MAHABHARATA, . . .38-44 
 
 Arabian Poetry, 45 
 
 Freiligrath s PICTURE OF THE DESERT, . . .46-49 
 Scenery and Life of Arabia, ...... 50 
 
 THE SPIRIT-CARAVAN, 50-53 
 
Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 The Arabian Maiden, Horse, and Palm, .... 53 
 
 Persian Poetry, 54 
 
 The Shah Nameh of Firdousi, . . . . . 55 
 
 Firdousi s Terrible Satire on Mahmoud, . ... 56 
 Bewildering Luxury of Persian Lyrics, . . . . 57, 58 
 Jemschid s Cup, Solomon s Ring, Iskander s Mirror, . . 59 
 The Three Pairs of Persian Lovers, .... 60 
 
 Episode of FerMd in Nisami s Khosru and Shireen, . . 61 
 The Five Allegories of Hapless Love, .... 62 
 
 The Sect of Sufis, .63 
 
 Their Quietistic Enthusiasm, 64 
 
 THE SUCCESSFUL SEARCH, a Sufi Poem, . . * .64 
 
 THE THREE STAGES or PIETY, 66 
 
 Mewlana Dschelaleddin Rumi, . . . . . .66 
 
 Inwardness of Sufism, 67 
 
 THE RELIGION OF THE HEART, . . . . . 68 
 
 Sufistic Optimism, 69 
 
 Death the Entrance to Ecstasy, 70 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 1. Freedom of Imagination, . . . . . .71 
 
 2. Copiousness of Comparison, . .. . , . 72 
 
 3. The Apologue, . 73 
 
 THE CALIPH AND SATAN, . * . . 74-77 
 
 4. Paradoxical Figures, * ? 
 
 5. Bacchic and Erotic Imagery, ..... 79 
 
 6. Metaphysical and Imaginative Mysticism, . . .80 
 
 Distinction between Sentimentalist and Mystic, . 80 
 THE CONTENTS OF PIETY, 81 
 
 7. Pantheism, 82 
 
 8. Profound Feeling of Worldly Evanescence, . . 83-85 
 The Eastern Poet a Preacher, . , . . . 86-88 
 
 THE FESTIVAL, 89-91 
 
 Apologetic Justification of the Present Work, . . 92 
 
 METRICAL SPECIMENS, 93-316 
 
 PIECES NOT DERIVED FROM ORIENTAL SOURCES OR 
 
 SUGGESTIONS, 317-337 
 
AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
V; - HSIT7 
 
 HISTORICAL DISSERTATION. 
 
 THE three aims of this essay are, to convey to the 
 reader some conception of the vast contents of the im 
 perial treasure-house of Oriental poetry; to present a 
 brief sketch of the labors of modern scholars towards 
 bringing this unique literature to the acquaintance of 
 the Occidental world ; and to give an illustrative analy 
 sis of the distinguishing characteristics of Arab, Hindu, 
 Persian, imcLSttfi poems. I am aware that I shall ac 
 complish these objects imperfectly, because my knowl 
 edge of the original materials has been obtained through 
 translations, and because the narrow limits within which 
 the exposition must be confined will not allow a full 
 detail even of the facts and illustrations actually in my 
 hands. Still I hope not to be charged with presumption, 
 and ruled out of the literary court as an incompetent 
 intruder, however incommensurate my performance 
 may be with the theme ; and would suggest, in depre 
 cation of censure, that the present work, inadequate as 
 it is, will yet meet a real want, and perhaps lead to 
 worthier productions. Those who feel curiosity on the 
 subject will gladly own, that even the meagre outline of 
 
4 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 the Eastern Muse given here is better than nothing. 
 It comes into a vacant place where many are looking, 
 and therefore may be welcomed, although it very in 
 completely fills that place. Thousands desire to know 
 more than they can learn, from -means at hand, of 
 that wondrous harvest of Oriental thought, sentiment, 
 and fancy, from which scattered blades, fragmentary 
 grains, stray blossoms, are occasionally reaching them : 
 and while the great scholars, the front reapers in this 
 field, do not drive their loaded wains to our Western 
 mart, the humble gleaner may not be stigmatized as 
 immodest if he brings forward a small sheaf of speci 
 mens. Of course, at the best, it must be extremely 
 inadequate ; for, as Dschelaleddin says, 
 
 A flower-branch of the garden one brings to the town, 
 But brings not the whole garden of flowers to the town. 
 
 Oriental poetry includes a much more varied range 
 of subjects than Occidental. A large portion of the re 
 ligious, metaphysical, geographical, philological, histori 
 cal, and mathematical treatises of the East are written 
 in measure and rhyme. " The ancient laws of the race 
 were framed in verse, and sung into authority as the 
 carmen necessarium of the state." The children s school- 
 books, from Mecca to Borneo, from Bagdad to Pekin, 
 are almost invariably composed in poetic form. A sort 
 of catechism, said to be universally used in the Chinese 
 seminaries of instruction, commences thus : 
 
 All men at birth are good alike at root, 
 But afterwards they differ much in fruit. 
 
 Wilford ascribes to Vikrarmlditya, the powerful mon 
 arch at whose court Kalidasa flourished, a work on 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. O 
 
 Geography, which is still extant in manuscript, in 
 twenty thousand slokas. There seems to be ft power 
 ful propensity in the whole Eastern mind to a measured, 
 musical utterance filled with recurring sounds. And so, 
 in one rhetorical form it sets forth the subject-matter of 
 speculation and science, observation and fancy, alike, 
 from the attenuated theses of Buddha s abysmal philos 
 ophy, to the Poor Richard maxims of the Confucian 
 sages ; from the prayers to Agni, god of fire, in the 
 oldest Indian Veda, to the dry etymological disquisitions 
 in the latest Arabic grammar. Even their prose, as is 
 remarkably shown in the Koran, is thickly interspersed 
 with rhymes, balanced clauses, and pairs of jingling 
 names. Instead of Cain and Abel, the Arabs say 
 Abel and Kabel. 
 
 A noticeable feature in Eastern poetry is the quirks, 
 conceits, puns, alliterations, with which much of it 
 abounds. Many of these are wrought up in forms of 
 such exceeding difficulty, that their elaboration must 
 have cost immense pains, as well as ingenuity. The 
 construction and solution of riddles is a favorite exer 
 cise with them. These patient authors have composed 
 acrostics, whose lines read the same forwards, back 
 wards, upwards and downwards, at each end, and through 
 the centre. They have written poems in lines of dif 
 ferent lengths, and so arranged as to constitute the 
 shapes of drums, crosses, circles, swords, trees. The 
 Alexandrian rhetoricians afterwards amused themselves 
 in a similar manner, writing cutting satires and pier 
 cing invectives in the form of an axe or a spear. The 
 Christian monks of the Middle Age also did the 
 same thing ; composing, for instance, hymns in the form 
 
INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 of the cross. I have seen an erotic triplet composed 
 by a Hindu poet, the first line representing a bow, the 
 second its string, the third an arrow aimed at the heart 
 of the object of his passion. 
 
 I 
 
 Si 
 the fairest 
 
 x 
 
 
 
 o a 
 
 Those charms to win, with all my empire I would gladly part, 
 
 Some account of these curiosities is furnished by 
 Yates s paper, in the twentieth volume of the Asiatic 
 Researches, on " Sanscrit Alliteration." If the compar 
 ative degree of our adjective " great " were spelt in the 
 same way as the familiar instrument for rubbing nut 
 megs, the following lines would represent the equiva 
 lent of a satirical pun by an Indian bard : 
 
 Thy voice s melody than any man s is greater ; 
 
 It tears my ear as would the scratching of a grater. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 7 
 
 But perhaps the most remarkable example of literary 
 ingenuity the world can afford is those Sanscrit poems 
 wherein all the words have a Double sense, as our 
 word " churn " may be read either as a noun or as a verb, 
 so that two propositions are enounced, or two nar 
 ratives related, at once, in the same words. It would be 
 hard to exemplify this with much success, or at much 
 length, in English. But an approximate illustration 
 may be obtained if we suppose all the corresponding 
 words in the two following lines to be spelt alike while 
 retaining their respective significations : 
 
 The even belle thus told when the day s red course was all 
 
 so dun ; 
 The even bell thus tolled when the Dey s dread corse was also 
 
 done. 
 
 The former line would mean, The undisturbed beauty 
 narrated some incident when the bright path of the sun 
 had grown entirely brown in twilight ; the latter, The 
 vesper-bell was pealing a funeral chime in a certain 
 manner when the awe-inspiring form of the dead ruler 
 of Algiers was likewise ready for burial ; while, ah ke 
 to ear and eye, the words would be in both cases identi 
 cally the same. 
 
 But aside from these rhymed text-books and techni 
 cal artifices, the literature of the Orient is astonishingly 
 rich in poetry, properly so called. The names of poets 
 renowned throughout those strange arid crowded climes 
 are to be reckoned literally by the thousand. It is 
 thought that Persia alone has produced more than 
 twenty-five thousand. Poems of boundless diversity 
 of subject and character, possessing peculiar merits of a 
 superior order, fill volumes amounting to hundreds on 
 
8 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 hundreds. This prodigious realm of reflection and 
 imagination, of feeling and art, remained, until within 
 less than three quarters of a century, a terra incog 
 nita^ a world shut up from its. Even now few persons 
 know anything more of its extent and qualities than can 
 be gathered from the little fragments occasionally found 
 in the corners of magazines and newspapers. The 
 present general ignorance is no longer a necessity. 
 Materials enough have been imported into the modern 
 tongues, by scholars who have come freighted back from 
 voyaging over the sea of Eastern languages, to afford 
 quite an extensive acquaintance with this whole prov 
 ince ; though those materials are dispersed in numerous 
 channels, not popularly known and often not readily ac 
 cessible. A slight account, therefore, of what has been 
 done in this direction, by the English, the French, and 
 the Germans, may be of use. 
 
 Sir William Jones was the Vasco de Gama who first 
 piloted the thought of Europe to these Oriental shores. 
 It was on one of his earliest expeditions into Sanscrit- 
 land, that the divining-rod of his sensitive genius, flut 
 tering in response to an irresistible attraction towards 
 the veiled and unimaginable mines of Indian poetry, 
 fastened at last, by magnetic instinct, upon Sakiintala, 
 the master-piece of Kalidasa, the happiest production of 
 the Hindu drama, the " As You Like It " of the East 
 ern Shakespeare. The publication by him of this beau 
 tiful play, also of some miscellaneous Persian odes, and 
 Brahminic hymns, and of his famous pioneer essay on 
 the "Poetry of the Eastern Nations," attracted the 
 attention, and stimulated the labors, of many scholars, 
 both in Great Britain and on the Continent, and led to 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 9 
 
 extensive consequences. lie was the first President of 
 the Royal Asiatic Society, which, by its roots at home. 
 and its brandies abroad, has since done so much to 
 fructify our AVestern literature with Oriental sap and 
 grafts. Scattered notices and fragments in the numer 
 ous volumes of the " Asiatic Researches," and of the 
 " Asiatic Journal," furnish a great variety of translated 
 specimens of the poetry of the East, and a valuable 
 fund of general information on the whole subject. 
 Wilkins early published a prose version of the Bhagvat 
 Gita, a long metaphysical episode from the stupendous 
 Indian epic ; of which also a new translation by Thomp 
 son has just issued from the press. Milman has given 
 us, in most faithful and felicitous verse, another episode 
 from that vast and ancient poem, namely, the story of 
 Nala and Damayanta, a tale of the rarest interest, 
 sweetness, and simplicity. Professor H. II. Wilson, the 
 distinguished President of the Royal Asiatic Society of 
 England, whose profound lore and magnificent pub 
 lished achievements have long since won for him the 
 admiring reverence of scholars throughout the world, 
 gave the public, twenty years since, three volumes of 
 Hindu Plays. He has also printed a few small poems 
 from the Sanscrit, together with a happy metrical 
 version of Kalida>a s " Megha-Duta, or Cloud-Messen 
 ger." The title of the latter production partly indicates 
 its subject, which is the story of a Yaksha, or mountain 
 demigod, who loves and marries an Apsarasa, or 
 heavenly nymph, and resides with her in the celestial 
 regions. But having offended Indra, he is banished 
 from her to the earth. Disconsolate and pining, he 
 stands on a lofty peak, gazing towards his lost paradise. 
 
10 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 A cloud floats over him in the direction of the home of 
 the Apsarasas. He sends a message by it to his be 
 loved spouse : and so the plot proceeds to the desired 
 sequel. 
 
 There is a volume of " Specimens of Old Indian 
 Poetry " by Griffiths ; he has also translated Kalidasa s 
 " Birth of the War- God." Eastwick has presented us 
 with a beautiful prose version of the Prem Sagar, or 
 " The Ocean of Love," a history of Krishna, recounting 
 the adventures of Yishnu during his incarnation as a cow 
 herd-boy in the meadows of Gopala. A most curious 
 allegorical drama, called " The Rising of the Moon of 
 Intellect," likewise exists in an English dress by Dr. 
 Taylor. The Gulistan or " Rose-Garden " of Saadi has 
 appeared successively in the English versions of Glad- 
 Man, Dumoulin, Ross, and Eastwick. Gladwin trans 
 lated, in addition, Saadi s Pund-Nameh or " Compen 
 dium of Ethics " ; and a philological poem entitled " Re 
 semblance Linear and Verbal." Firdousi s Shah-Nameh, 
 the great Iranian epic, has been admirably brought into 
 our tongue, in a form of mingled prose and verse, by 
 Atkinson. Episodes from this famous " Book of Heroes " 
 had been previously rendered by Champion, Weston, and 
 Robertson. Selections of the lyrics of Hafiz were pub 
 lished in English verse successively by Richardson, Nott, 
 and Hindley. Professor Falconer has enriched our 
 literature with a small volume of characteristic and ex 
 quisite odes and fragments from the Persian. "The 
 Rose- Garden of Persia," a volume by Miss Costello, 
 contains a large collection of interesting metrical pieces 
 from different Persian bards. Milnes has embodied a 
 few delightful specimens of Oriental thought in his book 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 11 
 
 of " Palm Leaves." And in Trench s " Poems from 
 Eastern Sources" are many which possess remarkable 
 beauty, truth, and power. Several pieces in Bayard 
 Taylor s " Poems of the Orient " scarcely fall below any 
 in our language as representative expressions of the real 
 passion, imagery, and form of the Eastern Muse. The 
 fifty-fourth volume of the Westminster Review has a 
 good notice of Preston s translation of the great Ara 
 bian poem, the Makamtit of Hariri. A hundred years 
 ago Professor Chappelow published Tograi, or " The 
 Traveller," an Arabic poem. There is, too, a volume 
 by Professor Carlyle, entitled " Specimens of Arabian 
 Poetry, from the Earliest Time to the Extinction of 
 the Khaliphat." 
 
 Southey excited interest in the myths of India by 
 "Thalaba" and "The Curse of Kehama," justly 
 among the most popular of his publications. Their my 
 thology and their descriptions of natural scenery are 
 quite true to the Hindu belief and clime ; but as poetry 
 they are utterly remote from all the native tones of the 
 Sanscrit lyre. Moore s famous and favorite tale of Lalla 
 Rookh is far more successful, every way, in reproducing 
 the breath and raiment of Asiatic poesy. The Moslem 
 and Gheber traditions and associations, the current im 
 agery, local form and color of the Orient, are here pre 
 served and wrought up by a fancy wholly Persian in its 
 revelling profuseness and felicity. Not the very genius 
 itself of Iran s own soil can outvie, in exhaustless wealth 
 of splendors and sweets, the cloying witchery of beauty 
 and melody that crowds the pages of the Irish bard s 
 "Lalla Rookh," and of his "Loves of the Angels." 
 The lines dissolve in voluptuous languor of music; 
 
12 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Oriental superstitions impregnate the thoughts ; and as 
 we read, or listen, visions of snowy Peris, red wine- 
 fountains in gushing spouts, porphyry palaces, golden 
 domes, and birds of Paradise, float before us, and a 
 breeze laden with perfumes from " the gardens of Gul 
 in their bloom " is wafted to our nostrils. 
 
 At the beginning of this century, Samuel Rousseau 
 published " Flowers of Persian Poetry." A work, too, 
 of a good deal of interest, is Broughton s "Popular 
 Poetry of the Hindoos." More recently Eastwick has 
 given us a fine translation of " The Anvari Suhaili," 
 the Persian version of the Fables of Pilpay. Professor 
 Williams has printed an admirable lecture on " Indian 
 Epic Poetry," followed by an analysis of the Rama- 
 yana, and a summary of the Mahabharata, full and 
 exceedingly instructive. And we owe to Max Miiller 
 a " History of Sanscrit Literature." 
 
 A glance into the Oriental section of French bibliog 
 raphy will show that the eager scholars of that most 
 intellectual nation have largely cultivated this branch 
 of literature. I shall mention only a few of the more 
 conspicuous works. The Bhagavat Purana, or Poetic 
 History of Krishna, was published at Paris in 1840, in 
 three gigantic folios, in arch-royal style, the Sanscrit 
 on one page, and a translation by Burnouf on the 
 other. It is a vast repertory of adventures, imagery, 
 hymns, metaphysics, and mythology. The History 
 of Hindu and Hindostanee Literature by Garcin de 
 Tassy includes a copious anthology. Tassy is the 
 translator of " The Adventures of Kamrup," an East 
 ern Ulysses, a poem of enormous bulk, and teeming 
 with the peculiarities of the Hindu mind. He has also 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 13 
 
 translated and edited " The Popular Songs of India, Re 
 ligious, Erotic, National"; and he has published a unique 
 little treatise on " The Female Poets of India." Under 
 the names of De Sacy, Lauglois, Fauche, and Chezy, in 
 the last volume of Zenker s " Bibliotheca Orientalis," the 
 reader will find such further notices as he may desire. 
 
 The Germans have transplanted much more exten 
 sively than the English or the French from this wide 
 and winsome field. More than a score of her heroic 
 scholars, toiling devotedly in this long-neglected depart 
 ment, have enriched the mother tongue of Germany 
 with copious contributions of choice-culled flowers from 
 the Eastern Muses, and made the names of Valmiki, 
 Vyasa, and Kalidasa, Firdousi, Hafiz, and Saadi, well- 
 nigh as familiar on the banks of the Rhine and beneath 
 the lindens of Vienna, as they are along the shores of 
 the Ganges and amidst the kiosks of Shiraz. Large 
 portions of the two great cycles of Indian epic poetry 
 have been brought into their own vernacular by the 
 Schlegels, by Holtzmann, by Wilmans, and by Bopp. 
 The elder Humboldt also published an important crit 
 ical essay on this subject, which attracted much atten 
 tion at the time. An entire version of Firdousi has 
 appeared in German, by Schack, besides various por 
 tions of his work rendered by different hands. Tholuck 
 translated and edited a " Collection of Fragments from 
 Oriental Mysticism," comprising many gems of rare 
 light and wonderful setting. Herder early became 
 quite a proficient in this province of world-literature, 
 and his works contain an extremely large number of 
 short, select pieces of Hindu wit, wisdom, and imagina 
 tion. Rosenzweig printed three volumes of important 
 
14 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Persian poems by different authors of eminence. Jo 
 seph von Hammer, known later as Hammer Purgstall, 
 has given to the press besides a Turkish romantic 
 poem by Fasli, called " The Rose and the Nightingale," 
 and a volume of precious " Fragments by an Unknown 
 Persian poet," and " The Divan of Baki," the greatest 
 Turkish lyrist, and Schebisteri s " Rose-Field of Mys 
 tery," and the works of Motanebbi, the greatest Arabic 
 poet a history of Arabic literature, in seven huge 
 volumes, describing the works of ten thousand authors ; 
 a history of Persian poetry, with extracts from two 
 hundred celebrated poets ; and a voluminous history of 
 Turkish poetry, with extracts from twenty-two hundred 
 poets. Hammer Purgstall s contributions are unrivalled 
 in quantity, and in quality their merits are very high, 
 notwithstanding the somewhat damaging assaults upon 
 his philological pretensions by Von Diez, Fleischer, and 
 Weil. Riickert likewise has added greatly to the wealth 
 of German literature by his innumerable translations 
 from various Oriental tongues, translations which, 
 for literal and metrical closeness to their originals, and 
 for singular felicity and fire, hold supreme rank. His 
 versions of short poems are countless. His chief works 
 are " Hamasa," fifteen hundred of the oldest Arabic bal 
 lads, collected by Abu Tamman ; " Metamorphoses of 
 Abu-Seid"; "Wisdom of a Brahmin"; "Contemplation 
 and Edification from the East " ; " Brahminical Tales." 
 There is a fine rhymed version of the best lyrics of 
 Hafiz by Daumer. A vast mass of valuable examples 
 of Oriental poetry reflection, fancy, feeling, meta 
 phor, and description has been deposited in German 
 speech by the hands of Hartmann, Kosegarten, Arnold, 
 
ORIENTAL rOETKY. 15 
 
 Platen, Hoefer, Wolff, Graf, Bohlen, Peipcr, Ewald, 
 Miiller, and Heine. The titles of their works may be 
 found under their names in the Oriental sections of the 
 various German bibliographies. Two splendid volumes 
 of Persian poems, " The Fruit-Garden of Saadi," and the 
 Fragments of Ibn Jemin, translated by a learned Ger 
 man lady, Ottokar Maria, were published at Vienna 
 three years since. And a version, by Dursch, of a San 
 scrit poem, called "The Shattered Goblet," has just 
 appeared in thin quarto form. Bodenstedt not long 
 ago published a charming little volume of the " Songs of 
 Mirtsa Schaffy," a living poet, under whose instruction 
 the translator studied Persian literature, at Tiflis. In 
 1850 Bodenstedt issued an account of his travels in the 
 East, of his studies with Mirtsa Schaffy, and his obser 
 vations of Asiatic character and life. It is called " A 
 Thousand and One Days in the Orient," and is one of 
 the most charming books of the kind ever written. < 
 Especially entertaining and peculiar are the details j , 
 given in it of the mutual criticisms and squibs which ) 
 passed between Mirtsa Schafiy and Mirtsa Jussuf, 
 who were rival teachers of Persian at Tiflis, and both 
 of whom were anxious to secure the patronage of the 
 young student from the West. Dr. Jolowicz also 
 has recently issued a noticeable collection of well- 
 chosen specimens of the best poetry of twenty East 
 ern nations, executed by a large number of distin 
 guished persons, and constituting a great quarto of six 
 hundred and fifty pages, called " Polyglot of Oriental 
 Poetry." 
 
 In this hasty survey the name of Goethe should not be 
 omitted ; for he has done much to acquaint the Western 
 
16 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 world with some peculiar traits of the poetry of the East. 
 His " West-Oestlicher Divan" is a series, not of transla 
 tions, but of original poems, written by him, in the spirit 
 and method of the East, after he was past sixty years of 
 age. Milnes, certainly a competent judge, says of this 
 work : "Any one who has made it the companion of his 
 Eastern tour will acknowledge the wonderful success 
 of the experiment, and feel more strongly than ever the 
 genius of that consummate artist, to whom all faiths and 
 feelings, all times and events, seem to have ministered, 
 as certain of being well understood and rightly used as 
 if their master had been Nature itself. He will feel how 
 truly Riickert, in his Eastern Roses, has sung : 
 
 * Would you feast on purest East, 
 You must ask it of the selfsame man 
 Who the best has served the West 
 With such vintage as none other can. " 
 
 The metrical literature of the Oriental languages 
 admits far more freedom and variety of movement and 
 measure than our own. The laws of versification es 
 tablished by the Indian bards include three distinct 
 methods of measure ; that which is determined by time 
 alone, that which reckons merely by syllables, that 
 which is divided entirely by feet. And then all possi 
 ble combinations of the foregoing methods of rhythm 
 are allowed, and the actual diversity of metre amounts 
 literally to many thousands. This interesting point is 
 elaborately explained by Colebrooke in a long paper on 
 " Sanscrit and Pracrit Poetry," in the tenth volume of 
 the Asiatic Researches. The oldest, simplest, most 
 commonly adopted measure is the Sloka, a sixteen- 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 syllable line <lividi-d at tlio eighth syllable. Then 1 is 
 a class of poems, called Ghazels, comprising a large 
 part of the lyrics of the East. Its law is that the first 
 t\vo lines rhyme, and for this rhyme a new one must be 
 found in the second line of each succeeding couplet, the 
 alternate line being free. These poems sometimes con 
 tain forty or fifty couplets. Here is a brief specimen 
 of the Ghazel from Trench s Eastern poems. 
 
 THE WORLD S UNAPPRECIATION. 
 
 " What is the good man and the wise ? 
 Ofttimes a pearl which none doth prize ; 
 Or jewel rare, which men account 
 A common pebble, and despise. 
 Set forth upon the world s bazaar, 
 It mildly gleams, but no one buys, 
 Till it in anger Heaven withdraws 
 From the world s undiscerning eyes : 
 And in its shell the pearl again, 
 And in its mine the jewel, lies." 
 
 But let us pass from form to life and substance. It is 
 unfair and misleading to say, with indiscriminate univer 
 sality, that Oriental poetry is thus, Western poetry so ; 
 because, among the immense treasures of Eastern litera 
 ture, gathered by its native bards during so many gen 
 erations, there is almost every conceivable variety of 
 subject and treatment, marked by almost every possible 
 mode and degree of thought, imagery, and emotion. 
 Eastern writing is not, as many seem to think, all com 
 pact of foolish hyperbole, petty conceit, and mystic jug 
 glery. It is not all, as many of the specimens most 
 
18 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 circulated might lead us to imagine, in the strain of 
 " He lifted his head from the collar of reflection, drew 
 aside the veil of silence, and strewed the pearls of his 
 speech to the bewildering delight of his auditors." In 
 its different departments, though it is indeed often 
 characterized by this childish profusion of weak and 
 huddled metaphors, it yet possesses narrators as graph 
 ic in precision and directness as Homer ; elegiasts as 
 touching in clean simplicity of conception and thought 
 ful pathos of phrase as Simonides ; epigrammatists not 
 a whit inferior in brevity, point, and beauty to Callima- 
 chus ; humorists whose sketches and colors are as ad 
 mirable as the most genial of Sterne s ; satirists whose 
 lines are as sharp-edged as the most cutting of Swift s ; 
 ethical and descriptive poets whose hortatory appeals, 
 and pictures of nature and life, will not suffer by com 
 parison with similar productions by European authors of 
 the most respectable rank at the present time ; thinkers 
 as profound as Plato, as subtile as Fichte ; in whose 
 speculations lie the germs, and many of the develop 
 ments, of every philosophical theory now known, from 
 Spinoza s to Locke s, from Berkeley s to Hegel s. The 
 truth of this general statement might easily be proved 
 and illustrated by citation of authorities and examples, 
 if that were needed or appropriate in this connection. 
 The justice of it will be recognized at once by all who 
 are acquainted with the translations of Von Hammer 
 and Riickert, and with the Sankhya and Vedanta sys 
 tems of Hindu metaphysics. This is sufficient to show 
 the injustice of depicting two strongly contrasted faces, 
 and, pointing out their unlike lineaments, exclaiming, 
 Behold there the Oriental, here the Occidental Muse ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 19 
 
 The respective literary progeny of East and "West 
 often closely resemble each other in many particulars 
 by mutual or alternate approximation, although com 
 monly, as we should naturally expect, there are certain 
 family features, and an indefinable expression, distin 
 guishing them. As it is no rare thing for Asiatic au 
 thors to compose like European, so Europeans frequent 
 ly write in the fullest vein of the Asiatics. Shake 
 speare out-orients the Orient with his apostrophe to 
 " eyes that do mislead the morn." .What inspired child 
 or frantic devotee of the Persian lyre ever transcended 
 such figures as " flecked Darkness like a drunkard reels 
 from the pathway of day as gray-eyed Morn advances "s 
 " I would tear the cave where Echo lies, and make her 
 airy tongue hoarse with repetition " ; " Heaven peeps 
 through the blanket of the dark " ; and ten thousand 
 other images equally astonishing, born in our English 
 speech ? Sir William Jones strikingly brings together 
 a prose-translated ode of the Persian Bulbul, and a kin 
 dred ditty of the British Swan, to show that the poetic 
 imaginations of the two countries are, after all, not so 
 different as has been supposed. According to our poor 
 versification, thus run the notes of the splendid Bulbul 
 of Shiraz : 
 
 Sweet gale ! my love tins fragrant scent has on thee cast, 
 And thence it is that thou this pleasing odor hast. 
 Beware ! Steal not ; what with her locks hast thou to do ? 
 O rose ! what art thou when compared with that which blew 
 In blush upon her cheek ? She s fresh, thou rt rough with 
 
 thorns. 
 
 Narcissus ! to her languid eye, as blue as morn s, 
 Thine eye is sick and faint. O pine ! in thy high place, 
 What honor hast thou when compared with her shape s grace ? 
 
20 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Sweet basil ! know st thou not her lips are perfect musk, 
 Whilst withered, lifeless, scentless, thou shalt lie at dusk? 
 O come, my love ! and charm poor Hafiz with thy stay, 
 Even if thou linger st with him but for one short day. 
 
 And then thus in unison chimes the strain of the won 
 drous Swan of Avon: 
 
 The forward violet thus did I chide : 
 Sweet thief ! whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, 
 If not from my love s breath ? The purple pride, 
 Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells, 
 In my love s veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 
 The lily I condemned for thy hand ; 
 And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair ; 
 The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 
 One blushing shame, another white despair ; 
 A third, nor red nor white, had stolen of both, 
 And to his robbery had annexed thy breath : 
 But for his theft, in pride of all his growth, 
 A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 
 More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, 
 But scent or color it had stolen from thee." 
 
 The two antipodal realms of poetry often coalesce, 
 and reflect each other in corresponding products, spring 
 ing from similar exercise of like faculties, and contem 
 plation of the same phenomena, and impulses of iden 
 tical experience. The human heart is like a harp borne 
 through many lands, in every place, when played on 
 by the fingers of nature, time and fate, love, hope and 
 grief, yielding the same tones, though variously colored 
 by the different associations of scene and race amidst 
 which they sound, and variously echoed by the different 
 temperaments and objects upon which they strike. It is 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 21 
 
 also true, that, especially of late years, innumerable im 
 ages, fancies, modes of reflection, and tinges of senti 
 ment have found their way from the immemorial plains 
 of Ilindostan, the vales of Cashmere, and the cities of 
 Arabia, to our modern and far-away minds and books. 
 "The seeds, there scattered first, flower in all later 
 pages." Verily, as Milnes has happily rendered Goe 
 the s thought, 
 
 " Many a light the Orient throws, 
 O er the midland waters brought ; 
 He alone who Hafiz knows 
 Knows what Calderon has thought." 
 
 Still we may say, in general, in regard to the distinc 
 tion between the light literature of Asia and that of Eu 
 rope, that they do, for the most part, greatly differ in the 
 religions, philosophies, mythologies, traditions, customs, 
 names, scenery, costumes, and ruling aims reflected in 
 them respectively. And it must be owned by every 
 one, that the East is, in a striking degree, more poetic 
 that is, more gorgeous, sensitive, passionate, subtile, 
 and mysterious than the "West. It is to us what 
 wine is to water, the peacock to the hen, the palm to 
 the pine, the orange to the apple. 
 
 " Eastward roll the orbs of heaven, 
 Westward tend the thoughts of men ; 
 Let the poet, nature-driven, 
 Wander eastward now and then " ; 
 
 for who would appreciate the poem must travel in the 
 poet s land, and on every such excursion the lyric heart 
 will find itself at home in that region, for it is native 
 there. Humanity was cradled in the nest of dawn, and 
 
22 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 a secret current in our souls still turns and flows to 
 wards mankind s natal star, standing above Eden, over 
 the birth-spot of Adam. Whoso would plunge into the 
 primal font of poesy, and bathe his soul in the very elixir 
 of immortal freedom, must not turn his face after the 
 sun in the circling course of industrial empire, 
 
 " But crowd the canvas on his bark, 
 And sail to meet the morning." 
 
 "We think of the East as the home of magic and 
 wonder, the misty birthplace of wisdom, the haunted 
 shrine of an antique civilization, crowded with mazy im 
 mensities of human experience before the gates of Tad- 
 mor were swung, or the crown of Palmyra had been so 
 much as dreamed of. It rises in our thoughts with its 
 dim-swarming peoples, now sunk fibreless in soft seas of 
 sense, now frenetic with superhuman inspiration, as a 
 kingdom whose hills are ribbed with silver shafts, its 
 streams bedded with golden sand, its trenched ravines 
 lined with pebbling diamonds, the edge of its strands 
 covered with coral, the floor of its bays strewed with 
 pearls, the breath of its meadows odorous with myrrh, 
 its flowering trees of perennial green and bloom ever 
 sagging with delicious fruit, cool fountains spouting in 
 every court, and entranced bulbuls warbling on every 
 spray. Its geographical features and its intellectual 
 conceptions, alike, are on a scale of prodigious grandeur 
 whose vastitude crushes the power of sense, but pro 
 vokes Imagination to the fullest expansion of her cloudy 
 wings. Its Ganges encounters the ocean with a shock 
 that shakes the globe, and its Dhawalaghiri makes Olym 
 pus but little better than a wart ; its banyan over- 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 23 
 
 shadows armies and flourishes a thousand years ; its cos 
 mogonies dwarf the hugest dreams of Greece and Scan 
 dinavia ; in the background of its legends stalk deities 
 to whom Jupiter Tonans and Hammering Thor are 
 Lilliputian dandies ; and its annals enclose eons of 
 epochs in which successive universes exist and perish 
 like breaths in a frosty air. The poetry we should ex 
 pect, and have found, is as the clime, vast in mystery, 
 warm with passion, far-vistaed with reverie, rich in 
 jewels, redolent with perfumes, brilliant in colors, inex 
 haustible in profusion. 
 
 The metrical compositions of the CHINESE are of 
 three kinds in subject, scarcely ever varying from a 
 certain ethical moderation of thought, or going beyond 
 a prosaic level of emotion, though sometimes displaying 
 wit of a quite excellent mirth. The first sort of Chinese 
 poetry consists of simple moral tales with admonitory 
 applications. The second consists of the aphoristic ex 
 pressions of a shrewd observation and a cunning judg 
 ment. Such as the striking couplet, 
 
 " Who, in politeness, Lokman, was thy guide ? 
 The impolite ! the learned sage replied." 
 
 Or such as this proverb, by one of their most renowned 
 
 mandarins : 
 
 Who sues a mite 
 Will catch a bite. 
 
 The following is one of the sentences of Confucius 
 himself: 
 
 Wisdom brings joy, clear as a crystal fountain : 
 Virtue brings peace, firm as an iron mountain. 
 
 The third is composed of feeling reflections on human 
 
24: INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 life, of which a fair example may be found in the fol 
 lowing fragment of an address to the people by an 
 aged governor on leaving office : 
 
 When I look backward o er the field of fame, 
 Where I have travelled a long fifty years, 
 The struggle for ambition, and the sweat 
 For gain, seem altogether vanity. 
 
 The Shi-King, one of the five sacred books which 
 stand at the head of the Chinese literature, is a collec 
 tion of lyrical poems, three hundred and eleven in num 
 ber, selected by Confucius from a much larger number 
 existing in his time, as most worthy of preservation. 
 They belong mainly to the epoch 1122-650 B. C.; a 
 few, however, claim, and doubtless with justice, to date 
 from 1766-1123 B. C., and are accordingly among the 
 very earliest poetical productions of the human race still 
 preserved. They are in part of popular origin, ballad- 
 like ; partly satires, or panegyrics upon persons high in 
 station ; partly hymns recited at the offerings to the 
 dead. Their poetic value is very unequal, but they far 
 exceed, upon the whole, most of the lyric productions of 
 later ages, containing not infrequently noble, unartificial 
 feelings expressed in a style of simple majesty and inim 
 itable energy. 
 
 The next poetical work in the Chinese literature is the 
 Ts y u-Tsse y , ascribed to the fourth century before Christ, 
 and to a single author, but probably the work of dif 
 ferent authors at different times. It contains moral 
 declamations in poetic language, but no proper poetical 
 compositions. Nothing farther appears until the period 
 A. D. 618-906, when a much more artificial construe- 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 25 
 
 tion of verse was introduced, and when an astonishing 
 number of lyric poets appeared. A single, great col 
 lection, published by imperial command in 1707, con 
 tains the poems of more than a thousand poets and po 
 etasters of tliis period, giving the biography also of 
 each one, and a critical examination of his works. The 
 productions of this period are regarded as models for 
 ah 1 subsequent tunes.* 
 
 Palestinian poetry needs no illustration here by ex 
 amples, because it is already universally accessible and 
 familiar. The grand national characteristic of the 
 HEBREW Muse is fervent rational piety, based on 
 the bounded intellectual conception of a personal God, 
 whose favor towards his children depends on the two 
 conditions of his own disinterested love, and their moral 
 qualities. The spirit and sum of Hebrew poetry are 
 certainly the loftiest, purest, richest, the whole ancient 
 world affords. Arabic literature, including its boasted 
 Koran, is challenged to exhibit a production which can 
 rival the story of the Idumrean patriarch in beautiful 
 argument, imaginative sublimity, and descriptive elo 
 quence. In all the Persian tongue s erotic wealth no 
 Anacreontic idyl can at all approach the Song of Songs, 
 which is Solomon s. No Hindu sage has wrought such 
 a peerless mine of apothegmatic wisdom as the man 
 ual of proverbs by the young Judasan king, at whose 
 feet the far-come queen of Sheba fell, crying, " The half 
 
 * I am indebted for the latter part of the foregoing sketch to 
 the kindness of Professor W. D. Whitney, whose labors, in con 
 nection with Dr. Roth, in editing the Atharva Veda, are an honor 
 to American scholarship. 
 
26 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 was not told me." No Greek or Roman moralist has 
 ever sung the experience and enforced the lesson of a 
 sensualist s life in such solemn lines and freighted peri 
 ods, with such melancholy refrain, and such divine con 
 clusion, as the author of Ecclesiastes. And beyond all 
 emulation stand the religious hymns sung in Zion to the 
 harp of David as the monarch-minstrel swept its chords. 
 There is no speech nor language where their voice is not 
 heard, and their words have gone out to the end of the 
 world. Their echoes have floated, and will float, amidst 
 the heart-strings of uncounted generations of exulting, 
 sorrowing, confessing, -worshipping humanity. And 
 what is there in the most thrilling strains of the whole 
 earth besides, to equal the martial ardor, the terrible 
 pomp, the all-marshalling imagination, in the warlike 
 bursts and inspired improvisations that drop burning 
 from the lightning lyres of Isaiah and Habakkuk, 
 amidst visions of meteor standards, staggering armies 
 with garments rolled in blood, melting hills, falling 
 stars, and a darkened universe ! To those who would 
 really appreciate Hebrew poetry, Dr. Noyes s transla 
 tions deserve to be emphatically commended for the 
 faithful purity with which they render the original into 
 Saxon speech of crystal clearness. His translation is 
 far more literal, concise, properly divided, and intelligi 
 ble than the common version, and his notes are admira 
 bly judicious in rendering all needed helps. 
 
 It is the purpose of the present work to illustrate 
 the poetry of the three great families occupying South 
 ern and Western Asia, stretching, on the upper ex 
 tremity, from the Black Sea to Samarcand; on the 
 lower, from Sumatra to the Straits of Babelmandel. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 27 
 
 These families are the Hindus, the Arabs, and the 
 Persians, including under the last head the Turks, 
 as possessing the same imaginative type and literary 
 traits. The subjects common to all their metrical au 
 thors, and upon which the poetic lore of each of the 
 countries has an enormous quantity of productions, are 
 philosophical meditations, moral parables, fanciful tales, 
 old traditions, feats and adventures of heroes and trav 
 ellers, pure creations of imagination, love-odes, theo- 
 sophic musings, religious hymns, descriptions and moral- 
 izings of natural phenomena, and such like. But while 
 the three peoples have certain themes and styles of 
 treatment in common, each also has some subjects and 
 a prevailing spirit peculiar to itself. 
 
 The doctrine of the metempsychosis, which saturates 
 so much of the literature of the East with its manifold 
 influences, its ascetic aims and painful penances re 
 ducing all life to a ritual system, properly belongs to 
 the Indian race. That luxuriousness and indolence and 
 Epicurean proclivity which we so often associate with 
 the Orient, are Persian. But martial movement, bound 
 ing arteries, indefatigable activity, love of perilous enter 
 prise, thirsting rage, are Arab. The first may be rep 
 resented by the Elephant, the second by the Gazelle, the 
 third by the Lion. The Hindu Muse is pre-eminently 
 characterized by pensiveness, love of meditation. Her 
 children see everything reflected in reverie. The world 
 is suspended in Maya, or illusion, and they mildly think 
 upon it. The Arab Muse is pre-eminently characterized 
 by an ardent objectivity, active passion, freedom from 
 morbid introspectiveness. Her children love outward 
 things, deeds, descriptions. Their stories are of the 
 
28 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 headlong race across Sahara, encounters with the lion, 
 or smiting a foe. The sap in their trees seems blood, 
 and the blood in their veins fire. The Persian Muse is 
 i pre-eminently characterized by delicacy of sensation. A 
 vital fancy, now finical in its conceits, now world-grasp 
 ing in its illumined dilation, is over and through all her 
 works. Victor Hugo, in his " Les Orientales," says 
 "the Persians are the Italians of Asia." There is a 
 fourth Muse in these countries, differing essentially from 
 the foregoing ; not confined to either clime, but having 
 the freedom of each, and reckoning as her servants a 
 large class of the most gifted poets in them all. I refer 
 to Siifism, whose pre-eminent characteristic is an intense 
 subjectivity. Her adherents turn all faculties inwards 
 in concentred abstraction, and heighten their conscious 
 ness till it is lost in boundless identification. Thought 
 and sensation, transfused and molten, flow through form 
 less moulds into ecstasy. 
 
 The Hindus possess a distinguishing treasure in their 
 drama. The most charming specimen of this known 
 to us as yet is Sakuntala, an episode drawn from the 
 Mahabharata, and constructed by Kalidasa, of which 
 a fresh translation by Professor Williams has but now 
 been published, in a volume of profuse beauty and cost 
 liness. Goethe paid this play the following magnificent 
 compliment : 
 
 Wouldst thou the blossoms of the spring, the autumn s 
 fruits, 
 
 Wouldst thou -what charms and thrills, wouldst thou what 
 sates and feeds, 
 
 Wouldst thou the heaven, the earth, in one sole word com 
 press ? 
 
 I name Sakuntala, and so have said it all. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 29 
 
 There are two cycles of Hindu traditions and myths, 
 wrought up, unknown ages ago, into two tremendous 
 epics ; the elder, the Ramayana, attributed to Valmiki, 
 the other, the Mahabharata, ascribed to Vyasa. The 
 Hai uayana is a history of the avatdr or incarnation of 
 Vishnu in human shape, to deliver the world from a 
 gigantic demon, Ravana, who was tyrannizing over 
 mankind, and had extended his power into the lower 
 heavens. By terrible penances he had wrought from 
 Brahma the promise that no mortal being should de 
 stroy him. Upon this he began openly to oppress all 
 the good in his dominions, and to promote the impious. 
 The curtain rises, and the action begins with a solemn 
 conclave of the gods on the summit of Mount Meru. 
 The senate of the Indian Olympus is filled with dismay 
 at the invincible power bestowed on the tyrant by 
 Brahma s promise. At last Vishnu advances, and 
 offers to be born as a man, to vanquish the common 
 enemy. The next scene is on earth, at the court of 
 Ayodhya, where King Dasaratha finds himself in old 
 age without a son to succeed him. A saint advises 
 him to perform the celebrated sacrifice of a horse, the 
 Aswamedha, He does so, and his three wives bear 
 him four sons, the eldest, Rama, being Vishnu himself. 
 Rama has a great many adventures while his youth is 
 passing, but at last is about to inherit the throne, when 
 he is supplanted and banished for fourteen years. His 
 wife, Sita, and his brother Lakshmana accompany him. 
 A long account follows of the scenes and occurrences of 
 their wanderings. Finally they settle in a deep forest, 
 Rama and Lakshmana spending their time in hunting 
 beasts and chasing the demons. In Rama s absence 
 
30 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Ravana discovers the cottage, and carries Sita away to 
 Ms own abode. The disconsolate husband searches the 
 peninsula in vain ; but meeting a tribe of apes, whose 
 king, Sugriva, had been deprived of his crown, Rama 
 restored it to him, and the grateful monkey-monarch 
 sent a multitude of his people to find Sita. After much 
 useless wandering, one of Sugriva s messengers discov 
 ered Sita imprisoned in Ravana s palace, and brought 
 the tidings to Rama, who immediately set out with an 
 army of apes for the southernmost point of India, off 
 whose coast the island-home of the tyrant lay. The 
 apes threw Titanic rocks into the sea, until they made 
 a bridge to the island. Then Rama passed over with 
 his forces, and, after a dreadful battle, killed the demon, 
 scattered his subject fiends, and rescued his beloved 
 spouse. Returning to Ayodhya with his wife and his 
 faithful brother, his lawful kingdom is given to him, 
 and the work ends. Within this vague outline innu 
 merable branching episodes and details are included, 
 which give the poem a most varied charm and value. 
 I will now give an epitome, from a very valuable 
 article on " Indian Epic Poetry," in the October number 
 of the Westminster Review for 1848, of 
 
 RAVANA S CAPTURE OF SITA. 
 I. 
 
 " Lakshmana, grieved at Sita s words, no longer undecided 
 
 stood, 
 But hied him forth in Rama s search, and left her in the 
 
 lonely wood. 
 With many a dark presentiment fast gathering round, and 
 
 unknown fear, . j 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 31 
 
 In the deep forest-paths he roved, like one who roves he 
 
 wists not where. 
 And now that thus the golden deer had lured the brothers 
 
 both away, 
 Havana deemed within himself the hour was come to seize 
 
 his prey. 
 There he beheld the dame forlorn, left in that cottage all 
 
 alone, 
 As upon earth is left a gloom, when meet eclipsed the sun 
 
 and moon : 
 And while upon her form he gazed, so fair in such a dreary 
 
 spot, 
 Thus to himself the tyrant spoke, as he surveyed the lonely 
 
 cot: 
 * While she is left with husband none, with brother none, to 
 
 hear her cries, 
 Why longer stay ? the time is come to claim and seize my 
 
 rightful prize. 
 
 Thus having pondered in his heart, Havana left his hiding- 
 place, 
 
 And walked where Sita sorrowing sat, clothed in a wander 
 ing beggar s dress. 
 Threadbare and red his garment was, th ascetic s tuft of hair 
 
 he wore, 
 And the three sticks and water-pot in his accursed hand he 
 
 bore, 
 As he drew near, the lofty trees, that over Janasthana 
 
 grow, 
 And every twining creeper-plant which hangs and climbs 
 
 from bough to bough, 
 And every bird and every beast, stood motionless with silent 
 
 dread, 
 Nor dared the summer wind to breathe, nor shake a leaflet 
 
 overhead. 
 Over Godavery s bright wave a shiver darkened as he 
 
32 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 And bird and beast in terror fled, as on he came in evi] 
 haste, 
 
 With his black heart and beggar s garb, disguised and hidder 
 as he was, 
 
 Like a dark well, whose unseen brink is overgrown witl 
 waving grass. 
 
 Hard by the cottage-door he stood, and gazed upon his vic 
 tim fair, 
 
 As there she sat in woful plight, lost in a maze of grief anc 
 fear, 
 
 Reft of her husband, and with gloom o ershadowed like 
 moonless sky, 
 
 Weeping alone in silent woe, and musing o er that unknowr 
 cry. 
 
