^ astern Legends 
 
 and Stories 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 EASTERN LEGENDS AND 
 STORIES
 
 Crt^oro^ 
 
 EASTERN LEGENDS AND 
 
 STORIES' 
 
 IN ENGLISH VERSE 
 
 BY 
 
 Lieut, Norton Powlett 
 
 ROYAt ARTILLERY 
 
 LONDON 
 
 Henry S. King & Co. 
 
 65 CoRNHiLL & 12 Paternoster Row 
 
 1873
 
 (All rights rescrzied)
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The Author, in submitting to the Public 
 the following collection of Translations from 
 Eastern sources, has thought it best to convert 
 for the most part the Oriental forms of speech, 
 which the characters in these Legends would 
 use, into, as far as may be, their English equi- 
 valents ; that what is said might sound more 
 real in Western ears. He has reduced the 
 number of foot-notes to the narrowest possible 
 limits, believing that in a work of light poetry 
 the constant intervention of notes becomes 
 tiresome to the reader. Many, in reading this 
 small collection of Legends, will doubtless 
 recognize some ' Old Friends with New Faces.' 
 
 544975
 
 vi Preface. 
 
 The Author can but say that they are not 
 merely dressed up for the occasion, but that the 
 originals have been met with by him in Eastern 
 literature, their presence in which may be an 
 interesting fact to the philologist, as it only 
 adds another link to the chain of evidence that 
 demonstrates that in the Fables and Proverbs 
 (which are but condensed fables) of all coun- 
 tries, the same ideas, and frequently the same 
 way of expressing these ideas, are found. There 
 is, indeed, ' nothing new under the sun.' 
 
 Ellichpoor, 1872.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 GEL OF Death 
 
 The Bride of Empire 
 
 The Demon and the Thief 
 
 The King and the Falcon 
 
 The Mouse and the Frog 
 
 The Greedy Cat 
 
 The Old Woman and the An 
 
 The Gardener and the Bear 
 
 The Devotee and the Jar of Honey . 
 
 An Episode of Sa'di .... 
 
 Hajaj and his Chamberlain . 
 
 The Hypocritical Cat . . 
 
 The Geese and the Tortoise . 
 
 How THE Husband of Two Wives lost his Beard 
 
 The Reward of the Architect of Khawamak 
 
 How the Crows came to be Black, and the 
 Hoopoes to have Crowns on their Heads 
 
 How the King of Khurasan was cured of the 
 Rheumatism . 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 17 
 28 
 
 40 
 
 49 
 
 61 
 
 66 
 
 75 
 
 83 
 
 94 
 
 104 
 
 114 
 
 126 
 
 135 
 
 150 
 179
 
 THE BRIDE OF EMPIRE. 
 
 In some wide waste of Toorkistan, 
 
 Beside the Aral sea, 
 — Where httle is seen of the works of man, 
 
 And the desert stretches free, 
 For many a mile of marsh and fen, 
 
 And many a league of sand. 
 And each black rock marks a tiger's den, 
 And high in air the vulture's ken 
 Is strained to catch the gleam of bones 
 That oft lie strewn among the stones 
 
 In the track of some Tartar band, — 
 A wandering tribe their resting-place 
 Had made, and for a certain space
 
 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 Sought in that pathless sohtude 
 
 The smiple means of Uving rude, 
 
 The desert draught, the hunter's food. 
 
 They were such as are born on a horse-hide, thrown 
 
 By the shady side of a giant stone ; 
 
 As they are born, so are they nursed 
 
 In the gaunt embrace of Hunger and Thirst ; 
 
 Their tender Umbs are carried at speed 
 
 On the saddle-less back of the untamed steed ; 
 
 Their rattle is the clanging quiver, 
 
 Their bath, the whirl of Jihoon's river; 
 
 Soft is their sleep on battle-field, 
 
 Rocked in the hollow of the shield. 
 
 Among these wanderers dwelt a man, 
 
 The rough mechanic of the clan, 
 
 \\\iO mended bow and sharpened sword, 
 
 And ground the arrow-heads of flint. 
 And cured the wounded of the horde 
 
 With healing herbs, the desert lint ;
 
 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 Who erst, in queenly Samarcand, 
 
 From Kazi wise or Moulla grave, 
 Had learned to form with skilful hand 
 
 Those mystic signs, of power to save, 
 That long ago in Arab land 
 
 The Prophet to the people gave. 
 For he could read the Kur.in well. 
 And knew each wondrous miracle 
 Wrought by the Chosen of the Lord, 
 Or by the Master of the Sword ; ^ 
 And those wild horsemen heard with awe 
 When he expounded Islam's law, 
 And called them, after battle done, 
 To praise the God through whom 'twas won. 
 