 On her he gazed, and that fair face seemed ever fairer anc 
 more bright ; 
 
 And his stern eye, awhile absorbed, lingered as loath to lose 
 the sight. 
 
 Fierce passion woke within his heart, until at length, witl 
 softened air, 
 
 He thus addressed her as she sat, shining, a golden status 
 there : 
 
 * O thou, that shinest like a tree with summer blossoms over 
 spread, 
 
 Wearing that woven kusa robe, and lotus garland on th) 
 head, 
 
 Why art thou dwelling here alone, here in this dreary for 
 est s shade, 
 
 Where range at will all beasts of prey, and demons prow 
 in every glade ? 
 
 Wilt thou not leave thy cottage home, and roam the world 
 which stretches wide, 
 
 See the fair cities which men build, and all their gardens 
 and their pride ? 
 
 Why longer, fair one, dwell st thou here, feeding on roote 
 and sylvan fare, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 33 
 
 When thoti might st dwell in palaces, and earth s most costly 
 jewels wear ? 
 
 Fearest thou not the forest gloom, which darkens round on 
 every side ? 
 
 Who art thou, say, and whose, and whence, and wherefore 
 dost thou here abide V 
 
 When first these words of Havana broke upon sorrowing 
 Sita s ear, 
 
 She started up, and lost herself in wonderment and doubt 
 and fear ; 
 
 But soon her gentle, loving heart threw off suspicion and sur 
 mise, 
 
 And slept again in confidence, lulled by the mendicant s dis 
 guise. 
 
 Hail, holy Brahmin ! she exclaimed ; and, in her guileless 
 purity, 
 
 She gave a welcome to her guest with courteous hospitality. 
 
 Water she brought to wash his feet, and food to satisfy his 
 need, 
 
 Full little dreaming in her heart what fearful guest she had 
 received. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Then having pondered on his words, after a pause she made 
 
 reply/ 
 
 And, in her guileless confidence, unbosomed all her history : 
 How Rama won her for his bride, and brought her to his 
 
 father s home, 
 And how another s jealousy had cast them forth, the woods 
 
 to roam ; 
 All her full heart she opened then, and all her husband s 
 
 praise she spoke, 
 And long she lingered o er the tale, and all the memories 
 
 which it^woke. 
 * And thou too, Brahmin, she exclaimed, thy name and 
 
 lineage wilt thou say ? 
 
34 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 And wherefore thou hast left thy land, in pathless Dandaka 
 to stray ? 
 
 Erelong my husband will return ; to him are holy wander 
 ers dear, 
 
 And fair the welcome which he gives, whene er their path 
 way leads them here. 
 
 Then answered her the demon-king, My name and lineage 
 thou shalt hear, 
 
 And wherefore in this guise I come, and wander in this foresl 
 drear. 
 
 Thee, Sita, am I come to see, I, at whose name heaven s 
 armies flee. 
 
 The demon-monarch of the earth, I, Ravana, am come tc 
 thee! 
 
 I come to woo thee for my queen ; in Lanka stands my palace 
 home, 
 
 High on a mountain s forehead built, while round it breaks 
 the ocean s foam. 
 
 There like dark clouds my demons stand, my mandates 
 through the earth to bear ; 
 
 There shalt thou worshipped be like me, and all my world- 
 dominion share. 
 
 In sudden wrath outburst she then, the wife of Raghu s 
 princely son, 
 
 And gushed indignant from her lips the answer to that evil 
 one : 
 
 * Me wouldst thou woo to be thy queen, or dazzle with thine 
 empire s shine ? 
 
 And didst thou dream that Rama s wife could stoop to sucl 
 a prayer as thine ? 
 
 /, who can look on Rama s face, and know that there my 
 husband stands, 
 
 My Rama, whose high chivalry is blazoned through a hun 
 dred lands ! 
 
 What ! shall the jackal think to tempt the lioness to mate 
 with him ? 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 35 
 
 Or did the king of Lanka s isle build upon such an idle 
 
 dream ? 
 He who would enter llama s home, and think to tear his wife 
 
 away, 
 Might beard the lion in its den, and rob its hunger of its 
 
 prey ; 
 Or safer far her new-born cubs from the fierce tigress might 
 
 he wrest, 
 Or in his garment wrap the flame, and fold and nurse it to 
 
 his breast ! 
 Stung to the heart by Sitd s words, the foe in silence folds 
 
 his hands, 
 And at that lonely cottage door a mendicant no longer 
 
 stands : 
 
 T is but a moment, and behold ! bursting from out th as 
 sumed disguise, 
 Before her towers the demon-king, with his black brow and 
 
 glaring eyes, 
 In his dark crimson garment wrapt, and his black frown of 
 
 passion wearing, 
 While she, the helpless, stood beneath, with her fair face and 
 
 gentle bearing. 
 Sita, wilt thou reject me now ? In mine own shape I speak 
 
 to thee. 
 Behold thine utter helplessness, and dream not to escape 
 
 from me. 
 Nor dream to call thine husband s aid, nor measure his poor 
 
 strength with mine, 
 Mine, that has conquered land and sea, and could forbid the 
 
 sun to shine ! 
 Afar to my own stately realm, behold ! I bear thee hence . 
 
 away, 
 There to forget the banished man, the husband of a former 
 
 day! 
 He spoke, and lowered his darkening brows, as lowers the 
 
 storm-cloud in the sky, 
 
36 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 While from beneath came flashing forth the lightnings of his 
 
 awful eye ; 
 On her they fell, and seemed to scorch her gentle features 
 
 with their glare. 
 As high aloft he bore her up, one hand amid her long 
 
 fair hair, 
 The other underneath her lay, loudly she shrieked in utter 
 
 woe, 
 My husband, husband, sav st thou not ? and Lakshmana, O 
 
 where art thou ? 
 As they beheld his awful form come striding through the 
 
 sunny glades, 
 The forest s deities, alarmed, fled to its deepest, darkest 
 
 shades. 
 On, ever on, he bore his prize, until at length he soared on 
 
 high, 
 And, as an eagle bears a snake, flew with his burden through 
 
 the sky. 
 O Rama ! Rama ! loud she cries, where wanderest thou in 
 
 Dandaka ? 
 And seest thou not the demon arm, which bears thy Sita 
 
 far away ? 
 Well may the jealous foe rejoice, who robbed thee of thy 
 
 father s throne, 
 And sent us from thy father s court to roam these weary 
 
 woods alone ! 
 O Janasthana s flowering bowers, whilom my happy haunts, 
 
 farewell ! 
 When Rama to his cot returns, his sorrowing Sita s story 
 
 tell! 
 And you, ye trees, that blossom there, and gladden the dark 
 
 forest gloom, 
 O tell him, tell him Ravana hath stolen his Sita from his 
 
 home ! 
 And thou, my loved Godavery, where I whilom so oft have 
 
 strayed, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 37 
 
 A.nd watched thy flocks of water-fowl, and heard their wild 
 songs as they played ; 
 
 Let thy sad waters murmur it, as home he wanders by thy 
 shore, 
 
 A.nd tell him with their mournful plash that Sita meets his 
 steps no more ! 
 
 A.nd you too, upon you I call, ye blissful guardians of the 
 woods, 
 
 iTe happy sylvan deities, who roam amidst their solitudes ! 
 
 3 give him tidings of my fate, and tell him, as he roams for 
 lorn, 
 
 Flie fell swoop of the demon-king hath Sita from his dwell 
 ing torn ! 
 
 i^el! knows my heart, with instincts true, he will pursue his 
 lost one s track, 
 
 rhough to the kingdoms of the dead he must descend to 
 bring her back. " 
 
 The Mahabharata contains two hundred thousand six- 
 ;een-syllable lines, and fills four thick quarto volumes. 
 [ts proper subject, which is a war waged for the throne 
 >f India, between the sons of two brothers, Pandu and 
 Dhritarashtra, is buried under an enormous accumula- 
 ;ion of legends and heterogeneous lore. The work 
 .8 therefore an inexhaustible repository of the mythical 
 materials, the philosophy and the fiction of India. The 
 ;lew which so often seems to be lost in these interpo 
 lations, ranging from Krishna s metaphysics to Arjuna 
 n the Bhagvat Gita, to the transparent simplicity of 
 aeauty in the matchless tale of Nala is always skil 
 fully resumed, and the whole plot is evolved to the 
 reader s entire satisfaction at last. Indeed, to my mind, 
 the closing passage of the Mahabharata, take it for all 
 in all, is the culminating point of the poetic literature of 
 
38 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 the world. The following abstract of it is from the 
 writer in the Westminster Review already referred to. 
 
 "We know of no episode, even in the Homeric 
 poems, which can surpass its mournful grandeur, or 
 raise a more solemn dirge over the desolation of the 
 fallen heart of man. Yudishthira has won the throne, 
 and his enemies are all fallen ; and an inferior poet 
 would have concluded the story with a pa3an upon his 
 happiness. 
 
 " Yudishthira learns, after his victory, that the throne 
 for which he has suffered so much leaves him as unsat 
 isfied and hungry as before. The friends of his youth 
 are fallen, and the excitement of contest is over. In 
 gloomy disappointment, he resigns his crown, and, with 
 his brothers and Draupadi, sets out on a forlorn journey 
 to Mount Meru, where Indra s heaven lies, amongst the 
 wilds of the Himalayas, there to find that rest which 
 seems denied to their search upon earth. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Having heard Yudishthira s resolve, and seen the destruc 
 tion of Krishna, 
 
 The five brothers set forth, and Draupadi, and the seventh 
 was a dog that followed them. 
 
 Yudishthira himself was the last that quitted Hastinapura ; 
 
 And all the citizens and the court followed them on their 
 way, 
 
 But none felt able to say unto him, Return ; 
 
 And at length they all went back unto the city. 
 
 Then the high-souled sons of Pandu and far-famed Drau 
 padi 
 
 Pursued their way, fasting and with their faces turned to 
 wards the east, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 39 
 
 Resolved upon separation from earth, and longing for release 
 
 from its laws ; 
 They roamed onward over many regions, and to many a 
 
 river and sea. 
 Yudishthira went before, and Bhima followed next behind 
 
 him, 
 And Arjuna came after him, and then the twin sons of 
 
 Madri, 
 And sixth, after them, came Draupadi, with her fair face and 
 
 lotus eyes, 
 And last of all followed the dog, as they wandered on till 
 
 they came to the ocean. 
 But Arjuna left not hold of his heavenly bow, 
 Lured by the splendor of its gems, nor of those two heavenly 
 
 arrows : 
 And suddenly they saw Agni standing like a mountain before 
 
 them, 
 
 Standing in gigantic form, and stopping up their path ; 
 And thus to them spoke the god : O sons of Pandu, do you 
 
 know me not ? 
 
 Yudishthira, mighty hero, knowest thou not my voice ? 
 
 1 am Agni, who gave that bow unto Arjuna ; 
 
 Let him leave it here and go, for none other is worthy to 
 bear it. 
 
 For Arj una s sake I stole that bow from Varuna, the ocean- 
 god; 
 
 Let Gandhiva, that best of bows, be given back to ocean 
 again ! 
 
 Then the brothers all besought Arjuna to obey ; 
 
 And he flung the bow into the sea, and he flung those im 
 mortal arrows; 
 
 And lo ! as they fell into the sea, Agni vanished before 
 them. 
 
 And once more the sons of Pandu set forth, with their faces 
 turned to the south. 
 
 And then by the upper shore of the briny sea 
 
40 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 They turned toward the southwest, and went on in their 
 
 way. 
 
 And as they journeyed onwards, and came unto the west, 
 There they beheld the old city of Krishna, now washed over 
 
 by the ocean tide. 
 Again they turned to the north, and still they went on in 
 
 their way, 
 Circumambulating round the continent, to find separation 
 
 from earth. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Then, with their senses subdued, the heroes, having reached 
 
 the north, 
 Beheld, with their heaven-desiring eyes, the lofty mountain 
 
 Himavat, 
 
 And having crossed its height, they beheld the sea of sand, 
 And next they saw rocky Meru, the king of mountains. 
 But while they were thus faring onwards, in eager search for 
 
 separation, 
 Draupadi lost hold of her hope, and fell on the face of the 
 
 earth ; 
 
 And Bhima the mighty, having beheld her fall, 
 Spoke to the king of justice, looking back to her, as there 
 
 she lay : 
 * No act of evil hath she done, that faultless daughter of a 
 
 king; 
 Wherefore, then, O conqueror ! hath she fallen thus low on 
 
 the ground ? 
 And thus to him answered Yudishthira : Too great was her 
 
 love for Arjuna, 
 And the fruit thereof, O Bhima ! hath she here gathered this 
 
 day. 
 Thus speaking, Bharata s glorious descendant went onwards, 
 
 not looking back, 
 Gathering up his soul in himself in his unstooping wisdom 
 
 and justice. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 41 
 
 Next the fair Sahadeva fell upon the face of the earth, 
 And Bhima, beholding him fall, thus spake to the king : 
 O Yudishthira, he, the greatest, the least froward and wil 
 ful of us all, 
 He, the son of fair Madri, wherefore hath he fallen on the 
 
 ground ? * 
 And him thus answered Yudishthira : * He esteemed none 
 
 equal to himself ; 
 This was his fault, and therefore hath the prince fallen this 
 
 day. 
 
 Thus speaking, he left Sahadeva, and went on, 
 Yudishthira, king of justice, with his brothers and the dog. 
 But when Nakula saw the fall of Draupadi and his brother, 
 The hero, full of love for his kindred, in his grief fell down 
 
 like them to the earth. 
 And when Nakula, the fair-faced, had thus fallen like the 
 
 others, 
 
 Once more, in his wonder, spoke Bhima unto the king: 
 1 What ! he, the undeviating in virtue, ever true to his honor 
 
 and faith, 
 Unequalled for beauty in the world, hath he too fallen on 
 
 the ground ? 
 And him thus answered Yudishthira: * Ever was the thought 
 
 in his heart, 
 There is none equal in beauty to me, and I am superior unto 
 
 all! 
 Therefore hath Nakula fallen. Come, Bhima, and follow my 
 
 steps; 
 
 Whatsoever each hath done, assuredly he eateth thereof. 
 And when Arjuna beheld them thus fallen behind him, 
 He too, the great conqueror, fell, with his soul pierced 
 
 through with sorrow ; 
 And when he, the lion-heart, was fallen, like Indra himself in 
 
 majesty, 
 When he, the invincible, was dead, once more Bhima spoke 
 
 unto the king : 
 
42 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 1 No act of evil do I remember in all that Arjuna hath 
 
 done; 
 Wherefore then is this change, and why hath he too fallen on 
 
 the ground ? 
 And him thus answered Yudishthira : " In one day I could 
 
 destroy all my enemies," 
 
 Such was Arj una s boast, and he falls, for he fulfilled it not ! 
 And he ever despised all warriors beside himself: 
 This he ought not to have done, and therefore hath he fallen 
 
 to-day. 
 Thus speaking, the king went on, and then Bhima himself 
 
 next fell to the earth ; 
 
 And as he fell, he cried with a loud voice unto Yudishthira : 
 * O king of justice, look back ! I I, thy dear brother ; am 
 
 fallen ; 
 What is the cause of my fall ? O tell it to me if thou know- 
 
 est! 
 Once more him answered Yudishthira : * When thou gazedst 
 
 on thy foe, 
 Thou hast cursed him with thy breath ; therefore thou too 
 
 fallest to-day/ 
 Thus having spoken, the mighty king, not looking back, went 
 
 on, 
 And still, as ever, behind him went following his dog alone ! 
 
 III. 
 " Lo ! suddenly, with a sound which rang through heaven and 
 
 earth, 
 Indra came riding on his chariot, and he cried to the king, 
 
 Ascend ! 
 Then, indeed, did the lord of justice look back to his fallen 
 
 brothers, 
 
 And thus unto Indra he spoke, with a sorrowful heart : 
 Let my brothers, who yonder lie fallen, go with me ; 
 Not even unto thy heaven would I enter, if they were not 
 
 there. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 43 
 
 uid yon fair-faced daughter of a king, Draupadi the all- 
 deserving, 
 ^et her too enter with us ! O Indra, approve my prayer ! 
 
 INDRA. 
 
 In heaven thou shalt find thy brothers, they are already 
 
 there Before thee ; 
 Tiere are they all, with Draupadi; weep not, then, O son of 
 
 Bharata ! 
 "hither are they entered, prince, having thrown away their 
 
 mortal weeds ; 
 3ut thou alone shalt enter still wearing thy body of flesh. 
 
 YUDISHTHIRA. 
 
 O Indra, and what of this dog ? It hath faithfully followed 
 me through ; 
 
 ,et it go with me into heaven, for my soul is full of compas 
 sion. 
 
 INDRA. 
 
 Immortality and fellowship with me, and the height of joy 
 and felicity, 
 
 All these hast thou reached to-day : leave, then, the dog be 
 hind thee. 
 
 YUDISHTHIRA. 
 
 The good may oft act an evil part, but never a part like 
 
 this ; 
 
 Away, then, with that felicity whose price is to abandon the 
 faithful! 
 
 INDRA. 
 
 1 My heaven hath no place for dogs ; they steal away our of 
 ferings on earth : 
 
 Leave, then, thy dog behind thee, nor think in thy heart that 
 it is cruel. 
 
 YUDISHTHIRA. 
 
 * To abandon the faithful and devoted is an endless crime, like 
 
 the murder of a Brahmin ; 
 
44 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Never, therefore, come weal or woe, will I abandon yor 
 
 faithful dog. 
 Yon poor creature, in fear and distress, hath trusted in mj 
 
 power to save it : 
 Not, therefore, for e en life itself will I break my plighted 
 
 word/ 
 
 INDRA. 
 
 If a dog but beholds a sacrifice, men esteem it unholy anc 
 
 void ; 
 Forsake, then, the dog, O hero, and heaven is thine own as i 
 
 reward. 
 Already thou hast borne to forsake thy fondly loved broth 
 
 ers, and Draupadi ; 
 Why, then, forsakest thou not the dog ? Wherefore now fails 
 
 thy heart ? 
 
 YUDISHTHIRA. 
 
 Mortals, when they are dead, are dead to love or hate, sc 
 
 runs the world s belief; 
 I could not bring them back to life, but while they lived ] 
 
 never left them. 
 To oppress the suppliant, to kill a wife, to rob a Brahmin. 
 
 and to betray one s friend, 
 These are the four great crimes ; and to forsake a dependant 
 
 I count equal to them. 
 
 " Yudishthira then enters heaven ; but one more trial 
 awaits him. He finds there Duryodhana and the other 
 sons of Dhritarashtra, but he looks in vain for his own 
 brothers. He refuses to stay in the Swerga without 
 them, and a messenger is sent to bring him where they 
 are. He descends to the Indian hell, and finds them 
 there ; and he proudly resolves to stay with them and 
 share their sorrows, rather than dwell in heaven without 
 them. But the whole scene was only a maya, or illusion, 
 to prove his virtue ; the sorrows suddenly vanish, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 45 
 
 the surrounding hell changes into heaven, where Yu- 
 dishthira and his brothers dwell with Indra, in full con 
 tent of heart, for ever." 
 
 To the impressed imaginations and touched hearts of 
 those who have read this wonderful poem, Ilastinapura 
 is a grander name than Troy, and Dhritarashtra, Pan- 
 du, Yudishthira, Arjuna, Bhima, Kama, Damayanta, 
 Draupadi, and Savitri are clothed with a sublime fas 
 cination of interest far transcending that which invests 
 the highest personages of Grecian epic and tragedy. 
 I will cite but one brief fragment more, a picture which 
 like a quick, broad flash lights up to our ignorance the 
 dark stage and canvas of the Hindu fancy. A Brah 
 min suddenly enters the arena, amidst the clang and 
 confusion of a tournament : notice what an instant 
 k hush follows, both in the din of the crowd and in the 
 mind of the reader." 
 
 With the noise of the musical instruments, and the eager 
 noise of the spectators, 
 
 The din of the assembly rose up like the roaring of the sea, 
 
 When, lo ! wearing his white raiment, and the white sacrifi 
 cial cord, 
 
 With his snow-white hair and his silvery beard, and the 
 white garland round his head, 
 
 Into the midst of the arena slowly walked the Brahmin with 
 his son, 
 
 Like the sun with the planet Mars in a cloudless sky." 
 
 The Arabians have a unique kind of poems called 
 Moallaca. It receives its name from the seven prize 
 poems written in gold and " suspended " in the temple of 
 Mecca, the Pleiades in the heaven of Arabic poetry. 
 This poem must commence with describing in mournful 
 
46 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 strain the ruins of a house or the deserted site of a tent, 
 where, in an earlier, happier time, the poet was blessed 
 with the presence of his beloved. Next the poet pro 
 ceeds to paint in glowing imagery the beauty and the 
 merits of his courser or his camel. And the composi 
 tion closes with a description of some scene in nature, a 
 shower, a moon-rise, or a landscape. These three par 
 ticulars being introduced in their proper order, the 
 author is free to weave in with them any story, reflec 
 tions, or moral he pleases. It is very singular that 
 these conditions of the Moallaca are all, in a manner, 
 fulfilled in the book ofJob, the ruin of his eldest son s 
 house with the destruction of his family, the famous 
 panegyric of the horse, the description of constellations, 
 thunder, and a whirlwind. A fine example of Arab 
 scenery and life is given in the following poem by 
 Freiligrath. The translation is by a writer in the Pros 
 pective Review. 
 
 THE PICTURE OF THE DESERT. 
 
 " A picture, good ! my brow I shade within the hollow of my 
 
 hand; 
 The curtains of mine eyes I close ! Lo, there the desert s 
 
 burning sand, 
 The camping-places of my tribe, appear ; arrayed in lurid 
 
 light, 
 Robed in her burning widow-weeds, Sahara bursts upon my 
 
 sight. 
 
 " Who travelled through the lion-land ? Of claws and hoofs 
 
 the prints appear ; 
 
 Timbuctoo s caravan ! Behold, far in the distance gleams 
 the spear ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 47 
 
 There banners wave, while through the dust the Emir s 
 
 purple floats along, 
 And with a sober stateliness the camel s head o erpeers the 
 
 throng. 
 
 " Where sand and sky together blend, onward in close array 
 
 they sweep ; 
 Now the horizon s sulphurous mist ingulfs them in its 
 
 lurid deep ; 
 The vestige broad thou still canst trace distinctly of the 
 
 flying train, 
 As gleam, at intervals, dispersed, their relics o er the 
 
 sandy plain. 
 
 " Look yonder ! like a milestone grim, a dromedary dead lies 
 
 there ; 
 Upon the prostrate bulk are perched, with naked throats, 
 
 a vulture pair ; 
 Intent upon their ghastly meal, for yon rich turban what 
 
 care they, 
 By some young Arab left behind in that wild journey s 
 
 desperate way ? 
 
 "Fragments of costly housings float the tamarisk s thorny 
 
 bushes round ; 
 And near, an empty water-skin lies foul and gaping on the 
 
 ground ; 
 Who s he who treads it neath his feet ? The Sheik it is, 
 
 with dusky hair, 
 The Sheik of Biledulgerid, who gazes round with frantic 
 
 stare. 
 
 ** He closed the rear ; his charger fell ; behind he s left upon 
 
 the sand : 
 
 O ercome with thirst, his favorite wife doth from his girdle 
 drooping hang ; 
 
48 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 How flashed her eye as she ere while in triumph rode before 
 
 her lord ! 
 Across the waste he trails her now, as from a baldric trails 
 
 a sword. 
 
 " The burning sand, swept o er at night by the grim lion s 
 
 tail alone, 
 Is by the waving tresses now of yonder helpless woman 
 
 strown ; 
 It gathers in her tangled locks, dries on her lip the spicy 
 
 dew, 
 And with its sharp and cruel flints her tender skin it pierces 
 
 through. 
 
 " And now, alas ! the Emir fails. Throbs in his veins the 
 
 boiling blood, 
 His eyeballs glare, in lurid lines swells on his brow the 
 
 purple flood ! 
 With one last kiss, one burning kiss, he wakes to life his 
 
 Moorish bride, 
 Then flings himself, with frantic curse, on the red desert by 
 
 her side. 
 
 " But she, amazed, looks wildly round. My lord, awake ! 
 
 Thou sleepest here ? 
 The sky, but now like molten brass, like polished steel 
 
 gleams cold and clear. 
 Where now the desert s yellow glare ? A radiance gleams 
 
 mine eyes before, 
 It sparkles like the sea, whose wave at Algiers breaks along 
 
 the shore. 
 
 " Its grateful moisture cools my brow ; yonder its flowing 
 
 waters gleam ; 
 
 A giant mirror, there it shines ; awake ! perchance t is 
 Nilus stream ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 49 
 
 Yet no, we travelled south I m sure ; the Senegal it then 
 
 must be ; 
 Or are yon heaving waves indeed the billows of the surging 
 
 sea? 
 
 No matter ! it is water still ! Awake, my lord ! O let us 
 
 hence ! 
 My robe I ve cast aside ; O come, this deadly scorching fire 
 
 to quench ! 
 A cooling draught, a quickening bath, will with new strength 
 
 our limbs indue ; 
 Yon towering fortress once achieved, to all our toils we 11 
 
 bid adieu ! 
 
 Its crimson banners proudly wave defiance round its por 
 tals grey; 
 
 Its ramparts bristled o er with spears, its mosques within, 
 I all survey ; 
 
 High-masted vessels in the roads securely ride, in stately 
 rows ; 
 
 Its shops and caravansaries a crowd of pilgrims overflows. 
 
 * My tongue is parched ! Wake up, beloved ! Already nears 
 
 the twilight now ! 
 He lifts his eye, and murmurs hoarse, It is the desert s 
 
 mocking show ! 
 More cruel than the hot Simoom ! Of wicked fiends the 
 
 barbarous play * 
 He stops, the baseless vision fades, she sinks upon his 
 
 lifeless clay." 
 
 The passion of love is copiously treated by the bards 
 f Arabia ; their works on this subject abound with as- 
 onishing images, and are filled with a fire of tenderness 
 ;eyond all rivalry. One poet says to his mistress : In 
 
50 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 the day of resurrection all the lovers shall be ranged 
 under my banner, all the beauties under thine." An 
 other says of his : " One night she spread forth three 
 locks of her hair, and so were exhibited four nights 
 together." Shemselnihar takes a lute and sings : " The 
 sun beams from thine eyes, the Pleiades shine from 
 thy mouth, and the full moon rises from the upper bor 
 der of thy vest. From the model of thy form hatl 
 God originated beauty, and the fragrance of the zephyi 
 from thy disposition." 
 
 The descriptive power and fidelity of Arabic poetry 
 in setting forth both the life of the people and the 
 scenery of the clime are remarkable. It conjures up 
 visions of tawny brows, flowing beards, soft eyes, pic 
 turesque turbans, pawing chargers, and patient drome 
 daries. We seem to be there. It is the land of the 
 date-tree and the fountain, the ostrich and the giraffe, 
 the tent and the caravan. It is the home of the simoom 
 and the mirage. It is the world of the desert and the 
 stars. Hospitality waves her torch through the night 
 to win the wanderer to be a guest. Reeking vengeance, 
 with bloodshot eyes and dripping blade, dashes by " on 
 a stallion shod with fire." The very picture, embodi 
 ment, breath, blaze, of all this is in the lyrics of the 
 Bedouin bards. The richness of their language, and 
 something of the character of the people who use it, are 
 shown in the fact that it has eighty names for honey, 
 five hundred for the lion, and a thousand for the sword ! 
 
 THE SPIRIT-CARAVAN. 
 
 " On the desert sand bivouacked and silent lay our motley 
 
 throng ; 
 My Bedouin Arabs slumbered the unbridled steeds among ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 51 
 
 Far away the moonlight quivered o er old Nilus mountain 
 
 chain, 
 Dromedary-bones lay bleaching, scattered o er the sandy 
 
 plain. 
 
 Wide awake I lay : my caftan s ample folds were o er me 
 
 spread, 
 Covering breast and feet ; my saddle formed a pillow for 
 
 my head ; 
 There I thrust my purse, together with the date-tree s fruit ; 
 
 and near 
 I had placed my naked sabre, with my musket and my 
 
 spear. 
 
 All was silent, save the rustle by the dying embers made, 
 Save the wheeling of the vulture, from its distant eyrie 
 
 strayed ; 
 Save when an impatient charger, firmly tethered, pawed the 
 
 ground, 
 Or a rider snatched his weapons, dreaming in his sleep 
 
 profound. 
 
 4 Lo ! the firm earth trembles ! yonder, ghastly shapes are 
 
 gliding by 
 Through the moonlight; o er the desert savage beasts in 
 
 terror fly ! 
 Snorting rear the frightened chargers ; grasps his flag our 
 
 leader bold, 
 
 Lo! the spirit caravan, he murmurs, and lets go his 
 hold. 
 
 
 * Ay, they come ! Before the camels see the spectral driv 
 ers glide ; 
 Seated on their stately saddles, unveiled women proudly 
 
 ride; 
 
52 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 By their side appear young maidens, bearing pitchers, like 
 
 Rebecca ; 
 Troops of phantom riders follow, on they rush with speed 
 
 to Mecca. 
 
 " Still they come ! the train is endless, who can count 
 
 the number o er ? 
 See, the scattered bones of camels rise, instinct with life 
 
 once more ; 
 And the whirling sand, whose masses o er the desert darkly 
 
 rolled, 
 Changes into dusky drivers, who the camel-bridles hold. 
 
 " This the night when all the creatures, swallowed by the 
 
 sandy main, 
 Whose storm-driven dust distressed us, as we crossed the 
 
 burning plain, 
 And whose mouldering skulls were trodden neath our 
 
 horses hoofs to-day, 
 Come to life, and in procession haste at Mecca s shrine to 
 
 pray. 
 
 " More, still more ! not yet have passed us those who close 
 the ghastly train ; 
 
 And the first appear already, flying back with slackened 
 rein; 
 
 From the mountains, lying yonder, whirling with the light 
 ning s speed, 
 
 They have passed to Babelmandib, ere I could unloose my 
 steed. 
 
 " Now make ready ! loose the chargers, every rider in 
 
 his seat ! 
 
 Tremble not as the distracted herd, when they the lion 
 meet! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 53 
 
 Let the spectres flowing garments touch you as they rustle 
 
 by; 
 Allah call ! and on their camels let the phantom riders 
 
 fly! 
 
 Wait until the morning breezes in your turbans wave the 
 
 plumes, 
 Morning red and morning breezes will consign them to 
 
 their tombs ; 
 Back to dust these nightly pilgrims will return at break of 
 
 day; 
 Lo ! it glimmers, and my charger greets it with a joyous 
 
 neigh." 
 
 There is something romantic and touching in an 
 Arab s proud and tender love for hisjiprse. A young 
 warrior is slaughtered in battle : when his steed comes 
 borne, his mother takes its hoof in her Jbosom, and kisses 
 its head, and presses her cheek against its neck. Says 
 Hassan to his mare, in Bayard Taylor s fine and faith 
 ful b nes : 
 
 " Come, my beauty ! come, my desert darling ! 
 
 On my shoulder lay thy glossy head ! 
 Fear not, though the barley-sack be empty, 
 Here s the half of Hassan s scanty bread. 
 
 " Bend thy forehead now, to take my kisses ! 
 
 Lift in love thy dark and splendid eye : 
 Thou art glad when Hassan mounts the saddle, 
 Thou art proud he owns thee : so am I. 
 
 " We have seen Damascus, O my beauty ! 
 And the splendor of the Pashas there : 
 What s their pomp and riches ? Why, I would not 
 Take them for a handful of thy hair ! " 
 
54 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Next to his mistress and his steed the Arab loves the 
 palm-tree. I have read an Arab poem which, in a hun 
 dred and thirty-six couplets, celebrates the hundred and 
 thirty-six uses to which the leaves and fibres of the 
 various palms are applied. 
 
 Turning to PERSIAN poetry, we are at once con 
 fronted by the Shah Nameh, Firdousi s immortal epic. 
 When the humble Firdousi came from his garden at Tus 
 to the Sultan s residence, the three court poets saw 
 him coming, and thought by a trick to shame him away. 
 As he approached, they told him that they conversed 
 \dth no one unless, when they had recited three verses, 
 he could supply a rhyme to the third line. They had 
 agreed to end that line with a word having but one 
 rhyme in the language, the name of a legendary hero. 
 The first, addressing a beautiful maid, says : 
 
 " The light of the moon to thy splendor is weak " ; 
 The second adds : 
 
 " The rose is eclipsed by the bloom of thy cheek " : 
 Then the third continues : 
 
 " Thine eyelashes dart through the folds of the joshun " ; 
 Firdousi instantly subjoins : 
 
 " Like the javelin of Giw in the battle with Poshun." 
 Surprised and delighted, the worthy trio introduced the 
 stranger to Mahmoud, who was so pleased with his tal 
 ents and manners that he soon employed him to versify 
 the ancient history and myths of the nation. The re 
 sult was that great poem, which is now read in so many 
 languages, and whose perpetual fame is secure. The 
 Shah Nameh is a structure of fable and exaggeration on 
 a basis of historic fact. It abounds with giants, demons, 
 
ORIENTAL POETKT. 55 
 
 prodigies, magicians, and miraculous monstrosities, but 
 at the same time has many episodes of marvellous puri 
 ty, elegance, and interest, and is crowded with rare gems 
 both of thought and rhetoric. A writer familiar with 
 the original Persian of this work tells us, that " from be 
 ginning to end it is one unbroken current of exquisite 
 melody. Verse after verse ripples on the ear, and 
 washes up its tribute of rhyme; and we stand, as it 
 were, on the shore, and gaze with wonder into the world 
 that lies buried beneath, a world of feeling, and 
 thought, and action, that has passed away from earth s 
 memory for ever, whilst its palaces and heroes are dim 
 ly seen mirrored below, as in the enchanted lake of 
 the Arabian story." One of the most beautiful epi 
 sodes in the Shah Nameh the story of Sohrab 
 has been best put into English by Matthew Arnold. It 
 is, to say the least, in all the choicest qualities of poetry 
 fully equal to any passage of the same length in Ho 
 mer s Iliad. Firdousi closes the history of Feridun, 
 the most virtuous of his heroes, with this forcible appli 
 cation of a beautiful moral : 
 
 " Yet Feridun was not an angel, 
 Nor was he formed of musk or ambergris : 
 He gained his fame by justice and generosity. 
 Be thou generous and just, and thou art a Feridun." 
 
 When Firdousi had finished his gigantic task, and laid 
 the magnificent result sixty thousand rhymed coup 
 lets at the feet of the Sultan, whose mind had been 
 poisoned against him by his envious rivals, his royal 
 master insulted him by sending a petty sum of copper 
 money as his reward. The poet s wounded spirit re- 
 
56 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 coiled in bitter anger. He wrote a most stinging sa 
 ire, and, having sent it to the ungrateful monarch, fle 
 from the empire. The following specimen of this n 
 markable invective is very striking. I quote from 
 valuable series of articles on Persian Poetry to be foun 
 in Fraser s Magazine, Vols. XVIII. - XXL 
 
 " In Mahmoud hope not thou to find 
 One virtue to redeem his mind ! 
 His thoughts no generous transports fill, 
 To truth, to faith, to justice, chill ! 
 Son of a slave, his diadem 
 In vain may glow with many a gem : 
 Exalted high in power and place, 
 Out bursts the meanness of his race ! 
 
 " Take of some bitter tree a shoot, 
 In Eden s gardens plant the root ; 
 Let waters from th eternal spring 
 Amidst the boughs their incense fling : 9 
 Though bathed and showered with honey-dew, 
 Its native baseness springs to view : 
 After long care and anxious skill 
 The fruit it bears is bitter still ! 
 
 " Place thou within the spicy nest, 
 Where the bright phoenix loves to rest, 
 A raven s egg, and mark thou well, 
 When the vile bird has chipped his shell, 
 Though fed with grains from trees that grow 
 Where SalsebiPs pure waters flow, 
 Though airs from Gabriel s wing may rise, 
 To fan the cradle where he lies, 
 Though long their patient cares endure, 
 He proves at last a bird impure ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 57 
 
 " A viper nurtured in a bed 
 Where roses all their beauties spread, 
 Though nourished with the drops alone 
 Of waves that spring from Allah s throne, 
 Is still a poisonous reptile found, 
 And with its venom taints the ground ! 
 
 " Hadst thou, degenerate prince ! but shown 
 One single virtue as thy own, 
 Then thou hadst gloried in my fame, 
 And built thyself a deathless name. 
 O Mahmoud ! though thou fear me not, 
 Heaven s vengeance will not be forgot ; 
 Shrink, tyrant ! from my words of fire, 
 And wither in a poet s ire ! " 
 
 As we enter the realm of Persian Ijric, poetry, we 
 approach the most intoxicating cordials and the dainti 
 est viands anywhere furnished at the world-banquet of 
 literature. The eye is inebriate at sight of ruby vases 
 filled with honey, and crystal goblets brimmed with 
 thick-purpled wine, and golden baskets full of sb ced 
 pomegranates. The flavor of nectarines, tamarinds, 
 and figs is on the tongue. If we lean from the balcony 
 for relief, a breeze comes wafted over acres of roses, and 
 the air is full of the ooor of cloves and precious gums, 
 sandal-wood and cedar, frankincense forests, and cinna 
 mon groves. A Persian poet of rich genius, who wrote 
 but little, being asked why he did not produce more, re 
 plied : " I intended, as soon as I should reach the rose- 
 trees, to fill my lap, and bring presents for my compan 
 ions ; but when I arrived there, the fragrance of the 
 roses so intoxicated me that the skirt of my robe slipped 
 from my hands." The true Persian poet, as Mirtsa 
 
58 INTRODUCTION TO * 
 
 Schaffy declares, in his songs burns sun, moon, and stars 
 as sacrifice on the altar of beauty. Every kiss the maid 
 ens plant on his lips springs up as a song in his mouth. 
 One describes a battle-field looking as if the earth was 
 covered over with crimson tulips. The evening star is 
 a moth, and the moon the lamp. A devotee in a dream 
 heard the cherubs in heaven softly singing the poetry of 
 Saadi, and saying, " This couplet of Saadi is worth the 
 hymns of angel- worship for a whole year." Upon awak 
 ing he went to Saadi and found him fervently reciting 
 the following lines : 
 
 " To pious minds each verdant leaf displays 
 A volume teeming with th Almighty s praise." 
 
 The Persian seems born with a lyre in his hand and 
 a song on his tongue. It is related of the celebrated 
 poet, Abderrahman, son of Hissan, that when an infant, 
 being stung by a wasp, he ran to his father, crying in 
 spontaneous verse : 
 
 Father, I have been stung by an insect I know not, but his 
 
 breast 
 With white and yellow spots is covered, like the border of my 
 
 vest 
 
 The tones of the Persian har^ are extremely tender 
 and pathetic. They seem to sigh, Wherever sad Mem 
 ory walks in the halls of the past, her step wakes the 
 echoes of long-lost joys. They frequently accord with 
 a strain like this : 
 
 " I saw some handfuls of the rose in bloom, 
 With bands of grass suspended from a dome. 
 I said, What means this worthless grass, that it 
 Should in the rose s fairy circle sit ? 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY; 59 
 
 Then wept the grass, and said : Be still ! and know 
 The kind their old associates ne er forego. 
 Mine is no beauty, hue, or fragrance, true 1 
 But in the garden of my Lord I grew 1 " 
 
 Among the epic poets of Persia, Firdousi is chief ; 
 among the romantic poets, Nisami ; among the moral- 
 didactic, Saadi ; among the purely lyric, Hafiz ; among 
 the religious, Ferideddin Attar. In their respective 
 provinces these indisputably and unapproached bear 
 the palm. 
 
 There are three objects as famous in Persian poetry 
 as the Holy Grail in the legends of King Arthur and 
 the Knights of the Round Table. One is Jemschid s cup. 
 This was a magic goblet with seven circling lines divid 
 ing it into seven compartments, corresponding to the 
 seven worlds. Filling it with wine, Jemschid had only 
 to look in it and behold all the events of the creation, 
 past, present, and future. 
 
 " It is that goblet round whose wondrous rim < 
 The enrapturing secrets of creation swim." 
 
 Firdousi has described Jemschid upon a certain oc 
 casion consulting this cup. 
 
 " The vessel in his hand revolving shook, 
 
 And earth s whole surface glimmered on his look : 
 
 Nor less the secrets of the starry sphere, 
 
 The what, and when, and how, depicted clear: 
 
 from orbs celestial to the blade of grass, 
 
 All nature floated in the magic glass." 
 
 Another is Solomon s signet-ring. Such were the in 
 credible virtues of this little talisman, that the touch of 
 it exorcised all evil spirits, commanded the instant pres 
 ence and services of the Genii, laid every secret bare, 
 
60 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 and gave its possessor almost unlimited powers of 
 knowledge, dominion, and performance. The third is 
 Iskander s mirror. By looking on this the future was 
 revealed, unknown climes brought to view, and what 
 ever its owner wished made visible. By means of this 
 glass, Alexander for the Oriental Iskander is no 
 other accomplished the expedition to Paradise, so 
 celebrated in the mythic annals of the East. There is 
 scarcely any end to the allusions and anecdotes referring 
 to these three wondrous objects. 
 
 There are likewise three pairs of lovers whose court 
 ship and fortunes are staple subjects with the Persian 
 bards. Hatifi is thought to have best sung the loves of 
 
 ^ Leila and Majnun. Nisami is identified with the finest 
 portrayal of the affection and fate of Khosru and Shi- 
 reen. And Jami has, in his telling of the story of Jo- 
 
 seph and Zuleika, distanced all rivals. But on each of 
 the three pairs scores of distinguished lyrists have tried 
 their powers. In Nisami s Khosru and Shireen occurs 
 the remarkable episode of Ferhficl. Ferhad was a 
 sculptor of transcendent genius, who, from his passionate 
 love for Shireen, was a troublesome rival to Khosru, 
 The king, to get rid of his presence by engaging him in 
 an impossible task, promised that if he would, unaided, 
 cut through the impassable mountain of Beysitoun a 
 channel for a river, and hew all the masses of rock into 
 statues, the lovely maid he adored should be the reward 
 of his labors. The slave of love accepted the condition. 
 The enamored statuary commenced his work, crying, 
 every time he struck the rock, " Alas, Shireen ! " 
 
 " On lofty Beysitoun the lingering sun 
 Looks down on ceaseless labors, long begun ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 61 
 
 The mountain trembles to the echoing sound 
 
 Of falling rocks that from her sides rebound. 
 
 Each day, all respite, all repose, denied, 
 
 "Without a pause the thundering strokes are plied; 
 
 The mist of night around the summits coils, 
 
 But still Ferhfid, the lover-artist, toils. 
 
 And still, the flashes of his axe between, 
 
 He sighs to every wind, * Alas, Shireen ! 
 
 A hundred arms are weak one block to move 
 
 Of thousands moulded by the hand of love 
 
 Into fantastic shapes and forms of grace, 
 
 That crowd each nook of that majestic place. 
 
 The piles give way, the rocky peaks divide, . 
 
 The stream comes gushing on, a foaming tide, 
 
 A mighty work for ages to remain, 
 
 The token of his passion and his pain. 
 
 As flows the milky flood from Allah s throne, 
 
 Rushes the torrent from the yielding stone. 
 
 And, sculptured there, amazed, stern Khosru stands, 
 
 And frowning sees obeyed his harsh commands : 
 
 While she, the fair beloved, with being rife, 
 
 Awakes from glowing marble into life. 
 
 O hapless youth ! O toil repaid by woe ! 
 
 A king thy rival, and the world thy foe. 
 
 Will she wealth, splendor, pomp, for thee resign, 
 
 And only genius, truth, and passion thine ? 
 
 Around the pair, lo ! chiselled courtiers wait, 
 
 And slaves and pages grouped in solemn state ; 
 
 From columns imaged wreaths their garlands throw, 
 
 And fretted roofs with stars appear to glow : 
 
 Fresh leaves and blossoms seem around to spring, 
 
 And feathered throngs their loves seem murmuring. 
 
 The hands of Peris might have wrought those stems 
 
 Where dew-drops hang their fragile diadenft, 
 
 And strings of pearl and sharp-cut diamonds shine, 
 
 New from the wave, or recent from the mine. 
 
62 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 * Alas, Shireen ! at every stroke he cries, 
 At every stroke fresh miracles arise. 
 
 * For thee my life one ceaseless toil has been ; 
 Inspire my soul anew, alas, Shireen ! " 
 
 Ferhad achieved his task, and with such exquisite 
 skill and taste, that the most expert statuaries and 
 polishers from every part of the world, coming to be 
 hold his works, bit the finger of astonishment and were 
 confounded at the genius of that distracted lover. Fer 
 had was pausing, weary, at the completion of his toil, 
 with his chisel in his hand, when his treacherous rival 
 sent him the false message that Shireen was dead. 
 
 " He heard the fatal news, no word, no groan ; 
 He spoke not, moved not, stood transfixed to stone- 
 Then, with a frenzied start, he raised on high 
 His arms, and wildly tossed them towards the sky ; 
 Far in the wide expanse his axe he flung, 
 And from the precipice at once he sprung. 
 The rocks, the sculptured caves, the valleys green, 
 Sent back his dying cry, Alas, Shireen ! " 
 
 Furthermore, there are five standard allegories of 
 hapless love which the poets of Persia have wrought 
 out in innumerable forms of passionate imagery and 
 beauteous versification. The constant Nightingale loves 
 the Rose, and when she perishes, his laments pain the 
 evening air, and fill grove and garden with heart-break 
 ing melodies. 
 
 " The bulbul wanders to and fro ; 
 His wing is weak, his note is low ; 
 In vain he wakes his song, 
 Since she he wooed so long 
 No more sheds perfume on the air around : 
 Her hundred leaves lie scattered on the ground ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 63 
 
 Or if one solitary bud remain, 
 The bloom is past, and only left the stain. 
 Where once amidst the blossoms was his nest, 
 Thorns raise their daggers at his bleeding breast." 
 
 The Lily loves the Sun, and opens the dazzling 
 white of her bosom to his greeting smile as he rises ; 
 and when he sets, covers her face and droops her head, 
 forlorn, all night. The Lotus loves the Moon; and 
 soon as his silver light gilds the waters, she lifts her 
 snowy neck above the tide, and sheds the perfume of 
 her amorous breath over the waves, till shaming day 
 ends her dalliance. The Ball loves the Bat, and still 
 solicitingly returns, flying to meet him, however oft and 
 cruelly repulsed and spurned. The Moth and the Ta 
 per are two fond lovers separated by the fierce flame. 
 He draws her with resistless invitation : she flies with 
 reckless resolve ; the merciless flame devours her, and 
 melts him away. 
 
 From this rapid look at the wealth of the Iranian 
 bards, let us now turn, for a moment, to the Sufis. The 
 circulating life-sap of Sufism is piety, its efflorescence is 
 poetry, which it yields in spontaneous abundance of 
 brilliant bloom. The Sufis are a sect, of comparatively 
 modern origin, which sprouted from the trunk of Mo 
 hammedanism, where the mysticism of India was graft 
 ed into it, and was nourished in the passionate sluggish 
 ness of Eastern reverie by the soothing dreams and 
 fanatic fires of that wondrous race and clime. They 
 flourished chiefly in Persia, but rightfully claimed as 
 virtual members of their sect the most distinguished 
 religionists, philosophers, and poets of the whole Orient 
 for thousands of years ; because all these agreed with 
 
64 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 them in the fundamental principles of their system of 
 thought, rules of life, and aims of aspiration. A de 
 tailed account of the Sufis may be found in Sir John 
 Malcolm s History of Persia, and a good sketch of their 
 dogmas is presented in Tholuck s Siifism ; but the best 
 exposition of their experience and literary expression 
 is afforded by Tholuck s Anthology from the Oriental 
 Mystics. The Sufis are a sect of meditative devotees, 
 whose absorption in spiritual contemplations and hal 
 lowed raptures is unparalleled, whose piety penetrates to 
 a depth where the mind gropingly staggers among the 
 bottomless roots of being, .in mazes of wonder and de 
 light, and reaches to a height where the soul loses itself 
 among the roofless immensities of glory in a bedazzled 
 and boundless ecstasy. As a specimen, read 
 
 THE SUCCESSFUL SEAECH. 
 
 " I was ere a name had been named upon earth, 
 
 Ere one trace yet existed of aught that has birth, 
 
 When the locks of the Loved One streamed forth for a sign, 
 
 And being was none save the Presence Divine ! 
 
 Ere the veil of the flesh for Messiah was wrought, 
 
 To the Godhead I bowed in prostration of thought ! 
 
 I measured intently, I pondered with heed, 
 
 (But ah fruitless my labor !) the Cross and its Creed. 
 
 To the Pagod I rushed, and the Magian s shrine, 
 
 But my eye caught no glimpse of a glory divine ! 
 
 The reins of research to the Caaba I bent, 
 
 Whither hopefully thronging the old and young went ; 
 
 Candahar and Herat searched I wistfully through, 
 
 Nor above nor beneath came the Loved One to view ! 
 
 I toiled to the summit, wild, pathless, and lone, 
 
 Of the globe-girding Kaf, but the Phoenix had flown. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. C5 
 
 The seventh earth I traversed, the seventh heaven explored, 
 
 But in neither discerned I the Court of the Lord ! 
 
 I questioned the Pen and the Tablet of Fate, 
 
 But they whispered not where lie pavilions his state. 
 
 My vision I strained, but my God-scanning eye 
 
 No trace that to Godhead belongs could descry. 
 
 But when I my glance turned within my own breast, 
 
 Lo ! the vainly sought Loved One, the Godhead confessed ! 
 
 In the whirl of its transport my spirit was tossed 
 
 Till each atom of separate being I lost : 
 
 And the bright sun of Tauriz a madder than me, 
 
 Or a wilder, hath never yet seen, nor shall see." 
 
 Their aim is a union with God so intimate that it be 
 comes identity, wherein thought is an involuntary intui 
 tive grasp and fruition of universal truth ; and wherein 
 feeling is a dissolving and infinite delirium filled with the 
 perfect calmness of unfathomable bliss. For the grad 
 ual training of the soul unto the winning of this incom 
 parable and last attainment, they have devised a system 
 of means whose simplicity and complication, adapted 
 completeness, regular stages of initiation and grada 
 tions of experience, spiritual frictions and magnetisms, 
 stimulants for some faculties, soporifics for others, di 
 versified disciplines and educations for all, are aston 
 ishingly fitted to lead the disciple regularly on to the 
 marvellous result they desire. And it could scarcely 
 fail of effect, if faithfully tried, even in the colder airs 
 and on the more phlegmatic natures of the West. 
 How finely drawn the subtile experience and beautiful 
 thought in the following anecdote of Rabia, the cele 
 brated Mohammedan saint ! We give it as told after 
 Tholuck by James Freeman Clarke. 
 
66 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 THE THREE STAGES OF PIETY. 
 
 Rabia, sick upon her bed, 
 By two saints was visited, 
 Holy Malik, Hassan wise, 
 Men of mark in Moslem eyes. 
 Hassan says, " Whose prayer is pure 
 Will God s chastisements endure." 
 Malik from a deeper sense 
 Uttered his experience : 
 " He who loves his Master s choice 
 Will in chastisement rejoice." 
 Eabia saw some selfish will 
 In their maxims lingering still, 
 And replied, " O men of grace ! 
 He who sees his Master s face 
 Will not in his prayer recall 
 That he is chastised at all." 
 
 The passage through the classified degrees of attain 
 ment in the mystic life they call "the travelling by 
 steps up to heaven." 
 
 The Sufi poets are innumerable, but their universally 
 acknowledged head and master is the celebrated Mew- 
 lana Dschelaleddin Rumi, the greatest mystic poet of 
 the whole Orient, the oracle of the devotees, the night 
 ingale of the contemplative life, the lawgiver in piety, 
 the founder of the principal order of Dervishes, and au 
 thor of the Mesnavi. The Mesnavi is a vast and famous 
 double-rhymed ascetic poem, an inexhaustible coffer of 
 Sufi lore and gems. From the banks of the Ganges to 
 the Bosporus it is the hand-book of all Sufis, the law- 
 book and ritual of all the mystics. From this work, 
 says Von Hammer, this volcanic eruption of inspira- 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 67 
 
 f 
 
 tion, breaks forth the inmost peculiarity of Oriental 
 mysticism, a solitary self-direction towards the loftiest 
 goal of perfection over the contemplative way of Divine 
 Love. On the wings of the highest religious inspira 
 tion, which rise far beyond all outer forms of positive 
 religion, adoring the Eternal Essence, in its completest 
 abstraction from everything earthly, as the purest foun 
 tain of eternal light, soars Dschelalcxldin. above suns 
 and moons, above time and space, above creation and 
 fate, beyond the primeval decrees of destiny, beyond 
 the sentence of the last judgment, forth into infinitude, 
 where he melts into unity with the Endless Being as 
 endless worshipper, and into the Boundless Love as 
 boundless lover, ever forgetful of himself, having the 
 Absolute in view ; and, instead of closing his poems, like 
 other great poets, with his own name, he always makes 
 the name of his mystic master the keystone to the dia 
 mond arch of his fire-ghazels. 
 
 The Sufi turns inward for his aims and joys, with a 
 scornful superiority to all visible rituals. He says that 
 one hour of secret meditation and silent love is of more 
 
 ail than seventy thousand years of outward worship. 
 When, with great toils and sufferings, Rubia had effect 
 ed the pilgrimage to Mecca, and saw the people praying 
 around the Caaba, she beat her breast and cried aloud : 
 
 " O heart ! weak follower of the weak, 
 That thou shouldst traverse land and sea, 
 In this far place that God to seek 
 Who long ago had come to thee ! " 
 
 When a knowledge of the Supreme has been attained, 
 there is no need of ceremonies ; when a soft, refreshing 
 
68 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 breeze blows from the south, there is no need of a fan. 
 As an illustration of this phase may be perused the 
 following fine poem translated by Professor Falconer. 
 It may be fitly entitled 
 
 THE RELIGION OF THE HEART. 
 
 " Beats there a heart within that breast of thine ? 
 Then compass reverently its sacred shrine : 
 For the true spiritual Caaba is the heart, 
 And no proud pile of perishable art. 
 When God ordained the pilgrim rite, that sign 
 Was meant to lead thy thought to things divine. 
 A thousand times he treads that round in vain 
 Who e en one human heart would idly pain. 
 Leave wealth behind ; bring God thy heart, best light 
 To guide thy wavering steps through life s dark night. 
 God spurns the riches of a thousand coffers, 
 And says, My chosen is he his heart who offers. 
 Nor gold nor silver seek I, but above 
 All gifts the heart, and buy it with my love ; 
 Yea, one sad, contrite heart, which men despise, 
 More than my throne and fixed decree I prize. 
 Then think not lowly of thy heart, though lowly, 
 For holy is it, and there dwells the Holy. 
 God s presence-chamber is the human breast ; 
 Ah happy he whose heart holds such a guest ! " 
 
 Every consistent Sufi is an optimist, one who denies 
 the reality of evil. In his poems he mingles the fight 
 ing limits of light and darkness, dissolves the rocky 
 boundaries of right and wrong, and buries all clamor 
 ous distinctions beneath the level sea of pantheistic uni 
 ty. All drops, however driven forth, scalded in deserts 
 or frozen on mountains, belong to the ocean, and, by 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. G9 
 
 omnipotent attractions, will finally find their way home, 
 to repose and flow with the tidal uniformity of the all- 
 embracing deep. Vice and virtue, purity and corrup 
 tion, birth and decay, cruelty and tenderness, all 
 antagonistic elements and- processes are equally the 
 manifestations and workings of God. From him all 
 spirits proceeded, and to him they are ever returning ; 
 or in the temple, or on the gibbet, groaning in sinks of 
 degraded sensuality and want, or exulting in palaces of 
 refinement and splendor, they are equally climbing by 
 irresistible affinities and propulsions towards their na 
 tive seat in Deity. 
 
 " Yet spake yon purple mountain, 
 
 Yet said yon ancient wood, 
 That night or day, that love or crime, 
 Leads all souls to the good. " 
 
 This optimistic denial of the reality of evil is fre 
 quently brought out by the Sufi, with a sudden empha 
 sis, an unflinching thoroughness, in forms and guises of 
 mystic reason, wondrous beauty, and bewildering sub 
 tlety, which must astound a Christian moralist. The 
 Sufi s brain is a magazine of transcendent mysteries and 
 prodigious conceits, his faith an ocean of dusky bliss, 
 his illuminated tenderness a beacon of the Infinite 
 Light. 
 
 An important trait of the Sufi belief is contained in 
 the idea, zealously held by them ah 1 , and suffusing most 
 of their poetry, that death is ecstasy. 
 
 " A lover on his death-bed lay, and o er his face the while, 
 Though anguish racked his wasted frame, there swept a 
 fitful smile : 
 
70 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 A flush his sunken cheek o erspread, and to his faded 
 eye 
 
 Came light that less spoke earthly bliss than heaven- 
 breathed ecstasy. 
 
 And one that weeping o er him bent, and watched the ebb 
 ing breath, 
 
 Marvelled what thought gave mastery o er that dread hour 
 of death. 
 
 1 Ah, when the FAIR, adored through life, lifts up at length/ 
 he cried, 
 
 The veil that sought from mortal eye immortal charms to 
 hide, 
 
 T is thus true lovers, fevered long with that sweet mystic 
 fire, 
 
 Exulting meet the LOVED ONE S gaze, and in that glance 
 expire ! " 
 
 Death plunges the heated, weary, thirsting soul into 
 a flood of delicious relief and repose, the unalloyed and 
 ceaseless fruition of a divine delight. The past was one 
 sweet ocean of Divinity, the future is another, the pres 
 ent interposes, a blistering and dreary strand, between. 
 To their hushed ear 
 
 " Some Seraph whispers from the verge of space : 
 Make not these hollow shores thy resting-place ; 
 Born to a portion in thy Maker s bliss, 
 Why linger idly in a waste like this ? " 
 
 From their heavenly yearning breaks the exclama 
 tion, " O the bliss of that day when I shall depart from 
 this desolate mansion, and my soul shall find rest, and I 
 shall follow the traces of my Beloved ! " From their 
 exhilarating anticipation of pleasure and glory yet un- 
 tasted and unglimpsed behind the veil, rises the rejoice- 
 ful cry, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 71 
 
 Blest time that frees me from the bonds of clay, 
 
 To track the Lost One through his airy course : 
 Like motes exulting in their parent ray, 
 My kindling spirit rushes to its Source ! " 
 
 There are thoughts and sentiments in these poems 
 which ought, however suggested, and wherever recog 
 nized, to smite us with subduing wonder, and to fill us 
 with sympathetic longing ; which ought magnetically to 
 strike with opening fe and desire that side of our souls 
 which looks upon infinity and eternity, and where 
 through, in favored hours, we thrill to the visiting in 
 fluences of boundless Mystery and nameless Love, with 
 a rapture of calmness, a vision of heaven, a perfect com 
 munion of the Father, confessing with electric shudders 
 of awe and joy the motions of the Spirit, as God s hand 
 wanders solemnly among the chords of the heart. 
 
 In conclusion, I will specify the principal traits which 
 belong in a distinctive degree to Oriental poetry. The 
 first one that attracts notice is an airy, winged, exult 
 ant liberty of spirit, an unimpeded largeness and ease 
 of movement, an intense enthusiasm. This gives birth 
 to extravagance. Compare in this respect the Arabian 
 Nights Entertainments with the Waverley Novels. Its 
 lower form is a revelling or deliberate fancy, abounding 
 in lawless conceits, sometimes puerile, sometimes amaz 
 ing. " The bird of understanding hath fled from the 
 nest of my brain." " The sun in the zenith is a golden 
 falcon hovering over his azure nest." The higher form 
 of this trait is the spontaneous transport of an inspired 
 and free imagination, producing the most stupendous 
 conceptions, infusing a divine soul through all dead sub 
 stance, melting everything into its own moulds, filling a 
 
72 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 new universe with new marvels of beauty and delight. 
 Almost every page of true Eastern poetry illustrates 
 this. " The world is a bud from the bower of God s 
 beauty, the sun a spark from the light of his wisdom, 
 and the sky a bubble on the ocean of his power." The 
 lover tells his mistress, that had he been dead a thou 
 sand years, if she should walk over his grave his ashes 
 would thrill as she passed, and his heart instantly blos 
 som through the sod into roses beneath her tread. Mah- 
 moud says, " In the eye of a gnat sleeps an elephant ; 
 in a kernel of corn already lie many thousands of har 
 vests; in yon dew-drop as an exile the Euphrates is 
 banished ; in that mustard-seed, thy heart, thrones the 
 Lord who inhabiteth immensity." This quickening 
 faculty often gives a tremendous force to expression, 
 as when Saadi addresses a mean villain in these 
 terms : 
 
 " All would that wall with loathing fly 
 Which bore impressed thy effigy ; 
 And if thy lot in Eden fell, 
 Ah 1 others would make choice of Hell ! " 
 
 A very striking peculiarity of the Oriental Muse in 
 general is a singular copiousness of comparison. Noth 
 ing is too remote or near, too common or solitary, too 
 sublime or trivial, to furnish a similitude with something 
 else. A band of Mamlouks with drawn swords sur 
 round the house as the black surrounds the pupil of the 
 eye. True these parallels are sometimes very trite and 
 unmeaning, but they are often wonderfully subtile, felici 
 tous, and beautiful. The sun at dawn, rushing over 
 the mountains, is a lion chasing the black gazelle, night. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 73 
 
 A hideous object is ugly as a peacock s foot. A star 
 less night is black as the book of sins in the judgment- 
 day. The lapwing waves its pinions towards the earth 
 even as the Magi bow before the sacred fire. In the 
 heart of a bereaved unfortunate the vestiges of departed 
 I happiness are left as the ashes are left where a departed 
 caravan once encamped. Almost every thought is 
 clothed in a metaphor. Is greatness calm? 
 
 " A stone makes not great rivers turbid grow : 
 When saints are vexed, their shallowness they show ! " 
 
 Has rarity a charm ? 
 
 " Could every hailstone to a pearl be turned, 
 Pearls in the mart like oyster-shells were spurned ! " 
 
 When an avaricious man is to be described, we read : 
 
 " If the sun on his table-cloth instead of dry bread lay, 
 In all the world none would behold again the light of day ! " 
 
 And when it is to be said that uncleanness or disease is 
 remedilessly repulsive, we have this : 
 
 " Ne er will the orange, from the Sultan s hand 
 Once on the dunghill fallen, more there rest ; 
 Though thirsty, none will water e er demand, 
 When ulcerated lips the jar have pressed ! " 
 
 Upon the letter of his life every man finds the seal of 
 God s mercy. Water is one in look and substance, but 
 the glasses from which men drink it are many in shape 
 and hue. All religions are diversities of the one true 
 faith, as all colors are modifications of the one white 
 light. 
 
 The apologue, fable, or parable, the conveyance of 
 instruction or admonition in the form of a brief, striking 
 
74 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 story, is characteristic of Eastern poetry as well as 
 prose. This is well exemplified in the New Testament. 
 It is also supposed that most of the fables of .^Esop were 
 imported from the earlier Indian literature, though 
 this has been denied by some, for instance, by Weber 
 in his reply to Wagener s prize essay on the " Connec 
 tion between the Indian Fables and the Greek." But 
 it is unquestionable that nearly all the poetic produc 
 tions of the East are crowded with brief, sweet, touch 
 ing, ingenious, hortatory apologues. And thousands 
 of the happiest specimens of this kind of composition, 
 known now among the modern nations of the Occident, 
 were drawn from the vast stores of the Orient. In these 
 stories the emphatic aphoristic tendency of the Eastern 
 literary mind is almost everywhere displayed. " A gay 
 experience of good fortune makes man shallow and 
 frivolous ; deep grief makes him wise." 
 
 " Should you a cistern with rose-water fill, 
 A dog dropped in it would defile it still." 
 
 "It is easier to dig a rooted mountain up with a 
 needle, than to pluck pride from the heart." As an ex 
 emplification of this head I must here cite Mr. Clarke s 
 admirable versification of the story, rendered from the 
 Persian by Tholuck, called 
 
 THE CALIPH AND SATAN. 
 
 In heavy sleep the Caliph lay, 
 
 When some one called, " Arise and pray ! " 
 
 The angry Caliph cried, " Who dare 
 Rebuke his king for slighted prayer ? " 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 75 
 
 Then, from the corner of the room, 
 
 A voice cut sharply through the gloom : 
 
 " My name is Satan. Rise ! obey 
 Mohammed s law : Awake, and pray." 
 
 " Thy words are good," the Caliph said, 
 " But their intent I somewhat dread ; 
 
 For matters cannot well be worse, 
 
 Than when the thief says, Guard your purse. 
 
 I cannot trust your counsel, friend, 
 It surely hides some wicked end." 
 
 Said Satan : " Near the throne of God, 
 In ages past, we devils trod ; 
 
 Angels of light, to us t was given 
 
 To guide each wandering foot to Heaven. 
 
 Not wholly lost is that first love, 
 Nor those pure tastes we knew above. 
 
 Roaming across a continent, 
 
 The Tartar moves his shifting tent, 
 
 But never quite forgets the day 
 When in his father s arms he lay ; 
 
 So we, once bathed in love divine, 
 Recall the taste of that rich wine. 
 
 God s finger rested on my brow, 
 That magic touch, I feel it now ! 
 
 I fell, t is true, O ask not why ! 
 For still to God I turn my eye -, 
 
76 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 It was a chance by which I fell ; 
 Another takes me back from Hell. 
 
 T was but my envy of mankind, 
 The envy of a loving mind. 
 
 Jealous of men, I could not bear 
 God s love with this new race to share. 
 
 But yet God s tables open stand, 
 His guests flock in from every land. 
 
 Some kind act toward the race of men 
 May toss us into Heaven again. 
 
 A game of chess is all we see, 
 And God the player, pieces we. 
 
 White, black, queen, pawn, t is all the same, 
 For on both sides he plays the game. 
 
 Moved to and fro, from good to ill, 
 We rise and fall as suits his will." 
 
 The Caliph said : If this be so 
 I know not, but thy guile I know ; 
 
 For how can I thy words believe, 
 When even God thou didst deceive. 
 
 A sea of lies art thou, our sin 
 Only a drop that sea within." 
 
 " Not so," said Satan ; " I serve God, 
 His angel now, and now his rod. 
 
 In tempting, I both bless and curse, 
 Make good men better, bad men worse. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 77 
 
 Good coin is mixed with bad, my brother, 
 I but distinguish one from th other." 
 
 " Granted," the Caliph said ; but still 
 You never tempt to good, but ill. 
 
 Tell, then, the truth, for well I know 
 You come as my most deadly foe." 
 
 Loud laughed the fiend. " You know me well ; 
 Therefore my purpose I will tell. 
 
 If you had missed your prayer, I knew 
 A swift repentance would ensue ; 
 
 And such repentance would have been 
 A good, outweighing far the sin. 
 
 I chose this humbleness divine, 
 
 Born out of fault, should not be thine ; 
 
 Preferring prayers elate with pride, 
 To sin with penitence allied." 
 
 In these parables and anecdotes a cunning wit, an 
 elevated ethical tenderness, and a sober under-tone are 
 in general remarkably mingled. 
 
 " Who doth the raven for a guide invite, 
 Must marvel not on carcasses to light." 
 
 o 
 
 Saadi was asked what he, an idle poet, was good for. 
 [n turn he inquired what was the use of the rose ; and 
 on being told that it was good to be smelled, replied, 
 1 " And I am good to smell it !" So our Concord Saadi 
 [sings, as if responding from to-day and America, over 
 the ages and the sea, to the dead lyrist of Persia : 
 
78 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 " Tell them, dear, if eyes were made for seeing, 
 Beauty is its own excuse for being." 
 
 It is said that, when Hafiz died, the jealous and bigoted 
 Dervishes refused him burial, on the ground that he 
 had been a reckless unbeliever, a blaspheming radical. 
 The dispute rose high. At length it was agreed to 
 take a thousand couplets miscellaneously from his poems, 
 write them on slips of paper, place them in a vase, and 
 let an innocent child draw from them, lottery-like, to 
 decide what should be done. This verse came out : 
 
 Fear not to come where Hafiz lifeless body lies ; 
 Though deeply sunk in sin, to heaven he will rise. 
 
 Forthwith he was honorably interred. Sir William 
 Jones says, "The Western poets afford no lesson of 
 morality, no tender sentiment, which cannot be found in 
 the writings of the Eastern." 
 
 A curious feature in the rhetoric of the Oriental 
 bards is the employment of what may be called figures 
 of impossibility, or the paradox. Their pages fur 
 nish copious and surprising examples of this. A man 
 who follows vice instead of virtue, folly rather than 
 wisdom, is one who painfully turns up the barren sand 
 with a golden plough, to sow weeds ! he mows a forest 
 of lignum- vitse trees with a crystal scythe ! he puts a 
 jewelled vase on a sandal-wood fire to cook a dish of 
 husks or pebbles ! he devastates a beautiful date-garden 
 to plant nettles there instead of the palms ! To indulge 
 in crime and find peace instead of pain, profit and not 
 punishment, is to milk an ox, eat a rhinoceros s eggs, 
 and see a lion live in the lake like a fish ! " It is 
 written in the sky, on the pages of the air, that good 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 79 
 
 deeds shall be done to him who does good deeds to 
 others. 
 
 Another very remarkable rhetorical peculiarity of a 
 great deal of Oriental poetry is the most unrestricted 
 use of erotic and bacchanalian phraseology to describe 
 the religious life. 
 
 " There s never a spot in this wildered world 
 
 Where His glory shines so dim 
 But shapes are strung, and hearts are warm, 
 And lips are sweet from Him." 
 
 An uninitiated reader would often shrink and blush as if 
 the wildest revels of debauchery were laid bare before 
 him, when really the writer is treating of the rapt ex 
 periences and sacred secrets of piety, the intoxicating 
 draughts and mystic endearments of the Divine Love. 
 The world is a tavern, God the host and bar-tender, life 
 the goblet he extends, and ecstasy the wine he pours. 
 This imagery is carried out consistently through all its 
 details varied with unrivalled ingenuity, and adorned 
 with infinite splendors of conceit and imagination. " He 
 who is sobered when the winds of evening play on his 
 brow, hath only partaken of earth s buttermilk, and not 
 of God s wine." " He that is once inebriated with that 
 wine, remains drunk until the resurrection-day." God 
 is the lost lover, to be sought until found ; and the de 
 lirious fruition of all desire is undisturbed life in his 
 cloudless presence and in his clasping arms. God is 
 the infinite bodiless beauty and love, whose attributes 
 darken and shimmer through the veils and illusions of 
 nature, and whose embrace, uniting the soul to himself, 
 is speechless bliss and endless rest. 
 
 Again, this whole province of the world s literature is 
 
80 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 enveloped and saturated with mysticism, mysticism 
 of a bewildering quality and comprehensiveness. This 
 mysticism, which is the soul s groping in a world of 
 symbols after realities too vast and elusive, occupies the 
 same place in Eastern literature that is filled by senti 
 mentality in the modern literature of the West. Boden- 
 stedt affirms that that excessive sentimentality, or mor 
 bid vagueness of passion, which is so prevalent in the 
 lyric poetry of Germany, is wholly unknown and un 
 intelligible to the Oriental poets. They always aim at 
 some real, apprehensible object. But to reach this 
 goal they set heaven and earth in motion. No meta 
 phor lies too far, no thought too high, for them. Where 
 therefore our authors are sentimentalists, the authors of 
 the East are mystics. They blend an all-confounding 
 metaphysics of unknown subtilty and reach with a 
 delicate, luxuriant, gorgeous sentiment and fancy, and 
 plunge the productions of both in gulfs of inscrutable 
 mystery, or suspend them in the darkness of insuffer 
 able light. 
 
 " One lonely pilgrim, ere the world began, 
 Traversed eternity to visit man, 
 And on the precincts of the holy shrine 
 Prepared an ample cup of love divine. 
 The foaming draught, o erflowing all the spheres, 
 Dispersed them, whirling, for unnumbered years, 
 While the rapt seraph, from its ardent brim, 
 Rushed reeling back, and owned t was not for him." 
 
 The flood of the infinite rushes over, breaks down, swal 
 lows up, the fences and walls of the finite, and in the 
 shoreless gleam of its wild waves every distinction van 
 ishes ; nothing seems everything and all things seem 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 81 
 
 nothing. God is at once the performer of the rite of de 
 votion, the rite itself, the implements by which it is per 
 formed, and the fruit which it bestows. For the highest 
 qualities of devotional reflection and feeling it would be 
 hard to find anything surpassing this description of 
 
 THE CONTENTS OF PIETY. 
 
 Allah ! " was all night long the cry of one oppressed with 
 care, 
 
 Till softened was his heart, and sweet became his lips with 
 prayer. 
 
 Then near the subtle tempter stole, and spake : " Fond bab 
 bler, cease ! 
 
 For not one 4 Here am I has God e er sent to give thee 
 peace." 
 
 With sorrow sank the suppliant s soul, and all his senses fled. 
 
 But lo ! at midnight, the good angel, Chiser, came, and said: 
 
 " What ails thee now, my child, and why art thou afraid to 
 pray? 
 
 And why thy former love dost thou repent? declare and 
 say." 
 
 " Ah ! " cries he, " never once spake God to me, * Here am 
 I, son. 
 
 Cast off methinks I am, and warned far from his gracious 
 throne." 
 
 To whom the angel answered : " Hear the word from God 
 I bear. 
 
 4 Go tell, he said, yon mourner, sunk in sorrow and de 
 spair, 
 
 Each " Lord, appear ! " thy lips pronounce, contains my 
 "Here am I"; 
 
 A special messenger I send beneath thine every sigh ; 
 
 Thy love is but a girdle of the love I bear to thee, 
 
 And sleeping in thy " Come, O Lord ! " there lies " Here, 
 son ! " from me. " 
 
82 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 Riblm and Nidagha are conversing, when the king 
 rides by. The following dramatic dialogue ensues. " In 
 form me, Nidagha, which of these is the elephant, and 
 which the king." " Why, Riblm, you will observe that 
 the elephant is underneath, the king is above him." 
 " Yes, but what is meant, Nidagha, by underneath, and 
 by above ? " Nidagha knocks Ribhu down, jumps upon 
 him, and says, " I am above, and you are underneath." 
 " Very well," cries Ribhu, " now tell me which is you, 
 and which is I ! " This mysticism in a thousand shapes 
 and colors pervades the poetry of the East. 
 
 Oriental poetry is further characterized by nothing 
 more so by all that is involved in, accompanies, or 
 flows from an ardent pantheism. God is all, and all is 
 God. He is nature. His perfect face is printed and 
 painted in every atom. 
 
 " The realms of being to no other bow : 
 Not only all are thine, but all are Thou." 
 
 He is man. The motions of his dealing constitute the 
 experience of the soul. 
 
 " God s doors are men : the Pariah hind 
 Admits thee to the perfect Mind." 
 
 He dwells with all his infinitude in every heart. Many 
 recondite comparisons and arguments are brought for 
 ward to illustrate how myriads may each wholly possess 
 him without interference. When a million men gaze 
 on the moon, its perfect orb is given to every eye. Hu 
 man personality is execrated as a cruel chain, a black 
 prison-wall. Nothing more distinguishes Eastern from 
 Western thought than this passionate desecration of in 
 dividuality. All conscious spirits, once rent and dis- 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 83 
 
 cerpted from the one primeval substance, and banished 
 in material wanderings, pine in exile, and painfully 
 yearn after the banished Lover, with unwearied fond 
 ness, until he relents, and discloses his presence ; then the 
 smitten and entranced soul falters an instant, sinks into 
 his embrace, arid, lost from the bitter trials of personal 
 being, is found in the everlasting ravishment of Divinity. 
 Since God is the only dynamic reality, evil, of course, is 
 only a shadow. 
 
 " The world a mighty chess-board we should name ; 
 And God both sides is playing of the game : 
 Moses and Pharaoh seem opposed, for they 
 Do thus God s greatness on two sides display ; 
 They seem opposed, but at the root are one, 
 And each his part allotted has well done." 
 
 The last characteristic of Oriental poetry to be men- 
 ioned is this. One can read but little of it without no- 
 icing how it is filled with pensive, diversified, forcible, 
 till-recurring contemplations of change, decay, and death, 
 lie vanity and transitoriness of all things here, the frail 
 xposures and brevity of earthly fortune and joy, the 
 wift-coming certainty of dissolution. Firdousi once 
 truck in his harp the string named Sighing, and these 
 re the words its melting tones sounded : 
 
 " Full many a jocund spring has passed away, 
 And many a flower has blossomed to decay : 
 And human life, still hastening to a close, 
 Finds in the worthless dust its last repose." 
 
 h a deep, resigned pathos sings Dschelaleddin : "If 
 ft world were our abiding-place, we might complain 
 iat it makes our bed so hard ; but it is only our night- 
 
84 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 quarters on a journey, and who can expect home com 
 forts ? " Life is slippery and insecure as a tremulous 
 drop of dew on a lotus-flower. Yet these reflections 
 are not usually gloomy and complaining, but thought 
 fully submissive and sweetly melancholy. They seek 
 to find comfort for the evanescence of the world in 
 thoughts of its evanescence. And many an Eastern 
 poet in his dirges is no dark raven croaking dolefully 
 in the graveyard of his joys and hopes, but rather 
 a pathetic nightingale in the grove singing of the with 
 ered rose. And very frequently an enthusiastic ex 
 ultation in the anticipation of the future, mingles even 
 with the laments poured over the present. 
 
 " My spirit pines behind its veil of clay 
 For light too heavenly perfect here to shine : 
 Blest time that tears the envious folds away 
 Now dimly darkening o er that radiant shrine ! 
 Poor prisoned exile from a brighter bower ! 
 Not here, not thus, thy wonted lay can rise : 
 O burst thy bonds and let the descant tower, 
 "With freshened rapture, in its native skies." 
 
 The Orientals discourse so often and so earnestly on 
 the fugacity of the world, the idleness of riches, thej 
 fickleness of fortune, and the ephemeral fleetness ofl 
 life, that they have seemed to many a robust-hearted 
 worldling lachrymose sermonizers. But herein the rej 
 gion of the earth they live in, their past history, their 
 form of government, their religion and whole condition, 
 excuse them. On that very soil, roam not their minds 
 back to a time when a hundred thousand warriors sat 
 in the gates of Merde, to a period long anterior to the 
 day when Moses wooed the daughter of Jethro, to the 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 85 
 
 lour when, at God s voice and finger, young Adam, the 
 resh rose of humanity, sprang from the magic mould of 
 Eden ? What scenes have come and gone there like 
 dissolving views ! And now the spider hangs her veil 
 undisturbed in the halls of Kai Kosrou, the owl stands 
 sentinel on Haroun Al-Raschid s fallen palace-towers, 
 the lion forays in the lonesome gardens of Babylon, and 
 the dromedary browses in the silent forecourts of Mem 
 phis. Remembering these things, what morals of dis 
 appointment, visions of desolation, emotions of bodeful 
 mourning, must flit before them and come over them ! 
 Upon their meditating imaginations rises not the awful 
 brm of Egypt, an asterism of conquering dynasties on 
 icr glimmering brow, the pyramids diminished at her 
 side, and a sombre landscape of vanquished nations, for 
 gotten peoples, and unreckoned ages, sloping from her 
 ieet ? Tread they not on the ruins of the most mag 
 nificent kingdoms, the richest states, the most beautiful 
 monuments, of the primeval world ? And of what else 
 do these preach, but the futility of plans and things, the 
 utter vanity of all the pomp and might of universal 
 eway ? From Mount Kaf to the shores of the ocean, 
 from the sea to the deserts of Arabia and the Thebaid, 
 they gaze on the graves of kings, fragments of temples, 
 ruins of royal cities, until again their glances rest on the 
 pyramids and the fast-crumbling tombs of imperial gen 
 erations. The intelligent contemplator of these things 
 also beholds around him a people sunk far below the 
 ability to build such glorious structures, oppressed with 
 the yoke of poverty, ignorance, and despotism, dwelling 
 among the sepulchres of an ancestral time, and daily 
 destroying more of their costly remnants. Methinks 
 
86 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 i 
 
 such views might teach even us, the members of a 
 younger race and inhabitants of a new land, to compose 
 many a wise proverb touching the poorness of human 
 glory, and the perishableness of earthly possessions. 
 Ah ! well indeed might the Eastern Homer, at the 
 close of his great work, reviewing the checkered annals 
 and pathetic vicissitudes of so many ages and dynasties, 
 exclaim : 
 
 " I feel no resentment, I seek not for strife, 
 I wish not for thrones and the glories of life. 
 What is glory to man ? An illusion, a cheat. 
 What did it for Jemschid, the world at his feet ? " 
 
 In all ages and languages the poet is a preacher. Ge 
 nius normally loves justice, purity, generosity, every 
 virtue and every grace. The poet s nature and tem 
 perament are sensitive to all beauty and goodness. He 
 is alive to the impressiveness of the universe, the splen 
 dor and gloom of natural phenomena, the portents of 
 fate, the eventful varieties of life and death. Beneath 
 all kaleidoscopic visions of vanity, contemplating the 
 stable fixtures of reality, how can he help exclaiming to 
 his giddier brothers: 
 
 " O fly the glimmer of these haunted plains, 
 Whereon the demon of delusion reigns ! " 
 
 The loyal and tender mind which is his endowment re 
 sponds with peculiar force and spontaneity to the at 
 tracting substance and truths of morality. From his 
 chief characteristics and vocation he feels deeply, ob 
 serves sympathizingly, and thinks much, loves traditions 
 and history, is a child of fancy and hope. But reflec 
 tion, feeling, learning, experience, and faith furnish a 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 87 
 
 man those vivified lessons whose enforcement is the 
 aim of preaching. Naturally, therefore, the poet is a 
 preacher. History shows this true everywhere, but 
 nowhere so emphatically as with the Orientals. The 
 literature of the East, whether Indian, Arabic, or Per 
 sian, reveals their poets as the keenest, tenderest, sub- 
 limest, most versatile of preachers. We cannot read a 
 fairy tale without finding in it, quoted from some favor 
 ite singer, sentiments like this : " There is no hand but 
 God s hand is above it, no oppressor who shall not meet 
 an oppressor stronger than himself." Amidst a magical 
 story of triumphant cruelty and crowned haughtiness, of 
 lust and power, the reader is startled with the lines : 
 " Every son of woman, though long he remains alive, 
 must one day be carried on the curving bier. How, 
 then, shall he on whose cheeks the dust is to be placed, 
 find diversion or delight in life ? " In the full sweep of 
 his epical narrative Firdousi pauses to moralize, adjur 
 ing his reader, 
 
 " Look at the heavens, how they roll on ; 
 And look at man, how soon he s gone ! 
 A breath of wind, and then no more : 
 A world like this should man deplore ? " 
 
 Every sort of ethical and religious exhortation, from the 
 shrewd maxims of prudent self-culture, by the sharp 
 satires of lofty contempt, to the rarest reaches of devo 
 tion, we find most admirably expounded and enforced 
 by these golden preachers. The following exquisite 
 fragment, translated by Sir William Jones from the 
 Persian, has long been familiar to thousands : 
 " On parent knees, a naked, new-born child, 
 Weeping thou sat st while all around thee smiled : 
 
88 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 So live that, sinking in thy last long sleep, 
 
 Calm thou mayst smile while all around thee weep." 
 
 Where is the expediency of a disciplinary education 
 better urged than in this image ? 
 
 11 O square thyself for use : a stone that may 
 Fit in the wall, is not left in the way." 
 
 It would be hard to satirize the heartless and savage 
 greed of utter selfishness more finely than it is done in 
 the lines, 
 
 " There is no ointment for the wolfs sore eyes 
 Like clouds of dust which from the sheep arise." 
 
 How strikingly the exposure of man, his helpless de 
 pendence, the need of being always ready, are set forth 
 in these brief words from Saadi ! 
 
 " One wept all night beside a sick man s bed : 
 At dawn the sick was well, the mourner dead." 
 
 A whole world of profound meaning and electrifying 
 eloquence are in the following verses, with which a 
 i Persian writer on practical virtue illumines one of his 
 dry pages : 
 
 " Though human life be reason s dream, 
 
 Rouse thine ere morning wake it, 
 And offer up thy heart to Him 
 Who else, unasked, will take it." 
 
 With what a beautiful simplicity of wisdom the providen 
 tial ordering of things as they are is justified in the little 
 dialogue succeeding ! Khosru says to his beloved Shi- 
 reen : " The Sultanship would be glorious did it remain 
 with one for ever." She replies : " Perceivest thou not 
 that, did it remain for ever with one, thou wouldst never 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 89 
 
 have been Sultan at all?" The spirit of lowly love 
 and forgiving sacrifice will scarcely ever be better 
 uttered than it is in the well-known couplet, 
 
 " The sandal-tree, most sacred tree of all, 
 Perfumes the very axe which bids it fall." 
 
 But as the best single illustration known to me of the 
 Oriental poet in the capacity of preacher, I will cite the 
 celebrated story of the poet at the royal feast. I give 
 it as versified, from Sylvestre de Sacy s Chrestomathie 
 Arabe, by Trench, to whom I am also indebted for 
 three or four couplets previously quoted. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 
 
 "Five hundred princely guests before Haroun Al-Raschid 
 
 sate, 
 
 Five hundred princely guests or more admired his royal 
 state; 
 
 " For never had that glory been so royally displayed, 
 Nor ever such a gorgeous scene had eye of man surveyed. 
 
 " He, most times meek of heart, yet now of spirit too elate, 
 Exclaimed : 4 Before me Csesars bow, on me two empires 
 wait 
 
 " * Yet all our glories something lack, we do our triumphs 
 
 wrong, 
 Until to us reflected back as mirrored clear in song. 
 
 " * Therefore call him to whom this power is given, this skill 
 
 sublime. 
 
 Now win from us some gorgeous dower with song that fits 
 the time. 
 
90 INTRODUCTION TO 
 
 " My king, as I behold thee now, may I behold thee still, 
 While prostrate worlds before thee bow, and wait upon thy 
 wiU! 
 
 " * May evermore this clear, pure heaven, whence every 
 
 speck and stain 
 Of trouble far away is driven, above thy head remain ! 
 
 "The Caliph cried: Thou wishest well; there waits thee 
 
 golden store 
 
 For this ; but oh ! resume the spell ; I fain would listen 
 more. 
 
 " * Drink thou life s sweetest goblet up, and may its wine, 
 For other s lips a mingled cup, be all unmixed for thine. 
 
 " Live long ; the shadow of no grief come ever near to 
 
 thee: 
 As thou in height of place art chief, so chief in gladness be. 
 
 Haroun Al-Raschid cried again : * I thank thee ; but pro 
 ceed^ 
 And now take up a higher strain, and win a higher meed. 
 
 " Around that high, magnific hall one glance the poet threw, 
 On courtiers, king, and festival, and did the strain renew. 
 
 " * And yet, and yet shalt thou at last lie stretched on bed 
 
 of death : 
 
 Then, when thou drawest thick and fast with sobs thy pain 
 ful breath, 
 
 " When Azrael glides through guarded gate, through hosts 
 
 that camp around 
 
 Their lord in vain, and will not wait, when thou art sadly 
 bound 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 91 
 
 " * Unto thine house of dust alone, O king, when thou must 
 
 die, 
 This pomp a shadow thou must own, this glory all a lie. 
 
 " Then darkness on all faces hung, and through the banquet 
 
 went 
 
 Low sounds the murmuring guests among of angry dis 
 content. 
 
 "And him anon they fiercely urge: What guerdon shall 
 
 be thine ? 
 
 Why didst thou bring this awful dirge mid feasts, and 
 flowers, and wine ? 
 
 " Our lord demanded in his mirth a strain to heighten glee ; 
 But, lo ! at thine his tears come forth in current swift and 
 free. 
 
 " * Peace ! not to him rebukes belong, but rather highest 
 
 grace; 
 He gave me what I asked, a song to fit the time and place. 
 
 "All voices at that voice were stilled; again the Caliph 
 
 cried : 
 
 * He saw our mouths with laughter filled, he saw us drunk 
 with pride, 
 
 " * And bade us know that every road, by monarch trod or 
 
 slave, 
 
 Thick set with thorns, with roses strewed, doth issue in the 
 grave. " 
 
 In the absence of everything of the kind from our 
 language, the present crude and hasty sketch of hints 
 at the contents and character of Oriental poetry, may 
 be acceptable and useful. It may serve to give many 
 
92 INTRODUCTION TO ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 persons whose catholic thoughtfulness and aesthetic 
 sensitiveness, whose temperament and culture, fit them 
 to enjoy it, at least some slight acquaintance with a 
 department of literature unique, alike in essence and 
 treatment, and certainly, in many of the choicest quali 
 ties of poetry, wholly unrivalled. During the past year 
 the United States government has imported from Pales 
 tine several specimens of a tree called the Carob, or 
 St. John s Bread, and employed skilful arboriculturists 
 to try and see if it cannot be made to grow and yield 
 fruit, even in a clime and air so remote from its own. 
 It blossoms twice a year, overshadows a space more 
 than thirty yards in diameter, and bears a ton of pods 
 full of sugar and wild-honey. Who knows but the 
 effort may be successful, and lead to the transplantation 
 and acclimation in America of hundreds of the richest 
 indigenous growths of Asia ? And so might the present 
 humble work seeking to import into the West, and 
 exhibit there, some specimens of the Thought, Senti 
 ment, and Fancy of the East be but a forerunner of 
 many abler works in the same direction, which shall be 
 worthier representations, in our English speech, of that 
 wonderful Oriental poetry whose most characteristic 
 treasures are as sparkling with the splendor of imagina 
 tive genius, and as odorous with the fragrance of ex 
 quisite sensibility, as though they had been "strained 
 through starry strata and the musky loam of Para 
 dise"! 
 
METRICAL SPECIMENS 
 
 THOUGHT, SENTIMENT, AND FANCY 
 
 OF THE ORIENT. 
 
THESE GEMS, so LONG FROM us CONCEALED, 
 THEIR BURNING RATS AT LENGTH REVEALED. 
 
THE POETRY OF THE ORIENT. 
 
 THE INFINITE COUNTENANCE. 
 
 Where er I look, one Face alone I see, 
 With every attribute of beauty in it blent ; 
 Still, still the Godhead s face entrances me, 
 Yielding transcendency of all that can be spent. 
 
 SELF-ISOLATION. 
 
 It needs not guards in front and rear to keep the 
 
 crowd away ; 
 Aversion to the vulgar throng will hold them all at 
 
 A LOVELY CHILD. 
 
 Feast of my eyes, sweet little maid ! 
 
 All loveliness on thee is laid ; 
 
 And for thy growing, growth was made. 
 
96 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 WE SHALL MEET AGAIN. 
 
 The day-of-separation sorely rent my heart, 
 But God shall rend the day-of-separation s heart. 
 
 THE BETRAYING INFLUENCE. 
 
 As the rose doth its fragrance impart 
 To the basket in which it is laid, 
 Whether wrought of pure gold or of braid ; 
 So, receiving wise men in thy heart, 
 Thou shalt find, when their persons depart, 
 That their wisdom behind them hath staid. 
 
 THE GIGANTIC TRAP AND SPORTSMAN. 
 
 All heaven and earth compose a cage, 
 And vice and virtue in each age 
 Spread out a net. Life is the prey, 
 And Time the fowler. What a play ! 
 
 MYTHIC ETYMOLOGY. 
 
 The name of Maya is to Siva s wife applied, 
 Denoting that Illusion is Destruction s bride. 
 
 THE MYSTIC CONFOUNDED. 
 
 The Brahman, Hargovind, maintained with pride, 
 That no distinction was to be descried 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 97 
 
 Between a stone, a child, the sky, a pall ; 
 
 For all things formed but One, and each was All. 
 
 Shrewd Deva pointed to an ass, and asked, 
 
 " Discern you what this object is ? " lie masked 
 
 His aim, but none the inference could miss : 
 
 " Since you are one with all, you must be this ! " 
 
 LIFERS ALLUREMENT. 
 
 Walking, walking still, my feet are weary ; 
 All too far off stands and shines the city ; 
 Blooms a warm tent near the roadside dreary ; 
 Ah, say, should you blame, or should you pity ? 
 
 THE SILLY WORSHIPPER. 
 
 The votary who turns from Vishnu, and another god 
 
 adores, 
 Is h ke the thirsty idiot who a well beside the Ganges 
 
 bores. 
 
 A GOOD MAN IN A NAUGHTY WORLD. 
 
 Like sea-bird s lucid wing beneath the black and storm- 
 fraught skies, 
 
 Like pearl in ugly shell where ocean s worthless rub 
 bish lies, 
 
 Like lotus o er the mud in virgin purity unfurled, 
 
 A virtuous man is seen amidst this all-polluted world. 
 
98 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 WE GO TOO FAR. 
 
 Tell me, why should a man who good honey can find 
 At his feet, in the akka flower scenting the wind, 
 To the hills for it go, leaving akkas behind ? 
 
 FATE AND THE ARAB LOVER. 
 
 Milawne Tanbe loved Ab Talib s wife, 
 The fair and gentle Leila el Akteel , 
 
 And vain of harp and words is every strife 
 
 To tell what love makes hearts like Tanbe s feel. 
 
 He pines away, his love so deadly strong, 
 
 "With maddening thoughts of Leila el Akteel ; 
 
 At length his dying soul exhales in song, 
 
 And thus the notes in faltering accents steal : 
 
 " Let Leila el Akteel, when I am dead, 
 
 But come where this poor body lies interred, 
 
 And speak to me, and I shall lift my head 
 To answer, or my tomb itself be heard" 
 
 Three moons have sailed above the poet s tomb, 
 Built in the mountain-side, his village nigh. 
 
 For camels twain the path yields narrow room, 
 But there are two abreast now travelling by. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRT. 99 
 
 The burial-place is still and lonesome all ; 
 
 Weird lights and shades the fate of man rehearse. 
 " Go yonder, Leila, 011 that madman call ! 
 
 See how he keeps the promise of his verse." 
 
 " A thing so cruel, Talib, do not bid ; 
 
 I pray thee, let us turn away and go." 
 Broke out the anger hi his bosom hid, 
 
 " Must I enforce my order with a blow ? " 
 
 Dismounts she then, unveils her lovely face, 
 
 And gropes her way beneath the summit sheer ; 
 
 And reaching soon her lover s sleeping-place, 
 She softly calls, " Poor Tanbe, art thou here ? " 
 
 A startled eagle in the cliff o erhead 
 
 A stone sets loose, which falls with thundering sound, 
 Recoils from off the tomb and strikes her dead, 
 
 While frightful throngs of echoes wail around. 
 
 " It was the will of Allah, and her fate ! " 
 
 Fierce Talib said, dismounting from his beast ; 
 
 " To alter or complain it is too late, 
 
 But I will make one poor amends at least." 
 