 The half of life o'er Kazim's head 
 
 Had passed ; he deemed it time to wed ; 
 
 ' Ali, the possessor of the sword Zoo'l-Fakan. 
 B 2
 
 |. The Bride of Empire. 
 
 And after form of wooing brief, 
 
 He bought the daughter of a chief, 
 
 But not by dint of land or gold 
 
 —Things that the Tartars lightly hold ;— 
 
 And yet he gave a dowry rare, 
 
 To wit, five horses and a mare. 
 
 Pass we the bridal and the rest. 
 
 The least we say of these, the best. 
 
 But when the months their course had run, 
 
 In Kazim's tent was born a son 
 Whose lofty forehead token gave 
 That changeful Fortune was his slave, 
 And hope of highest destiny 
 Was dawning in his fearless eye. 
 His father saw, with joy and pride. 
 That much he bore and little cried. 
 Or if he wept, no single tear 
 Seemed starting from the fount of Fear, 
 But knitted brow and eye of fire 
 Gave warning of his infant ire.
 
 The Bj'ide of Empire. 5 
 
 His little fingers loved to feel 
 
 The keen edge of the sword, 
 And he laughed at the glint of the glancing steel, 
 
 When the warriors of the horde 
 Rode forth to fight with their weapons bright 
 
 At the signal of their lord. 
 
 To him with growth it grew more dear 
 
 To watch the arrows fly 
 To their goal in the heart of the dusky steer, ' 
 
 Or the eagle of the sky ; 
 And he loved by the gleam of the glassy stream 
 
 In the summer days to lie. 
 
 When the hunting falcon soared above. 
 
 And the crocodile below 
 His long dark snout would swiftly move. 
 
 His scaly head would show, 
 And a stain of blood, as he shot through the flood 
 
 On the track of his speed would go. 
 
 ' The Yak, or Ox of Thibet and Tartary.
 
 6 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 He watched the forked lightning dart 
 
 From the jet-black thunder-cloud ; 
 No touch of dread appalled his heart, 
 
 Though the mountain oak was bowed ; 
 Though the waste around was filled with sound, 
 
 And the storm-blast screamed aloud. 
 
 They called him Malik ; for the mystic signs 
 
 That wise diviners read in face or brovv, 
 The tender palm's pink interlacing lines, 
 
 Conspired some lofty destiny to show ; 
 
 And now the anxious father sought to sow 
 The seed of learning in the soil untilled 
 
 Of his young heart; that skill and force might 
 grow 
 As twins together, and his mind be filled 
 With Power and Wisdom, strong to finish all he willed. 
 
 With curious hand and eager look 
 The stripling peeped within his book ;
 
 The Bride of Empire. 7 
 
 He marked the ranked letters go 
 In ordered lines as warriors do ; 
 Or marshalled like a flight of cranes 
 That soar on high o'er Khata's ^ plains, 
 And in long column dense and black, 
 Veer never from their leader's track, 
 But stretch their tireless wings to gain 
 The fens that fringe the Aral main. 
 
 There Alif lifted high the spear. 
 And Ha the moony shield did bear, 
 
 And Ba his bended bow ; 
 The crooked sabre Lam did wield 
 And Mim, conspicuous in the field, 
 
 His helmet-crest did show. ^ 
 
 In vain the father strove to find 
 Some hidden nook in Malik's mind, 
 
 ' Khata, called Cathay by old writers, is a name for Tartary. 
 « The forms of the letters are these : 
 
 ^ 2? t-J J *
 
 8 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 Wherein the flaming love of strife 
 
 Not yet, perchance, had leapt to Hfe : 
 
 And much he talked of hell and heaven, 
 
 Of penal fire, and sins forgiven ; 
 
 Of all the glories after death 
 
 Won by the worthies of the faith ; 
 
 Of the dark beam of Houri's eyes 
 
 Deep set in bowers of Paradise ; 
 
 Of the straight path that men must keep * 
 
 Or perish in the fiery deep ; 
 
 Of lesser and of greater sins, 
 
 And where right ends and wrong begins. 
 
 Still as he spoke, young Malik's eyes 
 
 Followed the wild swan through the skies ; 
 
 Or cast full many a longing glance 
 
 Where on the tent wall hung his lance ; 
 
 He seems his father's voice to hear. 
 
 But other sounds are in his ear ; 
 
 ' The bridge to heaven, which passes over hell.
 