 His sword breaks in the tomb ; his wife he bears, 
 While mournful bodings through his bosom steal, 
 
 Apart the spicy shroud of Tanbe tears, 
 And places there sweet Leila el Akteel. 
 
100 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 ACHMED AND HIS MARE. 
 
 An old Arabian tale the truth conveys, 
 That honor s passion avarice outweighs. 
 
 Brave Achmed owned a mare of wondrous speed ; 
 He prized her much above his wife or creed. 
 
 And lest some one should steal that precious mare, 
 He guarded her with unremitting care. 
 
 He tied her every night before his tent ; 
 
 The fastening-cord then round his pillow went. 
 
 When all in slumber lay, the robber crept, 
 Unloosed the cord, and on the courser leapt. 
 
 " Wake up ! " he cries, " t is I, the thief, who call ; 
 See now if she in flight is chief of all ! " 
 
 Mount Achmed and his tribe in wrath and shame, 
 And chase him as a tempest chases flame. 
 
 Hot Achmed nearly to the robber came, 
 
 When thus he thought : " My mare will lose her fam< 
 
 " If I o ertake her, she is then outrun ; 
 But if I reach her not, I am undone. 
 
 " O, better she were stolen before my face 
 
 Than have her vanquished in this desperate race ! " 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 101 
 
 One secret sign his mare was taught to heed, 
 Whenever she must try her utmost speed. 
 
 He to the robber screamed, " Quick, pinch her ear ! " 
 The sign she felt with answering love and fear. 
 
 As like a level thunderbolt she flew, 
 
 All chase was vain, the vexed pursuers knew. 
 
 Before this self-betrayal blank surprise 
 
 Fills Achmed s comrades, and their wondering cries 
 
 Demand, " How shall thy foolish act be named ? " 
 " My mare is lost, her glory is not shamed," 
 
 He says : " I knew that, if her ear he nipped, 
 The darling prize could never be outstripped." 
 
 A LEADER TO REPOSE. 
 
 In the rest of Nirwdna all sorrows surcease ; 
 Only Buddha can guide to that City of Peace, 
 Whose inhabitants have the eternal release. 
 
 THE SEGMENT MOON. 
 
 The new moon now appears, in yon heaven-tent s azure- 
 
 hued swell, 
 As a cutting which lucidly clean from God s finger-nail 
 
 fell! 
 
102 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE BURNISHED CUP. 
 
 The round sun is a glittering goblet of gold, 
 
 Borne about all the world by a blue-handed God ; 
 
 And the wine it profusely outpours, as of old, 
 Is the light that bedrenches the sky and the sod. 
 
 NARROW IS THE WAY. 
 
 One day took Buddha up a speck of mould, 
 And said to those who stood around : " Behold, 
 As is this speck compared with all the earth, 
 So are the men whose next succeeding birth 
 Will be within a more exalted state, 
 Compared with those who find a lower fate." 
 
 THE LOVE OF MEN. 
 
 Who feels not for the sorrows of his fellow-men, 
 Should have no house, but dwell in some deserted den. 
 
 THE LAST CARRIER. 
 
 The black camel named Death kneeleth once at each 
 
 door, 
 And a mortal must mount to return nevermore. 
 
 THE SUFI S SIGH. 
 A bird of holiness am I, 
 Who from this world s vain net would fly. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 103 
 
 PERSONIFICATION OF DAWN : RIG VEDA. 
 
 Similitude of all the mornings past, 
 And all the mornings in the future vast, 
 Young Dawn to-day her faultless bosom bares ; 
 Her beauty every waking creature shares ; 
 She opes a road before the Sun on high, 
 And, great or small, she passes no one by. 
 
 THE DILIGENT REDEEMER. 
 
 Each morn before the dawn had lifted its pale latch, 
 Abroad throughout the helpless world did Buddha 
 look, 
 
 To see what souls the net of truth that day should catch, 
 And his enlightening measures in accordance took, 
 
 With sweet persuading voice to preach the truths sublime 
 
 Whereby alone they could unto Nirwana climb. 
 
 ORIGIN OF SIVA S THIRD EYE. 
 
 In sport the wife of Siva placed her hands 
 Upon her husband s eyes. Dark grew all lands, 
 And Terror put the Universe to rout. 
 A third eye in his forehead started out ; 
 And from the sweat of his exertion fell 
 The mighty Ganges, as the sages tell. 
 
104 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 WASANA S PROVERB. 
 
 Good deeds in this world done 
 Are paid beyond the sun ; 
 As water on the root 
 Is seen above in fruit. 
 
 BUDDHA TO HIS DISCIPLE. 
 
 O, wise Anunda ! has it never unto you been shown 
 That all the eighty thousand precepts which rahats have 
 
 known, 
 Are but so many Buddhas with whose light the earth 
 
 is fraught, 
 And by whose guidance men may be to blest Nirwana 
 
 brought ? 
 
 IMPERTURBABLE DEITY. 
 
 Is God to be disturbed by throes of men, O fool ? 
 
 Sometimes the image of the sun in water seen, 
 Is tremulous with the undulations of the pool ; 
 
 But not the orb itself is shaken thus, I ween. 
 
 IDENTIFICATION OF THE SOUL. 
 
 The soul of man, placed here amidst deluding things, 
 Bewildered, knows not what its character may be, 
 
 Until the truth some holy teacher to it brings, 
 And then it knows itself the mighty God to be. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 105 
 
 A HINDOSTANEE COUPLET. 
 
 Who shall anoint the heads of rats with jasmine oil 
 Will do a foolish thing, and worse than waste his toil. 
 
 AN EPITHET BY INSIGHT. 
 
 When on a stupid man the Arabs glance, 
 
 They shrewdly name him, " Cold-of-countenance " ! 
 
 WHAT IS NIRWANA? 
 
 The Buddha, Sakya Muni, said : " To those who know 
 Of causes and effects the actual connection, 
 There is no further transmigrating resurrection ; 
 
 From Being and from Nothing they in freedom go. 
 
 THE SIGHT OP FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A friend both wise and true amid all shocks 
 Resplendent shines, like fire upon a rock s 
 High top, which dissipates the darkness round, 
 And fills the travellers by with joy profound. 
 
 THE FATAL KEY : MAHOMET. 
 
 The tongue is the key of the mind ; 
 And whenever it opens the secret-hung door, 
 
 What lies in the storehouse behind, 
 Whether gems or mere rubbish, is hidden no more. 
 
106 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 NO SAFETY AGAINST STRENGTH. 
 
 Of old the Asuras, fighting Indra through the world, 
 Obtained this boon from Brahma, that when Indra hurled 
 His thunderbolts against them, they should not be 
 
 harmed. 
 
 Then, fancying themselves invulnerably armed, 
 They scoffed the thunder-handed monarch to his face ; 
 His flaming wrath and ready thought kept even pace ; 
 Seeing the sun-car roll along the skyey steep, 
 Its wheel he snatched, and flung, and slew them in a 
 
 heap ! 
 
 PRATER FROM THE RIG VEDA. 
 
 Aditya, kindly hearken to our cry ! 
 
 Remove from us the manacles of sin ; 
 
 Come as a ship, receive our spirits in, 
 And o er a sea of praises sail on high. 
 
 PERSONIFICATION FROM RIG VEDA. 
 
 The sun has yoked his seven self-harnessed steeds 
 In car of congregated lightnings formed ; 
 
 His way above the purpling heights he leads, 
 
 And drives the glooms that in his absence swarmed. 
 
 Soon as his nightly couch, refreshed, he leaves, 
 
 The constellations all depart like thieves. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 107 
 
 METAPHYSICS FROM THE RIG VEDA. 
 
 Who the Being primeval has ever beheld, either dead 
 or at birth ? 
 
 And what substance does that which has nothing sub 
 stantial sustain or enclose ? 
 
 We perceive that the breath and the blood are pro 
 duced from the visible earth ; 
 
 But the Source of the soul, who of mortals will dare to 
 maintain that he knows ? 
 
 WELCOME BE DEATH. 
 
 If thou, O Death ! a being art, draw near, 
 
 And let me clasp thee ; for I hold thee dear. 
 
 I shall extort eternal life from thee ; 
 
 Thou canst but snatch this worn-out dress from me. 
 
 FINAL CERTITUDE. 
 
 As the soul is true certainty s marrow, 
 
 And the body its fair envelope, 
 In each spirit, no matter how narrow, 
 Ever trace the dear form of the FRIEND, 
 
 And await till fruition of hope 
 All illusions shall bring to an end. 
 
 THE SAINT S RAPTURE. 
 
 Whenever I can look upon my Lord s unveile d face, 
 The world is but a dew-drop in the lily-cup of space. 
 
108 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 HARIRI S RIDDLES. 
 
 i. 
 
 It is a more prodigious tree. 
 A weaker man it seems to be. 
 It is its fate to join with all 
 The solid things upon this ball. 
 But with the falling of its foe, 
 How strange it is ! itself doth go. 
 
 S9ip 
 
 uns 9Tj} 
 
 What dried-up stick, before or since the flood, 
 Was turned into a thing of flesh and blood ? 
 
 pUB 9AIJ y 
 
 S9soj\[ pip jre^s STJJ 
 
 What tongue ne er speaks a word, nor lives, 
 And yet most certain judgment gives ? 
 It doth no business arbitrate, 
 Except with emphasis and weight ; 
 Silver and gold to it are like, 
 But More and Less with difference strike. 
 When hostile parties stand before 
 Its bar, their quarrels all are o er ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 109 
 
 And equally content they feel, 
 Howe er its sentence makes them reel ! 
 
 jo jred pooS 13 jo onSuoi eqj si 
 
 pAioiqs ou J9A\sire aq^ JQ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Derived from a stock as pure as the stars, 
 Malignant he grew in the house of jars. 
 So long as good he remains, touch him not ; 
 He threats, O Moslem ! to ruin thy lot. 
 But when to corruption passes he o er, 
 He then is clean, and can injure no more. 
 A sinner he died, a saint rose again. 
 Who will make to me this miracle plain ? 
 
 ; 9mj jBxuiA ^uaooum MOJJ 
 
 Q 
 
 v. 
 
 I saw a maiden slim 
 
 Who short and shorter grew, 
 Though still as fair and trim, 
 
 As unto death she drew 
 With look so bright and merry ; 
 
 And when her life outblew, 
 There nothing was to bury ! 
 
 is SBM uaprera 
 J9j;v?ra 8q; j sy 
 
110 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE MYSTIC SCHOOL. 
 
 Not a sign of a man or a world 
 
 On the tablet of being appeared. 
 Of a sudden through chaos was hurled 
 
 The creative command from above. 
 The dominions of darkness were cleared, 
 
 The broad earth rose in beauty to view, 
 And the soul, as a pupil all new, 
 
 Was breathed forth in the College of Love. 
 
 THE INDEFILABLE ONE. 
 
 Although the sun doth serve as eye to all 
 
 The creatures living on full many globes, 
 Yet he is not polluted in his hall 
 
 By any filthiness his radiance probes. 
 So God the universal empire fills, 
 
 And bare beneath his omnipresent eyes 
 Is spread a multitude of loathsome ills, 
 
 Yet can they not his pureness compromise. 
 
 THE IMMINENCT OF SIN. 
 
 As he who finds his head on fire 
 Extinguishes the flame with speed ; 
 So wise men will of death take heed, 
 And swiftly quench all wrong desire. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. Ill 
 
 THE WORST PASSION. 
 
 All other passions you may yoke in steel, 
 But not the dropping eye of envy heal. 
 
 TWO TALISMANS. 
 
 Two words unveil the peace of "heaven and earth, I know : 
 Affection to the friend, politeness to the foe. 
 
 SELF-SUFFICING WORTH. 
 
 Will sparkling diamonds, in the sunshine raised, 
 Grow dark and worthless if they be not praised ? 
 
 STIMULUS OF HEROIC EXAMPLES. 
 
 For right and freedom when man strives or bleeds, 
 The seed is sown for truest lords and earls : 
 Then love and glory be to those whose deeds 
 Have set the bracelet of the world with pearls ! 
 
 UNIMPROVED PRIVILEGES. 
 
 Through Paradise once went a troop of straying asses, 
 Nor stopped till Hell they reached, where no cool spring 
 
 nor grass is. 
 Like them he acts who, born with every want prepared 
 
 for, 
 Perverts his gifts, and wastes his days, and dies uncared 
 
 for. 
 
112 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE BRIGHT-HOOFED CHARGER. 
 
 The new moon is a horseshoe of gold wrought by God, 
 And therewith shall the steed of Abdallah be shod. 
 
 THE DOUBLE-FLAVORED APPLE. 
 
 In Shiraz grows a tree, within the Sultan s bower, 
 Which bears an apple one half sweet, and one half sour. 
 Ah ! such an apple is the world. How sweet it tastes 
 In joy ! how sour when turning round to grief it hastes ! 
 
 NATURE AND THE MYSTIC. 
 
 Transfusing Allah s beauties how shall I compare ? 
 The Day is his sweet face, the Night his streaming 
 hair. 
 
 THE SAFE SECRET. 
 
 A proverb says that what to more than two is known 
 Has ceased to be a mystery, and public grown. 
 The proverb s sense is* this : Those two are but thy lips. 
 A secret is quite free when once through them it slips. 
 
 IMAGINATION S POWER. 
 
 Where but a single ray of Mahmoud s genius strikes 
 
 and stops, 
 The common granite crumbles into rubies, like pure 
 
 drops. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 113 
 
 AN ANTERIOR STATE: FROM KALIDASA. 
 
 The king, Dushyanta, torn from fair Sakiintala by fate, 
 In tender mood, all silent musing, in his garden sate. 
 Upon his meditations unexplained emotions stole, 
 And with the most unutterable longings filled his soul. 
 Then, looking in the soft and vasty blue above Mm 
 
 , domed, 
 And seeking for the source of the strange sadness which 
 
 he feels, 
 He sighs, " Perchance it is the vague remembrance o er 
 
 me steals 
 Of dearest friends with whom in other lives and spheres 
 
 I roamed." 
 
 ENVIOUS VANITY. 
 
 The foolish camel begged of Allah for a pair of horns : 
 Instead of granting them, Allah deprived him of his 
 
 ears! 
 
 Lose not the grace appropriate which already you adorns 
 By seeking what on others as an ornament appears. 
 
 THE FIRE-WbRSHIPPERS. 
 
 Zuleika s eyes are suns : whoever look on these, 
 Whatever their faith before, at once become Parsees. 
 
 
114 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE ELEPHANT AND THE RHINOCEROS. H. 
 
 To fight the elephant rhinoceros whets his horn ; 
 For nearest blood relations oft as foes are born. 
 
 His horn rhinoceros in the elephant s paunch doth 
 
 thrust, 
 And on it bears him off, if thou the tale canst trust. 
 
 But in his eyes run blood and fat through the mangled 
 
 rind, 
 TiU with his load upon the earth he tumbles blind. 
 
 Soon then the vulture on their helpless hulks has 
 
 sprung, 
 To tear out fragments for itself and for its young. 
 
 THE LUMINOUS TRUTH. 
 
 " Who will give me his heart," said God, " my love he 
 
 shall find." 
 With that speech a resplendent sun fell into my mind. 
 
 GET THEE BEHIND ME, SATAN! 
 
 Turn thou thine eyes from each seducing sight, 
 For looking whets the ready edge of appetite. 
 
ORIENTAL POETUY. 115 
 
 INSCRIPTION OVER A PERSIAN SPRING. 
 
 Beneath these palm-trees flows this fountain, 
 In endless gush, the joy-tears of yon mountain. 
 
 Soft-gurgling clear, 
 
 It bubbles here, 
 
 Amidst the sweet-exhaling flowers 
 O er which the rock-cliff sternly lowers. 
 O pilgrim ! as your parched lips lave it, 
 Pour out your thanks to Him who gave it. 
 
 IDEALISM: FROM THE DABISTAN. 
 
 Fartosh believed that nothing here below was real ; 
 The world and its inhabitants were but ideal. 
 To teach his servant this philosophy he thought ; 
 But when, one day, his horse he ordered to be brought 
 That he might ride, the servant brought a wretched ass ! 
 Fartosh with heat demanded how this came to pass. 
 The slave had stolen the horse, but, that shrewd theft to 
 
 hide, 
 
 He with his master s metaphysics thus replied : 
 " Thou hast been thinking of a mental image mere ; 
 There was no actual horse in being, it is clear." 
 Fartosh exclaimed : " I see how this has come to pass ; 
 You speak the truth " ; then plucked the saddle from 
 
 the ass, 
 
116 SPECIMENS OP 
 
 And put it on the servant s back, and, bridling him, 
 Mounted and lashed the fellow with unsparing vim ; 
 And when the crude philosopher for mercy cried, 
 And asked the reason of these blows, Fartosh replied : 
 " There are no blows, and as a whip there is no such 
 
 thing, 
 
 T is only an illusion you are suffering ! " 
 On this the smarting slave repented of his fault, 
 And brought the missing horse with no demurring halt, 
 
 THE VICTOR CHEEK. 
 
 So beautiful thy cheek, that from it goes 
 A wound into the mind of the red rose. 
 Compared with the blush from thy blood that flows, 
 All yellow with envy is the red rose. 
 
 SPEAKING THE TRUTH. 
 
 Otaiye, from his earliest youth 
 Was consecrated unto truth ; 
 And if the universe must die 
 Unless Otaiye told a lie, 
 He would defy the last fate s crash, 
 And let all sink in one pale ash, 
 Or ere by any means was wrung 
 A drop of falsehood from his tongue. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 117 
 
 
 
 RETALIATION. 
 
 A sheep the slaughtering butcher with his knife once 
 
 met, 
 And said : " Hold out your neck and die ! " The sheep 
 
 rejoins : 
 
 " I suffer now for all the twigs and grass I Ve ate : 
 What shall he suffer, then, who eats my fatted loins ? " 
 
 THE DEVOTED PUPIL. 
 
 When Har-govind s dead form was placed upon the 
 
 A Rajaput who loved him leaped amidst the fire, 
 And, walking several paces through the flames to reach 
 The feet of him who had been wont his soul to teach, 
 Laid down his loving face against his master s soles, 
 Till naught was left of him but ashes on the coals. 
 
 ZOROASTER S LAUGH. 
 
 Zoroaster, soon as born, gave forth a laugh : 
 Other children weep when first the air they quaff. 
 " Surely some great prophet in this child we clasp, 
 Cried his parents, both Dogdiiyah and Purshasp. 
 
118 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 REGRET OVER A SQUANDERED YOUTH. 
 
 Ah, five-and-twenty years ago had I but planted seeds 
 
 of trees, 
 How now I should enjoy their shade, and see their fruit 
 
 swing in the breeze ! 
 
 THE CASTES OF INDIA. R. 
 
 From Brahma s body came the ancient legend 
 
 lasts 
 
 Great Jambudwipa s race, divided in four castes. 
 The teachers left the head ; from the arm the warriors 
 
 sprang ; 
 The breast the traders bore ; the foot the servants 
 
 gang. 
 
 How shattered is the body s glory and its rest ! 
 The foot upon the earth stands level with the breast ; 
 The arm, deprived of force, has sunk like lifeless lead ; 
 And helpless droops, above, the unprotected head. 
 
 THE BRAHMIN AND THE SUDRA. R. 
 
 A Brahmin proud, poverty s yoke compelled to brook, 
 Entered the service of a Sudra as a cook. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 119 
 
 He might his master s dishes carry up, the priest, 
 But could not clear away the fragments of the feast. 
 
 T would be unclean to touch what impure hands have 
 
 left: 
 What booty, then, from all his cooking has he reft ? 
 
 The Brahmin, that he may not starve, is wont, indeed, 
 To eat his till before his master he will feed. 
 
 The leavings of the cook the master s mouth supply ; 
 The master s leavings are for crows and dogs thrown by. 
 
 It flatters him to have a cook whose scorn he knows 
 Will not yield precedence to him o er dogs and crows ! 
 
 DEPARTURE OF THE MYTHIC AGE. 
 
 Hero-days are gone by, though our bosoms still sighing 
 
 for them bleed ! 
 Wholly vain is all search for the magical goblet of 
 
 Jemschid. 
 
 THE POWER OF WORDS. R. 
 
 The power of words gives death and life, makes war 
 
 and truce : 
 In illustration this example I adduce. 
 
120 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Learn thou, as did Abou Adheen, fit words to use ; 
 But as with poison he, with balsam thine infuse. 
 
 Among the Arabs once a deadly hatred ran 
 Between the royal lines of Hira and Gassan. 
 
 In Hira, Mundar s son, Aswad, sat on his throne. 
 Gassan s array had from him in the battle flown. 
 
 But all of royal blood had been pursued and caught, 
 And for release they with a mighty ransom sought. 
 
 Their wish Aswad would grant ; but, with a frowning 
 
 mien, 
 His cousin rose and spake, thus spake Abou Adheen : 
 
 " Not every day does man achieve his hard pursuit, 
 Not every day does fortune offer ripened fruit. 
 
 He is the wisest man, to act or understand, 
 Who seizes opportunity when near his hand ; 
 
 And he the justest man who doth his foemen treat 
 With that same fate which he himself from them would 
 meet. 
 
 It is not wrong the dagger s edge to make them taste, 
 Which they would make thee feel with most unsparing 
 haste. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 121 
 
 Forgiveness is an ornament which perils those 
 Who dare to wear it in the face of mighty foes. 
 
 Wouldst break the twig and leave the root within the 
 
 sward? 
 Who follow such a course in woe will reap reward. 
 
 Do not cut off the viper s tail as past he glides, 
 But wisely crush his hateful head before he hides. 
 
 All men will say, shouldst thou dismiss these captives 
 
 here, 
 Thou didst it not from generosity, but fear. 
 
 They offer ransom large, and magnify each gift 
 
 Of camels, sheep ; precious, no doubt, to men of thrift ! 
 
 What! shall they milk our blood, and we take milk 
 
 from them ? 
 We shall be cowards called in all the tents of Shem ! 
 
 From us no ransom would they take in herds or gold ; 
 And shall their forfeit li ves by us for pay be sold ? " 
 
 " Thou art right," exclaimed Aswad, and doomed each 
 
 one to fall. 
 The words of fierce Abou Adheen thus slew them all. 
 
122 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE HEART S RITUAL. 
 
 A wooden rosary he never needs, 
 
 Who tells in love and thought the spirit s beads. 
 
 THE CONDITIONAL VISION. 
 
 Where er the face of earnest faith thou bringest, pure 
 
 and sweet, 
 Thou there the smiling face of thine approving God 
 
 shalt meet. 
 
 THE CONFIDANT S CONFIDANT. 
 
 Do thou thy precious secrets to no other lend : 
 
 Thy friend another has : beware of thy friend s friend ! 
 
 ^ THE TWO TRAVELLERS : FROM SAADI. 
 
 Says God : " Who comes towards me an inch through 
 
 doubtings dim, 
 In blazing light I do approach a yard towards him." 
 
 THE HAPPY RESTORATION. 
 
 Life & a loan from Him who gave us being, 
 And its value lies in homewards fleeing. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 123 
 
 THOUGHT FROM CHARACTER. 
 
 The rascal, thinking from his point of view, 
 Concludes that all the world are rascals too. 
 
 DELAYED RETRIBUTION. 
 
 God s mills grind slow, 
 But they grind woe. 
 
 THE GOOD MAN S REWARD. 
 
 Who has good deeds brought well to end, 
 For him the gloomy forests shine ; 
 The whole world is to him a friend, 
 And all the earth a diamond mine. 
 
 THE PLEDGE AND THE THING. 
 FROM THE AKHLAK-IJALALY. 
 
 This life is a dim pledge of friendship from our God : 
 Give me the Friend, and the pledge may sink in the sod. 
 
 INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Cling not to aught that may be snatched from o er the 
 
 rim ; 
 One fairy tale was all that Jemschid took with him. 
 
124 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE TRANSCENDENTALIST. 
 
 If, whene er our souls with Truth s own thoughts are 
 
 swelling, 
 
 We for God with pious fear and faith do rightly search. 
 We shall learn that all the world is Love s own dwelling. 
 And but little care for Moslem mosque or Christian 
 
 church. 
 
 THE INNERMOST SHRINE. 
 
 There is a flesh-lump in man s mortal part, 
 And in this lump of flesh doth beat the heart, 
 And in this heart the deathless spirit bides, 
 And in this spirit conscious mystery hides, 
 And in this mystery deep a light doth glow, 
 And in this light learn thou thy God to know. 
 
 THE SOUL AND GOD. 
 
 God and the soul are two birds free, 
 And dwell together in one tree : 
 This eateth various-flavored fruits 
 Of sense s thoughts and world s pursuits ; 
 That tasteth not, nor great nor small, 
 But silently beholdeth all. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 125 
 
 NATURE S TRADITIONAL LAMENT. 
 
 The sweet current of primeval love still flows 
 Throughout the veins of all creation ; else why mourn 
 The broken-hearted bulbuls for the perished rose, * 
 Or sigh the gales along the beds dried streams have 
 worn ? 
 
 REFLECTIONS OF DIVINITY. 
 
 Mirrors God maketh all atoms in space, 
 And fronteth each one with his perfect face. 
 
 THERE IS NO DANGER. 
 
 Need st thou to move 
 Thy skirts above 
 
 Thy knees, 
 In passing through 
 That flood of glue, 
 
 This world ? 
 Why I did eve h 
 Pass through the seven 
 
 Great seas, 
 And not a drop 
 My foot s bare top 
 
 Impearled. *-& 
 
 \ /* 
 
126 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 LOST AND FOUND. 
 
 Thou that wouldst find the Lost One, lose thyself! 
 Nothing but self thyself from Him divides. 
 Ask ye how I o erpassed the dreary gulf? 
 One step beyond myself, and naught besides. 
 
 THE BEGGAR S COURAGE : DSCHELLALEDDIN RUMT. 
 
 To heaven approached a Sufi saint, 
 From groping in the darkness late, 
 
 And, tapping timidly and faint, 
 Besought admission at God s gate. 
 
 Said God, "Who seeks to enter here?" 
 " T is I, dear Friend," the saint replied, 
 
 And trembled much with hope and fear. 
 " If it be thou, without abide." 
 
 Sadly to earth the poor saint turned, 
 To bear the scourgings of life s rods ; 
 
 But aye his heart within him yearned 
 To mix and lose its love in God s. 
 
 He roamed alone through weary years, 
 By cruel men still scorned and mocked, 
 
 Until, from faith s pure fires and tears, 
 Again he rose, and modest knocked. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 127 
 
 Asked God, " Who now is at the door ? " 
 
 " It is thyself, beloved Lord ! " 
 Answered the saint, in doubt no more, 
 
 But clasped and rapt in his reward. 
 
 THE VANITY OF RANK. 
 
 What matter will it be, O mortal man, when thou art 
 
 dying, 
 Whether upon a throne or on the bare earth thou art 
 
 lying? 
 
 THE ECSTATIC HOUR OF DEATH. 
 
 Ah, when, at last, in solitude I meet 
 The Friend Divine, whose love is safe for me, 
 O, I shall tread the worlds beneath my feet, 
 And upwards soar in endless ecstasy. 
 
 ALL IS SAFE. 
 
 Whatever road I take, it joins the street 
 Which leadeth all who walk it Thee to meet. 
 
 THE PILGRIM TO DEITY. 
 
 (Heedless, allured, one moment I forgot my goal : 
 
 A thousand years it stretched the journey of my soul. 
 
128 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE LUXURIOUS PROTECTION. 
 
 For faith in God s protecting love is to believing souls 
 Like a cool shade to one who in a blistering desert 
 strolls. 
 
 A RANK IN JOYS. 
 
 My heart ! abstain thou from the senses dear wine-bowl ; 
 Diviner joys thy God intends shall through thee roll. 
 
 THE VOLUPTUARY AND THE HERO. 
 
 Whoever clasps the smiling and soft-shining taper, 
 Will find it end in darkness and in noisome vapor. 
 With pleasure so ; but who strikes self-denial s flint, 
 May light his spirit s fires at the clean sparkle s glint. 
 
 A HIDDEN PERIL. 
 
 The thicket of lust never deem it safe to pass by : 
 The tiger of pain in it crouched doth probably lie. 
 
 A PLEASURE ABOVE PLEASURE. 
 
 Austerity s pleasure didst thou but know, 
 
 For pleasure s pleasure thou no more wouldst glow. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 129 
 
 THE BEATIFIC VISION. 
 
 The dazzling beauty of the Loved One shines unseen, 
 bid self s the curtain o er the road ; away, O screen ! 
 
 PRETENCE AND PERFORMANCE. 
 
 The whole deposit of the sea s eternal roar 
 
 s but a murmured fringe of froth that lines the shore. 
 
 THE FIRST TIME OR NEVER. 
 
 
 
 The Once makes 
 
 The thrift 
 Of the thriver; 
 The Twice breaks 
 
 The drift 
 Of the driver. 
 The Once flings 
 
 The stone 
 From the stumbler ; 
 The Twice brings 
 
 The groan 
 From the grumbler. 
 The Once turns 
 
 The thought 
 Of the thinker ; 
 
130 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 The Twice burns, 
 
 The drought 
 Of the drinker. 
 The Once lights 
 
 The search 
 Of the seeker; 
 The Twice slights 
 
 The lurch 
 Of the leaker. 
 The Once crowns 
 
 The choice 
 Of the chooser; 
 The Twice frowns, 
 
 The loss 
 Of the loser. 
 
 THE WORTHLESS ENRICHED. 
 
 The love of life would ne er my thoughts oppress, 
 Did not the life of love my heart possess. 
 
 THE SAFE COFFER. 
 
 Be diadem or helmet on thy head, 
 It must be arrow-pierced, and thou lie dead. 
 Then every man whose mind is wisdom stocked 
 Will strive to have his wealth in heaven locked. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 131 
 
 THE PREFIGURING BLAST. 
 
 The fear of hell my soul could never know, 
 Till sin had made its fires within me glow. 
 
 SYMPATHY S TENDERNESS. 
 
 If in my body chance to break a thorn, 
 I care not for the trifling pain ; 
 But for the hapless twig I mourn, 
 Which never can be whole again. 
 
 THE SOUL S TRIUMPH OVER NATURE. 
 
 Pure spirit is the wine of God s will ; 
 All matter is the scum of his cup : 
 So the former life s goblet shall fill, 
 When the latter is all drunken up. 
 
 WORTH OF WISDOM. 
 
 Vishnu asked Bal to take his choice, 
 With five wise men to visit hell, 
 Or with five ignorant visit heaven. 
 Then quick did Bal in heart rejoice, 
 And chose in hell with the wise to dwell ; 
 For heaven is hell, with folly s bell ; 
 And hell is heaven, with wisdom s leaven. 
 
132 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE SECRET OF PIETY. 
 
 A pining sceptic towards a raptured saint inclined, 
 And asked him how the Boundless Lover, God, to find. 
 A smile divine across the saint s pale features stole, 
 As thus in wise and pitying love he poured his soul : 
 " Ah, hapless wanderer ! long from life s true bliss shu 
 
 out, 
 
 In night of sin forlorn and wilderness of doubt, 
 Prepared am I with thy sad lot to sympathize, 
 For o er my own dim tracks thy dark experience lies. 
 Now list and ponder deep, the secret while I tell 
 Of all the lore with which angelic bosoms swell. 
 Whoso would careless tread one worm that crawls the 
 
 sod, 
 
 That cruel man is darkly alienate from God"; 
 But he that lives, embracing all that is, in love, 
 To dwell with him God bursts all bounds, below, above." 
 
 RECONCILIATION. 
 
 To bring God back when he my selfhood s sin forsook, 
 One little step beyond myself was all it took. 
 
 JOB S CAT. 
 
 In the widow s house 
 There is no fat mouse. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 133 
 
 LIFE S OFFER. 
 
 Our life sells pearls ; 
 And, if we ask it, 
 
 Her wheel, with whirls, 
 A golden basket 
 Full of them hurls 
 Into our casket : 
 But for those churls 
 Who will not ask it, 
 The fire-pain curls 
 Where hell must mask it ; 
 And in that world s 
 Woe lies their task yet. 
 
 EVERY ILL ALLEVIATED. 
 
 Unmitigated evil is as rare 
 
 As wings upon a cat, or flowers of air, 
 
 As rabbits horns, or ropes of tortoise-hair. 
 
 THE FINITE CONTAINS THE INFINITE. 
 
 On those who love the loving God, 
 He does himself complete bestow : 
 With no division and no waste, 
 He fills each heart with all the heaven : 
 
134 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 So when men s eyes from earth s low sod 
 Behold the moon s transcendent glow, 
 Its image, calm and undefaced, 
 To each in full perfection s given. 
 
 THE TRUE GOD. 
 
 A million beats of Man s united heart 
 Are fainter than one throb of Ocean s pulse, 
 Which thrills her awful veins in every part, 
 And throws up waifs of shells and crimson dulse. 
 
 A million tides of Ocean s weltering breast 
 Are weaker than one glance that lights the Sun, 
 When in the bannered east he breaks his rest, 
 His race gigantic round the sky to run. 
 
 A million journeys of the Sun s swift foot 
 Are smaller than one limit of the space 
 Through which the Tree of Life from Being s root 
 Upsprings, powdered with stars, in heaven s face. 
 
 A million Trees of Life, with all their loads, 
 
 But poorly God s profound domain reveal : 
 
 The crowds of worlds that throng heaven s thickest 
 
 roads 
 Are letters of a Word his lips unseal. . 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 135 
 
 A million Words, with universes rife, 
 His all-creative might can nowise drain : 
 When closing order bounds chaotic strife, 
 His Fulness as before doth still remain. 
 
 That Fulness such, in truth s stupendous force, 
 That to His thought serene and tender gaze 
 The frailest insect, warbling through its course, 
 Is just as near as seraph in his blaze. 
 
 Yea, though all worlds of space would be, combined, 
 
 Too small to fit His finger to a ring ; 
 
 Yet is He not to humblest creatures blind, 
 
 But daily spreads their board, and hears them sing. 
 
 Each tear forlorn that trickles down man s cheeks, 
 
 He marks, and pities every aching sigh ; 
 
 To give them compensation ever seeks ; 
 
 Their life-woes shares ; and takes them when they die. 
 
 And in His home, though paeans swept the halls, 
 And glory domed the universal height, 
 If over one poor soul hell spread its palls, 
 There would be night, and wailing in the night. 
 
 THE DIVINE JUDGMENT. 
 
 God asks, not " To what sect did he belong ? " 
 But " Did he do the right, or love the wrong ? " 
 
136 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 
 
 Millions of men the Koran and the Purans read, 
 And so the Bible read as many millions more ; 
 But all this reading not a single soul can lead 
 To full salvation when all outward things are o er. 
 To be upright and kind when thy poor brothers bleed, 
 Will aid thy soul beyond all power of formal lore. 
 
 THE UNWALLED HOUSE OF GOD. 
 
 The holy Nanac on the ground, one day, 
 
 Reclining, with his feet towards Mecca, lay. 
 
 A passing Moslem priest, offended, saw, 
 
 And, flaming for the honor of his law, 
 
 Exclaimed, " Base infidel, thy prayers repeat ! 
 
 Towards Allah s house how dar st thou turn thy feet ? 
 
 Before the Moslem s shallow accents died, 
 
 The pious but indignant Nanac cried, 
 
 " And turn them, if thou canst, towards any spot 
 
 Wherein the awful House of God is not" 
 
 THE PARTAKER AS BAD AS THE THIEF. 
 
 The sin the same, whether one kills a fish, 
 Or whether he devours it from the dish. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 137 
 
 LIGHT-HOUSE OF IMMORTALITY. 
 FROM THE AKHLAK-IJALALY. 
 
 While selfish hatred s storm-flood roars, 
 Love, like a beacon s friendly ray, 
 Bright-shining on man s fleshly shores, 
 Illumes, and yet consumes, his clay. 
 Mysterious slave to mortal earth, 
 Despotic foe to earthly leaven, 
 Ifr melts the dross from out the worth, 
 And purifies the soul for heaven. 
 
 THE PURSUERS PURSUING THEMSELVES. 
 
 A band of princes, thirty-two, 
 Pursuing once a rebel thief, 
 Of wise Gautama came in view, 
 And thus addressed they him in brief: 
 
 " Hast thou a robber seen pass by ? 
 We are in earnest search for him." 
 Gautama straightway made reply, 
 While light broke o er their spirits dim : 
 
 " ^Vhich is for you the better part, 
 For hun, or for yourselves, to seek ? " 
 The warning question pierced each heart : 
 They turned them back, thoughtful and meek. 
 
138 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE BUDDHIST S SONG : GAUTAMA. 
 
 A pilgrim through eternity, 
 
 In countless births have I been born, 
 
 And toiled the Architect to see 
 
 Who builds my soul s live house in scorn. 
 
 O painful is the road of birth ! 
 By which, from house to house made o er, 
 Each house displays the kind and worth * 
 Of the desires I loved before. 
 
 Dread Architect ! I now have seen 
 Thy face, and seized thy precept s law ; 
 Of all the houses which have been, 
 Not one again my soul can draw. 
 
 Thy rafters crushed, thy ridge-pole too, 
 Thy work, O Builder ! now is o er ; 
 My spirit feels Nirwana true, 
 And I shall transmigrate no more. 
 
 THE GENUINE CATHOLIC CHURCH. 
 
 He only is a true Hindu whose heart is just, 
 And he a good Mohammedan whose life is pure : 
 Seek right and purity the faithful Christian must, 
 And this of heaven will make the honest Pagan sure. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 139 
 
 CONVERSION OF A KING. 
 
 Wijeeta was the richest king on earth ; 
 Yet knew his heart of joy and peace a dearth. 
 Buddha approached him once, in thoughtful mood, 
 And said to him : " Thine ancesters so good, 
 Why did they not their treasure with them take, 
 When forced of life s bright feast an end to make ? 
 All ! was it not because no man can bear, 
 In death, aught but his naked merits there ? " 
 The king, appalled, sank back upon his couch ; 
 Fierce fears throughout his soul, began to crouch ; 
 His wealth, for Buddha s sake, he gave away, 
 
 And a recluse became that very day. 
 
 
 
 POWER OF A TRUE OR FALSE FAITH. 
 
 When man in error gropes, 
 Night under night still opes : 
 Goodness is horror then, 
 And demons dwell in men. 
 But when he tliinks aright, 
 A fount of dazzling h ght 
 From evil s darkness bursts, 
 To satiate his thirsts. 
 A faith of truth and love 
 Melts hell in heaven above ; 
 
140 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 A faith of lies, hate, woe, 
 Sinks heaven in hell below. 
 Whoever thinks with God 
 Doth grasp fate s mighty rod. 
 
 THE LOVER S OFFER. 
 
 Were mine the wealth of Croesus old ; 
 Had I as many diamonds bright 
 As leaves that shake in summer s light, 
 Or sands o er which the deep hath rolled ; 
 
 Had I as many purest pearls 
 
 As grass-blades hang upon the lea, 
 
 Or ripples dance along the sea 
 
 WTien o er its breast the zephyr curls ; 
 
 Had I a palace, crystal built, 
 
 And filled as full of golden bars 
 
 As yonder heaven is filled with stars 
 
 When evening fair the skies hath gilt ; 
 
 Like lordly knights and kingly earls 
 With orders were I titled o er 
 As thick as waves that kiss the shore 
 When Wind his banner broad unfurls ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 141 
 
 I swear by yon bright worlds above, 
 I d give them all this blessed night 
 To meet beneath this fair moonlight, 
 And clasp thee hi my arms, my Love ! 
 
 INEVITABLE PUNISHMENT. 
 
 All vice to which man yields in greed to do it, 
 Or soon or late, be sure, he 11 sorely rue it 
 Experience deep, howe er false seemings blind him, 
 Surcharged with retribution, out will find him. 
 It locks upon his soul a fatal fetter, 
 Explodes throughout his face hi horrid tetter, 
 Over his shameless eyeballs brings a blurring, 
 Keeps in his heart a deadly fear-load stirring, 
 At all pure joys with fiendish talon snatches, 
 The noblest traits from out his being catches, 
 Each beam and hope and vision darkens, 
 His conscience stuns whene er towards heaven he heark 
 ens, 
 
 On goading thorns his sleepless longings tosses, 
 With salt remorse-foam pleasure s waves embosses, 
 Sometimes from phantom-fears impels him flying, 
 Sometimes in frantic horrors shrouds his dying, 
 Now turns his dearest friends to cease to love him, 
 Now spreads avenging Siva s frowns above him, 
 Makes this world black with prison-walls and gibbets, 
 And, hi the next, escape from hell prohibits. 
 
142 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 The whole creation s strange and endless dealing, 
 In spite of shields and veils and arts concealing, 
 Proclaims, that whosoe er is long a sinner 
 Can only be by it of woe a winner. 
 
 THE BUTTERFLY S REVENGE. 
 
 An ugly caterpillar once uplooking 
 To a humming-bird, in gorgeous colors gleaming, 
 Thus said to him, her furry throat upcrooking : 
 " Despise me not, though painful now my seeming 
 In shape and guise and movement of each feature, 
 And thou art such a bright, celestial creature." 
 
 The rainbow birdling scorned to make replying, 
 And gave the wretched insect s love its dooming. 
 In grief and birth the poor grub writhed as dying, 
 And soon a butterfly, in splendors blooming, 
 Uprose from out the slough the proud one hated, 
 In dazzling hues, with wings of wonder mated. 
 
 The humming-bird, unconscious of this changing, 
 Above a bush of roses red was hovering, 
 When lo ! appeared our gay one in her ranging. 
 The hummer, smit with love, himself recovering, 
 Began to sigh a sweet and melting ditty, 
 And pleaded first for love, and then for pity. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 143 
 
 The butterfly said : " Vain thy suit and urging ; 
 
 For I remember well, though thou forgettest, 
 
 That when from lowliness I was emerging, 
 
 Thou spurnedst her on whom now thy heart thou 
 
 settest. 
 
 By thee, when low and homely, I was scorned ; 
 Now thee I scorn, with magic charms adorned." 
 
 THE BITTER CUP SWEET. 
 
 My God once mixed a harsh cup, for me to drink from it, 
 
 And it was full of acrid bitterness intensest ; 
 
 The black and nauseating draught did make me shrink 
 
 from it, 
 
 And cry, " O Thou who every draught alike dispensest, 
 This cup of anguish sore, bid me not to quaff of it, 
 Or pour away the dregs and the deadliest half of it ! " 
 But still the cup He held ; and seeing He ordained it, 
 One glance at Him, it turned to sweetness as I 
 
 drained it. 
 
 WHY SLEEP RESTORES. 
 
 When we are wearied out with toil, 
 And bruised with pains of earth s turmoil, 
 If for a time of slumber deep 
 We lose ourselves in dreams and sleep, 
 
144 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 We rise, from strength s exhaustless hoard 
 Enriched and thoroughly restored, 
 When, but a little while before, 
 We were so feeble, drained, and poor. 
 Thinker and saint, man good and wise, 
 Canst tell me whence this doth arise ? 
 Dear friend, I verily can tell 
 The cause, and explicate it well. 
 With grief and blows when worn and torn, 
 If sleep we may, we wake at morn 
 Refreshed in every nerve and thought, 
 Because this marvel hath been wrought : 
 The instant that asleep we fall, 
 The soul escapes its fleshly pall, 
 And is absorbed in heaven from this, 
 To lave with love and bathe in bliss 
 Its stiffened limbs and flagging powers 
 Through all the nightly slumberous hours ; 
 And when returning morn arrives, 
 It fresh from God s embrace revives. 
 
 THE PRIMEVAL CUP OF GUILT, 
 OR A SUFI POLEMIC AGAINST CALVIN. 
 
 A mystic cup was mixed of Adam s guilt, 
 And o er the world and through the ages spilt. 
 
ORIKNTAL POETRY. 145 
 
 It every brightness with a darkness tinged, 
 
 The earth from out its orbit it unhinged, 
 
 It burst discordant through volcanic vents, 
 
 It wrenched all nature s breast in earthquake rents, 
 
 It woke in wasp and brute all hatred s brood, 
 
 It stirred in each fierce breast the thirst for blood ; 
 
 And when in course terrific it had run 
 
 Through every lower grade beneath the sun, 
 
 Its drops on human generations dripped, 
 
 And all their worth and virtue from them stripped. 
 
 Out from that cup the direful stream still flows 
 
 Of poison, blackness, blasting fire, and woes, 
 
 O erspreads creation with a pall of gloom, 
 
 And rises slowly towards the brim of doom. 
 
 Some sprinkling from that cup has spotted all, 
 
 And plunged them in a hopeless common fall, 
 
 Condemned past hope to writhe in tortures fell, 
 
 Which ne er can cleanse the destined hosts of helL 
 
 One little sin that mystic cup did fill, 
 
 And yet it poureth on, and poureth still 
 
 The tainting horrors of all pain and ill ; 
 
 Nor will its dreadful pouring stop at last 
 
 Until the final flame the world shall blast, 
 
 And the everlasting sentence hath been passed. 
 
 When man s poor race exists on earth no more, 
 
 The frightful flood shall cease its issuing roar. 
 
 But then the boundless dregs of that small cup 
 
146 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 In horrid hell shall all be gathered up, 
 To seethe and howl in endless anguish dire, 
 The food of deathless worm and quenchless fire, 
 Whose wails and dashing waves eternal din 
 Proclaim in glee the victory of sin. 
 
 that I the God of heaven had been ! 
 Instead of letting evil triumph then, 
 When foul temptation s false and fatal tricks 
 The man beguiled the cup of guilt to mix, 
 
 1 would have snatched the enchanted goblet up, 
 Have snatched the mystic draught of that strange cu 
 From ignorant Adam s trembling hand and lip 
 Before he could have drawn a single sip, 
 
 And dashed the sea of fire it latent held 
 Down Satan s throat, the while he baffled yelled ! 
 In glory thus I would have crushed the plot 
 Which now with failure doth creation blot. 
 For Satan s proud success is blazed abroad, 
 When evil thwarts the primal plan of God, 
 To make a world of fairy mount and glen, 
 Possessed for aye by pure and happy men. 
 
 DALLIANCE OF SEA AND WIND. 
 
 The Sea in gladness heaves her yielding form, 
 To meet her boisterous paramour, the Storm. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 147 
 
 FIFTEEN FRAGMENTS FROM HAFI2. 
 
 Sweet Hafiz is not dead, although his body turned 
 
 To dust in Eastern Shiraz centuries ago. 
 
 lie lives and strikes the lyre which in his hand then 
 
 burned : 
 This day his thoughts through Western nations sound 
 
 and glow. 
 
 I. THE DRUNKEN SAINT S JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Know you the true reason and cause why it is that I 
 
 drink? 
 From pride and from folly I strutted and swelled 
 
 through the town : 
 And now those detestable vices, from which the saints 
 
 shrink, 
 I will in the depths of the ocean of drunkenness drown ? 
 
 II. THE INFRANGIBLE TIE. 
 
 A little Samson is my heart, 
 Who breaks his chains with ease apart ; 
 And at each futile fetter mocks, 
 Except the band of Leila s locks ! 
 
 III. THE BLINDING REVELATION. 
 
 Wouldst thou show us eternal life through dazzling rift ; 
 Then bid the east- wind from thy face that thin veil lift. 
 
148 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 IV. DULLARD AND GENIUS. 
 
 Did Understanding know how hearts are blest 
 When fettered in the locks of loved one s hair, 
 The poor devil a moment would not rest 
 Till he had lost his understanding there ! 
 
 v. THE REVELLER S vow. 
 
 Glass upon glass I will clink ; 
 Kiss after kiss I will spend ; 
 Draught upon draught I will drink ; 
 And I will love without end ! 
 