 The Bride of Empire. 9 
 
 He lists to the tramp of the flying steed 
 Where horsemen hurl the ' light jereed '; 
 And he sighs, as comes from the mountain drear 
 The hungry tiger's voice of fear. 
 
 As time passed on, and lip and cheek 
 
 Of manhood's spring-tide 'gan to speak, 
 
 And the stiff muscle slanting stood 
 
 On his strong arm, as in mid flood 
 
 Of Jihoon stands some bar of stone, 
 
 And the swirling stream curls white thereon ; 
 
 And his fair forehead, 'mid the clan 
 
 Of giants, taller by a span. 
 
 Shone o'er the lowering cloud of war 
 
 Like the silver round of the morning star — 
 
 Old Kazim, mindful of the words 
 
 That Muslims reverence like the Lord's, 
 
 That, ere his soul its prison broke, 
 
 The Comrade of the Prophet spoke ; ^ 
 
 ' Anas bin Malik, the last of the Companions of Mahommed.
 
 lO The Bride of Empire. 
 
 ' He of the faithful who hath wed, 
 One half his faith hath perfected,' — • 
 One evening, in the twilight dim, 
 Called his dear son and spoke to him. 
 
 ' Thy flower of youth is budding fair, 
 As the white lily in the stream, 
 That sucks the water and the air. 
 
 And turns to meet the morning beam ; 
 But sudden, from the mountain side. 
 
 In autumn sweeps the headlong tide, 
 A brown and boiling flood ; 
 
 Down falls the bank in dust and smoke, 
 Short from the stalk the flower is broke, 
 And down the foaming torrent whirled, 
 From side to side 'tis dashed and hurled 
 
 Mid rocks and trees and mud. 
 Alas ! fair blossom fresh and trim. 
 Thou bloomest aye on passion's brim : 
 Thy root is set in feeble clay
 
 Tlie Bride of Empire. 1 1 
 
 That soon in water melts away, 
 Thou needest, boy, a firmer stay. 
 
 ' The silver moon is gilding now 
 The cypress on yon hillock's brow ; 
 Within that cypress sable shade 
 Gleams the white neck of a Tartar maid, 
 As, through the green sea of the south. 
 The pearl peeps from the oyster's mouth ; 
 Her father's bow ^ can call to war 
 The thousands of the wild Afshar, 
 Whose onset, like their arrows' flight, 
 Shoots on the foe too swift for sight ; 
 No need for me to tell her charms. 
 Well worthy of a warrior's arms. 
 To paint the depth of starry eyes 
 That move to shame the evening skies, 
 And all the wealth that nature showers 
 On face and form, in bounteous hours ; 
 
 ' Equivalent to the Fiery Cross of the Highlands.
 
 1 2 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 Thou knowest them well, 
 
 But only this to thee I tell, 
 
 That should'st thou choose the maid to woo, 
 
 She is thine owti, her dowry too : 
 
 Her haughty sire my wealth doth know, 
 
 Won by the scymetar and bow, 
 
 And arts that gave my hand to hold 
 
 The charm that turneth steel to gold.' 
 
 Cold and unmoved the youth replied, 
 ' Oh, father, I have sought a bride, 
 Since first I felt my pulses bound 
 At war-steed's snort, or trampet sound, 
 x\ thousand times more fair than she 
 Or any maid of Tartary ; 
 Though small the wealth at my command, 
 Though nought is mine of house or land. 
 Yet far as spreads the desert sand. 
 And mountain chains, that herbless swell 
 From base as hot as nether hell 
 To crown of icy pinnacle ;
 
 The Bride of Empire. 1 3 
 
 The portion that I woo withal 
 
 Is more than Khussan's treasures all. 
 
 My mistress never could be won 
 
 By all the mines unseen by sun, 
 
 That e'er have mocked the search of man 
 
 In farthest depths of Badakshan : ' 
 
 Yet, father, is that treasure mine, 
 
 Whereby I'll win my bride divine. 
 
 And found, perchance, a royal line.' 
 
 Old Kazim shook his hoary head, 
 Gazed at his son, and doubting said, 
 ' Where is this maid thou seekest then, 
 And where this dower unknown to men ? 
 What hoard is thine, I have not seen ? 
 Have Afreets, from the ocean green. 
 Slipped that lost gem thy finger on, 
 The potent seal of Solomon ? 
 
 ' A country to the north of the Himalayas, celebrated for its 
 rubies.
 