 VI. THE PRECIOUS FUGITIVE CAUGHT. 
 
 She shyly lifts her eye s blue windowlet ; 
 Her heart flies out into my bosom s net. 
 
 VII. THE MONASTERY AND THE INN. 
 
 Never did the gloomy convent win 
 Any joy or use for rich or poor. 
 Therefore let us throng the tavern door, 
 Crying, " Generous host, O let us in ! " 
 
 VIII. THE CHEERFUL WORLD-INN. 
 
 With his morose advice the Dervish gaunt 
 Would make my heart so empty and so sad, 
 That, were it not for the old inn I haunt, 
 Full long ago my life I ended had ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 149 
 
 IX. THE EARTH A BITTER CUP. 
 
 The world is bitter as the juice from aloes beaten ; 
 Yet know I lips which all its bitterness can sweeten ! 
 
 X. THE GREATER SINNER THE BETTER SAINT. 
 
 Dervish ! does your galling envy make it hurt you, 
 When you think that Hafiz sins the prize of virtue 
 Win ? But he that sins h ke him, O formal weeper ! 
 In God s mercy-ocean only sinks the deeper. 
 
 XI. THE SWEETEST MOUTH. 
 
 Let no bard, from the North to the South, 
 My Zuleika compare with a bud ; 
 Because ne er such a dainty sweet mouth 
 Had a bud, since subsided the flood ! 
 
 XII. A FRESH MIRACLE. 
 
 Pupil, genuine wisdom learn. 
 Yonder, see that bush of roses : 
 How before thee it doth burn, 
 Like the burning bush of Moses ! 
 Hearken, and thou now shalt hear, 
 If thy soul s not deaf nor flighty, 
 How from out it, soft and clear, 
 Speaks to thee the Lord Almighty ! 
 
150 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 XIII. HEAVEN AN ECHO OP EARTH. 
 
 T is but a shadow of the earth s familiar bliss, 
 Bright mirrored on the sky s ethereal fonts, 
 That fills our breasts with longings nothing can dismiss. 
 In tremulous and glimmering response. 
 
 XIV. THE DOUBLE RUBY. 
 
 A double ruby is my fascinating ruin ; 
 
 Long time ago their fatal charm my bosom flew in. 
 
 Whate er resisting reason says, quite vanquished mine 
 
 is: 
 One ruby is thy luring mouth, the other wine is. 
 
 XV. IT WAS BRED IN THE BONE. 
 
 My drunkenness is not a fault of mine ; 
 For drunken came I from the hand Divine, 
 Which kneaded up my nascent clay with wine. 
 Therefore, when, dry and hard, I fainting pine, 
 No moisture suits me like the yeasty vine ! 
 
 A ZOROASTRIAN MYTH. R. 
 
 Stir in thy breast, O son ! Devotion s fire about, 
 And leave no room therein for all-pernicious Doubt. 
 
 By Doubt alone was evil on the world impelled ; 
 And goodness by Devotion only is upheld. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 151 
 
 The Parsee myth this truth as follows has made known. 
 Ere earth and heaven were, was Zeruan alone. 
 
 A thousand years, in full Devotion sunk, he sought 
 To get a son by whom the world should then be 
 wrought. 
 
 The thousand years of pure Devotion now he ends : 
 Upon the instant, in his mind fell Doubt ascends. 
 
 He doubting says, " Shall I Devotion s just return 
 Obtain, or for a son for ever vainly yearn ? " 
 
 At once the womb of Power that thought s creative 
 
 sperm 
 Invades, and makes it pregnant with a double germ, 
 
 Ormuzd and Ahriman ; Devotion s dazzling child, 
 And Doubt s demoniac son, false, filthy, black, and wild. 
 
 The moment they were born, creation they began : 
 Ormuzd all good things made ; all evil, Ahriman. 
 
 While that one wrought, Devotion s fire supplying 
 
 played : 
 Doubt gave the stuff of which the other each thing 
 
 made. 
 
152 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 While Ahriman his poisonous plans in matter wrote, 
 Ormuzd still fanned Devotion s fire as antidote. 
 
 In opposition still these two the world create, 
 
 And bad are those who love the one that good men hate. 
 
 Hold thou by pure Ormuzd, Devotion s fire to feel ; 
 And let no cause of Doubt prevail to quench thy zeal. 
 
 When Doubt has in Devotion s flame expiring gleamed, 
 Then thou art wholly good, and hast the world redeemed. 
 
 ONLY CIRCLES ARE ENDLESS. 
 
 All immortalities are circular in form : 
 The transmigration of the soul is truth divine. 
 If endless linear progress were each being s norm, 
 The whole creation would at last become a line. 
 
 TRUE FRIENDSHIP: FROM DSCHAMY. 
 
 Sheik Schubli, taken sick, was borne one day 
 
 Unto the hospital. A host the way 
 
 Behind him thronged. " Who are you ? " Schubli cried. 
 
 " We are your friends," the multitude replied. 
 
 Sheik Schubli threw a stone at them : they fled. 
 
 " Come back, ye false pretenders ! " then he said ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 153 
 
 " A friend is one who, ranked among his foes 
 By him he loves, and stoned, and beat with blows, 
 Will still remain as friendly as before, 
 And to his friendship only add the more." 
 
 A THOUGHT FROM HASSAN BAR SABAH. 
 
 Life is a violent storm, in which thrust, 
 Man is at best but a handful of dust. 
 
 THE PROMOTION OF DISDAIN. 
 
 The Prophet said, as his disciples tell, 
 " Disdain is made the treasurer of hell. * 
 
 THE CALL TO EVENING PRAYER. 
 
 One silver crescent in the twilight sky is hanging, 
 Another tips the solemn dome of yonder mosque. 
 And now the Muezzin s call is heard, sonorous clanging 
 Through thronged bazaar, concealed hareem, and cool 
 
 kiosk: 
 " In the Prophet s name, God is God, and there is no 
 
 other." 
 
 On roofs, in streets, alone, or close beside his brother, 
 Each Moslem kneels, his forehead turned towards Mec 
 ca s shrine, 
 And all the world forgotten in one thought divine. 
 
154 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 SAADI ON ARBORICULTURE. 
 
 Though the water of life from the clouds fell in billows, 
 And the ground were strewn over with Paradise loam, 
 Yet in vain would you seek from a garden of willows 
 To collect any fruit as beneath them you roam. 
 
 EARTH AN ILLUSION. 
 
 From the mists of the Ocean of Truth in the skies, 
 A Mirage in deluding reflections doth rise. 
 There is naught but reality there to be seen ; 
 We have here but the lie of its vapory sheen. 
 
 Let us in silent adoration yearn 
 
 After the Godhead TRUE SUN evermore ; 
 
 "Who all illumines, who creates all o er, 
 
 From whom all come, to whom all must return, 
 
 Whom we invoke to guide our minds and feet 
 
 In our slow progress towards his holy seat. 
 
 THE BEGGAR S MIRROR. R. 
 
 A beggar of Shiraz once had a looking-glass 
 That by this magic power all others did surpass, 
 
ORIKNTAL POKTRY. 155 
 
 Which many dames would wish their mirrors too could 
 
 share, 
 To show an ugly face as if it were most fair ! 
 
 The beggar held this glass in front of every one 
 From whom he begged ; and copious guerdons thus he 
 won. 
 
 For each with gladness gave who saw himself so fair : 
 The gay young lord, the foul old hag, both looking 
 there. 
 
 At last the beggar, lying sick, gave to his son 
 
 The glass, and said, " Make use of it as I have done." 
 
 But with the glass at night all empty came he back : 
 For he had made a different use of it, alack ! 
 
 He held not up the glass before each passing wight, 
 But saw his own face there, and lingered on the sight. 
 
 The father said : " The foolish fruit of idle pride, 
 My son, no human heart has ever satisfied. 
 
 Who shows the world in Flattery s glass, is one shrewd 
 
 elf; 
 He is a fool who looks therein to see himself." 
 
156 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE DWARF AVATAR. 
 
 The wicked giant, Bali, had obtained 
 Supreme control from heaven down to hell ; 
 He all the humbler deities had chained ; 
 Like rain his cruelties unmeasured fell. 
 
 The highest gods in fear a session called, 
 And argued vengeful plans for many an hour: 
 From far below he upward looked, and bawled 
 An arrogant defiance to their power. 
 
 At length divinest Vishnu forward stepped, 
 While round the senate mighty plaudits ran, 
 And vowed himself his consort Lakshmi wept 
 The foe to disenthrone, and ransom man. 
 
 The heavenly synod praised him, though they feared 
 His failure through some one of million harms. 
 On earth, a puny man, he soon appeared, 
 And, as a beggar, asked of Bali alms. 
 
 " What wouldst thou have ? " the horrid despot said, 
 And gave the shrinking dwarf a scornful glance. 
 O fool ! premonished by no mystic dread, 
 And reading naught beneath that countenance ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 157 
 
 The little, timid mendicant replies, 
 " Give me so much of thy dominion s space 
 The boon is small, but will for me suffice 
 As I can only by tliree steppings pace." 
 
 The blinded Bali, mocking, gave assent, 
 And looked upon him with contemptuous eye. 
 Swift grew the dwarf through such immense extent, 
 That one step spanned the earth, one more, the sky ! 
 
 Then looking round, with haughty voice he said, 
 The third where shall I take ? O Bali, tell ! " 
 At Vishnu s feet the tyrant placed his head, 
 And instantaneously was thrust to hell. 
 
 THE MYSTIC S RAPTURE: FROM MAHMOUD. 
 
 Mine ego hid the sun, as would a mountain tall ; 
 One ray of light quick smote the mass to atoms small, 
 And through the mountain shape of dust full streamed 
 
 the light 
 
 Of thousand suns, all shining supersensually bright. 
 Within a drop of dew was chained, by magic guile, 
 The banished, vast Euphrates, as a poor exile. 
 The earth before me lay, a heap of dusky clods. 
 One draught this beggar drank of the pure wine of 
 
 God s, 
 
158 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 And grew a Shah. Each mote a Caucasus became. 
 The black veil rose from round each atom s core of 
 
 flame, 
 
 The welkin roof was rent, and DEITY I saw 
 Sole brooding o er a world of shoreless light and awe. 
 
 When once of old the demons churned the thickening 
 
 ocean, 
 
 To baffle the design the gods their wits employed. 
 There soon resulted, fruitage of the sickening motion, 
 A poisonous drug whose fumes all neighboring life de 
 stroyed. 
 
 But Brahma, joining Vishnu, sought with deep devotion 
 To turn from men the plot of that demonic crew : 
 To Siva spake they ; quick he gulped the infernal po 
 tion! 
 And that is what has made his fearful throat so blue. 
 
 A WINE-DRINKER S METAPHORS. 
 
 As the nightingale oft from a rose s dew sips, 
 So I wet with fresh wine my belanguishing lips. 
 
 As the soul of perfume through a flower s petals slips, 
 So pure wine passes through the rose-door of my lips. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 159 
 
 As to port from afar float the full-loaded ships, 
 So this wine-beaker drifts to the strand of my lips. 
 
 As the white-driven sea o er a cliffs edges drips, 
 So the red-tinted wine breaks in foam on my lips. 
 
 SUBJECTIVITY OF TIME AND SPACE. 
 
 Where is Space ? In the eye. Where is Time ? In 
 
 the ear. 
 Light bringeth .that one there, Sound bringeth this one 
 
 here. 
 
 Close eye and ear, and you are out of Space and Tune, 
 In contemplation^ rapture, prayer, and dream sublime. 
 You build the world according to your pleasure all : 
 It rests on Time and Space : through you these stand 
 
 and fall. 
 
 THE FRAGRANT PIECE OF EARTH: FROM SAADI. 
 
 A fragrant piece of earth salutes 
 Each passenger, and perfume shoots, 
 Unlike the common earth or sod, 
 Around through all the air abroad. 
 A pilgrim near it once did rest, 
 And took it up, and thus addressed: 
 " Art thou a lump of musk ? or art 
 A ball of spice, this smell t impart 
 
160 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 To all who chance to travel by 
 
 The spot where thou, like earth, dost lie ? 
 
 Humbly the clod replied : " I must 
 
 Confess that I am only dust. 
 
 But once a rose within me grew : 
 
 Its rootlets shot, its flowerets blew, 
 
 And all the rose s sweetness rolled 
 
 Throughout the texture of my mould ; 
 
 And so it is that I impart 
 
 Perfume to thee, whoe er thou art ! " 
 
 THE SPREADING SPECK! FKOM MOTANEBBI. 
 
 On every human soul there lies 
 
 A little dusky speck of sin, 
 
 As small as a mote s eye in size : 
 
 But when that speck doth once begin 
 
 To work, it swift and swift extends, 
 
 Till the whole soul it comprehends, 
 
 And all its powers overclouds 
 
 With condemnation s thunder-shrouds. 
 
 Then fierce and far the fear-fires flash, 
 
 And dire and dread the doom-bolts dash. 
 
 Thus doth the sin-speck spread, in sight, 
 
 O er all the soul a baleful night, 
 
 A blotting night of horror deep, 
 
 That knows no dawn and knows no sleep ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 161 
 
 A MORAL ATMOSPHERE. 
 
 It is as hard for one whom sinners still prevent 
 
 From prayer, to keep his virtue, yet with them to dwell, 
 
 As it would be for a lotus of sweetest scent 
 
 To blossom forth in beauty midst the flames of hell. 
 
 POWER BOUGHT BY PENANCE. R. 
 
 So great Havana s penances and rites austere 
 Were, that the gods, beholding them, were filled with 
 fear. 
 
 The worlds he had subdued, with all who in them dwell, 
 And was obeyed from Indra s heaven to Bali s hell. 
 
 Dread Brahma at his court rehearsed the Veda books ; 
 The Sun came down as overseer of his cooks. 
 
 To bear his goblets, Clouds did leave their realm of rain, 
 And the swift Wind was his obsequious chamberlain. 
 
 WINE SONG OF KAITMAS. 
 
 Fill up the goblet, and reach to me some ! 
 Drinking makes wise, but dry fasting makes glum. 
 
 What is thy breath but a quaffing of air ? 
 Smell is but drinking of fragrances rare. 
 
162 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 What is a kiss but a draught double quick ? 
 Drinking makes blessed, but fasting makes sick. 
 
 Seeing is only a drinking of light : 
 
 Drinketh the ear from all sounds, day and night. 
 
 Fill, then, the goblet, and reach to me some ! 
 Drinking makes wise, but dry fasting makes glum. 
 
 A TONE FROM HAFIZ* LYRE. 
 
 Now is the blossoming-time of the roses. 
 Maiden, bring wine ! never wait for the morrow. 
 Over us joyfully smiles the soft blueness ; 
 Quick let us, round the dark field of old sorrow, 
 Tread the bright path of to-day in its newness, 
 Plucking at once the fresh garlands of roses. 
 
 THE SELF-LADEN CARRIER. 
 
 In love there is no message interwrought : 
 It was itself which its own meaning brought. 
 
 THE REVEALING TRIAL. 
 
 Is there not a sure test the deep truth of each man to 
 
 divine, 
 When the cow may be brought to the banks of the brook 
 
 of red wine ? 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 163 
 
 THE ZEST OF THE PRIZE. 
 
 Against Life s firm and many-peopled land 
 While Passion s tide doth make the pebbles rattle, 
 With Glory s pearls it overstrews the strand, 
 And wakes afresh Ambition s mighty battle. 
 
 FOLLY FOR ONE*S SELF. H. 
 
 He who is only for his neighbors wise, 
 While his own soul in sad confusion lies, 
 Is like those men who builded Noah s ark, 
 But sank, themselves, beneath the waters dark. 
 
 THE PAUSE OF PRUDENCE. H. 
 
 Be not in haste the frail arrow to shoot, 
 For it can ne er be returned thee again : 
 When one has killed the good tree for its fruit, 
 He may lament it for ever in vain. 
 
 THE ROAD TO KNOWLEDGE. H. 
 
 How hast thou so profound a lore attained ? 
 To ask another, I was ne er ashamed ! 
 
 WISDOM FOR OTHERS. 
 
 Like a blind man, who bears a torch to light 
 The way for other men, but goes in night 
 
164 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Himself, is he who for his friends has sight, 
 But none his own dim steps to guide aright. 
 
 * 
 
 IDLE THOUGHT. H. 
 
 Wisdom without action is like a bee without honey, that 
 
 sings: 
 Ask his vain haughtiness why he thus idly roves about, 
 
 and stings ! 
 
 UNDISHEARTENED ASPIRATION. H. 
 
 From torch reversed the flame still streameth, rising 
 
 straight : 
 So struggleth up the brave man stricken down by fate. 
 
 THE TRAGIC CHANGE. 
 
 My hair was black, but white my life : 
 The colors in exchange are cast ! 
 The white upon my hair is rife, 
 The black upon my life has passed. 
 
 THE IMPOSSIBILITY. 
 
 When I have seen, though clad in gold or silk, 
 In peace and joy a wicked man or maid, 
 I then have drunk a bowl of pigeon s milk, 
 And ate the yellow eggs the oxen laid ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 165 
 
 THE PATRON. H. 
 
 When the tree with Opened fruit is loaded, 
 Towards the hungry all its rich boughs stoop ; 
 They who had a famine once foreboded 
 Only have to pluck them as they droop. 
 Likewise when the good man s clothed with power, 
 Gladly generous is he with his aid ; 
 All the needy gather from his dower, 
 And rejoice to rest them in his shade. 
 
 ALL IS EACH, AND EACH IS ALL. 
 
 The sullen mountain, and the bee that hums, 
 A flying joy, about its flowery base, 
 Each from the same immediate fountain comes, 
 And both compose one evanescent race. 
 
 Proud man, exulting in his strength and thought, 
 The torpid clod he treads beneath his way, 
 One parent Artist s skill alike hath wrought, 
 And they are brothers in their fate to-day. 
 
 There is no difference in the texture fine 
 That s woven through organic rock and grass, 
 And that which thrills man s heart in every line, 
 As o er its web God s weaving fingers pass. 
 
166 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 The timid flower that decks the fragrant field, 
 The daring star that tints the solemn dome, 
 From one propulsive force to being reeled ; 
 Both keep one law and have a single home. 
 
 The river and the leaf, the sun and shade, 
 
 The bird and stone, the shepherds and their flocks, 
 
 Are all of one primeval substance made, 
 
 A single key their common secret locks. 
 
 Each atom holds the boundless God concrete 
 Besides whose abstract Being nothing is ; 
 Each mind, each point of dust, is God complete ; 
 Who knows but this, the magic key is his ! 
 
 The curdling horrors, doubts, of fear and woe 
 Dissolve and flee before his solving gaze ; 
 Absorbing light sets death s abyss aglow, 
 Fills evil s night an all-explaining blaze. 
 
 Between heaven s bright domains and blackest hell s 
 The separating limits swiftly fall ; 
 A dazzling flood of glory streams, and swells, 
 And interfuses absolutely all. 
 
 RETIREMENT FROM GOSSIP. 
 
 Absorbing thought to worldly company is rude, 
 And every mighty passion courteth solitude. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 167 
 
 SCHERIF ETH-TIIALIK S WINE-ORB. 
 
 The sun of wine sank in thy mouth, where still its glory 
 
 reeks, 
 And left the flushes of its evening-red upon thy 
 
 cheeks. 
 
 TO DIE IS GAIN. 
 
 We then shall see no more, before the veil all dimly 
 
 blurred, 
 But for imagined shall have grasped, embraced for only 
 
 heard. 
 
 THE SOBER DRUNKENNESS. 
 
 Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation 
 Which rises from the cup of mad impiety ; 
 And go, get drunk with that divine intoxication 
 Which is more sober far than all sobriety. 
 
 THE CREATION OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Creative thought and passion in a cup 
 
 The meditating Brahm once hurled ; 
 
 And when the seething foam had all dried up, 
 
 The sediment was this bright world. 
 
168 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 NINE FRAGMENTS FROM THE PREM SkGAR. 
 
 How pitying Vishnu came from heaven, and as a 
 
 peasant-boy, 
 At Braj, by pranks filled all the cowherd lads and girls 
 
 with joy, 
 The wondrous things he said and did while mortal men 
 
 among, 
 All this has saintly Shukadev in the Prem Sagar sung. 
 
 I. THE MASKED DEITY BETRAYED. 
 
 Before his parents hut at play, 
 
 The little Krishna Chand one day 
 
 Swallowed some dirt. With eager speed 
 
 His brothers ran and told the deed. 
 
 Seizing a switch, his mother rushed 
 
 To punish him. He shrank, and blushed, 
 
 But firmly did the charge deny. 
 
 She said, " Krishna, tell not a lie ; 
 
 Open your mouth, and let me see ! " 
 
 His mouth he opened instantly. 
 
 She looked, and there the THREE WORLDS saw. 
 
 Prostrate she fell in deepest awe, 
 
 And cried, " Thee I no longer call 
 
 My son, but own as Lord of all." 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 169 
 
 II. THE PERILOUS BOON. 
 
 Bikasur had of penances fulfilled his task, 
 
 And promise won of any boon that he might ask. 
 
 " Grant, Siva, that on whom I place my hand, 
 
 He may become a heap of ashes on the land." 
 
 The boon is granted. Lo ! at once Bikasur strives 
 
 To place his hand on Siva s head, whom terror drives 
 
 To fly, as close the steps of his pursuer press. 
 
 Then Hari, Nand s blue son, saw Siva s deep distress, 
 
 And went before Bikasur, and demanded why 
 
 He thus was chasing Siva round the earth and sky. 
 
 And then he said, when he the whole truth had 
 
 received, 
 
 " Bikasur ! by some goblin you have been deceived. 
 The mighty boon is all a cheat, a vanity : 
 Just put your hand upon your own head, and then see ! " 
 Bikasur, made by Maia s power both blind and drunk, 
 The test applied, and to a heap of ashes sunk ! 
 Rejoicing music floated from the heavenly bowers, 
 And all the gods applauded loud, and rained down 
 
 flowers. 
 
 III. FOREORDAINED MEANS AND ENDS. 
 
 Whatever man s destiny may be, 
 His mind is changed accordingly : 
 "With it his heart in union blends, 
 And thus come God s appointed ends. 
 
170 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 iv. THE LIBERTINE S DOOM. 
 
 Whoe er the chastity of maid 
 Doth ruin while living on the earth, 
 He shall in Fate s black noose be laid, 
 And drop to hell from birth to birth. 
 
 v. KRISHNA S COWHERDESS WEEPING. 
 
 Her head in bitter woe to earth depended, 
 As she wildly tore her long curls ; 
 And from her eyes a stream of tears descended 
 Like a broken necklace of pearls. 
 
 vi. KING PARIKSHEET S PRAYER. 
 
 From this shoreless sea of cares, 
 From this world s illusions vain, 
 Where my heart each conflict shares, 
 And I groan in being s chain, 
 Vishnu ! kindest god of all, 
 Where the timeless aeons roll, 
 Hear me, while to thee I call, 
 And emancipate my soul. 
 
 vn. AKRUR S PRATER. 
 
 O Krishna Chand ! from whom all objects rise, 
 Belong they to the darkness or the light, 
 The opening and the closing of thine eyes 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. *l71 
 
 Are the immediate cause of day and night. 
 
 Thou art the gloom that broods, the fire that burns ; 
 
 My thoughts I fix upon thy footprints now ; 
 
 To thee my heart through all things ceaseless yearns : 
 
 Most gracious Lord ! protect me ever thou. 
 
 VIII. PATERNAL AUTHORITY. 
 
 When King Jajati had waxed old, 
 He asked each son, Shayone, Yalage, 
 " Give me thy youth of joy untold, 
 And take instead my mournful age ! " 
 Yalage replied, " Not I in truth ! " 
 Then King Jajati cursed him sore. 
 But quick the younger said, " My youth 
 Take thou, let me be old and hoar." 
 And King Jajati blessed Shayone, 
 And left to him the royal throne. 
 
 IX. THE LIFE-PRESERVER. 
 
 To those who on the world-stream drowning float, 
 The name of Krishna is a saving boat. 
 
 THE IDOLATER S PATH. 
 
 Unto an idol s shrine the luring roads that lead 
 Are made of sighs and tears which his poor votaries 
 bleed. 
 
172 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE SUN AND THE POET*S EYE. R. 
 
 Art thou, Sun ! a fount from which all splendor 
 
 rushes, 
 A fount from which the life of the creation gushes ? 
 
 Art thou a golden shield, on heaven s blue peak uphung, 
 Whose radiance, fresh and unobscured, abroad is flung ? 
 
 Art thou a hero stout, thy beams the shafts he shoots ? 
 Where is the quiver which to hold such weapons suits ? 
 
 Art thou an eye whose piercing glance all space sur 
 veys, 
 Which grows not dim, but is refreshed by its own gaze ? 
 
 Thou art an eye, O Sun ! an eye like this of mine, 
 Excepting that no bound includes the scope of thine. 
 
 Thou mak st the earth turn round as on its course it 
 
 rides : 
 Such is thy love thou wilt behold it on all sides. 
 
 My little eye, to thine immense one when opposed, 
 At once begins to blink, is conquered soon and closed. 
 
 Let all who now look up to trace thy path of flame, 
 When I am dead turn one kind glance upon my name ! 
 

 ORIENTAL POETRY. 173 
 
 Thus will Foureed, though soon must darken his fond 
 
 eyes, 
 An endless fame write on the eyeball of the skies. 
 
 LESSON OF SUBMISSION: FROM SAADI. 
 
 A pilgrim, bound to Mecca, quite away his sandals 
 
 wore, 
 And on the desert s blistering sand his feet grew very 
 
 sore. 
 
 " To let me suffer thus, great Allah is not kind nor just, 
 While in his service I confront the painful heat and 
 
 dust," 
 He murmured hi complaining tone ; and in this temper 
 
 came 
 To where, around the Caaba, pilgrims knelt of every 
 
 name: 
 And there he saw, while pity and remorse his bosom 
 
 beat, 
 A pilgrim who not only wanted shoes, but also feet. 
 
 THE TWO WORLD-SCRIBES. 
 
 Earth is a parchment whose back 
 Fate s double pencils thus write : 
 Life writeth white upon black, 
 Death writeth black upon white. 
 
174 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE TRUTH OF THEISM. 
 
 Over space the clear banner of MIND is unfurled, 
 And the habits of God are the laws of the world. 
 
 SAADI MORALIZES NATURE. 
 
 The wind that howls around the world s inclement camp 
 Cares not that it extinguishes the widow s lamp. 
 
 THE TWIN ANGELS OF GOD. 
 
 Once, arm in arm, the angels Love and Pity 
 Were flying forth across the heavenly cope ; 
 When, as they left God s vast and blissful city, 
 They saw where hell s tormented captives grope. 
 A sympathizing tear fell down in sorrow, 
 A gentle smile upon the darkness fell. 
 That smile spread on as dawning hope s to-morrow, 
 That tear extinguished all the fire of hell. 
 Then rose the deep abyss, while god descended, 
 And turned to angels fair the demon race. 
 Such force amazing Pity s tear attended 
 Along with light from Love s celestial face. 
 
 VICE NEUTRALIZING VIRTUE. 
 
 He that a vice from year to year inherits, 
 Wieldeth an axe against his tree of merits. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 175 
 
 SELF-EXCULPATION. 
 
 Regard no vice as small, that thou mayst brook it : 
 No virtue small, that thou mayst overlook it. 
 
 THE INTOLERABLE SPLENDOR. 
 
 So long the light of God burns clear and bright 
 As our eyes bear it ; then it fades from sight. 
 
 THE BUDDHA S VICTORY. 
 
 The eyes of Wassy wart were blots of blood, 
 His awful sword could cleave the world asunder ; 
 And, like the vastest mountain, there he stood, 
 His hoarsened voice outroaring all the thunder. 
 In fiercest rage he dared the Buddha mild 
 To fight him then, with any arms he chose. 
 To gaze upon his bulk and gestures wild, 
 The gods came forth, and all the planets rose. 
 To be a shield before his broadening breast, 
 He wrenched the sun from out the socket-sky, 
 And fearfully the Buddha mild addressed, 
 " Behold the arm by which thou now shalt die." 
 The unarmed Buddha mildly gazed at him, 
 And said, in peace, " Poor fiend, even thee I love." 
 Before great Wassywart the world grew dim ; 
 His bulk enormous faded to a dove, 
 
176 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 That hovered where the hating monster loomed, 
 
 And filled with softest notes the space 
 
 Through which his rage s thund rous accents boomed. 
 
 Celestial beauty sat on Buddha s face, 
 
 While sweetly sang the metamorphosed dove, 
 
 " Swords, rocks, lies, fiends, must yield to moveless love 
 
 And nothing can withstand the Buddha s grace." 
 
 THE LAST REMEDY. 
 
 The fool, to hide his folly, one well-planned 
 Prevention has : it is in his own hand ! 
 Where wise men talk, or when they walk or sup, 
 Can he not keep his foolish mouth shut up ? 
 
 THE FISHERMAN, LOVE. 
 
 Young Love as a fisherman spreadeth his nets, 
 And woman s sweet lips are the bait that he sets : 
 All eagerly bite, the men-fish that swim by, 
 And then in the flames of desire they must fry. 
 
 SOCIETY MORE THAN PLACE. 
 
 Better where awful mountains rise 
 With raging tigers dwell, 
 Than share the halls of Paradise 
 With men who merit Hell. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 177 
 
 TOO LATE : FROM A HINDU POET. H. 
 
 Hearken, and roll not round so wild 
 Thine eyes decoying, lovely child ! 
 The joy of youth was long since o er, 
 And what we were, we are no more. 
 In the repentance-grove we Ve sat, 
 And known how vain was this and that : 
 And since that time we name, alas ! 
 The world a little blade of grass. 
 
 THE CONTRAST. 
 
 Like shadows in the early morn 
 Is friendship with a wicked man : 
 Part after part is from it shorn. 
 But with disinterested friends 
 It grows, like shadows in the eve, 
 Until the sun of life descends. 
 
 THE EAGLE. 
 
 Against the sky s blue floor his proud crest rubs, 
 The distant earth his spoiling talon wrings, 
 His eye is the lair of the lightning s cubs, 
 The beaten thunders growl beneath his wings ; 
 His vision spills the ocean as a drop, 
 And only at the world-walls doth he stop. 
 
178 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE BIRD-KING. 
 
 Dost thou the monarch eagle seek ? 
 Thou It find him in the tempest s maw, 
 Where thunders with tornados speak, 
 And forests fly as though of straw : 
 Or on some lightning-splintered peak, 
 Sceptred with desolation s law, 
 The shru bless mountain in his beak, 
 The barren desert in his claw. 
 
 THE VEILED FACE OF DAY. 
 
 Through the forehead of eve the Lord driveth yon sta 
 
 as a nail, 
 And the thick-spangled darkness lets down o er the daj 
 
 as a veil. 
 
 THE USE OF THE MOON. 
 
 The moon is a silver pin-head vast, 
 
 That holds the heaven s tent-hangings fast. 
 
 NOT FATE, BUT SKILL. 
 
 Diving and finding no pearls in the sea, 
 Blame not the ocean, the fault is in thee ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 179 
 
 THE TEAR AND THE LAMP. 
 
 Weeping, a tear put out my lamp, and night s 
 Deep darkness then encompassed me alone. 
 Ah tears ! how oft ye quench the feeble lights 
 That faith has in the halls of sorrow strewn ! 
 
 A GLIMPSE. 
 
 The sun and moon together in the evening sheen 
 Seeing, while painted clouds like mists of incense curled, 
 I said, surely such beauty has never been seen 
 Since first the veils covered the Harem of the World. 
 
 BROKEN HEARTS. 
 
 Win ii other things are broken, they are nothing worth, 
 
 Unless it be to some old Jew or some repairer ; 
 
 But hearts, the more they re bruised and broken here 
 
 on earth, 
 In heaven are so much the costlier and the fairer. 
 
 NOT DRESS, BUT NATURE. 
 
 If mean or costly dresses through this globe 
 Decide the rank in which men are enrolled, 
 Why, then we 11 clothe the wolf in satin robe, 
 The alligator in fine silk enfold ! 
 
180 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 BEAUTY S PREROGATIVE. 
 
 Thy beauty pales all sublunary things, 
 
 And man to vassalage eternal dooms : 
 
 The road before thee should be swept with brooms 
 
 Made of the eyelashes of peerless kings. 
 
 SENSIBILITY. 
 
 A tear doth not the eye unfeeling swell : 
 A precious pearl lies not in every shell ! 
 
 RAIN BEATING THE EARTH. 
 
 The clouds pour on the fields the pelting showers and 
 
 dew; 
 
 The earth heeds not the rain-drops pugilistic crew, 
 Until her bosom from their blows is green and blue. 
 
 THE RESTLESSNESS OF MIND. 
 
 Since the soul, exiled from its God, a haven has sought, 
 It has found no anchorage in the ocean of thought. 
 
 THE DIVINE ROSE-TREE. 
 
 God holds the heavenly rose-bush in his hand, 
 And starry roses on it thickly stand. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 181 
 
 SALVATION BY MERCY. 
 
 Once staggering, blind with folly, on the brink of hell, 
 Above the everlasting fire-flood s frightful roar, 
 God threw his heart before my feet, and, stumbling o er 
 That obstacle divine, I into heaven fell. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF GOD. 
 
 t 
 
 Though God extends beyond creation s rim, 
 Each smallest atom holds the whole of Him. 
 
 A CRINAL CONCEIT. 
 
 My hair is black, but mixed with white ; and Fancy 
 
 speaks, 
 Saying, Behold a host of Negroes mixed with Greeks ! 
 
 BESTIR THEE BETIMES. 
 
 Oh ! be thou zealous in thy youth ; 
 FiU every day with noble toils, 
 Fight for the victories of Truth, 
 And deck thee with her deathless spoils. 
 For those whose lives are in retreat, 
 Their valor and ambition flown, 
 In vain the larum drum is beat, 
 In vain the battle-trumpet blown ! 
 
182 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE MYSTIC PRAYER OF HAFIZ. 
 
 Quickly furnish me Solomon s ring ; 
 
 Alexander s weird glass be my meed ; 
 
 The philosopher s stone to me bring ; 
 
 Also give me the cup of Jemschid : 
 
 In one word, I but ask, host of mine, 
 
 That thou fetch me a draught of thy wine ! 
 
 Bring me wine ! I would wash this old cowl 
 
 From the stains which have made it so foul. 
 
 Bring me wine ! By my puissant arm 
 
 The thick net of deceit and of harm, 
 
 Which the priests have spread over the world, 
 
 Shall be rent and in laughter be hurled. 
 
 Bring me wine ! I the earth will subdue. 
 
 Bring me wine ! I the heaven will storm through. 
 
 Bring me wine, bring it quick, make no halt ! 
 
 To the throne of both worlds I will vault. 
 
 All is in the red streamlet divine. 
 
 Bring me wine ! O my host, bring me wine ! 
 
 THE MILD REBUKE. H. 
 
 A blind man, fallen in the night, 
 Cried for some one to bring a light. 
 A scoffer jeered from folly s camp : 
 " Thou canst not even see the lamp, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 183 
 
 Much less discern things by its beams ; 
 And so thy cry is vain, it seems." 
 The blind man straightway made reply : 
 " To you it seemeth vain, but I 
 Conclude that, if a torch were here, 
 Its blaze making the whole place clear, 
 The first good man that happened by 
 Would lead me where my way doth lie." 
 
 INEFFICIENT RESTRAINT. 
 
 The band of thy resolve is a fine hair ; 
 The wolf of thy desire would break a chain : 
 One day this ravening wolf that band will tear, 
 And then thy bitter cries will be in vain. 
 
 THE GREAT LEVEL. 
 
 It is a monitory truth, I ween, 
 That, turning up the ashes of the grave, 
 One can discern no difference between 
 The richest sultan and the poorest slave. 
 
 THE PALM OF DESTINY. 
 
 Fate is a Hand. It lays two fingers on the eyes, 
 Two on the ears, one on the mouth, and silent cries, 
 " Be ever still ! " Then down in endless sleep man lie;?. 
 
184 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE DISARMED TERROR. 
 
 After one completely draws 
 All the lion s teeth and claws, 
 Who would fear his helpless paws, 
 Or his boneless, mumbling jaws ? 
 
 HAFIZ ON HIS DEATH. 
 
 Think not I am unhappy when my coffin passes by, 
 And when you gaze upon my corse, sigh not, in tears, 
 
 Alas! 
 
 When you fall into sin, then indeed you Alas ! may cry. 
 And when my body sleeps in dust beneath the flowering 
 
 grass, 
 
 Talk not of separating absence, for the earth that covers 
 My clay will be but a veil hiding the secrets of lovers. 
 
 ENJOYMENT VERSUS IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 One said, " Better a single drop of pleasure, 
 Than to possess a hogshead full of wisdom. * 
 Such thought it fitteth a hog s head to treasure, 
 In filthy dregs of sense appointing his doom ; 
 But, sooth, one drop of wisdom is far better 
 Than pleasure in whole bottomless abysses : 
 For sense s fool must wear remorse s fetter 
 When duty s servant reigns where endless bliss is. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 185 
 
 THE TRIPLE MURDER. 
 
 These three men all at once to death the slander-poison 
 
 burns : 
 The one who speaks, the one who hears, the one whom 
 
 it concerns. 
 
 THE ROASTED HEN: AN ARAB TALE. R. 
 
 A man once sat with his good wife to eat 
 A hen, of which she was for him the roaster. 
 A beggar cried, " Some food I do entreat ! " 
 But drove him off the satiated boaster. 
 
 He thought not of the old proverbial verse, 
 " The full should call the empty to their table." 
 Soon through his house came hunger as a curse, 
 To get a single hen he was not able. 
 
 From direst poverty he left his wife, 
 
 And homeless roamed abroad without a brother ; 
 
 But she, in order to preserve her life, 
 
 In marriage gave herself unto another. 
 
 Again she with her husband sat to eat 
 
 A hen, which she for him had been a roasting. 
 
 A beggar cried, " I some of it entreat ! " 
 
 " Give him the hen ! " said he, too meek for boasting. 
 
186 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 As to the beggar with the food she came, 
 Behold ! t was he to whom she first was married. 
 She turned, in tears, with thoughts that have no name : 
 Her spouse in wonder asked why thus she tarried. 
 
 She told him then, in full and frank reply, 
 All since the first beggar away was driven. 
 He cried : " Ah God ! that first beggar was I, 
 Praised be the mercy of all-pitying Heaven ! 
 
 " There is a law which orders Fortune s play, 
 And moves the rich and poor upon its lever : 
 I begged of him who begs of me to-day, 
 May God have mercy on us both for ever ! " 
 
 THE SINGLE FRIEND. 
 
 Against that fool must all true thinkers laugh, 
 
 Who, counting o er his friends, thinks most of number. 
 
 It is as if who wants a single staff 
 
 Should with a bunch of reeds his hand encumber. 
 
 THE FAITHFUL FRIEND. 
 
 The true friend is not he who holds up Flattery s mirror, 
 In which the face to thy conceit most pleasing hovers ; 
 But he who kindly shows thee all thy vices, Sirrah ! 
 And helps thee mend them ere an enemy discovers. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 187 
 
 THE SULTAN S LESSON. 
 
 An aged Sultan placed before his throne one day 
 Three urns : one golden was, one amber, and one clay. 
 "\V~hen with his royal seal the slaves had sealed each urn, 
 He ordered his three sons to take their choice in turn. 
 
 Upon the golden vase the word Empire was writ ; 
 The haughty word resplendent groups of jewels stud. 
 The eldest grasped the golden urn, and opened it, 
 But shrank in horror back to find it filled with blood ! 
 
 The word Glory upon the amber vase shone bright ; 
 The luring word fresh wreaths of laurels cluster o er. 
 The second chose the amber urn, pathetic sight ! 
 T was filled with dust of men once famed, now known 
 no more. 
 
 No word inscribed upon its front the clay vase bore, 
 And yet for this the youngest prince his choice had 
 
 saved. 
 
 He oped the urn of clay his father s feet before, 
 And lo ! t was empty, but God s name was there en 
 graved. 
 
 The Sultan to the wondering throng of courtiers turned, 
 And asked them which of all those vases weighed the 
 most? 
 
 OF 
 
188 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Far different thoughts within their various bosoms 
 
 burned : 
 Into a threefold party broke the courtier host. 
 
 The warriors said, " The golden vase, symbol of power/* 
 The poets said, " The amber vase, emblem of fame." 
 The sages said, " The clayey vase, God s name its dower : 
 The globe is lighter than one letter of that name." 
 
 Then said the Sultan to his sons : " Remember well 
 The meaning of this scene, the lesson of this day. 
 When your lives dust is balanced over heaven and hell, 
 Ah ! think, will its renown the name of God outweigh ? " 
 
 ELBOW-ROOM. 
 
 Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as 
 
 Saadi sings, 
 But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings. 
 
 FORTUNE AND WORTH. H. 
 
 That haughty rich man see, a merely gilded clod ; 
 
 This poor man see, pure gold with common dust be 
 smeared. 
 
 Start not ; in needy garb was Moses girt and shod, 
 
 When waved and shone before him Pharaoh s golden 
 beard ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 189 
 
 CHARITY S EYE : FROM NISAMI. 
 
 One evening Jesus lingered in the market-place, 
 Teaching the people parables of truth and grace, 
 When in the square remote a crowd was seen to rise, 
 And stop, with loathing gestures and abhorring cries. 
 
 The Master and his meek disciples went to see 
 What cause for this commotion and disgust could be, 
 And found a poor dead dog beside the gutter laid ; 
 Revolting sight ! at which each face its hate betrayed. 
 
 One held his nose, one shut his eyes, one turned away ; 
 And all among themselves began aloud to say, 
 " Detested creature ! he pollutes the earth and air ! " 
 His eyes are blear ! " " His ears are foul ! " " His ribs 
 are bare ! " 
 
 " In his torn hide there s not a decent shoe-string left ! " 
 " No doubt the execrable cur was hung for theft ! " 
 Then Jesus spake, and dropped on him this saving 
 
 wreath, 
 "Even pearls are dark before the whiteness of his 
 
 teeth ! " 
 
 The pelting crowd grew silent and ashamed, like one 
 Rebuked by sight of wisdom higher than his own ; 
 And one exclaimed, " No creature so accursed can be, 
 But some good thing in him a loving eye will see." 
 
190 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 FALSE PIETY. 
 
 He who from love to God neglects the human race 
 Goes into darkness with a glass, to see his face ! 
 
 MERIT AND PLACE. 
 
 A jewel is a jewel still, though lying in the dust, 
 And sand is sand, though up to heaven by the tempest 
 thrust. 
 
 WHAT SAADI SAYS OF WISHES. 
 
 Had the cat wings, no sparrow could live in the air : 
 Had each his wish, what more would Allah have to 
 spare ? 
 
 THE NOBLEST MAN. 
 
 Midst noble men they Hatim Tai call 
 
 In generosity the first of all. 
 
 He said : " When forty camels I had slain 
 
 To give my guests, I saw upon the plain 
 
 A man who thorns and thistles plucked with care. 
 
 Disguised I went, and asked, "Why not go share 
 
 With those whom Hatim Tail s house doth feed ? 
 
 He said, l Of Hatim s house I have no need 
 
 While my own toil a humble meal can buy/ 
 
 My friends, that was a nobler man than I." 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 191 
 
 IMPEDING PLEASURE. H. 
 
 Who after wisdom flies must guard both foot and wing 
 From pleasure s honey, or therein he 11 stick and cling. 
 
 THE FOLLY OF INDIFFERENCE. H. 
 
 " It goes best with me then," said a carousing king, 
 " When on the earth grieves me no good or evil thing : 
 So let the couriers of Fate their tidings bring." 
 A naked beggar, neath the window stretched, cried out : 
 " How then does your imperial robe surpass my clout ? 
 Nothing irks me : I tremble at no sudden shout." 
 
 PRECEPT WITHOUT PRACTICE. H. 
 
 Who learns and learns, but acts not what he knows, 
 Is one who ploughs and ploughs, but never sows. 
 
 PATIENCE WINS. H. 
 
 Haste not : the flying courser, over-heated, dies, 
 While step by step the patient camel goal-ward plies. 
 
 EVIL INTERFERENCE. H. 
 
 Fan not the hostile spark between two friends that glows ; 
 For they will soon embrace, but both remain thy foes. 
 
192 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 MEANS AND END. 
 
 Wealth must be meant to ease the load of life,. 
 Not life to load us with the weight of wealth. 
 Stealth s only used to win some aim of strife, 
 Not strife s pursued as means to practise stealth. 
 
 THE HORSELEECH. 
 
 Canst thou tell me what is insatiable ? 
 
 The greedy eye of avarice ! 
 Were all the universe a loaded table, 
 
 It never, never could fill this ! 
 
 THE USELESSNESS OF ENVY. 
 
 Mean souls wish sorrow to the happy-minded, 
 And hate the sun that sweetly smiles upon content. 
 But when base owls and bats, by midday blinded, 
 Accuse the light, is the sun into darkness sent ? 
 
 SAADI SAYS, NIP THE BUD. 
 
 A sprout of evil, ere it has struck root, 
 With thumb and finger one up-pulls : 
 To start it, when grown up and full of fruit, 
 Requires a mighty yoke of bulls. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 193 
 
 LAW ALONE RELIABLE. H. 
 
 .One lucky hit affords no rule ; 
 Who thinks it does, he is a fool. 
 The king of Persia once set up 
 His costliest ring upon a cup, 
 And unto all his archers cries, 
 " Who hits that ring, it is his prize." 
 In vain the most expert of all 
 Essay to shoot it off the ball. 
 An inexperienced stripling tries : 
 His chance-sped arrow strikes the prize. 
 Before he never had bent bow. 
 He wisely said, " T was luck, I know ; 
 And that ray fame may still remain, 
 I never will bend bow again." 
 
 GUILT S PANG THE WORST. 
 
 Beneath the tiger s jaw I heard a victim cry, 
 " Thanks, God, that, though in pain, yet not in guilt I 
 die!" 
 
 SAADl S HERALDRY. 
 
 
 
 If there were not an eagle in the realm of birds, 
 
 Must then the owl be king among the feathered herds ? 
 
194 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 WHAT IS WEALTH? H. 
 
 Thus did a choking wanderer in the desert cry : 
 " O that Allah one prayer would grant before I die ; 
 That I might stand up to my knees in a cool lake, 
 My burning tongue and parching throat in it to slake." 
 No lake he saw ; and when they found him in the waste, 
 A bag of gems and gold lay just before his face, 
 And his dead hand a paper with this writing grasped : 
 " Worthless was wealth when dying for water I gasped. 1 
 
 FOUNT AND RIVER. 
 
 The bad fount, which a pitcher can hide from your view. 
 Feeds a stream which an elephant scarce can wade 
 through. 
 
 THE KING S EXAMPLE. H. 
 
 Once Sultan Nushirvan the just, hunting, 
 
 Stopped in an open field to take a lunch. 
 
 He wanted salt, and to a servant said, 
 
 " Go, get some at the nearest house, but pay 
 
 The price the peasant asks." " Great king," exclaimed 
 
 The servant, " thou art lord o er all this realm ; 
 
 Why take the pains to buy a little salt ? " 
 
 " It is a little thing," said Nushirvan, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 195 
 
 " And so, at first, was all the evil whose 
 Most monstrous load now presses so the world. 
 Were there no little wrongs, no great could be. 
 If I from off a poor man s tree should pluck 
 A single apple, straight my slaves would rob 
 The whole tree to its roots : if I should seize 
 Five eggs, my ministers at once would snatch 
 A hundred hens. Therefore strict justice must 
 I, even in unimportant acts, observe. 
 Bring salt, but pay the peasant what he asks." 
 