 14 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 Or from the dark cave hast thou freed 
 
 The vanished cup of old Jamsheed ? ' * 
 
 The sen rose up from his father's side, 
 With stately step and glance of pride 
 
 He passed into the tent ; 
 Returned anon, and in his hand 
 He bore a long and shining brand 
 
 In graceful curving bent. 
 No jewel decked its iron hilt, 
 Its sheeny steel no gold had gilt, 
 But bright and keen the moonbeams played 
 Down the broad cold path of the stainless blade. 
 
 ' The wife I woo,' young Malik said, 
 
 ' Is fairer than a Tartar maid ; 
 Circassia's curls I do not love. 
 Nor Georgia's cheeks my heart can move : 
 For the Bride of Empire waits for me. 
 And the smiles of the Lady of Victory !
 
 The Bride of Empire. 1 5 
 
 She is my life, my own adored, 
 And, lo ! her portion is the sword ! ' 
 
 Let the pearls have their birth 
 
 In the depths of the sea ; 
 In the bowels of the earth 
 
 Let the gold treasures be ; 
 It is not by these we can vanquish the Virgin of 
 Sovereignty. 
 
 When the bowstring is strong, 
 
 And the curve of the sword 
 Is sharp and is long, 
 
 And the heart of its lord 
 Is bold, in the virtue of these things alone is the 
 warrior's hoard ! 
 
 When the lance is borne straight, 
 And the arrow flies true,
 
 1 6 The Bride of Empire. 
 
 And the battle-axe' weight 
 
 Cleaves the helmet m two, 
 The maiden, Dominion, will listen to those who 
 thus mightily woo. 
 
 So when few years had passed away, 
 In bleak Chorasmia Kazim lay, 
 
 A wanderer at rest ; 
 But in the front of many a field. 
 His son that shining sword did wield, 
 
 A conqueror confessed ; 
 Till high on Persia's ancient throne 
 He made that royal Bride his own 
 
 To whom his troth he gave ; 
 And held her, till a mightier foe 
 In mortal conflict laid him low, 
 
 The all-victorious Grave. 
 
 Ellichpoor : February, 1872.
 
 The Demon a7id the Thief. 1 7 
 
 THE DEMON AND THE THIEF. 
 
 By Baghdad town a hermit dwelt 
 Deep in the gloom of his ivied cave, 
 
 So very devout that he never went out, 
 But pardon still for his sins did crave. 
 
 His beard on the floor, for a yard or more, 
 Reposed, while he lifted his hands in prayer, 
 
 From his heels to his head, it could never be said, 
 That he was in any part short of hair. 
 
 Like a dropping well, the walls of his cell 
 
 Were crusted with fungi, and reeking with damp, 
 And often he'd sneeze, while he knelt on his krjees, 
 And his limbs and his joints were all twisted with 
 cramp. 
 
 c
 
 1 8 The Demon and the Thief. 
 
 Thus wrapped in devotion, he'd never a notion 
 Of asking for something to wrap himself in, 
 
 And heart, lungs, and liver did nothing but shiver, 
 For no covering had they but his cuticle thin. 
 
 He'd many disciples, who thought him a saint, 
 Then imagine their grief when they found him one 
 day 
 
 Stretched out on the cold wet floor in a faint, 
 For a beggar had taken his dinner away. 
 
 They remarked ' Inshah Allah,' expressive of pity. 
 And wiped off the mud from his cheeks and his 
 brow, 
 
 Then girding their loins they returned to the city. 
 And brought him a fine yoimg bufialo cow. 
 
 The holy hermit with many a prayer 
 And blessing, their pious attention received. 
 
 And asserted that now he'd tlie milk of this cow, 
 His petty privations were wholly relieved.
 
 The Demon and the Thief. 1 9 
 
 But a peasant, whose notions of ' meum and tuum ' 
 Were remarkably shady, did promise and vow 
 
 That by hook or by crook he would manage to do 'em, 
 And quietly slope with that buffalo cow. 
 
 Not much did he care for curse or for prayer, 
 Or the manifold books of the Doctors Four,' 
 
 But he made the remark, ' What a capital lark ! ' 
 And started away for the hermit's door. 
 
 The sun went down, and the hill-tops brown 
 
 Loomed hazy and dark through the twilight dim, 
 
 When he was aware of Somebody there 
 
 Who seemed to be bent upon walking with him. 
 
 His hands, he observed, were remarkably curved, 
 For each finger seemed tipped with a claw for a nail, 
 
 And he felt some fear, as he noticed in rear 
 A something that looked very like a tail. 
 