 THE BANNER AND THE CARPET. H. 
 
 Once a royal banner bent his head, 
 
 And unto a royal carpet said, 
 
 In the Sultan s palace at Bagdad : 
 
 " See what different duties we have had, 
 
 And how different too is our reward, 
 
 Though we re servants both of one great lord. 
 
 I, on weary marches, tired and torn, 
 
 Journey, in the van of peril borne. 
 
 Thou, afar from travel s dust and pains, 
 
 And afar from battle s siege and stains, 
 
 In the palace brightly art arrayed 
 
 "Where young prince, and dame, and beauteous maid 
 
 Odors scatter on thine every band. 
 
 Thou art blest : but me some menial hand 
 
196 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 In the rawest blast extends, or holds 
 High upon some crag my flapping folds." 
 Spake the soft, rich carpet then, and said : 
 " Thou dost lift to heaven thy haughty head ; 
 I lie here beneath my sovereign s tread : 
 As a slave I m kept here, nice and warm, 
 Thou, ambitious, scorning each low form, 
 In the height find st danger and the storm ! " 
 
 FICKLENESS. 
 
 Hard separation s thorn already grows 
 Beneath the heart of every friendship s rose. 
 
 THE BRIEF CHANCE-ENCOUNTER. 
 
 As two floating planks meet and part on the sea, 
 O friend ! so I met and then drifted from thee. 
 
 THE THREEFOLD CONDITION. 
 
 That what was born must die, is true, 
 
 And that what dies is born anew. 
 
 O man ! thou know st not what thou wert of late 
 
 But what thou art at present, learn 
 
 In thought completely to discern, 
 
 And what thou shalt become anticipate. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 197 
 
 IXDOCILITY. 
 
 Of what use unto fools is wise discourse ? 
 
 In vain the teacher talks until he s hoarse. 
 
 As moonlight streams through a crack in the roof, 
 
 So on the hearts of fools shines wise reproof. 
 
 THE TRAITOR SURPRISED. 
 
 Sudra ! think not thou canst hide from Siva s eyes : 
 Bite not the hook beneath a painted bait hid well. 
 The man who walked o er treachery s road to Paradise, 
 When at the journey s end, found he was snug in Hell ! 
 
 THE DIFFERENCE. H. 
 
 Seek wisdom, while on earth, as if you were immortal 
 
 there ; 
 But virtue, as if death already had you by the hair ! 
 
 DESPICABLE PALLIATION. 
 
 Who laughingly calls it a good piece of wit, 
 When friends too confiding he foully betray?, 
 He then should admire, as a hero most fit, 
 The man who a sleeper remorselessly slays. 
 
198 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE TWO BLOSSOMS. 
 
 On the world s infected tree, of fruits the mother, 
 Two fair blossoms sprinkled are with heavenly dew- 
 drops. 
 
 Poetry is one, and Friendship is the other. 
 For their plucking, Moslem, Christian, Brahmin, Jew, 
 
 stops. 
 
 That one makes all nature as a loving brother : 
 This one, when the heart is weak, each nerve and thew 
 props. 
 
 INJURY OR DEFILEMENT. H. 
 
 Avoid a villain as you would a brand, 
 
 Which, lighted, burns, extinguished, smuts the hand. 
 
 UNADVISED CONTEMPT. H. 
 
 Before scorning a man investigate thou him, 
 For some contain a mine of harm, yet do not blab it : 
 Pass not with careless step across the thicket dim ; 
 Beware ! that empty bush a tiger may inhabit. 
 
 HUMAN EVANESCENCE. 
 
 Our life endures such is its brevity 
 But while a rain-drop falls from cloud to sea. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 199 
 
 TRADITION AND LIFE. 
 
 Be no imitator ; freshly act thy part ; 
 Through this world be thou an independent ranger : 
 Better is the faith that springeth from thy heart, 
 Than a better faith belonging to a stranger. 
 
 MORAL COMMERCE. 
 
 Caring not, however cynics censure, 
 All the wealth of heart I have I venture, 
 And to man s equator-region send ship 
 For the ivory, spice, and gold of friendship. 
 
 RESOLUTE LABOR. 
 
 Howe er the ignorant decry, 
 
 Howe er oppose the envious crew, 
 
 Since death comes soon, and brief years fly, 
 
 Thy firmly chosen work pursue ! 
 
 As when the Demons churned the sea 
 
 With Mount Meru, although they found 
 
 Jewels it dazzled them to see, 
 
 Though horrid poison gushed around, 
 
 They drove the mighty churning still, 
 
 Holding the handle closely clasped, 
 
 In spite of sore fatigue, until 
 
 Their hands the bright Amreeta grasped. 
 
200 SPECIMENS OP 
 
 LIMITATION. 
 
 Each is bounded by his nature, 
 And remains the same in stature 
 In the valley, on the mountain. 
 Scoop from ocean, or from fountain, 
 With a poor hand, or a richer, 
 You can only fill your pitcher. 
 
 BRAHMINIC CONSOLATION : FROM THE MAHABHARATA. 
 
 Sad friend! thou mourn st for what it is not well to 
 
 mourn. 
 
 No garb of dark lament have wise men ever worn, 
 Or for the living, or the dead. Both youth and age 
 The soul in this poor husk doth find, and on each stage 
 Of being it again will find, neath other veils. 
 Heat, cold, pain, pleasure, every earthly thing, still fails. 
 The body is the jail of time s swift weal and woe. 
 Each comes, departs, and naught remains of all the 
 
 show. 
 
 O Bharat s son ! in patience bear the fates below. 
 The wise man nothing can disturb : to him the same 
 Are sweet and sour, censure and praise, neglect and 
 
 fame. 
 
 His spirit is divinely calm, his mind supernal. 
 That which creates all forms is formless and eternal. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 201 
 
 UNIVERSALITY OF GOD. 
 
 Exempt from lust, exempt from love of pelf, 
 The wise man acts unconscious of himself. 
 He cares not for his action s consequence, 
 But feeds devotion s fire with pure incense. 
 God is his gift, his sacrifice is God ; 
 God is his sacrificial knife and rod, 
 Himself, his altar, altar s flame, the sward ; 
 God also is tlie worship s sole reward. 
 
 THE CAUSE AND THE AGENT. 
 
 The wall said to the nail, " What have I done, 
 That through me thy sharp tooth thou thus dost run ? " 
 The nail replied, " Poor fool ! what do I know ? 
 Ask him who beats my head with many a blow ! " 
 
 THE HOLY LIE. H. 
 
 A man-befriending lie, I think, in sooth, 
 Far better than a man-destroying truth. 
 
 # # # # * 
 
 A king in wrath once bade his servants slay 
 
 A man who had offended him that day. 
 
 The poor man, robbed of hope by this dread stroke, 
 
 With foreign tongue to foulest cursing broke, 
 
 As in despair one falleth on his sword, 
 
 And cursed the king with each reviling word. 
 
202 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 "What says he?" asked the king. "Lord," straight 
 
 replied 
 
 One who the language knew, and stood beside 
 The throne, " he says, Heaven is for him who lives 
 In meekness, and his enemies forgives." 
 " For saying so divine and just a thing, 
 This moment he is pardoned," cried the king. 
 " Not so," a second courtier loud exclaimed ; 
 " The slave thy soul with oaths reviled and blamed." 
 Then rose the king, and said, in accents stern, 
 " And if he did, your soul with shame should burn 
 To think this good man s falsehood doth so much, 
 In Allah s sight, outshine your truth : for such 
 A lie as his my anger would assuage, 
 While such a truth as yours would more enrage : 
 And know the lie that saves a human breath 
 Is better than the truth that causes death ! " 
 
 TEST OF THE RIVAL GODS. 
 
 Twixt Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, as a Puran shows, 
 A grave dispute once raged, and still grew sharp and 
 
 strong : 
 
 The question was, wherefrom the solemn quarrel rose, 
 To which one of the three did precedence belong ? 
 
 Then Vishnu said, " If one of you, uprising fleet, 
 Can soar to where my head extends in regions dim, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 203 
 
 Or dive so far as to discern where are my feet, 
 At once I will the palm of greatness yield to him." 
 
 For fifty million years, like lightning Brahma soared : 
 
 For fifty million years, like lightning Siva dived ; 
 
 But Siva could not reach where Vishnu s feet were 
 
 lowered, 
 And Brahma could not reach where Vishnu s head was 
 
 hived. 
 
 At last the twain, their efforts baffled, back returned, 
 And to the great Preserver paid allegiance due. 
 Therefore by hosts is incense now to Vishnu burned, 
 "While Brahma s worshippers and Siva s are so few ! 
 
 TIME, THE MOWER. 
 
 "Where is thy sire ? thy loving mother where ? 
 "Where are the friends who in thy youth did share ? 
 They bloomed with thee like trees hard by the shore ; 
 The stream still flows, but they bloom there no more. 
 So Time, the mower, cuts his fatal swath, 
 And mortals see him not across their path. 
 
 SENSUALITY. 
 
 Whom the senses securely have caught, 
 He will please himself, there where he lies, 
 
204 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Until lust becomes seated in thought, 
 And from lust pain and folly arise. 
 Driven out of high Purity s hall, 
 From his noble estate he will fall, 
 Losing memory, reason, and all. 
 
 As a storm on the ocean s dark breast 
 Blows a banner s light fluttering folds, 
 So his fancies lust blows without rest, 
 And all peace from his spirit withholds. 
 Truly happy but then shalt thou be, 
 When desire disappeareth in thee, 
 As a stream in the calm of the sea. 
 
 A PERSIAN SONG. 
 
 The mighty globe and human life 
 
 A gloomy ocean rolls around : 
 
 Floods roar on floods, in endless strife, 
 
 The floods with turbaned clouds are crowned. 
 
 The future is a black abyss ; 
 
 The present time alone is sure. 
 
 O youth, spring up ! its joys secure. 
 
 Remember, when upon Ktif s summit 
 Great Anka flew o er every cloud, 
 His pinion shook the earth-dust from it, 
 Surpassing all things strong and proud. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 205 
 
 lie soared that day, he soars not this : 
 The present time alone is sure. 
 
 youth, spring up ! its joys secure. 
 
 1 see the midnight of thy hair, 
 And of thy lips the morning-red, 
 And of thy smiles the day-shine fair ; 
 But dawn, day, night, will soon have fled : 
 The fairest things we soonest miss : 
 
 The present time alone is sure. 
 
 youth, spring up ! its joys secure. 
 
 A RIDDLE. 
 
 Between a thick-set hedge of bones 
 
 A small red dog now barks, now moans 
 
 (i j onSuo; treranu; y 
 Suru 
 
 THE RIVER OF PLEASURE. 
 
 A dallying stream, in greatest and in least, 
 Our wishes as its waves, soft Pleasure flows. 
 Insatiable Lust, a monstrous beast, 
 Doth ravening in its hollow deeps repose. 
 
 As little birds across the billows dart, 
 Licentious fancy lures, and eager passion follows, 
 
206 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Despising what it has and can impart, 
 Until his prey the greedy monster swallows. 
 
 Amidst that stream a whirlpool s sucking dimple 
 Denotes where love begins its headlong course. 
 The stream s opposing banks attend, ye simple ! 
 Are disappointment deep and sharp remorse. 
 
 The man whose heart is Virtue s chosen door, 
 Whom no unworthy lust has e er betrayed, 
 Alone can safely stand upon the shore, 
 And through the shrunken stream uninjured wade. 
 
 TO ZULEIKA. 
 
 A poet, attempting to sing of thy charms, 
 Sank into the sea of astonishment s arm?, 
 Till thought disappeared in bewildered alarms. 
 At last, the small shell of one verse from the sand 
 He plucked, and succeeded in reaching the strand, 
 To lay his sole pearl in thy beautiful hand. 
 
 THE PRICE OF THE PRIZE. 
 
 Wouldst the honey still taste, while afraid of the sting 
 
 of the bee? 
 Wouldst the victor s crown wear, without knowing the 
 
 terrible fight ? 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 207 
 
 Could the diver get the pearls that repose in the depth 
 
 of the sea 
 If he stood on the shore, from the crocodile shrinking in 
 
 fright ? 
 With unfaltering toil thou must seek what the Fates 
 
 have decreed 
 May be won, and courageously pluck for thyself the 
 
 bright meed ! 
 
 SUUENESS OF PUNISHMENT. 
 
 When thou hast drained a swallow s milk, and plucked 
 A hog s soft wool, from thorns refreshing juices sucked, 
 Seen rocks bear olive-nuts, the sand pomegranates yield, 
 A Pariah s will annul decrees the Sultan sealed, 
 A harder task to try thy vaunted force remains ; 
 To shield a wicked man from retribution s pains. 
 
 A RIDDLE. 
 
 A soul above it, 
 And a soul below, 
 With leather between, 
 And swift it doth go. 
 
 ur?ra 
 
208 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE ORIENTAL PALM. 
 
 See you, my son, yon ship float o er the Indian wave ? 
 The precious cocoa-palm to it its light keel gave. 
 
 The rudder and the mast, palm-branch or shaft supplies 
 And for what else the ship has need palm-barks suffice 
 
 From fibres of the palm are twisted rope and rail, 
 And from its porous web is wrought the swelling sail. 
 
 Well loaded is the ship, as it the billows cuts, 
 Here with the stony-shelled but sap-full cocoa-nuts, 
 
 And there with vessels, made of palm-nuts hollowe< 
 
 fine, 
 All filled with palm-oil, palm-milk, palm-kraut, an< 
 
 palm-wine. 
 
 But in the midst there sits, wise master of the charm, 
 A man whose cunning drew all this from out one palm. 
 
 Within the cabin sits he on a palm-mat soft, 
 
 And a thick palm-thatch shields him from the sun aloft 
 
 The dress he wears was woven from the palm s sill 
 
 strands, 
 And a book of palm-leaves reposes in his hands. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 209 
 
 At noon a broad palm-hat protects his cheek from tan, 
 And gratefully he cools his brow with palm-leaf fan. 
 
 His wants to meet with uses various and benign, 
 Through all the Hindu s life the palm is a gift divine. 
 
 And when with parting breath is freed the world s poor 
 
 slave, 
 A clean palm-linen shroud wraps him for pyre or grave. 
 
 PROLIFIC SILENCE. R. 
 
 In silence wise men oft great things have to perfection 
 
 brought ; 
 And fools as oft have made a most tremendous noise for 
 
 naught. 
 
 The mighty sky-wheel rolls about its axis without sound : 
 The weaver s rickety spool rattles its clattering course 
 around. 
 
 This wooden bobbin only a small piece of linen yields : 
 That azure one with starry veil o erspreads heaven s 
 boundless fields. 
 
 THE LONGING OF HAFIZ. 
 
 From cloistered cell poor Hafiz turns his eyes, 
 And Allah prays in supplicating cries : 
 " There is a honey-fount of maiden lips ; 
 
210 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 O, were I sipping on its crimson brim, 
 
 I would not care how fast this lifetime slips, 
 
 Nor think how soon the sinking sun grows dim ! 
 
 There is a secret place of sweet repose, 
 
 Hid in the breast of blushing maiden rose ; 
 
 O, were I there, I d cease these plaining cries, 
 
 And care for nothing more beneath the skies ! " 
 
 THE DOUBLE PLOT. R. 
 
 Three hungry travellers found a bag of gold : 
 One ran into the town where bread was sold. 
 
 He thought, I will poison the bread I buy, 
 And seize the treasure when my comrades die. 
 
 But they too thought, when back his feet have hied, 
 We will destroy him, and the gold divide. 
 
 They killed him, and, partaking of the bread, 
 In a few moments all were lying dead. 
 
 O World ! behold what ill thy goods have done : 
 Thy gold thus poisoned two, and murdered one ! 
 
 A PEARL OF GREAT PRICE. 
 
 A giant muscle is this world, I said, 
 And thou a single pearl within it laid. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 211 
 
 THE FAIR WINE-BEARER. 
 
 Down sinks the night ; and with a jar of wine 
 Comes Allia, and pours the purple shine. 
 
 While from the jar gushes the dark red wine, 
 From her fair mouth fall drops of honey fine. 
 
 Come, Allia, and let the ruby wine 
 Mix with the honey of thy mouth divine. 
 
 Now quickly pour for me the imperial wine, 
 And let my mouth the dainty union sign. 
 
 The flame of my bosom and of this wine 
 Pleads hard for those sweet lips of thine ! 
 
 A PERSIAN REVERIE. R. 
 
 O that in some oasis green 
 
 A fount of red wine gushed, 
 AVhile round the paradisal scene 
 
 A boundless desert rushed. 
 
 For to that fountain I would go, 
 
 And pitch my life-tent there ; 
 That in its quiet I might know 
 
 A bliss beyond compare. 
 
212 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Sad men, oppressed with grief and care, 
 And boorish spirits, known afar, 
 
 Should never reach that region fair, 
 Its calm content to mar. 
 
 Sweet nightingales should scatter round 
 Their warblings on the grass ; 
 
 The light gazelle should graze and bound, 
 And not a hunter pass. 
 
 There peace profound I would enjoy, 
 
 And HafiV rhymes repeat, 
 Till pleasure s honey-songs should cloy 
 
 My lips with dripping sweet. 
 
 GOETHE ON HAFIZ. 
 
 If the word is the bride, 
 The bridegroom, t is implied, 
 Is the sense, and the twain 
 Hafiz weds in his strain. 
 
 FLEETINGNESS OF LOVE. 
 
 Swiftly rises up the peering, jealous Moon, 
 Looking down to see yon lovers tender kissing : 
 When a month has gone, she comes again as soon ; 
 But the silence old is there, the lovers missing. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 213 
 
 A LIQUID HOUSE OF GLASS. R. 
 
 Among the hills there sleeps a crystal lake, 
 Which, like a glass, a stick or stone can break. 
 
 But on the man who dares that glass to shake 
 The Spirits housed beneath it vengeance take. 
 
 Those Spirits there have scooped a mirror-room, 
 And overarched its roof with light and gloom. 
 
 The sun shines in that house, all clear and still, 
 And trees cool shadows form its threshold s sill. 
 
 No beast nor bird comes near its liquid doors, 
 But drink and bathe they where its outlet pours. 
 
 When any man looks in that builded spring, 
 He sees the Spirits tread its floor and sing. 
 
 Should he disturb the glass, in strange reproof 
 
 A voice cries, " Who has shattered my smooth roof? " 
 
 And nevermore shall mortals look on him, 
 
 Till through the outlet far his corpse doth swim. 
 
 THE CUNXING PRIESTS. R. 
 
 In Mahadura s temple lies a golden shoe, 
 Three ells in length. Dost ask, "Who has fit feet 
 thereto ? " 
 
214 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 My son, the god of hunting, who those woods doth 
 
 thread 
 Which so impenetrably o er this land are spread. 
 
 So rough and thorny is the way, that not a god 
 Could hunt in those preserves unless he were thus 
 shod. 
 
 Each twelvemonth a new pair are placed that altar 
 
 near, 
 Because the god -wears out his old ones in a year. 
 
 A BELIEVER S SHROUD. R. 
 
 I saw a Moslem work upon his shroud alone, 
 With earnest care, even as the silk-worms weave their 
 own. 
 
 In his illness it always near his bedside lay, 
 And he wrote Koran-verses on it night and day. 
 
 When with that sacred script it was filled from side to 
 
 side, 
 He wrapt it round his body, and in calmness died. 
 
 In that protecting robe, now buried in the ground, 
 Still may he know the peace he in its writing found ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 215 
 
 HAFIZ* SONG OP TUE SAINT. 
 
 Leave, O leave, Abou Nasar ! 
 Height and depth and distance far. 
 
 List to reason, and come here, 
 In the wine-house, to the bar. 
 
 Glitters in the goblet s blood 
 Many a dusky heavenly star. 
 
 Shine here round the clinking board, 
 Thoughts as clear as diamond spar. 
 
 Wander to the tavern, then ; 
 Sit, and leave the door ajar. 
 
 Hang your lantern in yon nook ; 
 Drink, and laugh at priest and Shah. 
 
 In the wine-cup s dregs, behold, 
 All your life-grains sprouting are ! 
 
 Glides, while you the beaker lift, 
 Past the portal, Fate s dark car. 
 
 Let it pass, and take no heed : 
 
 Bliss like yours there s naught to mar. 
 
SPECIMENS OF 
 
 For a seat in some wine-bouse 
 Sell the world, and shout, Hurrah ! 
 
 In each wine-drop here your host 
 Pours the wealth of heaven s bazaar. 
 
 Prim the cup, and sip the foam, 
 All the earth s not worth an " ah ! " 
 
 HAFIZ REPUDIATES MEDIATORS. 
 
 Take an example from the roses, 
 Who live direct on sun and dew : 
 They never question after Moses, 
 And why, in heaven s name, should you ? 
 
 THE RESURRECTION SPELL. 
 
 Come not with saddest of sighs, 
 Come not with bitterest tears, 
 Where the dead Hafiz form lies, 
 At the dark goal of his years. 
 Come with a beaker of wine, 
 Come with a song on thy lip, 
 And at that signal divine 
 Will the dead drunkard up skip, 
 Join his old voice in thy strain, 
 Dance till the stars shout again. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 217 
 
 HAFIZ IN THE JUDGMENT. 
 
 When the clay of judgment solemn shall break, 
 And the earth s collected races all quake, 
 On a throne uplift, and shining divine, 
 Shall be seen mad Hafiz, Prophet of Wine. 
 Wouldst the sentence know that he will declare ? 
 Then attend ; these are the words he will swear : 
 " Come, ye drunken ones, be blest on my right ; 
 Go, ye sober ones, and sink from my sight ! " 
 
 MELLIFLUOUS SPEECH. 
 
 In vain you undertake to speak a bitter word ; 
 It meets the sweetness of your lips before it s heard ! 
 
 THE MEED OF HAFIZ. 
 
 Hark! hear st thou not from heaven those strains of 
 
 music ringing? 
 The angel-choir at practice Hafiz songs are singing. 
 
 THE SPRING. 
 
 The Spring has come to loosen Winter s band ; 
 Messiah s breath is through the meadows fanned. 
 
 A writing has been dropped from God s own hand ; 
 The magic blossoms as its letters stand. 
 
218 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Now Hafiz seeks the wine-house, ancient planned, 
 That he the manuscript may understand. 
 
 One cup, bright shine those hieroglyphics grand ; 
 Two cups, his heart becomes a flaming brand. 
 
 Three cups, he ravished floats from this world s strand, 
 And reads the meaning clear in Houri-land. 
 
 LUTE AND BEAKER: FROM HAFIZ. 
 
 This lute to many a feast has added zest, 
 This goblet waited on full many a guest. 
 
 Believer, come ! the wine-house lures ; come, hark, 
 And drink ; with cup and lute be wholly blest. 
 
 Their wine and music put to shame the lore 
 Of Koran, Puran, Ved, and Zendavest. 
 
 Believer, come ! feel inspiration s breath 
 
 Exhaling through your soul, and through your breast. 
 
 And if the world would catch you in her snares, 
 Reject her with the might of one protest. 
 
 Unnumbered sages have rejoiced when soft 
 This lute s sweet solace has their hearts caressed. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 219 
 
 Innumbered kings have smiled to quaff this cup, 
 
 anxious thought and woe their souls oppressed. 
 
 "hrough these two charmers dear, unnumbered bards 
 lave drowned their pain when grief their lives pos- 
 
 liis lute and cup have much life-wisdom won, 
 xperience of the East and of the West. 
 
 Tiey know the ancient secrets to relate 
 )f Solomon s, of Jemschid s harem-nest. 
 
 "hey know of celebrated haughty thrones, 
 Of many a shattered crown and tattered vest. 
 
 They know the magic fruit of Paradise, 
 Which ripens not on this world s boughs at rest. 
 
 All this in their dear circles they impart, 
 At feasts, to the clear spirits of the blest. 
 
 They have against the idle host of cares 
 Declared a war by open manifest. 
 
 For ages frost they give a robe of flame, 
 For sorrow s fire a raiment of asbest. 
 
220 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 He in whose mind this witch-lute s music melts 
 The core from every mystery shall wrest. 
 
 He through whose veins this god-cup s nectar pours 
 Shall riddles read no other man hath guessed. 
 
 Who drains the wealth of both shall see at once 
 Dark Ahriman a solved and faded jest. 
 
 These lute-cup strains and streams of tone and taste 
 Make of the poorest inn a heaven confessed. 
 
 The pious saint who drinks their breath and blood 
 Shall sit, bliss-drunk, upon creation s crest. 
 
 He shall through dazzling skies of pleasure soar, 
 With godhead filled, and in delirium dressed. 
 
 He shall through reeling seas of wonder sink, 
 Still grasping fast the aim of every quest. 
 
 In joyous peace content, with safety crowned, 
 He shall despise each threat, each poisonous pest. 
 
 And when life ends, to heaven he shall spring, 
 And prove his bliss by death s supremest test 
 
 The lute, then, twang ! the goblet clink and kiss ! 
 T is dying, drunken Hafiz farewell hest. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 221 
 
 ,,n. 
 
 THE KIBLA AND THE DEVOTEE. 
 
 The Kibla unto which the faithful turn themselves is 
 
 Mecca ; 
 
 he Kibla after which the royal strive is worldly em 
 pire; 
 
 The Kibla of the trafficker is piles of gold and silver ; 
 
 The Kibla of the lover is the beauty of the loved 
 one ; 
 
 The Kibla of the sensual is good eating, drinking, sleep 
 ing ; 
 
 he Kibla of the studious is knowledge, truth, and cul 
 ture ; 
 
 The Kibla of the ravished saint is but the face of 
 
 Allah, 
 
 he Kibla which is higher than all knowledge, truth, 
 and culture, 
 
 The Kibla which is better than good eating, drinking, 
 sleeping, 
 
 The Kibla which is fairer than the beauty of the loved 
 one, 
 
 The Kibla which is richer than the utmost gold and 
 silver, 
 
 The Kibla which is grander than the whole of earthly 
 empire, 
 
 The Kibla which is holier than the holy house at 
 Mecca, 
 
222 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE DRAWBACK. 
 
 Better through life barefooted press, 
 Than in a pinching shoe ; 
 
 Better no house or home possess, 
 Than have a bad wife too ! 
 
 THE CAMEL S TABLE. 
 
 The camel s table in the waste is spread ; 
 He gladly picks a meal from out the dirt ; 
 One pleasant herb is all he asks for bread, 
 And one sour weed suffices for dessert. 
 
 TIME OF LIFE. 
 
 The past is a dream, 
 The future a breath, 
 The present a gleam 
 From birth unto death. 
 
 THE SUNKEN SUN. 
 
 Hath the sun not yet sunk with its glitter ? 
 
 Yes, and no, one may swear ! 
 Look above, where those gay swallows twitter ; 
 
 It is still seen from there. 
 
ORIENTAL POETIIY. 223 
 
 TO A GENEROUS MAX. 
 
 To cloud of rain, refreshing all the land, 
 It is not fit to liken thy free hand ; 
 For as that gives, it weeps meanwhile, 
 But thou still givest with a smile. 
 
 LOVE-BLENDED SOULS. 
 
 My soul is commingled with thine, 
 As water is mingled with wine. 
 
 THE NINTH PARADISE. R. 
 
 In the nine heavens are eight Paradises ; 
 Where is the ninth one ? In the human breast. 
 Only the blessed dwell in th Paradises, 
 But blessedness dwells in the human breast. 
 Created creatures are in th Paradises, 
 The uncreated Maker in the breast. 
 Rather, O man, want those eight Paradises, 
 Than be without the ninth one in thy breast. 
 Given to thee are those eight Paradises 
 When thou the ninth one hast within thy breast 
 
224 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THIRTY TRANSLATIONS FROM MIRTSA SCHAFFY. 
 I. A PROPHECY TO BE FULFILLED. 
 
 Through all lands shall thy verses, O Mirtsa Schaffy ! 
 Be borne forth, and the tones of thy voice be heard 
 
 sounding : 
 The brave thoughts and live words of thine utterance 
 
 free 
 Shall go over the world, in sweet echoes rebounding. 
 
 II. A DEFENCE OF THE POETS. 
 
 The thistle asks the red-ripe rose, 
 " Why art not also thou a thistle ? 
 The ass might eat thee as he goes, 
 But now thou art not worth a whistle." 
 
 The goose, with accent patronizing, 
 Asks the bulbul, " Thou useless beast ! 
 Why dost thou not, life sacrificing 
 Like me, afford to man a feast ? " 
 
 So the philistine asks the poet, 
 What good does thy song do the state ? 
 Henceforth why not as well forego it, 
 And be to good works dedicate ? " 
 
 O ye philistines, geese, and thistles ! 
 Each one his proper calling plies : 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 225 
 
 Because, forsooth ! an idiot whistles, 
 Shall wise men therefore not be wise ? 
 
 III. THE GROUND OF DRINKING. 
 
 The best ground is the ground of wet gold 
 
 In the depth of a beaker : 
 The best mouth is the mouth, from of old, 
 
 Of the wine-praising speaker. 
 
 IV. A PERSIAN SERENADE. 
 
 In the mosque of true love, 
 See me kneel at the shrine ; 
 Hear my heart call above 
 For an answer from thine. 
 
 With delight, or with scorn, 
 Dost thou hark while I sing ? 
 Throw a rose or a thorn, 
 Life or death it will bring ! 
 
 V. SATIRE UPON MIRTSA JUSS^F. 
 
 Surely Mirtsa Jussuf as a critic was born, 
 for his taste there is nothing sufficient to please : 
 ["he bright day is so clear he condemns it with scorn. 
 He regards with contempt every man whom he sees, 
 That his face has a nose its fore-front to adorn ! 
 
226 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 He dislikes the soft rose that impregnates the breeze, 
 Since beneath it by search he can find a sharp thorn: 
 And he loathes all the splendors of sunset and morn. 
 
 Every fact that perplexes his head he thinks wrong ; 
 
 How it vexes and irks him 1 how anxious is he ! 
 
 His conceit never dreams that himself in the throng 
 
 Is a mere speck of foam on the breast of the sea. 
 
 In sharp discord with art, and with nature more strong, 
 
 He goes fretting about; and calm Mirtsa Schaffy 
 
 With a roguish grimace makes him hasten along, 
 
 And extracts from his gall the sweet charm of this song 1 
 
 VI. EMULOUS LOVE : TO BODENSTEDT. 
 
 As towards one lofty goal >ve drive, 
 In one entanglement we strive, 
 Both I and thou. 
 
 My heart holds thee, and me holds thine ; 
 Though sundered, yet conjoined we twine, 
 Both I and thou. 
 
 My wit caught thee, thine eye caught me, 
 And as two fish we swim one sea, 
 Both I and thou. 
 
 Yet not like fish, but through the air, 
 We sailing soar, an eagle pair, 
 Both I and thou ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 VII. LINES TO JUSSUF, THE PLAGIARIST. 
 
 Better stars without shine, 
 Than the shine without stars. 
 Better wine without jars, 
 Than the jars without wine. 
 Better honey without bees, 
 Than the bees without honey. 
 Better please without money, 
 Than have money, but not please ! 
 
 VIII. PRIESTS PERSECUTE THE RADICAL. 
 
 10 loveth the truth, the bridle must hold in his hand : 
 Tho thiiikeih the truth, with foot in the stirrup must stand : 
 speaketh the truth, for arms must with wings be 
 
 equipped : 
 
 r ho telleth a lie, says Mirtsa Schaffy, shall be 
 whipped ! 
 
 IX. FRAGMENT OF A SONG TO ZULEIKA. 
 
 What is the blooming rose s cup, where nightingales may 
 
 sip, 
 Compared with thy more blooming mouth, and thy much 
 
 sweeter lip ? 
 What is the sun, and what the moon, and what each 
 
 glowing star ? 
 They burn and tremble but for thee, still ogling thee 
 
 from far. 
 
228 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 And what am I, my heart, the love-mad songs that I 
 create ? 
 
 We are the blessed slaves thy beauty doomed to cele 
 brate ! 
 
 X. IMPROMPTU WELCOME TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Come in the evening and come in the morning; 
 Come when I ask you, and come without warning : 
 Mirtsa Schaffy, with you when a-meeting, 
 Always rejoices, and his heart gives you greeting. 
 
 XI. INTOXICATION OF LOVE. 
 
 She but wept my drunkenness, 
 And my utter sunkenness ; 
 
 And no pity I found. 
 O to be for ever drunk, 
 And to be for ever sunk, 
 
 In thy white arms drowned ! 
 
 XII. MIRTSA SCHAFFY ON BYES. 
 
 A gray eye is a sly eye, 
 And roguish is a brown one : 
 Turn full upon me thy eye, 
 Ah, how its wavelets drown one ! 
 A blue eye is a true eye ; 
 Mysterious is a dark one, 
 Which flashes like a spark-sun ! 
 A black eye is the best one. 
 
ORIENTAL TOETKY. 229 
 
 XIII. TRUTH AND PRUDENCE. 
 
 Phe fulness of truth to express is most dangerous now ; 
 f et, Mirtvsa SchafFf ! ever noble and truthful be thou. 
 
 r as a false light on the marshes of lying be left : 
 Vll beauty is true ; and from beauty be thou never reft. 
 iTet, every treatment perverse to avoid or outreach, 
 Thy wisdom be veiled in a raiment of flowery speech ; 
 is clustering grapes, nearly bursting with daintiest juice, 
 re hidden by leaves and green tendrils from sight and 
 abuse. 
 
 XIV. ADMONITION IN REVELRY. 
 
 For pleasure s bright sport the carelessest seeker 
 
 All through the wide world to the South, 
 When Mirtsa Schaffy took up the red beaker, 
 
 With sayings of wit in his mouth, 
 As, drinking, his heart grew ever more jolly, 
 
 He saw, o er the goblet s foamed rim 
 Uprising in pomp, to judge the world s folly, 
 
 And fearfully frowning on him, 
 A dreadful avenger mount from the wine-lake, 
 And speak to remorse for wisdom s benign sake. 
 
 
 .XV. THE DARK TRANSITION. 
 
 Where ends wrong-doing 
 Begins long rueing. 
 
230 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 XVI. A SQUIB FOR THE WISE MAN OF BAGDAD. 
 
 Mirtsa Jussuf is a much-learned man ! 
 
 Now reads he Hafiz, and now the Koran, 
 
 Dschamy, Chakany, Saadi s Giilistan; 
 
 Here steals an image, and there steals a flower, 
 
 Now robs a casket, and now strips a bower. 
 
 What has been often said says he again, 
 
 Sets the whole world in his plagiarized strain, 
 
 Tricks out his booty in scrambled-up plumes, 
 
 Spreads himself, and the name poet assumes ! 
 
 Otherwise lives and sings Mirtsa Schaffy : 
 
 Not a purloiner from others is he ; 
 
 Glows his own heart as a guide-star in gloom ; 
 
 Scattering far a celestial perfume, 
 
 And with no stolen productions bedressed, 
 
 Bloom a whole garden of flowers in his breast. 
 
 XVII. LOVE, THE GATE OF HEAVEN. 
 
 When, on a day, the gates of Paradise 
 Stand open for the good as their reward, 
 Great hosts, both men of virtue and of vice, 
 Will look in doubt and terror to the Lord. 
 But I, whatever be the others fates, 
 Shall stand, by doubt and fear quite unconcerned 
 Since, long before, to me on earth the gates 
 Of Paradise through thee were open turned ! 
 
ORIENTAL P^ETBT. .:! 
 
 XVIII. LjUtEJTT FO* DEPLETED IATS- 
 
 When, as my life s 
 The blessed day of youth is ended quite, 
 T is true remembrances, like stars, ascend ; 
 But then they only show that it is 
 
 XIX. THE EOSG3 OF M3RTSA 
 
 As the floating raiment glances round thy fimhs, 
 So the rhyming music hangs aiumid my 
 Charming is the lure that to the robe 
 Fairer far the ji *" 1 *"t" beaurr it 
 
 XX. JCIBT5A 5CHAFTT TO MO TOCSO BUD 
 
 Where rose aloft old Mount Elborz, 
 His top the cloud-world reached: 
 Spring blushed upon his flowery floors, 
 While snows his forehead 
 
 So L as ancient Mount 
 Have frost upon my 
 While, blushing at mv 
 A beauteous Spring ait 
 
 XXI. THE WI3TE OF THK 5OITL. 
 
 Schafif sat a quaffing deai 
 
 His heart s phy grew vast, his mind s wit grew 
 
232 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 
 
 He rose up, gave his lute a melodious clang, 
 And, beginning to sing, it was thus that he sang : 
 " As the hallowing flames of the wine I inspire, 
 And, they gush o er my lips, touching all with their fire 
 I in seas of wild ravishment limitless swim, 
 And a crystalline bliss fills the scene to its brim. 
 Such a joy to young Adam was given ere the Fall 
 O, I would it were poured o er humanity all ! 
 Could my body, dissolving to wine, only fall, 
 And each world be a drop in the flood of the All, 
 What a grand resurrection we then might acquire, 
 Coming forth from that bath in new strength and fresl 
 fire! 
 
 xxn. THE POET S OFFERING. 
 
 I, in my glowing songs, from out the skies 
 
 Snatch sun and moon and stars, 
 And lay them as a burning sacrifice 
 
 On Beauty s altar-bars. 
 
 XXIII. MIRTSA SCHAFFf DEFENDS HIS THEMES. 
 
 Doth it displease you that I sing 
 Of few things only as divine ? 
 Of naught but roses, love, and spring, 
 And nightingales, and wooing wine ? 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 233 
 
 Which were the best, that I should praise 
 Will-o -the-wisps and wax flambeaux ? 
 Or to the Sun s eternal rays 
 Fresh panegyrics still compose ? 
 
 While, like a sun that shines abroad, 
 I pour my raying songs around, 
 The beautiful I do applaud, 
 And not what s on the common found. 
 
 Let other bards their lyres attone 
 
 To wars, and mosques, and fame of kings ; 
 
 To roses, love, and wine alone 
 
 My fingers strike the melting strings. 
 
 O pure SchafFf ! how fragrant are 
 Thy verses on these lovely themes ! 
 Thy songs are strains without a jar, 
 While others best are painful screams. 
 
 XXIV. FINAL SATIRE ON THE BAGDAD SAGE. 
 
 Wretched Mirtsa Jussuf! all your sneers I despise ; 
 While you sulk, with gay heart through the world I am 
 
 tripping : 
 
 And instead of returning your hatred and lies, 
 Only see, how this beaker of wine I am sipping ! 
 
234 SPECIMENS OP 
 
 Retribution enough is inflicted on you, 
 
 In that nothing below your fastidiousness pleases ; 
 
 While for me springs delight from the stars and the 
 
 dew, 
 From the birds and the hills, from the flowers and the 
 
 breezes. 
 
 Sprawling Mirtsa Jussuf with great awkwardness walks ; 
 How he wrinkles his brow, as with thought it were 
 
 laden ! 
 
 And with all who pass by he finds fault as he stalks, 
 Because not as he goes goes each man and each maiden. 
 
 So the ox, as he rolls with unwieldiest gait, 
 And his voice is a hoarse and detestable bellow, 
 Thinks he must for this cause the sweet nightingale 
 
 hate, 
 That so lightly it flies, and its song is so mellow ! 
 
 XXV. MIRTSA SCHAFF^ TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 Of Joseph in the Egyptian land, 
 The handsomest of mortals brave, 
 T was said, to him Jehovah s hand 
 One half of all earth s beauty gave. 
 
 But when this prince at last was dead, 
 His thrown-off beauty wandered forth ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 235 
 
 From year to year she roamed and sped 
 From land to land through all the earth. 
 
 For this command had been decreed : 
 " Thou shalt thyself nowhere enthrone, 
 Except where thou shalt find, indeed, 
 Kind love and wisdom both in one." 
 
 At many doors she faintly knocked 
 Of huts and temples costliest : 
 Each one for her was quick unlocked, 
 In none of them she stayed, a guest. 
 
 But when she came, Hafisa fair ! 
 To thee, a final home she found, 
 Where sweetness and discretion rare 
 Were, once for all, together bound. 
 
 XXVI. WISE MEN UNNOTICED, WERE THERE NO FOOLS. 
 
 Shall I laugh or shall I wail it, 
 That the most of men are such asses ? 
 Borrowed wit, how they retail it ! 
 A fresh thought their brains never passes. 
 
 The shrewd Maker, how I thank him 
 That the world is filled so with ninnies ! 
 Else the wise man had none to rank him 
 O er the rest, and fame none could win his. 
 
236 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 XXVII. CLOSE AT HAND. 
 
 The wise man will not roam afar 
 
 For what at home his finding naught can hinder ; 
 
 He will not try to pluck a star 
 
 To kindle with its light a piece of tinder. 
 
 XXVIII. MODERATION. 
 
 The rose who doth not pick, 
 Its thorn will him not prick : 
 To-day, then, be content 
 To snuff its fragrant scent ! 
 
 XXIX. LIFE DEEPER THAN BOOKS. 
 
 To learn the best experience of nations, 
 
 Search not through ancient books, in dusty heaps : 
 
 By far the choicest of all revelations 
 
 Is that which from the nearest fountain leaps. 
 
 XXX. THE UNRENEWABLE HOUR. 
 
 The winter bears no buds, 
 The summer yields no ice : 
 The fire which young hearts floods 
 The old man feels not twice. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 237 
 
 The king s proud favorite at a beggar threw a stone : 
 ile picked it up, as if it had for alms been thrown. 
 
 le bore it in his bosom long with bitter ache, 
 Ajid sought his time revenge with that same stone to 
 take. 
 
 )ne day he heard a street mob s hoarse commingled 
 
 cry: 
 
 The favorite comes ! but draws no more the admiring 
 eye. 
 
 He rides an ass, from all his haughty state disgraced ; 
 And by the rabble s mocking gibes his way is traced. 
 
 The stone from out his bosom swift the beggar draws, 
 And, flinging it away, exclaims : " A fool I was ! 
 
 T is madness to attack, when in his power, your foe, 
 And meanness then to strike when he has fallen low." 
 
 ACTIVITY. 
 
 Good striving 
 Brings thriving. 
 Better a dog who works, 
 Than a lion who shirks. 
 
238 SPECIMENS OP 
 
 THE DIVINE GAZER: FROM MAHMOUD. 
 
 As thy beloved s eyes are mirrored in thine eyes, 
 God s spirit, painted so, within thy spirit lies. 
 
 THE LURE OF PLEASURE. R. 
 
 A fount-o ershading tree stands near the highway-side, 
 And many a good fellow, pausing there, has died. 
 
 For in the fountain s depths a dragon lies asleep : 
 Sits on the tree a bird, his constant watch to keep. 
 
 The bird s sweet song allures the unwary wandere 
 
 near: 
 Then sings he loud, so loud the dragon wakes to hear. 
 
 The thirsty traveller drinks, the dragon darts aloft, 
 And on the tree the fatal bird is singing soft. 
 
 DANGEROUS INTERFERENCE. 
 
 If you should chance to see two dragons mixed in fighl 
 As mediator come not you between them ; 
 For they may make a peace at the unwonted sight, 
 And straightway your poor form divide between them. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 239 
 
 CONDITIONS OF SAFETY. H. 
 
 Be thou a poor man and a just, 
 And thou mayst live without alarm ; 
 For leave the good man Satan must, 
 The poor the Sultan will not harm. 
 
 THE BEST OF GOOD WORKS. 
 
 " Of all good works of men, which is the best ? " 
 A young man once a prophet thus addressed, 
 And this reply the prophet on him pressed : 
 " From strife exempt, good works together chime, 
 And all are beautiful each in its time." 
 
 TREACHEROUS PAYMENT. 
 
 Serve not thy belly with such zest : 
 He is a most ungrateful guest. 
 Who serves him most and best at first, 
 He finally will treat the worst. 
 
 ASSIMILATION. 
 
 The wise man never heard a joke 
 But living wisdom from it broke : 
 The fool no wisdom ever learned 
 But it in him to folly turned. 
 
240 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 DEATH AMONG THE GODS. 
 
 Between divine and human life what is the odds? 
 
 A human life is but a watch-tick to the gods. 
 
 Their hour has many ticks ; their day has many an 
 
 hour; 
 
 And many days fill up their year s enormous dower. 
 But when threescore and ten of those large years a god 
 Has told, he is touched by death s appropriating rod. 
 And all those years like arrows fly in heaven s bowers, 
 Because in bliss unmixed they pass more swift than 
 
 ours! 
 
 WORLDLY SUCCESS. 
 
 Vulgar souls surpass a rare one, in the headlong rush ; 
 As the hard and worthless stones a precious pearl will 
 crush. 
 
 THE GOOD OF SUCCESSION. 
 
 The mighty Khosru whispered once to his beloved 
 
 Shireen, 
 " If stayed the crown with one, it were a prize indeed, 
 
 I ween." 
 Shireen replied, " The blessing of its change dost thou 
 
 not see ? 
 Did it remain for aye with one, it ne er had come to 
 
 thee?" 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 241 
 
 THE DEEPER THOUGHT. 
 
 Sankiira Atchareya held the wise man s faith, 
 That naught is real here. but empty as a wraith. 
 One day a hostile Brahmin to his friends observes, 
 " Drive we an elephant towards him, and if he swerves, 
 He is a hypocrite ; if not, he is a saint." 
 Accordingly, to ride him down they made a feint. 
 Sankaru fled aside at once. They ask, " O why 
 Before a mere illusion did you stoop to fly ? " 
 Sankara says, " There was no elephant, no flight ; 
 The whole was nothing but a dream s deceptive sight." 
 
 BENEFICENT DESIGN : OR NATURAL THEOLOGY. 
 
 The cocoa-palm leaves infidels without excuse, 
 For nine and ninety are its common uses : 
 In hardened carelessness they wait a hundredth use 
 Until some new discovery introduces ! 
 
 PROUD HUMILITY. 
 
 In proud humility a pious man went through the field ; 
 The ears of corn were bowing in the wind, as if they 
 
 kneeled : 
 
 He struck them on the head, and modestly began to say, 
 " Unto the Lord, not unto me, such honors should you 
 
 pay." 
 
242 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Beneath God s throne a dazzling treasure lies, 
 Whose opening key is but the poet s tongue ; 
 Without that key the wondrous hoard s supplies 
 Could ne er be brought on earth to old and young. 
 
 THE BAD POET : FROM DSCHAMY. 
 
 Two poets sat to eat a dish of burning broth. 
 Through blistered lips one cried, by agony made wrotl 
 " T is hotter than the sulphur, which, when you ai 
 
 dead, 
 
 The fiends in deepest hell will pour upon your head." 
 The other said : " Such fate to you could give no frigh 
 You would but have one of your couplets to recite, 
 To chill, throughout, the furnace of infernal night. 
 One verse, like those to which your brain has give 
 
 birth, 
 
 If uttered in the realm that flames beneath the earth, 
 Or written on the gate of hell, would, in a trice, 
 Put out the fire, and turn the Devil s blood to ice." 
 
 MOASEDDIN S GENEROSITY. 
 
 For when the sea of Moaseddin s gifts began to swell, 
 The sun itself was but a pearl, the sky its upper shell. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 243 
 
 COLOR OF WINE AND GLASS. 
 
 Give me, fair boy ! the wine and glass : 
 One red, the other white, alas ! 
 Two gems from out one coffer rich, 
 Love both has painted to that pitch : 
 One rosy as his joy in blow, 
 One pale as his despairing woe. 
 
 THE SOUND AND THE HEARER. 
 
 Mewlana Dschelaleddin once proclaimed, 
 
 Fhat music was the noise of heaven s gates : 
 
 A. foolish man, who heard this speech, exclaimed, 
 
 So harsh the heaven-doors sound, it through me 
 
 grates." 
 