 ' The four doctors of Mussulman Law. 
 C 2
 
 20 The Demon and the Thief. 
 
 So after this cursory investigation 
 
 Of his comrade's ' ensemble,' he felt rather blue, 
 But ventured to ask, not without trepidation, 
 ' Well, stranger, and pray who the devil are you ? ' 
 
 ' You're very polite,' said that grim-looking wight, 
 ' But since I've a notion you're one of my flock, 
 For once I'll let out what I'm going about. 
 
 As I do not suppose 't will your principles shock. 
 
 ' Though they call me the devil, I always am civil 
 To people who don't interfere with me ; 
 I'm a foe to strife, and a quiet life 
 
 With my own inclinations would truly agree. 
 
 * But the meekest doggie is sure to bite 
 
 If you wantonly cabbage his poor little bone, 
 And I think I've a right to a wee bit of spite 
 Against meddlers who won'tXtixo-y business alone.
 
 The Dc7non and the Thief. 2 1 
 
 There's a hermit here whom they call a Fakeer, 
 Who really has given me cause for complaiht ; 
 
 He does nothing but pray both night and day, 
 And these ignorant asses all think him a saint. 
 
 I should not object to his personal piety, 
 For that is a part of his private affairs ; 
 
 But he's taken upon him to badger and fly at me, 
 And abuse my pet traps and my favourite snares. 
 
 Thus noon, night, and morning, he's always warning 
 The people who flock to his wretched abode. 
 
 That the deeds of the Turks are a joke to my works, 
 And that I am a snake, and a fox, and a toad. 
 
 ' 'Tis true I might smile at comparisons vile, 
 But somehow he seems to have found the way 
 
 To the heart of that izany, the monkey-like many. 
 Who from pure imitation, have taken to pray.
 
 22 The Demon and the Thief. 
 
 ' So absinthe and gin, and all sorts of sweet sin 
 Are quite at a discount ; and rogues in a row 
 In temp'rance processions make touching confessions, 
 And the spout and the tea-pot incessantly flow. 
 
 ' Good porter and swipes, and their long clay pipes 
 
 By the " mobile vulgus " are wholly eschewed, 
 This cranky old creature has done for the theatre, 
 And even Aunt Sally, I'm told, is tabooed. 
 
 ' As at each pious meeting he says life is fleeting, 
 And that men should rejoice to be rid of their ills, 
 I'll lend him a hand to the Promised Land 
 With one of these very effectual pills. 
 
 ' To night when his gruel he's eagerly brewing. 
 
 And poking the sticks, with his back to the door, 
 And his old shrivelled knees o'er the embers are stewing, 
 As though he had ne'er seen a fire before,
 
 The Dci7ion and the Thief. 23 
 
 ' I'll quietly pop in, and speedily drop in 
 The midst of the savoury steam and froth 
 This pill, which he'll take, and in half a shake 
 'Twill help him, I trust, to his final broth. 
 
 ' And now I've done speaking, you, sir, who are sneaking 
 
 So gleefully up to the door of his cell, 
 I should like to hear too what you're going to do, 
 
 So please have the kindness your story to tell.' 
 
 ' There's a trifling present,' replied the peasant, 
 ' In the shape of a bufialo, young and fat, 
 
 That a " son," as they term it, has given the hermit, 
 A quadruped I am resolved to get at. 
 
 ' He's so wrapped in religion, a cow from a pigeon 
 He couldn't distinguish ; now isn't it waste 
 
 That on such an old muff a so beautiful buffalo 
 Should be quite thrown away, when another has 
 taste?'
 
 24 The Demon and the Thief, 
 
 * Your reasoning really's most cogent,' said Satan, 
 ' No caviller could find the least fault on that head, 
 
 And with logic thus true, you may well keep your hat on 
 Before all philosophers, living or dead.' 
 
 Thus sweetly conversing, the hermit aspersing, 
 To his lowly dwelling they soon drew near, 
 
 But the stream of discourse soon changed its course. 
 As you, gentle reader, shall shortly hear, 
 
 Thusponderedthe peasant, "Twould hardly be pleasant. 
 If a hue and a hubbub were raised too soon, 
 
 And the hermit in colic from draught diabolic 
 Should bellow and howl to a very old tune ; 
 
 ' For the folk would come running, and all my cunning 
 
 Would never avail the cow to steal ; 
 Or suppose I were nailed by his friends, and impaled — 
 
 I won't risk my bacon for beef, pork, or veal ! '
 
 The Demon and the Thief. 25 
 
 ' I'd this nice little scheme on/ reflected the demon, 
 'When this blundering thief comes and puts in his oar; 
 For 'tis evident now that he can't steal the cow, 
 Unless, in the first place, he opens the door ; 
 
 ' Now it's perfectly clear, should the hermit hear 
 The door open, there'll be such a hullabaloo 
 That perforce I must beat a disgraceful retreat, 
 A thing which I make it a rule not to do. 
 