 Mewlana Dschelaleddin straight replied, 
 * I hear those gates on opening hinges ride, 
 But you, when on the closing hinge they gride." 
 
 S 
 
 MATHEMATICAL LOVE. 
 
 My heart s a point, round which, in fixed curves of 
 
 dawn, 
 
 Phe beauty of the fair one s as a circle drawn : 
 D<-<ire s divided pains are living radii, 
 Phick stretching from the centre to periphery. 
 
244 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE TIMOROUS GIANT. 
 
 The sun aslant and low in heaven hung ; 
 The pigmy a stupendous shadow flung ; 
 A giant sat upon the mountain s head, 
 Beheld the shadow, and in terror fled ! 
 
 THE NIGHT VISIT. 
 
 I sat beside a taper s flame ; 
 The Loved One unexpected came. 
 I thought the time to sunrise drew : 
 It seemed my taper thought so too ; 
 The breezy light she shed about 
 Made it grow dim, and flicker out. 
 
 SCHANFERI, OH THE VENGEANCE-OATH FULFILLED 
 
 Schanferi, the peerless runner who outstrips the swifte 
 
 steed, 
 Whom an arrow whizzing from the bow-string scarce 
 
 can outspeed, 
 
 Holding towards the tribe Salaman rancorous a] 
 
 deadly hate, 
 Swore to kill a hundred of them his revenge to 
 
 tiate. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 245 
 
 Nme-and-ninety he has slaughtered ; for the hundred 
 but one more : 
 
 Schanferi, himself, outmatched, is slain within the en 
 tered door. 
 
 As his severed head from off his body rolled upon the 
 
 hearth, 
 3ne, of tribe Salaman, kicked it on a pile of ord rous 
 
 earth. 
 
 " Schanferi, the peerless runner, death has overtaken 
 
 him. 
 Ere he could fulfil his vow and heap his hundred to the 
 
 brim." 
 
 Swiftly, from the skull he kicked, a splinter like a dag 
 ger flew, 
 
 Smote the mocker dead, and thus the hundredth fated 
 victim slew ! 
 
 SLEEPLESS LOVER AND TURTLE-DOVE. 
 
 O Turtle-dove ! that keepest me awake, 
 
 Thy breast and mine with love s deep longings ache. 
 
 Thy woe is loud, mine silent in the night : 
 
 But tears, wanting to thee, bedim my sight 
 
 Love s treasure thus is halved between us twain : 
 
 To thee the plaints, to me the tears remain. 
 
246 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE POET AND ALEXANDER. R. 
 
 To Alexander came a man in garb with tattered fold, 
 Bringing a poem splendidly adorned with silk and 
 gold. 
 
 The king demands : " Why hast thou not unto thy body 
 
 lent 
 Some of the pains upon this manuscript so largely 
 
 spent?" 
 
 The poet says : " The law of labor is, that each must 
 
 drive 
 At his appropriate trade, if he would honor it and thrive, 
 
 It is my work majestic thoughts to clothe in fit ar 
 ray ; 
 
 But honor s robes the king knows how to cut anc 
 give away. 
 
 I here have set thee forth in lasting praise and fam< 
 
 enrolled, 
 And left it unto thee for this to have me dressed ii 
 
 gold." 
 
 Amidst his loud-applauding courtiers, Alexander bade 
 The bard at once in gold-embroidered garments to b 
 clad! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 247 
 
 THE IDEAL PHILOSOPHY : FROM MAHMOUD. 
 
 Nothing is the mirror, and the world the image in it : 
 God the shower is, who shows the vision every minute. 
 
 THE AVOIDED CLUMP OF PALMS. R. 
 
 On yonder hill, where stand those seven tall palms, 
 
 once raged 
 A battle as terrific as was ever waged. 
 
 The world s two dreadest monsters, frights to all that 
 
 live, 
 We saw unto each other there a taming give. 
 
 One monster by the other one was crushed amain, 
 And the survivor by the dead one then was slain. 
 
 Long time those palm-trees to approach we did not 
 
 dare : 
 In vain from far their precious fruits we saw them bear. 
 
 Because the thicket near a tiger for his lair 
 Had taken, and he howled, bloodthirsty, there. 
 
 "When in the morning looked those palms alluringly, 
 The grumbling tiger made each frightened comer flee. 
 
248 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 But once, as we were looking towards those palms at 
 
 dawn, 
 We saw a branch down from the highest summit drawn. 
 
 The branch, now up, now down, with strangest motions 
 
 went, 
 As in a serpent s coils it here and there was bent. 
 
 Upon those twistings gazing, quite a space it takes 
 For us to recognize the giant queen of snakes : 
 
 As thick as a large man, and sixty feet in length, 
 We calculated, and enormous was her strength. 
 
 Her tail aloft was wreathed around the palm-tree s top ; 
 Her jaws were near the ground, upon her prey to pop. 
 
 Wide open were they for the helpless little beasts 
 By fate allotted for this dreadful huntress feasts. 
 
 She seemed we from the tiger s wrathful growl could 
 
 hear 
 To intrude upon his beat, and in his lair to peer. 
 
 Then stepped he out to battle, dauntless champion like : 
 The mighty serpent spired in angry act to strike. 
 
 And as he sprang to clutch beneath her haughty throat, 
 She downward shot her head, and him from under smote. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 249 
 
 He shrank convulsive, as she with a single bite 
 
 A great piece from his bright striped belly tore outright. 
 
 She holds him fast, and from the palm all slowly swims 
 Fold after fold, to let her lace about his limbs. 
 
 Her fangs soon choke his frightful yell with dripping 
 
 clots, 
 And soon compressed him breathless have her rigid 
 
 knots. 
 
 She is too weak to crunch the life left in his body lithe ; 
 And so, for aid, she towards the palm begins to writhe. 
 
 Against the trunk she draws the tiger, and a crack 
 
 Is heard, as break the bones which form his lordly back. 
 
 He lies upon the ground ; and she, exhausted, heaves 
 Herself up in the palms, to rest amidst their leaves. 
 
 On that the first day of the fight we stood in fear, 
 A few and far : for who would dare to venture near ? 
 
 The second day the number of spectators grew ; 
 Their courage rose, and nearer to the scene they drew. 
 
 We saw her through the bushes, but we .did not feel 
 Oisposed to trouble her, preparing for her meal. 
 
250 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 She, with a yellow drool, red lumps has pasted thick 
 Of the repulsive carcass ; in her throat they stick. 
 
 This gorging most obscene the whole day occupied, 
 But when we left at night, she seemed quite satisfied. 
 
 The third morning an eager crowd came streaming fast 
 Of women, children, and old men. All fear had passed, 
 
 There lay the victress, swoln immensely, and hall 
 
 dead : 
 The triumph-feast with sleep her glutted stomach fed. 
 
 She safely killed the tiger, and then took her rest ; 
 But such a fearful meal no creature could digest. 
 
 The people rushed upon her with swift blow and shout, 
 And in ten thousand fritters scattered her about. 
 
 Then quick they went, delivered from their deep alarms. 
 And plucked the fruit from off those long-forbidden 
 palms. 
 
 MOniJEDDIN AT THE RUINS OF SEHRA. 
 
 The place where courts and hosts once glittered thick, 
 Is now a waste which makes one sorrow-sick. 
 On all sides yesterday were heard gay songs ; 
 
ORIKNTAL POETRY. 251 
 
 To-day are hushed the migratory throng*. 
 
 One bird the echoes of a broken heart 
 
 Sang, sadly as if soul from frame would part. 
 
 I said, " What piteous hap dost thou grieve o er ? " 
 
 He said, " The time that will come back no more ! " 
 
 AN ARAB ADVENTURE. R. 
 
 Teabbata Scherran, in time of war, 
 A spy, went forth, as eve was growing dunner ; 
 His friend, Amru Ben Barrak, with him went, 
 And so did Schanferi, the matchless runner. 
 
 They paused about the middle of the night, 
 A-near a fountain where a palm-grove darkled, 
 Like hot and panting deer, their thirst to slake: 
 The silent moonbeams on the water sparkled. 
 
 Teabbata Scherran, the doughty, spake : 
 " I hear of some man s heart the muffled working ; 
 It is, I think, some anxious foeman s heart, 
 Who, hidden here, for us in arms is lurking." 
 
 They said : " The only sound that we can hear 
 Is clearly but the gurgling fountain s rustle : 
 If thou discern st the blows of any heart, 
 It doubtless is thine own faint bosom s bustle." 
 
252 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 He takes a hand of each companion then, 
 And both upon his naked bosom places, 
 Crying, " The steady strokes that beat there, feel, 
 And say if me a timid heart disgraces." 
 
 " Indeed, thy heart makes stroke with even pulse, 
 Like his who is entirely free from terror ; 
 But in such heat the stoutest heart might thump- 
 Come, let us drink ; we frankly own our error." 
 
 Ben Barrak stooped him down, the first, and drank, 
 His hand meanwhile his trusty sword-hilt feeling. 
 Refreshed, then rose he up, and said, aloud : 
 " No secret foe yon palm-clump is concealing ; 
 
 But if there be a foe, and he be near, 
 
 Then let him snort ! " said Barrak, and loud laughed he. 
 
 The runner, Schanferi, descended next, 
 
 And while he moved, the cooling water quaffed he. 
 
 The runner, likewise, soon returned, but said, 
 In Barrak s ear, " Not where that spring aspireth, 
 But yonder, lies the foe ; and not Amru, 
 It is Teabbata that he desireth." 
 
 They say, " Now fear has saturated all 
 The burning nerves through which thirst lately fried 
 thee." 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 253 
 
 He cries, " I am as hotly parched as -you ; 
 Behold ye now how much you have belied me." 
 
 At once the bold Scherran throws down his sword, 
 
 No fibre of his dauntless courage shrinking, 
 
 And helpless lies upon the edge, and drinks, 
 
 With slow-drawn gulps, just like a wild bull drinking. 
 
 The ambushed foes dare not rush forth in front, 
 To seize the drinking bullock open-handed ; 
 But from behind they fling around his arms 
 A netted rope, strong-woven, many-stranded. 
 
 Ben Barrak ! " calls Teabbata, " come too ; 
 For thou hast brought me to this plight unhandsome : 
 Thou, Schanferi, run back and tell the Sheik 
 To haste with bloody sword and win our ransom ! " 
 
 THE ESCAPING BIRD. R. 
 
 Where, in the sacred North, the glittering mountains 
 
 rise, 
 There lives a bird which wears a changing coat of dyes. 
 
 He is green in Spring, in Summer has a yellow tint, 
 [n Autumn red, goes white through Winter s fleecy 
 mint. 
 
254 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 What for ? In order that in plumes of fitted hue 
 He through the changing seasons may his course pur 
 sue, 
 
 Spring s herbage, Summer s grain, Fall s leaves, and 
 
 Winter s snow : 
 The cause is not mere pleasure, it is likewise woe ! 
 
 He thus escapes the harm the sportsman s glance por 
 tends ; 
 Because his raiment always with the landscape blends. 
 
 He is blest who has his life in such a garb infurled, 
 And so can lose himself unnoticed in the world. 
 
 INDESTRUCTIBLE FRIENDSHIP! FROM DSCIIAMY. 
 
 My bosom s dazzling lamps were lighted at my friend ; 
 My bosom s far-seen lamps no smoke nor ashes leave ; 
 From him and me the chain of friendship naught can 
 
 rend ; 
 Of its soft rings who can the ring-dove s neck bereave ? 
 
 THE HERETIC BREAST. 
 
 The two-and-seventy sects on earth caressed, 
 Collective dwell in every human breast. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 255 
 
 SAJIB S ESCAPE FROM THE GREAT SHIPWRECK. 
 
 Life-embarked, out at sea, mid the wave-tumbling roar, 
 The poor ship of my body went down to the floor ; 
 But I broke, at the bottom of death, through a door, 
 And, from sinking, began for ever to soar. 
 
 ARAB HOSPITALITY. 
 
 Lift up, slave ! the torch on high, % 
 That any traveller may spy. 
 If thou a guest dost bring to me, 
 I will that instant make thee free. 
 
 The ship of the moon through the air-ocean swam with 
 out traces ; 
 
 The glimmering stars not .a ray shed beyond their own 
 faces. 
 
 I looked to the sky s azure tent, where Orion already 
 Stood watching by night, and his sword in its belt 
 glittered steady. 
 
 So I in the door of my house stood, as night round me 
 
 darkened, 
 And heard a sole traveller s foot, with such sharpness 
 
 I hearkened. 
 
256 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 It was not the lion s proud tread, his poor enemy 
 
 crushing : 
 It was not the step of the roe, the dewed grass lightly 
 
 brushing. 
 
 It was not the robber s sly creep, nor a swain from 
 
 sleep broken : 
 It was the slow, faltering step, of a stranger sure 
 
 token. 
 
 I thrust my good sword in its sheath, w^aved a brand 
 
 brightly burning, 
 To show that a sheltering roof for a guest was here 
 
 yearning. 
 
 THE POET SAJIB. 
 
 As pen sweet Sajib takes the beak of nightingale ; 
 The fragrant page on which he writes is rose-leai 
 
 pale. 
 
 For such a pen and page what fitting ink appears ? 
 Ah ! Sajib s ink is fiery wine and blinding tears. 
 
 THE THOUGHT-JEWEL. 
 
 The wondrous gem of thought Tschintamani is named ; 
 Who knows it not is to be pitied, to be blamed. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 257 
 
 Who owns this stone can each conception realize, 
 Fulfil all dreams that in his yearning bosom rise. 
 
 Who bears it in his soul has wish-fulfilling power : 
 Who lays it on his brow, his mind is cleared that 
 hour. 
 
 Through his bright, deepening eye its owner it betrays, 
 And through the finer wit that in his talking plays. 
 
 Hast thou that gem ? Let no one snatch it from thy 
 
 grasp, 
 And thou hast all that mightiest monarch s crown can 
 
 clasp. 
 
 MUSSUD S PRAISE OP THE CAMEL. 
 
 With strength and patience all his grievous loads are 
 
 borne, 
 And from the world s rose-bed he only asks a thorn. 
 
 THE TWO RULERS. 
 
 While the great generations depart, 
 And full ages and firmaments roll, 
 Mighty love is the lord of the heart, 
 And pure truth the bright king of the soul 
 
258 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 SUFISM DEFINED: FROM HUSSEIRI. 
 
 The true Suti is he whose lofty strife 
 The most essential essence has obtained, 
 And through destruction of his mere self s life 
 An indestructible existence gained. 
 The true Suti is he alone, I say, 
 Who what he has within his head lays down, 
 Gives what lie has within his hand away, 
 And takes alike time s fickle smile and frown. 
 
 THE MADNESS OF PIETY. 
 
 Let the Loved One but smile on this poor heart of 
 
 mine, 
 I will sell the two worlds for one drop of his wine. 
 
 TRUTH OUT OF CONVULSION : FROM DEWLETSCHAH. 
 
 Whene er the sea upheaves its foaming hosts, 
 Pearl after pearl it tosses on the coasts. 
 
 THE GREAT FLOWER-VASE. 
 
 With blooming splendors God has sown creation s 
 
 flower-bed. 
 And in the flower-cup of space has hung it overhead. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 259 
 
 SELF-UNIVERSALIZATION. 
 
 The true journey from " me " to " God " is then com 
 pletely made, 
 
 When " me " is free from " thee," as fire is from the 
 smoke s foul shade. 
 
 THE TOILING HERO. 
 
 The earnest aspirant is he who knows 
 No aim besides the throne of God, and, till 
 He reaches that, allows of no repose, 
 And no companion has on plain or hill. 
 
 THE GOAL AT THE BARRIER. 
 
 I hotly strove to reach the race-course goal, 
 When seeking God beyond myself to find. 
 But now I see, since He was in my soul, 
 The first impatient step left Hun behind. 
 
 THE HUMBLE SUPPLIANT. 
 
 I heard a camel-driver in the waste thus sing and 
 
 groan : 
 I weep, but you know not the reason why my tears 
 
 are spent. 
 
 t 
 
260 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 I weep from a depressing fear that you will strike you 
 
 tent, 
 And, swift departing, leave me in this desert-worl( 
 
 alone." 
 
 BEAUTY AND LOVE : FROM MEWLANA DSCHAMY. 
 
 Before eternity to time had shrunken, 
 
 The Friend deep in his glorious self was sunken. 
 
 Around his charms a firm-bound girdle hovered : 
 No one the lonely path to him discovered. 
 
 A mirror held he to each wondrous feature, 
 But shared the vision s bliss with not a creature. 
 
 In cradling Naught s abyss alone he rocked him, 
 No playmate s face or gambols sportive mocked him, 
 
 Then rose he up swift vanished all resistance 
 And gave the boundless universe existence. 
 
 Now Beauty, sun-clear, from his right side beameth : 
 Love, moon-like, quickly from his left side gleameth. 
 
 When Beauty s flame lights up the cheek s red roses 
 Love fans a fire from which no heart reposes. 
 
OICIKNTAL rOKTUV. 261 
 
 Between them glows a league which forms no cinder, 
 But from all Beauty s food creates Love s tinder. 
 
 When Beauty midst her snaring ringlets lieth, 
 Then Love the heart within those fair locks tieth. 
 
 A nest is Beauty, Love the brooding linnet : 
 A mine is Beauty, Love the diamond in it. 
 
 From God s two sides they came, twin emanation, 
 To chase and woo each other through creation. 
 
 But in each atom s point, both, clasping, enter, 
 And constitute all being s blissful centre. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF SUNRISE. 
 
 The red dawning proclaims a victorious fight ; 
 From the sword of the sun flows the blood of the 
 nigjht. 
 
 N DAY AND NIGHT. 
 
 The sun and moon, which light by day and night the 
 
 earth o er all its lands, 
 Are but two lanterns which the Day and Night bear, 
 
 burning, in their hands. 
 
262 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 The sun and moon are weights within the clock of God s 
 
 tremendous might ; 
 One rises and the other sinks alternate with the Day 
 
 and Night. 
 
 The sun and moon are tables twain, with gleaming gold 
 
 and silver paved, 
 On which, as types of praise, mysterious Day and Nigh! 
 
 are broadly graved. 
 
 The sun and moon are tapers, raised in front, to lend 
 
 some guiding sight 
 To us bewildered moths, whom Day and Night drive 
 
 round the endless LIGHT. 
 
 The sun and moon are doors to rooms between the 
 
 eager-gazing globes, 
 Wherein the Day and Night for ever interchange theii 
 
 blending robes. 
 
 THE PARTING LOVERS : FROM THE CHINESE. 
 
 She says, The cock crows, hark ! 
 He says, No, still t is dark. 
 
 She says, The dawn grows bright. 
 He says, O no, my Light ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 263 
 
 She says, Stand up, and say, 
 Gets not the heaven gray ? 
 
 He says, The morning star 
 Climbs the horizon s bar. 
 
 She says, Then quick depart : 
 Alas ! you must now start. 
 
 But give the cock a blow, 
 Who did begin our woe ! 
 
 THE TWO TEMPLES. R. 
 
 There was a people once, by wisest counsels steered, 
 "Who temples twain to Virtue and to Honor reared. 
 
 Excepting through the first, they stood so, wall to 
 
 wall, 
 No man within the second one could get at all. 
 
 As forecourt unto Honor s temple Virtue s stood. 
 "Through merit praise is reached," such was the 
 moral good. 
 
 An age did those two temples thus together stand, 
 And all was noble-toned and prosperous in the land. 
 
 But long ago did Virtue s solemn temple fall ; 
 And Honor s shrine, profaned, is open now to all. 
 
264 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 INSTANTANEOUS SALVATION. 
 
 If any fiend of hell, laid in a chest of molten steel, 
 Subdues his will, and with a humble mind on God 
 
 reposes, 
 His penal chest, the hottest berth that sense-filled soul 
 
 can feel, 
 Becomes at once a most delicious bed of breathing 
 
 roses. 
 
 THE WINE-SELLER : FROM MAIIMOUD FERJUMENDI. 
 
 The Loved One bears the cup, and sells annihilation : 
 Who buys his fire ecstatic, quaffs illumination. 
 
 The giant Sun is dizzy, going and returning, 
 
 So swiftly, up and down, for one poor droplet burning. 
 
 Even Wisdom s self in drunkenness profound is sunken : 
 Both earth and heaven are drunk, and all the angels 
 drunken. 
 
 The wine-house is the world, and all things in it beak 
 ers : 
 The Friend each goblet holds, and we are eager seekers. 
 
 Within -the cup, upon the threshold, heaven lieth : 
 The nest is there towards which the soul for ever flieth. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 265 
 
 The angels, in carousal high, their tankards clinking, 
 Pour out from heaven on the earth their lees of drink 
 ing. 
 
 They drank pure wine themselves, and joyously they 
 
 shouted, 
 When from the dregs that fell on earth fair Eden 
 
 sprouted. 
 
 In sin and sorrow here long time have I been roaming : 
 A sea of tears I ve shed is wide around me foaming, 
 
 And every tear s a drop of blood. A poor wayfarer, 
 I longingly await the lovely goblet-bearer. 
 
 He comes, a flood of molten music round him gush 
 ing; 
 He comes, all veils are raised, the universe lies blush- 
 
 I snatch the cup, and, lipless, quaff the godhead s 
 
 liquor, 
 As into unity of bliss the self-lights flicker. 
 
 A WHITE ELEPHANT. 
 
 The rare white elephant is widely worshipped in Siam, 
 As a fit representative of the unseen I AM. 
 
266 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE THREE CHINESE SECTS. 
 
 The Buddhist priests declare their Fo in the abyss to 
 
 be. 
 Say Lao s followers, " Paradise lies in the Eastern 
 
 Sea." 
 
 But great Confucius pupils look on real things around ; 
 Before their eyes the airs of spring, fresh-blowing, brush 
 
 the ground. 
 
 FOUR FRAGMENTS FROM DSCHELALEDDIN RUMI. 
 
 O renowned Dschelaleddin Rumi ! thy so deep-lighted 
 
 brain 
 Was of mysteries, lovely and wild, an unlimited 
 
 main, 
 Whereon sailed the full fleet of all poetry s beautiful 
 
 ships. 
 A pearl-fount was thy tongue, overflowing the rim of 
 
 thy lips. 
 
 I. THE CREATION AND THE CREATOR. 
 
 The whole material universe is but a small cupful of 
 
 force, 
 Dipped out from the unfathomable spring of God s 
 
 dynamic source. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 267 
 
 II. SUFISTIC THEOSOPHY. 
 
 Whene er I love a slave, cries God from being s highest 
 
 peaks, 
 do become his eye, ear, mouth, his search and what 
 
 he seeks : 
 
 Lnd thus it is through me alone that he perceives and 
 speaks. 
 
 III. THE LAW OF INSIGHT. 
 
 To critic cold and sly God never yet appeared ; 
 No riddle ever was by logic solved and cleared : 
 It takes a pure and humble heart the Lord to se*e, 
 And free-winged wit to soar through mystery. 
 
 IV. THE HAUNT OF WISDOM. 
 
 Seek truth from thought, and not from mouldy books, 
 
 fool ! 
 Look in the sky to find the moon, not in the pool. 
 
 PRESCRIPTION FOR A REPULSIVE HOUSE. 
 
 That your house is unfriendly, you say, my young 
 
 friend ! 
 
 And to change it, you think still of ways without end. 
 Only bring you a dear friendly wife to that place, 
 And you friendliness then in all corners shall trace. 
 
2G8 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE GREATEST GILDER. 
 
 True poetry is gold ; and one who is well skilled, 
 With little of that metal pure both worlds may gild. 
 
 THE RICH MEN AND THE WISE MEN. E. 
 
 A wise man by a rich man once was with some shrewd 
 ness asked : 
 
 " How happens it that wise men oft are seen at rich 
 men s doors, 
 
 While ne er at wise men s doors rich men are seen, 
 barefaced or masked ? " 
 
 The wise man through the rich man s soul this piercing 
 answer pours : 
 
 " It is because the wise men know that they of wealth 
 have need, 
 
 While the rich men of wisdom s use know not. T is 
 sad indeed ! " 
 
 INVERSION OF TRUTH. R. 
 
 What use the preacher s truth and earnest exhortation ? 
 The hearer makes thereof inverted application. 
 
 A miser listened once to a discourse most moving, 
 The habit of unstinted charity approving. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 20^ 
 
 He said : " I never was before so much affected : 
 How beautiful is charity, when well directed ! 
 
 So clear and noble is the duty of almsgiving, 
 once I 11 go and beg, as sure as I am living." 
 
 THE BIRTH OF VENUS. 
 
 The sweet Goddess of Love leaves the sea, with be- 
 diamonded locks : 
 
 Though it not as the cradle of Form, but Deformity, 
 rocks ; 
 
 In its caverns profound, horrid monsters all prowlingly 
 roam, 
 
 While the fair Queen of Beauty is born from its glit 
 tering foam. 
 
 CHARACTER MORE THAN INSTRUCTION. 
 
 Doctrines didactic, by most wise advices backed, 
 Can really do no good, if nature doth not act. 
 
 They re like the recipe to cure the bites of snakes, 
 Which from a wandering quack an ignorant person 
 takes. 
 
 Of all the snakes that bite, not each is poisonous 
 
 found : 
 A little toad is quickly laid upon the wound. 
 
270 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Innocuous was the bite, unvenomed was the tooth : 
 Yet if the wound be healed, it was the toad forsooth ! 
 
 MAN AND WOMAN. R. 
 
 From mere dead earth was man created, hard anc 
 
 cloddy ; 
 But woman afterwards was made from man s 1m 
 
 body. 
 
 And thus arises the distinction of the sexes, 
 
 A question which so many empty heads still vexes. 
 
 The man is, as a first creation, genuiner : 
 The woman is the clearer, softer, and diviner. 
 
 For he was from the inorganic dirt unfolded ; 
 But she came forth from clay which life before had 
 moulded. 
 
 FRUITLESS REMORSE: FROM FIRDOTJSI. 
 
 When cruel deeds are done, in vain relents 
 The doer s heart, and mournfully repents. 
 So when a fire has raged, the smokes that rise 
 In useless lamentation drape the skies. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 271 
 
 GOD S BOY-LOVER: OR, THE MYSTIC S SUICIDE. 
 
 FROM FERIDEDDIN ATTAR. 
 
 There was a sailor once, in many harbors hailed, 
 Who full a thousand times had o er the ocean sailed. 
 He had a boy, majestic as the sun at noon, 
 And lovely as at evening is the cloud-poised moon. 
 His cheek was rosy red, and heavenly blue his eye ; 
 So straight his shape, the cypress could not with him 
 
 vie. 
 
 The father was a pious man in every way, 
 The blameless youth pure as a breath of breaking day. 
 At last the father must another voyage make, 
 And will from fervent love his darling with him take. 
 As to the strand they come, the crew are weeping 
 
 there ; 
 For each himself from brothers, parents, friends, must 
 
 tear. 
 
 They go, bidding their loves adieu, from door to door : 
 And in the, resurrection-day they 11 meet once more. 
 " Be quick," a sailor loudly cries, " and ready make, 
 Behold, in th east, propitious breezes for us wake." 
 Now each one s farewell business closes in a trice, 
 And with huzzas they leap on deck as brisk as mice. 
 The waves the vessel rock upon the cradling deep, 
 The shrieking passengers into the corners creep. 
 
272 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 The father and his son too step aboard apace, 
 
 And from the deafening crowd and clamor reach theii 
 
 place. 
 
 The sail is spread ; the ship the even billows rides, 
 As through the unimpeding air an arrow glides. 
 The youth says : " Father, why didst thou exchange oui 
 
 life 
 
 Of beauteous peace, to face the wrathful ocean s strife ? 
 No house is on the waves, no palace on the sea : 
 Come back, and on the flood again I will not be." 
 Then says the father : " All the world, my child, behold^ 
 Driven right and left, and near and far, by lust of gold. 
 T is sweet to sail the sea, for when the danger s o er, 
 Great wealth and honor is the fruit the danger bore." 
 To him the boy : " Father, no prize this brings, me- 
 
 thinks ; 
 
 For fame or pleasure thus won soon to nothing sinks. 
 Father, alas ! thy vain discourse has given me pain ; 
 O let me leave the sea, and go on shore again ! " 
 Replies the father : " Dearest boy, give me thy trust : 
 Compared with thee, my gold and silver are but dust. 
 My child, where er I look, there is of thee some trace ; 
 The earth, moon, sun, and sky are mirrors of thy face. 
 T is but from love for thee that I the ocean plough : 
 Shouldst thou go hence, O son ! my life would fail me 
 
 now." 
 " Dear father, thou know st not the mystery aright : 
 
ORIENTAL TOETRY. 273 
 
 Let me reveal to thee the Absolute s own light. 
 
 (now, father, in the heart I dwell of the Alone : 
 
 iimurg am I, the mountain Infinite my throne. 
 
 \ revelation saw I from the flood upshoot, 
 
 5aw rise from th sea an image of the Absolute." 
 
 Dear soul!" then said the father, "cease from such 
 
 discourse : 
 oefore an old man boastest thou thy wisdom s source ? 
 
 infant ! with the shell of Law be thou content : 
 Truth absolute is not as sport to children sent." 
 
 Father," replies the youth, " my eye towards home is 
 turned ; 
 
 see the way for which my heart has ever yearned. 
 ?he sea s a symbol how one must destroy self s root : 
 Jpon the inmost selfhood now exults my foot. 
 Oove waves a flaming torch, and goes as guide before. 
 Reason begone ! who follows Love needs thee no more. 
 
 see but One, and quickly fling the rest behind ; 
 His love s bright eye alone I seek to find." 
 n rage the father cries : " Silence this instant keep, 
 Pert babbler ! ere I throw thee in the yawning deep. 
 Vly precious gem, in need of reason thou dost stand ; 
 ?he Absolute is not for thee, but Law s firm land." 
 
 Thou understand st me not," the love-drunk stripling 
 cries : 
 
 Know in each soul the hidden Loved One slumbering 
 lies. 
 
274 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Know that I to myself seem as the Sea of Life : 
 
 I see my spirit with thee and all beings rife. 
 
 Why shall I not the truth announce ? not I am heard : 
 
 I fade away, and God himself speaks through my 
 
 word. 
 
 "Wouldst cast me in the sea ? Ah, father ! quickly do : 
 There, lost to self, the wave will give me life that s true. 
 Father ! I am the Loved One : Godhead through me 
 
 gleams : 
 
 Incessant Revelation in my bosom streams. 
 And Revelation says, Thy soul s a prisoner chained 
 In the Ship of Time and Space: whoever sinks has 
 
 gained/ 
 
 Says Revelation, Swiftly leap beneath God s waves : 
 T is thus thy riddle, deathless Soul ! solution craves. 
 I am God, father, and my being sinks in Him, 
 Even as a drop within the sea s stupendous rim." 
 He shouts, and springs amidst the waves from where 
 
 he stands. 
 
 The crew with bitter grief lament, and wring their hands. 
 As in the sun a pure snow-flake dissolves to tears, 
 The beauteous youth beneath the flood so disappears. 
 The father gazes where that plunge a gurgling makes : 
 A piercing groan from out his anguished bosom breaks. 
 Then, realizing all, sudden he looks around, 
 Steps to the ship s frail edge, is gone with silent 
 
 bound. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 275 
 
 Like points within a circle stand the crew all dumb : 
 Spell-bound, each stands, like a pearl in the muscle 
 numb. 
 
 CARELESS TRUST. 
 
 My mind I still will k eep free from perturbing pains, 
 Phough destiny run through the night with slackened 
 reins. 
 
 THE HIGHEST TRANSMUTATION. 
 
 Of all the famous alchemies, this is the chief: 
 Upon a hundred thousand pounds of bitter grief 
 A single carat s weight of wine absorbing burns, 
 And instantly to joy the heap of sorrow turns. 
 
 PECULIAR SERVICE OF A FRIEND. 
 
 In all uncertain straits thy way by counsel trace : 
 
 Two helping judgments joined, for truth shall never 
 
 lack : 
 
 Man s mind a mirror is, which showeth him his face : 
 Has he a friend ? The mirrors twain reveal his back ! 
 
 THE GRAVE A GREEN TENT. 
 
 A furloughed soldier, here I sleep, from battle spent, 
 And in the resurrection I shall strike my tent 
 
276 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE SINNER AND THE MONK I FROM SAADI. 
 
 In Jesus time there lived a youth so black and dis 
 
 solute, 
 That Satan from him shrank, appalled in every at 
 
 tribute. 
 
 He in a sea of pleasures foul uninterrupted swam, 
 And gluttonized on dainty vices, sipping many a dram. 
 Whoever met him in the highway turned as from i 
 
 pest, 
 Or, pointing lifted finger at him, cracked some horric 
 
 jest. 
 I have been told, that Jesus once was passing by the 
 
 hut 
 Where dwelt a monk, who asked him in, and just th< 
 
 feast had shut, 
 When suddenly that slave of sin appeared across th( 
 
 way. 
 Far off he paused, fell down, and sobbingly began t 
 
 pray. 
 As blinded butterflies will from the light affrighted 
 
 shrink, 
 So from those righteous men, in awe, his timid glances 
 
 sink ; 
 And like a storm of rain the tears pour gushing from 
 
 his eyes. 
 " Alas and woe is me ! for thirty squandered years," 
 
 he cries, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 277 
 
 In drunkenness I have expended all my life s pure 
 coin; 
 
 And now, to make my fit reward, Hell s worst dam 
 nations join. 
 
 would that death had snatched me when a sinless 
 child I lay ! 
 
 Then ne er had I been forced tin s dreadful penalty to 
 pay. 
 
 Yet if thou let st no sinner drown who sinks on mercy s 
 strand, 
 
 then in pity, Lord ! reach forth and firmly seize my 
 hand." 
 
 The pride-puffed monk, self-righteous, lifts his eyebrows 
 with a sneer, 
 
 Ajid haughtily exclaims : " Vile wretch ! in vain hast 
 thou come here. 
 
 Art thou not plunged in sin, and tossed in lust s devour 
 ing sea ? 
 
 What will thy filthy rags avail with Jesus and with me ? 
 
 God ! the granting of a single wish is all I pray ; 
 
 Grant me to stand far distant from this man, in the 
 j udgment-day ." 
 
 From heaven s throne a revelation instantaneous broke, 
 
 And God s own thunder-words thus through the mouth 
 of Jesus spoke : 
 
 " The two whom praying there I see, shall equally be 
 heard : 
 
278 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 They pray diverse, I give to each according to his 
 word. 
 
 That poor one, thirty years has rolled in sin s most slimy 
 deeps, 
 
 But now, with stricken heart and streaming tears, for 
 pardon weeps : 
 
 Upon the threshold of my grace he throws him in de 
 spair, 
 
 And, faintly hoping pity, pours his supplications there. 
 
 Therefore, forgiven, and freed from all the guilt in 
 which he lies, 
 
 My mercy chooses him a citizen of paradise. 
 
 This monk desires that he may not that sinner stand 
 beside : 
 
 Therefore he goes to Hell, and so his wish is gratified." 
 
 The one s heart in his bosom sank ; the other s proudly 
 swelled : 
 
 In God s pure court all egotistic claims as naught are 
 held. 
 
 Whose robe is white, but black as night his heart be 
 neath it lies, 
 
 Is a live key at which the gate of Hell wide open 
 flies! 
 
 Truly not self-conceit and legal works with God prevail ; 
 
 But humbleness and tenderness weigh down Salva 
 tion s scale. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 279 
 
 FAREWELL ANGUISH OF A HUMBLE HEART. 
 
 O Friend ! thou findest friends enough like me ; 
 But I shall never find a Friend like thee. 
 
 THE SACRAMENTAL BLUSH. 
 
 Love s candles burn, through doming day and nightj 
 Upon the holy altar of her heart, 
 And, blushing in her cheeks, their lovely light 
 Makes every pulse with thrills of worship start. 
 
 THE MOTH, THE LIGHT, AND THE WAX : FROM SAADI. 
 
 As once, at midnight deep, I lay, with sleepless eyes, 
 These words between the moth and light did me sur 
 prise. 
 
 The moth kisses the flame, and says, with tender sigh : 
 " Dear radiance ! I rejoice from love for thee to die. 
 My love, thou diest not, yet anxious groans and strong 
 Break loudly from thy heart, through all the darkness 
 
 long!" 
 The bright flame says : " O moth ! whom love to me 
 
 attracts, 
 
 Know that I also burn with love for this sweet wax. 
 Must I not groan, as more my lover melting sinks, 
 And from his life my fatal fire still deeper drinks ? " 
 As thus she spake, the hot tears coursed her yellow 
 cheek, 
 
280 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 And with each tear crackled a separation-shriek. 
 Then from her mouth these further words of pleading 
 
 fall: 
 " Poor moth ! boasting of love, say not thou lov st at 
 
 all. 
 Ah ! how thou moan st when the fierce heat one wing 
 
 has seared; 
 
 I stand till my whole form in flame has disappeared." 
 And so she talked till morning shone the room about ; 
 When lo ! a maiden came to put the candle out : 
 It flickered up, the wick a smoking relic lay. 
 T is thus, O gentle hearts ! that true love dies away. 
 
 THE FOUR WEAPONS. 
 
 The brave man tries his sword, the coward his tongue : 
 The old coquette her gold, her face the young. 
 
 THE HIGHEST TRADE. 
 
 Time and Space are outspread as the open Bazaar of 
 
 God s love, 
 And who buys nothing there must be wretched all others 
 
 above, 
 The great MERCHANT his wares will for ever keep back 
 
 from our gold : 
 For pure throbs of the heart, all his gems, silks, and 
 
 spices are sold. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 281 
 
 SWIFT OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 A thousand years a poor man watched 
 Before the gate of Paradise : 
 But while one little nap he snatched, 
 It oped and shut. Ah ! was he wise ? 
 
 UNSEALING A LETTER. 
 
 The firmament is God s letter of love to man, 
 The sun the seal stamped on its envelope of air ; 
 The confidential night tears off that blazing seal, 
 And lays the solemn star-script, God s handwriting, 
 - bare. 
 
 FORESIGHT AND DECREE. 
 
 Prophets appear to think they make what they but say : 
 Crowed not the cock, still just the same would dawn the 
 
 day ! 
 
 THE POET-CRITIC. 
 
 The field a youthful bard and critic enters bold, 
 A dauntless hero, in capacity twofold. 
 The martyr-crown he seeks from others to deserve, 
 And puts it on them when they from his standard 
 swerve ! 
 
282 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE MONKEY AND THE COCOA-NUT. 
 
 The cocoa-palm for fifty feet has not a limb : 
 
 It were a task to climb its trunk, so smooth and slim. 
 
 The Western sailors come the weltering ocean o er, 
 And moor their spacious bark hard by the Indian shore. 
 
 But how to reach those lofty nuts shall try their wits. 
 At last a cunning thinker thus the problem hits. 
 
 Each man advances near the grove, and there he 
 
 stops. 
 A host of monkeys swarm amidst the palms high 
 
 tops. 
 
 Whatever done by man the mimic monkey sees, 
 That he will imitate, perched up amongst the trees. 
 
 Straightway the crew begin to shower the trees with 
 stones : 
 
 The monkeys fling back nuts to break their pelters 
 
 
 bones. 
 
 The grinning sailors gather up a load of these, 
 
 And stow them in their ship till filled are all its knees. 
 
 These cocoa-nuts shall in the Western world be broke, 
 But those outwitted monkeys will not know the joke ! 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 283 
 
 THE TRIAL OF FRIENDSHIP. R. 
 
 Between a wise magician, whom fair Maia knew, 
 And one of earth s poor sons, there once a friendship 
 grew. 
 
 That friend his ear with protestations plied : 
 
 At length their truth the enchanter by his magic tried. 
 
 Within a meadow sits the friend in mild repose, 
 Sees how each flower, each blade of grass, in silence 
 grows. 
 
 At once in order rise the grass-blades, and appear 
 
 A host of helmed warriors, armed with pike and spear. 
 
 They throng around the friend, and greet him as a king, 
 And pearls and rubies at his feet profusely fling. 
 
 His heart beats strong with bliss : like a vast tent un 
 furled, 
 The sky is pitched ; and he is lord of all the world. 
 
 A breathless man then through the crowding courtiers 
 
 pressed, 
 And straight the king as a familiar friend addressed. 
 
 The monarch, with a look surprised, tt> him replied, 
 " My friend, I know you not, " and turned away in 
 pride. 
 
284 SPECIMENS OP 
 
 Thrice waved his Maia-staff that grieved magician s 
 
 hand, 
 And all the incantation faded from the land. 
 
 The friend, now disenchanted, bitterly repents, 
 
 Till thus the conjuror comforts him for his offence : 
 
 " It is the world s low lusts that do our senses bind ; 
 Let Maia s veil but fall, we leave those snares behind. 
 
 The splendid courtiers shrink to grass-blades in the field, 
 The pearls and rubies are but drops of dew congealed. 
 
 Just now my art made shapes to you from out this mist : 
 And yet I never would your friendship have dismissed. 
 
 The worst of the illusion was that it turned friend 
 From friend, and therefore have I brought it to an end. 
 
 But doubtless, friend! had me the same proud spell 
 
 possessed, 
 You would have seen me ftill as badly stand the test." 
 
 THE PARIAH S APPEAL. K. 
 
 O Brahmin ! let not your poor outcast child be blamed 
 Because he as a wretched Pariah is named. 
 
 My hut is placed *afar, that your house may be sure 
 Not to become, through smoke from my hearthstone, im 
 pure. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 285 
 
 r ou turn away whene er the public road I tread, 
 [Lest on your foot should fall the shadow of my head. 
 
 from a distance, through the open door, behold, 
 ddst the temple s throng, you standing calm and bold. 
 
 \ Knelt I before the graven god which there I see, 
 \ Would it not turn, as you, its back in scorn on me ? 
 
 Shining through candles, jewel-glow, and rich incense, 
 It blesses you ; but curses doth on me dispense. 
 
 Of yonder palm s dropped dates I gathered up a few ; 
 None of its harvest, therefore, will be touched by you. 
 
 Beside the fount I draw from hangs a skull for pail, 
 That you to know who there has drank may nowise fail. 
 
 Should one a corpse or ashes in that water place, 
 The flowing stream would cleanse itself from every 
 trace. 
 
 And yet the pitcher of my child, or his young lip, 
 Poisons it all, if there with yours he chance to dip. 
 
 O proud and cruel Brahmin ! from thy visage stern, 
 For pity, I to condescending Krishna turn* 
 
286 SPECIMENS OF ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 A SIGNIFICANT PUN. 
 
 Conceit, to gain instruction all too wise, 
 Bears pedants, and not pupils, in his eyes. 
 
 EVANESCENCE OF EARTHLY GREATNESS. R. 
 
 A king, who by the public mouth was named the Great, 
 Was on his station s frailty wont to meditate. 
 
 Against all arrogance as a protecting gate, 
 This phrase he oft repeated : Only God is great. 
 
 Those words he bade them on the palace wall ingrain, 
 Whose fragment columns, crumbling, to this day remain. 
 
 City and realm are sunk, but travellers relate 
 You still may read that motto : Only God is great. 
 
 THE TRUE TRINITY. 
 
 That Love, the Loved One, and the Lover, 
 All three are only One, discover ! 
 
 STRAIT IS THE GATE. 
 
 Rise up betimes, and be awake ! for wise men say, 
 That unto knowledge of the Lord to find the way 
 Is hard a$ barefoot o er a razor s edge to stray ! 
 
ORIENTAL TOKTRY. 287 
 
 GAUTAMA S SISTERS CONVERTED. 
 
 Great Gautama, the sage, two sisters had, 
 Who of their beauty were exceeding vain. 
 
 The image of a lovely maid he bade 
 
 Appear to them ; their hearts felt envy s pain. 
 
 Then wrinkles came that maiden s beauty o er ; 
 
 Her teeth fell out, her hair grew thin and gray. 
 No pride nor envy knew the sisters more, 
 
 But for Nirwiina they began to pray. 
 
 DISTINCTIONS EVEN IN PANTHEISM. 
 
 The sea is one ; yet who denies that waves, foam, spray, 
 
 drops, froth, 
 Do from each other differ, makes each earnest thinker 
 
 wroth. 
 
 SEED AND NURTURE. 
 
 The rain its bounty sheds on every field ; 
 The sprouts will vary like the seeds that yield. 
 
 A FAIR HUNTER. 
 
 A hunter is yon maid ; her eyebrows bows appear ; 
 Her glances are the arrows, and my heart the deer. 
 
288 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE HYPOCRITICAL FRIEND. 
 
 The, friend who, before your face, to flatter disdains not, 
 But soon as behind your back, from slander refrains not, 
 Is like unto poisoned honey, luscious yet deadly, 
 Of pleasure and pain a perilous medley. 
 
 DIVINE DISTILLATION. 
 
 The dropping dew is God dispersed on all things fit f 
 Wilt thou not be a drop among the drops of it ? 
 
 THE RAHAT S PATH. 
 
 With pride you boast your travels far and wide, 
 Your topographic knowledge multiplied. 
 I know a road which all your lore exceeds, 
 The blessed road that to Nirwana leads. 
 
 THE INFESTED HEART. 
 
 Within the heart of every man are found a hundred 
 
 swine ; 
 Slay these, or the Brahmanic cord around your body 
 
 twine. 
 
 THE DIVINE VICTORY. 
 
 He who forbears to take revenge, I know, 
 Achieves the noblest conquest of his foe. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 289 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE GENIUS. 
 
 When Amruzail describes what he has seen, 
 
 Such power in his language lies, 
 That as he paints flocks, wastes, oases green, 
 
 His hearers ears are turned to eyes ! 
 
 THE FAITH OP THEISM. 
 
 Deny a living God, from seraph-host to plains of calc, 
 And the abyss of Space is but a star-decked catafalque. 
 
 OM MAN! PADMI HOOM ! BUDDHIST PRAYER. 
 
 The flood of time, the storm of life, are cruel ; 
 
 Hail, hail to him with lotus and with jewel ! 
 
 Whose faith and rites, destroying all the fuel 
 
 That feeds the existence-fire, will end the duel 
 
 Between the soul and limitation. Cruel 
 
 The strife of being with its bounds. But sweeter 
 
 Is Sakya Muni s faith to its repeater 
 
 Than honey to the tongue of famished eater. 
 
 No more he halts, of time and space a meter ; 
 
 Of infinite Nirwana made a greeter, 
 
 His ills all die with speed than lightning fleeter ! 
 
 THE ONE AND THE MANY. 
 
 Of all the world s ten million pools and streams and lakes, 
 Each one its image of the single sun-orb takes. 
 
290 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 So every human soul within the nation-folds, 
 Its separate semblance of the single Godhead holds. 
 The sun remains, though all the waters flow away : 
 When men are gone will solitary Brahma stay. 
 
 THE GOODNESS OF SIVA. 
 
 The firmamental Indra once, in ire, 
 Chased Agni, the provoking god of fire. 
 Agni assumed a pigeon s shape, and flew. 
 How quick did Indra, as a hawk, pursue ! 
 The panting fugitive to Siva fled. 
 " Fear not, poor trembler ! " gentle Siva said. 
 Indra approaches, and demands his prey : 
 " He takes my life who takes my food away." 
 " I ne er betray the guest who trusts my word, 
 Although that guest be but a trembling bird. 
 Ask any substitute, however rare, 
 And you shall not behold me halt or spare." 
 " I 11 have my prey, or else thy breast, I swear ! " 
 " Be welcome ! " Siva said, and laid it bare. 
 The hawk upon the breast took eager flight, 
 And fed till he had cloyed his appetite. 
 Upon the scene this miracle displays 
 The UNIVERSE became an EYE to gaze ; 
 And from the drops of Siva s blood that fell 
 Redeeming sages sprang, the Shasters tell. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 291 
 
 EGOTISTIC CRITICS. 
 
 Some men a fault in another will find 
 
 As small as a grain of meal ; 
 But in themselves, though not otherwise blind, 
 
 Are quite unable to feel 
 A fault as large as the cocoa-nut s rind. 
 
 TO A SOCIAL ASPIRANT. 
 
 The struggle after honor leave 
 Forever ; turn into thy breast 
 That fiery will which now, in strife 
 As sent abroad, but runs to waste, 
 And thou shalt lead a noble life, 
 Nor longer vainly chafe and grieve. 
 
 DSCHELLALEDD1N RUMY S MATIN-CALL. 
 
 O arise ! for to us is belonging all nature to-day, 
 
 And the Soul of the World comes alike as our host 
 
 and our guest ; 
 While the lutes of the stars through the morning en- 
 
 trancingly play, 
 
 And with roses is drunken the nightingale soul in 
 my breast 
 
292 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 DSCHAMY RECEIVING A LETTER. 
 
 In the East the bright falcon of morning upflew ; 
 From the rose-bed of luck a soft atmosphere blew ; 
 By the post of good fate came thy missive to me, 
 That the prayers of thy soul their fulfilment might see. 
 Then, as swiftly I tore the envelope apart, 
 A sweet perfume embattling my flesh and my heart, 
 For the pearl of the meaning therefrom to be learned, 
 To the letter my mind as a muscle I turned. 
 
 A SUBLIME HEEDLESSNESS. 
 
 The real saint, absorbed in what he loves and knows, 
 Forgets alike caresses, spurns, and gifts, and blows ; 
 The lover of the Lord, when blessed to see His face, 
 The dealings of His hand will never care to trace. 
 
 TURNING FROM TALE-BEARERS. 
 
 Withdraw your mind, however -hard the task, 
 When gossips put their friends upon the rack ; 
 
 In magnanimity refrain to ask 
 
 What any one has said behind your back. 
 
 For only that which to your hearing comes . 
 
 Can vex your soul with anger, pain, and dread ; 
 Whate er beyond your hearing dies or hums, 
 
 Is just as though it never had been said. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 293 
 
 SHARP-SIGHTEDNESS OF THE ARAB HORSE. 
 
 The lion and the horse one day disputed which 
 Of them possessed the most discriminating sight. 
 A hair all white in milk the lion saw by night ; 
 
 The horse by night perceived a sable hair in pitch. 
 
 SWIFTNESS OF THE ARAB HORSE. 
 
 Mahlek Ben Essedin sings, 
 Horses are birds without wings. 
 
 LIGHT-FOOTEDNESS OF THE ARAB HORSE. 
 
 Haymour, the peerless chestnut steed 
 Of Hussein, Sheik of El Medeen, 
 Was said to be so light of foot, 
 That on a woman s bosom he 
 Could dance, nor leave a bruise behind. 
 
 REWARD IS HUMAN : FROM LEBlD. 
 
 Reward with good the good one does to thee, the least ; 
 For it is only man rewards, and not the beast. 
 
 EVANESCENCE OF MORTAL THINGS. 
 
 O imperial Babylon ! where is the pulp of thy rind ? 
 And the throne of great Solomon where ? They are 
 gone on the wind : 
 
294 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 In the lore of the past though a million bright deeds 
 
 are enshrined, 
 Many more, brighter far, have evanished like mist or 
 
 the wind. 
 What are glory and riches ? But firmans that Fortune 
 
 hath signed, 
 Just to glitter a moment, and pass on the breath of th< 
 
 wind. 
 Hast been chained ? or by love hast been crossed ? o] 
 
 in sorrow hast pined ? 
 Ah ! how glad thou shalt be when thy relics are dus 
 
 on the wind. 
 For the spirit in death all its burdens and bounds leave; 
 
 behind, 
 And will nevermore care for the things that must gc 
 
 on the wind. 
 
 THE MAGNANIMOUS FRIEND. 
 
 Even if, when in my need, for help I sought, 
 My friend to me assistance never brought, 
 When cries that friend for help in his sore need, 
 Forgetting every grudge, to him I speed. 
 
 A LOFTY RESERVE : FROM MOTANEBBI. 
 
 Complain not to the crowd ; you will but give them 
 
 joy, I say ; 
 As if a wounded deer complained unto the birds of prey, 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 295 
 
 THE PROPHETIC BEGINNING. 
 
 The gray morning, I see, in the night of thy beard has 
 
 just broken. 
 He replied, with a sigh, soon as thus I had smilingly 
 
 spoken : 
 Was there ever a dawn that did not the full noonday 
 
 betoken ? 
 
 LOVE SOWING AND REAPING ROSES. 
 
 An Arab, by his earnest gaze, 
 
 Has clothed a lovely maid with blushes ; 
 
 A smile within his eyelids plays, 
 And into words his longing gushes. 
 
 The loving looks my heart out-throws 
 Upon your cheeks have planted roses. 
 
 O, let me pluck ! That he who sows 
 Should reap, there is no law opposes. 
 
 THE DIVINE INTEGER. 
 
 Not an object can be, but the same has existed before, 
 Leaping up in the light, falling back in the dark, of 
 
 its source ; 
 
 Awful space is of God but the azure and echoless floor, 
 Where sufficingly dwells He, an absolute unit of 
 force. 
 
296 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Thus, no matter how varied, all things are but sports 
 
 of the One, 
 From this mystical thought in my mind, to yon bubble, 
 
 the Sun ; 
 "What appears is a shimmer of spirit on matter s dint 
 
 screen, 
 As I long ago learned to perceive from great Dsehella- 
 
 leddin. 
 
 THE LAST PERCH OF DELIGHT. 
 
 For eons that no number can compute, 
 
 All drunk and wild with ecstasy of bliss, 
 The rahat in a dazzling spiral flew, 
 
 And still the apex of perfection neared. 
 But in that endless flight, the sum of joy 
 
 Across his vision and his senses poured, 
 Were nothing to the rapture which he knew 
 
 The solitary instant when he stood 
 Upon Nirw < ana s edge, and took the leap 
 
 Which left poor Limitation s marks behind, 
 And made him absolute and total All. 
 
 THE RUINED HOUSE. 
 
 When Otbah saw the home of Bani Jash 
 Deserted by its inmates, once so gay, 
 
 Now still, the fallen door and broken sash, 
 He sighed : Alas ! no house on earthly clay 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 297 
 
 Is built, however fair and strong its walls, 
 However love and peace its chambers fill, 
 
 But at the last a fatal message calls, 
 
 A mournful wind complains across its sill ! 
 
 AN ARABIC RIDDLE. 
 
 The first and last are just alike, upon my soul ; 
 
 But who my riddle reads ? the middle is the whole. 
 
 / uooiu |pij pTre pp 
 uoos OS 
 
 THE FRIEND IN PROOF. 
 
 Name not as friends the men who by you stand 
 
 In pleasant times, when peace and welfare please you ; 
 
 But him indeed call friend who grasps your hand 
 In that dark day when want aud danger seize you. 
 
 THE DYED SOUL. 
 
 O thou in beauty s wild enchantment dressed, 
 
 My soul has, like the tulip, been in blood immersed, 
 And will, if here by thy rejecting scorn accursed, 
 
 Bear to the future world the marks thou hast impressed. 
 
298 
 
 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 TRUE NOBILITY. 
 
 Who nobly lives and dies I noble call, 
 Although the most ignobly born of all. 
 
 A NEW MAN. 
 
 Leave ancestry behind, 
 
 Despise heraldic art ; 
 Thy father be thy mind, 
 
 Thy mother be thy heart. 
 
 Dead names concern not thee, 
 
 Bid foreign titles wait ; 
 Thy deeds thy pedigree, 
 
 Thy hopes thy rich estate ! 
 
 EXCLUSION OF DEITY. 
 
 God must in all creation be. 
 
 Vile wretch, say not He is in thee ! 
 
 BEAUTY THE SPRINGE OF HEAVEN. 
 
 Wherever, Zuleika, thou comest, breaks the night into 
 
 day; 
 
 Enslaved by thy form I have gone through the world 
 with my lute ; 
 
ORIENTAL TOETRT. 209 
 
 he charm of thy ringlets would lead even the Devil 
 
 astray; 
 
 The cherubim gaze on thy face in astonishment mute, 
 fhen love unto full contemplation thy beauty unfurled, 
 tiere stood the sweet Springe into which flew at once 
 
 the whole world. 
 
 THE CIRCUMSPECT TRAVELLER. 
 
 And well I judge, 
 
 As forward I trudge, 
 T is best for each pilgrim chap 
 
 To be cautious very ; 
 
 For I have heard 
 
 That the flying bird 
 Has oft come into the trap 
 
 For a luring berry. 
 
 TIMOUR S STATESMANSHIP. 
 
 Timour, the Tartar, said : An empire is a tent ; 
 Justice should be the pole around which it is bent, 
 Sure promptitude of equity its girding rope, 
 And its two fastening-pins philanthropy and hope. 
 Then it protection o er its tenants long shall throw, 
 However loud and fierce the blasts of trial blow. 
 
300 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE INFINITE DWELLER. 
 
 From the pitiful form of a flea, to the person of Rama 
 All the bodies of beings are mystical cities of Brahma 
 In what tissues organic walled up, an intuitive token 
 Still incessantly pines for the time when these jails 
 shall be broken. 
 
 FORBEARANCE IS POLITIC. 
 
 Never rejoice at death of foe, my friend ; 
 Your .own life too is hurrying towards its end. 
 
 THE PREACHING OF TOMBS. 
 
 As Adi, with the youthful prince, Noman, 
 
 His pupil, strolled one day where slowly ran 
 
 A river past a cemetery gray, 
 
 He asked, Knowest what yon silent tenants say ? 
 
 This is the speech their mouths of ruin hold, 
 
 The gist of a thousand songs and proverbs old : 
 
 " Ye toiling caravans, who travel by, 
 
 Like you, we lived ; and you, like us, shall die ! 
 
 What throngs have made their camels here recline 
 
 Before our doors, and in their halt quaffed wine 
 
 Mixed with this stream ! The morning passed away, 
 
 And, lo ! they had become of time the prey, 
 
 And disappeared in its mutations strange ; 
 
 For Time itself is only change on change ! " 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 301 
 
 AN OMNIPRESENT GOAL IS PATHLESS. 
 
 Whatever bears a sign, thou, Lord, must be ; 
 But no sign bears the way that leads to thee. 
 
 THE COW-BOY OF GOPALA : PREM SAGAR. 
 
 When KRISHNA, as a cowherd boy, 
 Among the cowherd maidens strayed, 
 
 With magic decked, full-wreathed with joy, 
 All in Gopala s pleasant meads, 
 
 Such heavenly charms around him played, 
 
 So wondrous were his countless deeds, 
 
 That in him Brahma, doubting, thought 
 
 An avatar of Vishnu wrought. 
 
 At once the surmise he would test, 
 
 The doubt confirm, or lay at rest. 
 
 While Krishna on a crumpled heap 
 
 Of breathing roses lies asleep, 
 
 The herd of cattle Brahma steals, 
 
 With every tending lass and lad, 
 
 And bears them through the traceless sky. 
 
 The youthful cowherd quickly feels 
 
 A warning sign of something bad, 
 
 Starts up, and seeks the reason why. 
 
 The sacred cows, his playmates too, 
 
 Are gone. He calls aloud. In vain ! 
 
 Where er he looks, the grassy plain 
 
302 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Is all that meets his anxious view. 
 At length he sees what has been done, 
 And, searching for some fit relief, 
 His ruminating mind employs ; 
 For he foresees the boundless grief 
 That will throughout Gopala run, 
 Thus reft of cows, of girls and boys. 
 Before his mind kneel all the fates ; 
 His countenance no more is sad. 
 By one volition he creates 
 As many a charming lass and lad, 
 Just such a herd of grazing kine, 
 Exactly stamped with every sign, 
 As those that came there in the morn ; 
 They were identical in each 
 Particular of form and speech, 
 And all events since they were born. 
 Just like the missing cows, the new 
 Entered their stalls with easy air, 
 As though they had been wonted there ; 
 The boys and girls their parents knew, 
 And every reminiscence shared. 
 So Brahma s mischief was repaired, 
 And solaced those he did bereave. 
 But when the sacred milk they quaffed, 
 We may be sure that in his sleeve 
 The lovely, cunning COW-BOY laughed. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 303 
 
 BRAHMANIC MATINS. 
 
 Valmiki early in the morning rose, 
 
 And, girding on his hermit garb of bark, 
 
 Repaired to where the smooth Tamasa flows, 
 As tints of dawn began the clouds to mark. 
 
 His dress laid off, he bathes himself with care, 
 
 Repeating softly many a Veda prayer. 
 
 He scoops the wave, slow pours it on the sods, 
 
 In memory of his ancestors and gods ; 
 
 Then takes with pure and cheerful mind his way 
 
 To enter on the duties of the day. 
 
 THE PROLONGERS OF TIME. 
 
 Sorrow, suspense, desire, and fear, 
 These four can make a day appear 
 Long as the shadow of a spear. 
 
 BIRTH OF THE SLOKA ; OR, ORIGIN OF VERSE. 
 
 Vhen all the matter of his Epic lay in sage Valmiki s 
 
 mind, 
 But in what form of prose or verse to clothe it he had 
 
 not defined, 
 He wandered on the banks of fair Tamasa, musing deep 
 
 and long, 
 Seeking to choose the form and measure best for his 
 
 immortal song. 
 
304 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 "While thus employed, he saw, perched near him on a 
 fragrant spray, 
 
 A lovely pair of golden birds, who sang and wooed in 
 guiltless play. 
 
 Just then a reckless archer came beneath, took careful 
 aim above, 
 
 And murdered one exactly when he was inebriate with 
 love. 
 
 His mate beholcfs him fall, all drenched with blood, and 
 swiftly round him flies, 
 
 Giving a vent to her distress in rhythmical and plain 
 tive cries. 
 
 Yalmiki, deeply moved with sympathy, impulsively ex 
 claims, 
 
 TVTiile sorrow dews his eyes, and righteous anger through 
 his bosom flames : 
 
 " O wretch, my curse on thee ! for of these warbler?, 
 brighter than the sun, 
 
 While all inebriate with love, thy cruel hand hath 
 slaughtered one." 
 
 His tender voice his pulse divided as the mourning 
 songstress wailed, 
 
 And hi the rhythmic line it formed, the wished discov 
 ery he hailed. 
 
 That line, as born of grief, let all men by the name of 
 Sloka know ; 
 
 Thus formed, Ramayana shall live while mountains 
 stand and rivers flow. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 303 
 
 IDEAL GENEROSITY. 
 
 Among generous kings was Ularka the chief 
 
 That e er sat on a throne. Once, his virtue to try. 
 
 Mighty Indra came down, for a period brief. 
 In a mendicant s form, with a pitiful cry ; 
 
 In appearance as poor as a shrivelled-up leaf. * 
 
 At the feet of Ularka he stretched out his palms. 
 And looked up at the king with a suppliant 
 To this silent request made the monarch reply : 
 Ask whatever thou wilt, thou shall have it as 
 alms." 
 
 Then at once did the beggar, exclaiming, arise : 
 
 O Ularka. the gift that I ask is thiiu- Vjm . " 
 But an instant the king hesitatingly sat, 
 
 Then outplucked the bright orbs, and, with hands 
 
 that dim groped. 
 The two jewels resplendent he laid on the mat 
 
 At the feet of the god : who his Deity oped 
 In a sunburst of smiles, and applauded the king 1 . 
 
 And a sardonyx chair, dropping down from above, 
 Took them in, and returningly flew without wing. 
 While both men and the gods made the universe ring 
 
 With their shouts, and the air was all loaded with 
 
 kn 
 
306 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 THE SAINT CONQUERING SATAN. 
 
 The World so darkly lies, 
 The fowler, Mara, few can see. 
 
 Before his nets surprise, 
 Be warned, poor bird, betimes by me ! 
 
 As yon flamingo sails 
 Through sunny paths serenely on 
 
 Till straining eyesight fails 
 To follow whither it has gone ; 
 
 So through the ether flies 
 The sage, with magic strength endued, 
 
 Nirwana for his prize, 
 The World and Mara all subdued. 
 
 BEWARE OF DELAY. 
 
 Fair opportunities are swift to go ; 
 
 But in returning they are, ah, how slow ! 
 
 THE END OF A KALPA. 
 
 The earth dissolves, the stars grow dark, the sun e 
 
 pires ; 
 
 An ashy hue comes o er the sky ; all spirits fade ; 
 Retreat chaotic glooms and cosmogonic fires, 
 
 Absorbing boundlessness claims all that has be 
 made. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 307 
 
 The elements reseek their transcendental deep, 
 The kalpa ends, great Brahma is about to sleep. 
 
 CONTENTED DISCONTENT. 
 
 When sinful pleasure lapped me in her honeyed state, 
 My spirit was uneasy and disconsolate ; 
 But thrills of deep contentment through my bosom went 
 As often as I felt my utter discontent. 
 
 
 THE BLESSED ISLE. 
 
 To calm and cleanse, and make thy heart thine own, 
 By prayer and lofty musing strain its blood 
 From restless self-desires. Whoe er does this, 
 
 Not led and fed by hopes of heaven alone, 
 Amidst the rage of Time s destroying flood 
 Uprears himself a stable isle of bliss. 
 
 NO TEDIUM IN ETERNITY. 
 
 To the watcher the night seemeth long, 
 To the pilgrim each parasang long ; 
 But, O, longer by far seemeth time 
 To him who hath nothing but time ! 
 
308 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 ABOU EL MAHR AND HIS HORSE. 
 
 It is Abou el Mahr, the gallant Sheik of Al Azeed ; 
 How fondly he is stroking Lahla, his unrivalled steed 
 
 Among the hills of Schem the tents of Al Azeed ar( 
 
 pitched, 
 And close by every warrior s door the favorite horse if 
 
 hitched. 
 
 For valor none can stand the men of Al Azeed beside 
 And Houri only with their maids comparison can bide. 
 
 This tribe the unchallenged banner too throughou 
 
 Arabia bears, 
 For the wondrous strength and beauty of their stallioni 
 
 and their mares. 
 
 But first among their warriors stands the Sheik, Aboi 
 
 el Mahr, 
 And conscious Lahla shines among their steeds, th< 
 
 peerless star. 
 
 When clasps Abou proud Lahla s neck to kiss hi: 
 
 veined cheek, 
 The courser looks his love as plainly as if he coulc 
 
 speak. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 309 
 
 He waves his mane, he paws, he curls his nostrils and 
 
 his lips ; 
 He makes half-vocal sounds, uprears or droops his neck 
 
 and hips ;* 
 
 His deep and pensive eyes light up with lambent flame, 
 
 then seem 
 As if they swam in the desires of some mysterious dream. 
 
 And thus his mind in signs through changing nerves 
 
 and muscles wrought, 
 Of paleness, flush, and gesture has a language for 
 
 each thought. 
 
 Abou caresses him before the people gathered there, 
 Who gaze with wonder at his loving and his haughty 
 air. 
 
 And Leila, Selim, Zar the wife and children of the 
 
 Sheik 
 Will pat and kiss him, and his hoof within their bosoms 
 
 take. 
 
 And twenty chiefs press near, their servants ranged in 
 
 ordered bands, 
 The privilege to claim that he shall eat from out their 
 
 hands. 
 
 For Lahla is of Al Azeed the crowning joy and pride ; 
 The envy and despair of all the Arab tribes beside. 
 
310 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Another horse so celebrated never spurned the earth ; 
 Through white Koureen, the mare of Solomon, h< 
 draws his birth ; 
 
 
 
 And traces back, in straight, untainted rill, his royal blooc 
 To thrice illustrious Hufafa, great Abraham s sable stud 
 
 Hang o er his spotless forehead, which is white ai 
 
 whitest milk, 
 Soft tufts of handsome hair as glossy as the finest silk. 
 
 Those tufts compose a veil which every breeze in open 
 
 work hems, 
 And underneath it glimpse his rapid eyes, two burning 
 
 gems. 
 
 His neck and chest the graces of a swan s in nothing lack 
 A gorgeous mantle, woven of silk and gold, beclothes 
 his back. 
 
 His pedigree, two hundred high descents, his bosom bear* 
 In bag of musk, wherewith two precious amulets he wears 
 
 His limbs and sockets so elastic, all his motions are 
 So swift and smooth, the rider scarcely feels a start or jar 
 
 Abou el Mahr would on his back, in rapid gallop still, 
 A brimming cup of sherbet quaff, and not a droplet spill 
 
 Indeed, a bard so mounted might receive the fancy bold 
 His courser was a bird whose wings an unseen move 
 ment hold. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 311 
 
 No price or bribe could cause the Sheik, nor any des 
 perate need, 
 To part with his redoubtable and idolized steed. 
 
 It is Abou el Mahr, with twelve choice men of Al Azeed ; 
 And they to seize the hostile Bagdad caravan proceed. 
 
 Soon through the Synor pass into the open plain they 
 
 wind, 
 And shake their spears, and shout, their blue caftans 
 
 stream wide behind. 
 
 Abou, his Lahla s sinews strung with fire, is far before, 
 As on the undefended, scattering caravan they pour. 
 
 To guard their goods two merchants of Damascus 
 
 bravely stand, 
 But in an instant both are stretched in death upon the 
 
 sand. 
 
 The Sheik and his good men of Al Azeed pile all the spoil 
 Upon the camels, and their homeward way begin to toil. 
 
 At noon they halt to rest awhile beside a desert spring ; 
 Ah ! who can tell what utter ruin one thoughtless hour 
 may bring ? 
 
 Their foe, the fierce Pacha of Acre, leads his horsemen 
 
 there, 
 Cries, " Strike ! and I command you, save Abou, not 
 
 one to spare ! " 
 
312 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 So all are slain. The Sheik, in his right arm a fearful 
 
 wound, 
 His darling Lahla led before, is on a camel bound. 
 
 They journey on until they reach the mountains of 
 
 Saphad, 
 Just as the sun drops out of sight, and night falls dark 
 
 and sad. 
 
 The old Pacha commands each soldier there to pitch 
 
 his tent, 
 And take good care the escape of horse or camel to 
 
 prevent. 
 
 The keeper of the Sheik has tied him fast both hand 
 
 and foot, 
 And fallen asleep, and dreams of fighting, routing, and 
 
 pursuit. 
 
 But the poor captive, restless with his torturing wound, 
 
 still wakes, 
 And Lahla s low, disconsolate neigh his anguish sharper 
 
 makes. 
 
 Bound as he is, he rolls and crawls one last caress to give 
 The steed from whom he had not thought to part while 
 he should live. 
 
 " O Lahla ! " sighs Abou, " no more shall I rejoice with 
 
 thee 
 To skim the waste, the wild Simoom not prouder or 
 
 more free ; 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 313 
 
 " No more with thee the Jordan swim, whose spurned 
 
 water drips 
 From off thy sides, as white and pure as foam from off 
 
 thy lips. 
 
 * A bitter fate consigns me to my unrelenting foe ; 
 But thou, bright gem of Al Azeed, in liberty shalt go. 
 
 What wouldst thou do, poor friend, shut in the close 
 
 and wretched khan 
 Of some Turk huckster not deserving to be called a man ? 
 
 No, whether fortune dooms me for a slave or here to die, 
 Thou shalt, O jewel of a thousand hearts, in freedom fly. 
 
 " Go to the tents thou knowest so well, amid the hills 
 
 of Schem, 
 And say, Abou el Mahr will nevermore return to them. 
 
 " Thy head put through the door where my dear wife 
 
 and children are, 
 And lick the hands of Leila, Selim, and sweet little Zar. 
 
 " O Lahla, Lahla ! must I now from thee forever part ! 
 Farewell, farewell, bejovexl comrade of my life and 
 heart ! " 
 
 So saying, with his teeth laboriously he gnawed apart 
 The tethering cord that went around the stake, and 
 bade him start! 
 
314 SPECIMENS OF 
 
 Bnt the sagacious soul bounds not away. The bonds 
 
 he smells 
 That bind his master s limbs. Each fact to him its 
 
 secret tells. 
 
 With tenderness he licks the blood upon the shattered 
 
 arm, 
 Gives forth a low and painful whine, but raises no alarm. 
 
 His teeth the girdle seize ; he lifts Abou, so spare and 
 
 tall; 
 Now foolish guards, now old Pacha, defiance to you all ! 
 
 Great Lahla proves himself a steed of living steel and 
 
 fire; 
 To reach him vain are all the struggles of their mad 
 
 desire. 
 
 For the hills of Schem he aims his way through the 
 
 open, lustrous night, 
 Straight as an arrow goes, swift as the lightning in its 
 
 flight. 
 
 The stars one after one go down behind the desert s rim, 
 But the pale and eager moon rushes in even pace with 
 him. 
 
 The palm-clumps on oases lift their heads of yellow green 
 Above the downs of endless sand, and vanish soon as 
 seen. 
 
ORIENTAL POETRY. 315 
 
 The lagging sun comes up ; twelve weary, mighty 
 
 leagues are passed ; 
 The lovely haunts and tents of Al Azeed appear at last. 
 
 The anxious tribe, whose thirteen best are out, is all astir ; 
 The mother deems it time her sons should have returned 
 to her. 
 
 Ha ! what upon the far horizon moves ? A single steed ? 
 [s this what we looked for with such intensity of greed ? 
 
 Nearer ! can it be Lahla ? In his mouth a bundle ? No, 
 The matchless Lahla never from adventure came so slow. 
 
 The godlike steed, with staggering steps, faint pantings, 
 
 almost spent, 
 The girdle bites, reels up, and lays Abou before his tent. 
 
 One instant stands he, looking round, as if reward to reap 
 From those who, thrilled with grateful love and won 
 der, gaze and weep. 
 
 Then, while the congregated tribe break forth in pier 
 cing cries, 
 
 The noble creature, gasping, falls, all blood and foam, 
 and dies. 
 
 Thabit Ben Ali, poet of the tribe, leaps through the 
 
 crowd, 
 With soul on fire, and sings the feat in panegyric proud. 
 
316 SPECIMENS OF ORIENTAL POETRY. 
 
 To thrilling tones of love and pride he smites his burn 
 ing lyre; 
 With raining eyes and heaving bosoms all as one respire. 
 
 " No man" he says, " not even Hatim Tai, could have 
 
 done 
 A nobler deed, a more impassioned gratitude have won. 
 
 " Long as the Horse shall be the friend and servant of 
 
 our race, 
 The glorious fame of Lahla shall resound through time 
 
 and space." 
 
 Full many a day has passed since Ah sang his touching 
 song, 
 
 And from the vale the tents of Al Azeed have van 
 ished long ; 
 
 But in the night of Arab lore still shineth, like a star, 
 The story of the peerless Lahla and Abou el Mahr. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL 
 
 DEBENT ET PRODESSE ET DELECTARE POET^E. 
 
 It is the poet s happy duty, 
 
 Whose breast his singing eases, 
 
 In joint behoof of truth and beauty, 
 To profit while he pleases. 
 
 THE RIDE OF LIFE. 
 
 Each day you have is but a steed, 
 
 Caparisoned or well or ill ; 
 The weeks, the fresh relays you need ; 
 
 Your soul, the mystic rider still. 
 The spurs and stirrups are of deed, 
 
 The sightless bridle is of will ; 
 While faring forth you smile or bleed, 
 
 Take care, with heed the saddle fill ! 
 
318 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 THE SCHOOL OF LIFE. 
 
 While through the halls in the school of life we flit, 
 With hearts still turned where thou, O God ! dost 
 lead them, 
 
 Be all thy ceaseless benefits deep writ 
 
 Where every day we turn the leaves to read them. 
 
 THE FOOL OF FOOLS. 
 
 Soon as himself man knows, 
 
 He knows himself a fool ; 
 Yet, ah ! how mad he grows 
 
 If one but call him fool ! 
 
 A MOOD. 
 
 O the burden of the dreams that have long been dead, 
 And the brightness of the hopes to my soul that clung ! 
 
 O the sadness of the tears that never were shed, 
 
 And the sweetness of the songs that never were sung ! 
 
 There is nothing a man knows, in grief or in sin, 
 
 Half so bitter as to think, What I might have been ! 
 
 THE DOUBLE HARVEST. 
 
 A dying girl, in autumn time, 
 
 Lay fading at the close of day, 
 
 Stole o er the fields the reapers chime, 
 While fast around the brown ranks lay. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 319 
 
 " Open the casement wide," she said, 
 " And raise me up, that I may look, 
 
 Ere yet my heart and eyes are dead, 
 Once more upon the field and brook ! " 
 
 " The harvest is the Lord s," loud sang 
 
 The reapers in the distant field ; 
 With piled-up sheaves, with sickles clang, 
 
 To him they all the glory yield. 
 
 Abroad the dying maiden gazed, 
 
 Then all around grew sudden black ; 
 
 The sun in setting dimly blazed, 
 Her head upon the couch fell back. 
 
 " Farewell ! " she sighed, " ye scenes so dear." 
 " The harvest is the Lord s," replied, 
 
 Unconsciously, the reapers clear ; 
 And ere the distant echo died, 
 
 An angel-reaper darted there, 
 
 Too swift for mortal sight to spy, 
 
 And bore the flower that drooped so fair 
 To God s great garner in the sky. 
 
 VOCAL PHANTOMS AND REAL EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Amidst a parlor-full of strangers 
 He sits within his easy-chair, 
 
320 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 Without a thought of lurking dangers, 
 
 And asks his auditors to share 
 The secrets which themselves but dare 
 To face in solitude and prayer. 
 
 To themes so shy and private listen, 
 
 With prim propriety, the crowd ; 
 No eyes with softening radiance glisten, 
 
 No quickening hearts beat time aloud ; 
 Depressed sit those with love endowed, 
 Complacent stare the cold and proud. 
 
 Ah ! thou who so remotely talkest 
 Of friendship s sentimental stake, 
 
 With words at one remove thou balkest 
 The wants with which our bosoms ache. 
 
 Set forth the facts, this throng would wake, 
 
 Their eyes would gush, their hearts would break ! 
 
 AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 My way in opening dawn I took, 
 Between the hills, beside a brook. 
 The peaks one sun was climbing o er, 
 The dew-drops showed ten millions more. 
 
 The mountain valley is a vase 
 
 Which God has brimmed with rarest grace ; 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 321 
 
 And kneeling in the taintless air, 
 I drink celestial blessings there. 
 
 Behold that guiltless bird ! What brings 
 Him here ? He comes to wash his wings. 
 Let me too wash my wings with prayer, 
 And cleanse them from foul dust and care. 
 
 To one long time in city pent 
 The lesson seems from heaven sent. 
 For pinions clean yon bird takes care ; 
 Of soul defiled do thou beware ! 
 
 FUNERAL HYMN. 
 
 The worlds that shine above us nightly, 
 
 Then hide beyond our clew, 
 Do surely shine all day as brightly 
 
 Behind their veil of blue. 
 
 When friends with natural misgiving 
 
 We lay in earth s cold bed, 
 We know that thus they still are living 
 
 Where comes no sigh nor dread. 
 
 O while our saddest tears are stealing, 
 
 When fate s worst dart has sped, 
 T is light, not darkness, is concealing 
 
 Our well-beloved dead. 
 
322 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 Whene er a funeral bell is tolling, 
 Some weary one doth rest ; 
 
 And loudly through the skies are rolling 
 The anthems of the blest. 
 
 Then wherefore should we sink in sorrow 
 To part from those we love ? 
 
 Since God will join us all to-morrow, 
 In the endless home above. 
 
 EPITAPH ON TIMON, THE MISANTHROPE: CALLIMACHUS. 
 
 Timon, hat st thou the world or Hades worse ? Speak 
 
 clear. 
 " Hades, fool ! because there are more of us here ! " 
 
 THE PATHOS OF LIFE : GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 The race of man is like a summer breeze that transient 
 
 blows, 
 A stranger to himself, in all his life he nothing knows. 
 
 THE POOR MAN S COMFORT : GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Thou scorn st not me, but poverty in me as realized ; 
 And God himself, if on the earth, and poor, would be 
 despised. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 323 
 
 4 
 
 THE MISER S MISERY : GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Hermon, the miser, dreamed he was in debt, and poor ; 
 Waking, he quickly hung himself above the door ! 
 
 CAUSE AND EFFECT : GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Thy mind is lame as is thy foot ; for nature still doth 
 
 make 
 What is without from that which is within its being take. 
 
 DISSIPATION AND ITS PROGENY : GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Limb-loosing Bacchus and limb-loosing Venus, without 
 doubt, 
 
 A horrid daughter sometimes get, the fierce, limb- 
 loosing Gout. 
 
 VULCAN COMPENSATED : GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 
 
 Fair Eros for thy son, sweet Aphrodite for thy wife ; 
 Brass-worker, it is just thou take thy lameness without 
 strife. 
 
 CYNIC AND PLATONIST. 
 
 Diogenes once cried, 
 " See how I tread on Plato s pride ! " 
 " Yes, with far greater pride ! " 
 The wise philosopher replied. 
 
324 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 THE RETORT RETORTED. 
 
 Pyrrho was wont to say, 
 
 " There s no distinction bred 
 
 Between who lives to-day 
 And who to-day is dead." 
 
 " Why hast thou not then died ? " 
 Asked one, to show his*sense. 
 
 " Because," Pyrrho replied, 
 " There is no difference ! " 
 
 EINDRUCK UND AUSDRUCK : RUCKERT. 
 
 Let something make the right impression on your mind, 
 And for it soon the right expression you will find ; 
 So, too, let something but the right expression take, 
 And it will very soon the right impression make. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF FEUERBACH, THE SATIRIST. 
 I. USE OP SATIRE. 
 
 Enlarging, but not altering, Satire lays all bare ; 
 Aye, like a microscope, it shows things as they are. 
 
 II. FINAL CAUSE OF THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT. 
 
 Dost know the reason why the apple Adam bit ? 
 To do a favor to Theology was it. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 325 
 
 III. THE WISE ASCETIC. 
 
 Flowers are for heaven ; and though they bloom on 
 
 earth, t is true, 
 Let us not look, but still for heaven reserve the view. 
 
 IV. THE NOBLE ECONOMIST. 
 
 What good ar"e tulips and roses profuse ? 
 Potatoes let us raise ; they are of use ! 
 
 V. THE HOLT EMBARGO. 
 
 The priests will have no precious product landed, 
 Unless the crucifix is on it branded. 
 
 VI. INSPIRATION NOT LOCALLY LIMITED. 
 
 Appears but to a bigoted and foolish elf 
 The Palestinian Flora as Botania s self. 
 
 V VII. SIGH OP A LAYMAN. 
 
 The Holy Ghost but Greek and Hebrew knew ; 
 Alas for us, illiterate laic crew ! 
 
 VIII. SIGH OP A THEOLOGIAN. 
 
 Alas ! the Holy Ghost but drizzles drop by drop, 
 When a great stream should burst the pen our thirst to 
 stop. 
 
326 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 IX. THE TWO SHADOWS. 
 
 Behind the thing the shadow doth in nature stretch ; 
 Before the thing the shadow doth in history reach. 
 
 X. THE WORLD EMPIRICALLY TREATED. 
 
 All sickness is specific, Science doth assure, 
 
 And only special means its ails can really cure. 
 
 To lack of Bibles do the Bible-Unions tax 
 
 The world s diseases all. Get out, you arrant quacks ! 
 
 XI. THE PSYCHOLOGICAL ORIGIN OP MYSTICISM. 
 
 Unnatural warmth the heart s rich chamber filled, 
 But cold as Greenland stood the empty head ; 
 
 Through reason s coldness feeling s mist distilled, 
 And dimmed the windows which to nature led. 
 
 The vapor, gathered thus, in ice-flowers froze ; 
 
 And from that vision mysticism rose. 
 
 INCLUSION ABOVE NEGATION. 
 
 The wise critic his power in help displays, 
 And not in hurt ; as when great Goethe says, 
 " Divide and conquer ! is a maxim fit ; 
 " Unite and lead ! is a much finer wit." 
 
 TO A LAZY GLUTTON : LESSING. 
 
 In eating you are swift ; in going, slow ; 
 Eat with your feet, and take your jaws to go ! 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 327 
 
 THE PATHETIC CONTRADICTION : ANASTASIUS GRUN. 
 
 When on her bashful mouth I hung, 
 And wildly drew her fragrant breath, 
 
 My dreams, why only, only clung 
 They still to parting and to death ? 
 
 And now, as sadly on the grave 
 
 I stand, where she lies cold and dead, 
 
 Why do I taste the kiss she gave, 
 And see her modest cheeks so red ? 
 
 THE MINSTREL S BREVITY : HOLDERLIN. 
 
 Why art thou all so brief? Lov st thou no more the 
 
 song? 
 When once thy lay was heard in days of youth and 
 
 Spring, 
 
 It seemed as if the strain could never be too long ; 
 But now the close is nigh whenever thou wilt sing. 
 
 My song is as my life. Wouldst bathe thyself in light ? 
 
 Behold, 
 The darkness settling round with mournful omen 
 
 stirs ; 
 
 The sunset faded out, the earth is growing cold, 
 And close in front the bird of night uneasy whirrs. 
 
328 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 FROM THE RUSSIAN POET, LERMONTOFF. 
 
 Rememberest them the day when we 
 
 Late was the hour were forced to part ? 
 The night-gun boomed athwart the sea ; 
 
 In painful silence beat each heart ; 
 The lovely day found cloudy close ; 
 
 A heavy mist the landscape palled ; 
 And seemed it, when that shot arose, 
 
 An echo from the ocean called. 
 
 Alone I wander by the flood ; 
 
 And when a gun booms in its might, 
 I think with pain how we once stood 
 
 Together on that parting night. 
 And as the mournful echoes roll, 
 
 Muffled, along the fluid walls, 
 From out the caverns of my soul 
 
 Death answeringly calls and calls. 
 
 POEMS FROM THE GERMAN OF NICOLAUS LENAU. 
 I. MOTTO TO LENAU S LIFE. 
 
 A fading gleam, a dying crash, 
 
 Is human life, perceived and gone. 
 Whence comes the noise ? Where goes the flash ? 
 
 The stars are dumb ; the waves roar on. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 329 
 
 II. PRATER TO LKTHB. 
 
 O Lethe ! break the fetters of thy shore, 
 And from the shadow-world upon me pour, 
 And let my restless spirit, wounded sore, 
 
 Thy wave of healing drink ! 
 
 Spring comes, with fragrance, song, and love awake, 
 And greets me as of old ; a heavy ache 
 Lets not my heart respond. O Lethe, make 
 
 Thy wave within me sink ! 
 
 III. THE PAST. 
 
 The evening star, a pallid spark, 
 
 Sadly shines and winks afar ; 
 Again a Day has changed to dark, 
 
 And found the rest that naught can mar. 
 
 Upon the moonlight, soft and clear, 
 
 Yon airy cloudlets float away, 
 And out of roses pale appear 
 
 To weave a crown for the dead Day. 
 
 Dim tomb of precious times gone by, 
 
 Inexorably holding Past ! 
 In thee, asleep, my heart s pains lie ; 
 
 Alas ! its raptures too thou hast ! 
 
I 
 
 330 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 IV. TRUTH AND HYPOCRISY. 
 
 Grief smote her by surprise 
 
 Amidst the giddy play ; 
 Tears, raining from her eyes, 
 
 Washed all the rouge away. 
 
 O Grief ! thou art most true ; 
 
 Thou mak st disguises known ; 
 False paint is trickled through, 
 
 The faded cheeks are shown I 
 
 V. VANITY IS WRETCHED. 
 
 A heart that humble love and toil surround, 
 Is happy ; but a heart on haughty ways, 
 
 That with great wishes goes, with woe is crowned, 
 And languishes beneath its envied bays. 
 
 VI. SHE CAME AND WENT. 
 
 Whene er she came, her form before me stood 
 As lovely as the first green in the wood. 
 
 And what she said sank in my heart as sweet 
 As Spring s first song heard in the grove s retreat. 
 
 And when she waved me with her hand farewell, 
 My latest dream of youth in fragments fell. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 331 
 
 VII. MY HEART. 
 
 A sleepless night ; the rain pours fast ; 
 
 My wakeful heart, between the flurries, 
 *Now harks where silent goes the past, 
 
 Now where the threatening future hurries. 
 
 O heart, thy listening must be bad ; 
 
 Seek what enduring Will resembles ; 
 Behind are heard complainings sad, 
 
 And forward many a question trembles. 
 
 Whate er the danger, never shrink ; 
 
 The storm itself thy trust discloses ; 
 The boat with Christ no storm could sink ; 
 
 So in thy bosom God reposes. 
 
 VIII. THE WINTER CRUCIFIX. 
 
 Stripped of its Christ, a naked cross I see 
 Upon the cliff ; as though the winter storm 
 
 Which, roaring, tears the leaves from every tree, 
 Had also torn from that the God-man s form. 
 
 Shall I therefore the horror, widely strown, 
 Collect, and to a single image mix ? 
 
 Shall I dead Nature, clad in snow alone, 
 Nail there on yonder empty crucifix ? 
 
332 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 IX. DEPARTURE OF ILLUSION. 
 
 Above each joy of life I see 
 
 A threatening vulture, sight of dread ! 
 What I have loved, or sought to be, 
 
 It all is either lost or dead. 
 
 In Nature s gloomy council dares 
 The human heart no voice to bring ; 
 
 Soon Death, remorseless vulture, tears 
 The joys that o er our pathway wing. 
 
 I will not longer, fool-like, seize 
 
 The foam that bright on darkness lies, 
 
 But with such bitter tears as these 
 
 Wash the last dream, from out mine eyes. 
 
 X. TO AN AUTOGRAPH COLLECTOR. 
 
 The watchful hunter, skilled in tracks, 
 Can tell, from traces on the snow, 
 
 As if they were portrayed in wax, 
 The feet of stag or wolf or roe. 
 
 To him each foot-script thus displayed 
 Upon the ground, before his eyes, 
 
 Doth, through the shape its movement made, 
 Betray the writer s age and size. 
 
 So, from the print its track has formed, 
 To his perception it is clear 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 333 
 
 Whether across the meadow stormed 
 A fawn, or sixteen-antlered deer. 
 
 The tracks of my shy soul dost think, 
 
 Lover of autographs, O say, 
 To follow through this lineal ink, 
 
 As creeps the hunter to his prey ? 
 
 XI. THE DILEMMA. 
 
 Before thee a Dilemma he proposes ; 
 
 With such a logic-fork will he transfix me ? 
 Between its arms, he says, the truth it closes. 
 
 Dost doubt ? Then flee, ere on its points he sticks thee. 
 
 Suggests the two-prong of his technic sermons, 
 The journey of an ancient king recited. 
 
 In peasant s cart he fared among his Germans, 
 And as the way was long, he got benighted. 
 
 The wagon, used to loads of hay, moves slowly ; 
 
 The peasant lets the oxen trudge at leisure. 
 The night is fair ; and through the soul, made holy, 
 
 Glides many a picture of idyllic pleasure. 
 
 Behold, the moon s high horn serenely beaming ! 
 
 The sluggish team between their horns have caught it. 
 So he shall find the truth in mid-space gleaming, 
 
 Who vainly on the pronged Dilemma sought it ! 
 
334 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 XII. REFUGE. 
 
 Hapless deer upon the forest floor, 
 Has the hunter given thee a wound ? 
 
 Flee, then, swift within the wood s dim core, 
 Where the hidden lakelet spreads around, 
 
 That the gentle freshness of its wave 
 
 May thy throbbing wound with coolness lave. 
 
 But man, when thy wounded bosom swells, 
 
 Flee within thy household s inmost shrine, 
 Where the purest fount of comfort wells, 
 
 And upon thy mother s heart recline. 
 But the mother, ere a long time, dies. 
 
 Has thine own already fallen asleep ? 
 Flee, then, where the forest silent lies, 
 
 With the hunted, wounded deer, and weep ! 
 
 XIII. SPRING-GREETING. 
 
 After long frost how breathes the air so mild ! 
 Spring violets brings to me a beggar child. 
 
 Sad, that the earliest greeting of the Spring 
 A child of misery to me imist bring. 
 
 And yet the pledge of earth s sweet loveliness 
 Is dearer from the hand of wretchedness. 
 
 So bears to future men our grief or crime 
 The vernal greeting of a better time. 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 335 
 XIV. TO DEATH. 
 
 When once my heart begins to moulder, 
 
 When poesy s audacious flame 
 And fires of love already smoulder, 
 
 Then, Death ! in pieces break this frame. 
 
 Not slowly dig, but quickly break it, 
 
 And let thy singer soar away. 
 Enrich his life-field not, nor rake it 
 
 With feeling s ashes, Death, I pray ! 
 
 XV. THE CRUCIFIX. 
 
 When man towards heaven holds his trusting face, 
 His lifted arms in love outstretching steady 
 
 To draw the world unto his heart s embrace, 
 He makes himself for crucifixion ready. 
 
 Such love as this upon the earth is rare ; 
 
 And that the world might lose its image never, 
 Mankind, O Jesus ! bound, with hasty care, 
 
 Thy loving posture to the cross forever. 
 
 xvi. o MY MOTHER! 
 
 Within my heart I bear a hidden wound, 
 And silently shall bear it till I die ; 
 
 I feel it gnawing, gnawing there profound, 
 While heavily the hours of life go by. 
 
336 POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 
 
 There is but one to whom I might confide 
 Without distrust, and freely tell her all, 
 
 Could I my face upon her bosom hide ; 
 But she, alas ! is sleeping in her pall. 
 
 mother, come ! If still thy love survives, 
 Cannot my tears prevail to draw thee back 
 
 To help thy child, who here in anguish strives, 
 With doubt and fear and grief upon the rack ? 
 
 1 long to leave this world of undelight, 
 
 Strip from my soul this fleshly wretchedness. 
 mother, come ! as thou wert wont at night, 
 Thy weary child from his* sad life undress ! 
 
 PARTINGS AND MEETINGS ON THE JOURNEY OF LIFE. 
 
 Full oft, when starting in life s morning road, 
 
 With fond associates of our youth, 
 Gazing on lawns of green with flowers strowed, 
 
 Not on the flints and thorns of truth, 
 We take our early playmates by the hand, 
 
 Just where our paths grow strange amain, 
 And with more faith than we do understand, 
 
 Utter a cheerful, Meet again ! 
 
 Full oft, when journeying o er life s noonday road, 
 We pine for some companion dear 
 
POEMS OTHER THAN ORIENTAL. 337 
 
 Vhose voice of love would ease our toilsome load, 
 
 And banish each intruding fear ; 
 nd when with such we ve travelled through the day, 
 
 We see our paths diverge with pain, 
 .nd clasping hands, beneath the sunset ray, 
 
 We breathe a saddened, Meet again ! 
 
 ull oft, when pausing on life s evening road, 
 
 While shades of night are gathering round, 
 11 nameless agonies our hearts forebode, 
 
 As sinks in faintness to the ground 
 Some fellow-pilgrim, bound to us through years 
 
 By love and trust without a stain ; 
 We kneel to bathe the well-known hand in tears, 
 
 And sigh a faltering, Meet again ! 
 
 And O, amidst the disappointments deep 
 
 Of this most cold and selfish world, 
 Where treacherous stabs and blights oft make us weep, 
 
 And jeers on gentle hearts are hurled, 
 And O, within this life of sorrows dire, 
 
 Of sundered souls and prayers vain, 
 Our yearning hearts must in their grief expire, 
 
 Did we not hope to MEET AGAIN. 
 
 TJ1U7BRSITY 
 
 Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, &V^ 
 
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