 To the other said he, ' Now, look here, do you see, 
 You must first let me do for the holy man, 
 
 Then off you can go with the fat buffalo ; 
 To manage them both 'tis the only plan.' 
 
 ' No, no,' said the thief, ' I should come to grief 
 If I worked in a fashion so very absurd ; 
 You've only to wait till I'm clear of the gate, 
 And I'll venture to say I shall not be heard.'
 
 26 The Demon and the Thief. 
 
 'Twas in vain that the devil held forth on the evil 
 Of so palpably taking the cart for the horse ; 
 
 In ideas on the causative equally positive, 
 The thief of his logic maintained the force. 
 
 Then in wrangling and fretting their interests forgetting, 
 The flame of dissension broke out 'twixt the two, 
 
 And the fire of their anger grew stronger and stronger, 
 And they cursed one another till all was blue. 
 
 ' Hallo, holy hermit,' the peasant cried out, 
 
 ' This demon is seeking your reverence to slay ; ' 
 
 ' This beast of a peasant,' the demon 'gan shout, 
 ' Is intent upon driving your bufif'lo away ! ' 
 
 The hermit arose from his couch of stone, 
 And hearing the outcry, began to bawl. 
 
 Till the neighbours came tumbling in, everyone. 
 This flourished a boot-jack, that brandished an awl.
 
 The Demon and the Thief. 27 
 
 Away went the devil, away ran the thief, 
 Nor tarried a moment to make their adieus ; 
 
 And they got such a fright on that terrible night, 
 That never again did they plague the recluse. 
 
 And these words, there's no doubt, that good hermit 
 did spout, 
 
 Which now to a proverb of proverbs have grown; 
 Videlicet, ' Truly when rogues fall out, 
 
 Honest folks generally come by their own !
 
 28 The King and the Falcon. 
 
 THE KING AND THE FALCON 
 
 Fair of face and gallant of mien 
 
 The king rides forth to the forest green \ 
 
 The tawny hounds before him bay, 
 
 Behind him throng the huntsmen gay, 
 
 Around their lord the Oomara ' press, 
 
 Each holds his hawk by the silver jess ; 
 
 Through thorny thickets horses dashing 
 
 Set every well-filled quiver clashing ; 
 
 'Tis merry the rattle of swords to hear 
 
 That thirst for the blood of the stricken deer. 
 
 To see the long glades of the forest old 
 
 Lit with the glimmer of steel and gold ! 
 
 And the chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves 
 
 Are a certain salve for the soul that grieves, 
 
 ' The nobles.
 
 The Kiiig and the Falco7i. 29 
 
 And the heart swells high with joyous pride, 
 And the knees are pressed to the horse's side : 
 And all that was left in the city behind, 
 And the manifold sorrows that clouded the mind 
 Have vanished away like a troublesome dream, 
 Or a swallow that glides o'er the breast of the 
 stream. 
 
 Proud of his jesses of golden twist 
 The falcon sits on the monarch's fist ; 
 Moved by nought, he keeps his place 
 With his keen dark eyes on his master's face ; 
 He 'waits in hope till the quarry shall rise. 
 And he be flung free to the field of the skies, 
 To stoop at his will from the height of the air. 
 And the eyes of the panting deer to tear ; 
 Or with wing too swift for huntsman's sight, 
 To follow the mountain partridge's flight 
 O'er sandy waste and hill-tops brown. 
 While horses stumble and riders are thrown.
 
 30 The King and the Falcon, 
 
 But hark ! the tangled forest crashes, 
 
 As an antlered stag from the thicket dashes ; 
 
 Deep of chest, and speedy of Hmb, 
 
 With nostril broad and pastern slim, 
 
 Fleet is the hound that shall close with him ! 
 
 Then many a hoof the dust did spurn, 
 
 As the blood leapt forth from the spur-stroke stern ; 
 
 Each fiery noble, quick as thought, 
 
 His ready bow from his shoulder caught, 
 
 Each runner swift his sandal shoe 
 
 In bush or gully heedless threw ; 
 
 And like leaves on the blast of the autumn wind 
 
 The hunt swept on that stag behind. 
 
 Many an arrow from many a bow 
 
 Whistles forth, as on they go : 
 
 But though dark with sweat is the quarry's hide, 
 
 No spot of blood has stained his side. 
 
 With head to northward pointed true, 
 
 He bursts the echoing woodland through :
 
 The King and the Falcon. 3 1 
 
 The splintered branches round hhn fly, 
 Behind him swells the hunter's cry, 
 His tireless feet press on the more 
 To the boundless desert that lies before. 
 
 Now a glimpse of the waste he sees 
 Peep brownly through the emerald trees, 
 Now grassy glades are opening wide, 
 Now vanished is the greenwood's pride, 
 And now he's at the desert side. 
 Swifter still he holds his way 
 Toward the distant mountains grey, 
 Tower of strength to weary game, 
 Steep and craggy, cro\vned with flame. 
 
 Now many a panting steed was spent. 
 And many a chief his bow unbent ; 
 The few staunch hounds the chase that ply, 
 Now, one by one, lie down and die :
 
 32 The King and the Falcon. 
 
 A torrent's rocky bed and deep 
 Now yawns before, a desperate leap, 
 There is but one dare make the spring, 
 So all alone now rides the king. 
 
 Well had he need that his straining steed 
 
 Should come of Nejed's winged breed, 
 
 That swift as breath of Sanioom fly 
 
 O'er central sands of Araby : 
 
 He was white as the snow-wreath bright 
 
 That shines from Alwand's topmost height, 
 
 From fetlock short to forehead broad 
 
 His skin no spot of colour showed, 
 
 Like a shooting star through a moonless night, 
 
 He followed the stag in his headlong flight. 
 
 Now high his hand the monarch threw, 
 Forth from his fist the falcon flew, 
 A moment paused in mid-career. 
 Then swooped on the astonished deer ;
 
 TJic King and the Falcon. 33 
 
 No refuge he in speed could seek 
 From flapping wing and furious beak ; 
 A devious course in vain he tries, 
 The cruel talons find his eyes ; 
 Perforce he turns and stands at bay, 
 But sight and strength ebb fast away 
 He strives to shake his antlered crest, 
 But now the sword is in his breast ; 
 He staggers, falls ; one long-drawn groan. 
 His life is fled, the chase is done. 
 
 Down leapt the monarch to the earth, 
 Unloosed the curb, and slacked the girth. 
 Did off his cap with jewels set. 
 And wiped his brow with toildrops wet, 
 Sheathed his good sword, then gazed around, 
 To mark the spot and view the ground. 
 Just where the stag had fall'n in death, 
 A crag rose from the rugged heath, 
 
 D
 
 34 The King and tJu Falcon. 
 
 Whose splintered top was all o'ergrown 
 With withered herbs and creepers brown ; 
 Such plants as born in torrid clime 
 Give certain token of the time ; 
 In rain and flood they flourish green, 
 In burning sun are drooping seen, 
 
 But never wholly die ; 
 And hang they brown or bloom they fair, 
 AVho faints with thirst need not despair, 
 "Where they can live, the wanderer there 
 
 Will find some water nigh. 
 
 So now the king with heedful look 
 Explored that wild and silent nook ; 
 Burning his throat, and parched his lip, 
 He longed to hear the water drip : 
 And now behold where slowly ooze 
 Few drops, as bright as spring-tide dews, 
 Each liquid bead a fairer gem 
 To him, than diamonds on the hem
 
 The King and the Falcon. 35 
 
 Of priceless robe that David's son 
 From vanquished Pari ever won. 
 A silver cup from his quiver he drew, 
 And held it under that dropping dew ; 
 Impatiently he watched the brim 
 Of the water rise to the vessel's rim, 
 He was too hurried to taste or sip 
 But greedily lifted the cup to his lip. 
 
 Like lightning bolt, with sudden shock, 
 Down shot the falcon from the rock ; 
 Dashed from his master's hand the cup — 
 Those precious drops the sand drank up. 
 The thirsty king, with angry look, 
 Again the silver goblet took, 
 Held it the scanty stream amid, 
 And oft the heedless falcon chid ! 
 But soon his soul with pleasure thrilled — 
 The sparklmg tide the vessel filled. 
 
 D 2
 
 ^6 The Kino- and the Falcon 
 
 '<i> 
 
 In haste he raised the Hquid bHss, 
 The rim his hp did almost kiss, 
 When from the lofty crag amain 
 The watchful falcon swooped again ! 
 The cup flew ringing on the ground, 
 The water flashed like fire around. 
 His thirsty longing unappeased. 
 The wrathful king the falcon seized, 
 In thoughtless rage, with frenzied stroke, 
 He dashed the bird against the rock. 
 With quivering claw he grasps the heath, 
 A moment sobs in pangs of death. 
 Turns on the king his glazing eyes. 
 And thus with glance reproachful dies. 
 
 But now the sound of flying feet 
 Heralds a nuining huntsman fleet ; 
 He loosed his leather mitharah full 
 Of pure spring-water fresh and cool,
 
 T/ic King and the Falcon. 37 
 
 Poured the bright stream in the silver cup, 
 
 On bended knee then raised it up. 
 ' Not so,' his angry sovereign said, 
 ' My draught's dear price I well have paid ; 
 
 See lying on the bloody clay 
 
 The bird who dared to disobey. 
 
 Look where these diamond drops fall slow, 
 
 Sign of some fountain's overflow, 
 
 Take thou the cup, ascend the hill, 
 
 And from the source the goblet fill.' 
 
 The huntsman, like a bounding stag, 
 
 Leapt swiftly up the towering crag ; 
 
 — ^^'hy does he blench, and backward start. 
 
 While creeps the life-blood to his heart ? 
 
 Like stinted gift from miser's hand, 
 The water trickled slow 
 From flinty rock to thirsty sand, 
 Then dripped the crag below ;
 
 38 The King and the Falcon. 
 
 But lo ! where stretched in hideous death 
 A serpent lay that rock beneath ; 
 His gleaming coils and speckled crest 
 Upon the fountain's marge did rest, 
 
 And ever and anon 
 The Ikjuid venom would distil 
 From his huge jaws, and to the ril! 
 
 AVould slide from stone to stone. 
 Thus limpid poison flowed beneath, 
 Whose every drop was certain death. 
 
 Back shrank the huntsman at the sight. 
 And darted downward from the height, 
 In haste his wondrous story told ; 
 Then sighed and wept the monarch bold, 
 In bootless grief his garments tore, 
 And writhed in pangs unfelt before, 
 Lifted the falcon from the earth, 
 And poured these words of sorrow forth :
 
 The King and the Falcon. 39 
 
 'Anger has anguish for brother, 
 Swiftly one follows another, 
 But, ah me ! haste is their mother. 
 
 ' Would that a king had the power 
 To quicken the death-smitten flower. 
 To turn back the march of the hour ! 
 
 ' ^^'oul(l that penance and fast 
 Had virtue to bring back the past ! 
 But where patience fails, sorrow must last. 
 
 ' Traitor to Love and to Faith, 
 I have given my darling to death ; 
 How canst thou tarry, oh breath !'
 
 40 The Mouse and the Frog. 
 
 THE MOUSE AND THE FROG. 
 
 A MOUSE, 'tis said, an enemy to strife, 
 Lived in a hole beneath a hollow tree. 
 
 He was unblessed with family and wife, 
 From carking care he dwelt entirely free, 
 
 And his small voice in thanks he oft would raise, 
 
 And exercise his throat with hymns of praise. 
 
 Beside this tree there was a fountain clear, 
 
 A gem of purest water, never seen 
 By eye of man ; so small, 'twas like a tear 
 
 Wept by sad heaven on that desert green ; 
 But if its bounds were narrow, it was deep 
 And bright and sweet, unsoiled by ox or sheep.
 
 The Mouse and the Fj'og: 41 
 
 And ill that fountain dwelt a lonely frog, 
 Who liked his own good company so well, 
 
 That he regarded kinsfolk as a clog, 
 And lived a hermit in his watery cell : 
 
 And he would oft astound the morning breeze 
 
 By croaking forth batrachian harmonies. 
 
 One day he came as usual to the edge 
 To see the world and take a little air, 
 
 And thmsting up his snout above the sedge, 
 Joyous, determined all his joy should share, 
 
 And in such cadence wild his notes he rolls 
 
 As parts his hearers' bodies from their souls. 
 
 The mouse, who then within his dusky hole 
 Was chanting hymns in treble small and sweet, 
 
 Forth to his mansion's entrance softly stole 
 Intent to view the author of this treat, 
 
 But much confounded by that discord dread 
 
 Sat up and clapped his hands and shook his head.
 
 42 TJie Alonse a? id the FroQ-. 
 
 The frog, when he this auditor beheld 
 
 Making, he thought, those signals of applause, 
 
 With windy pride and flattered fancy swelled, 
 And plied his bellows with distended jaws ; 
 
 And thought ' How pleasant such a friend as he ! 
 
 A comrade dowered with love of melody ! ' 
 
 'Twas all in vain that Prudence whispered low, 
 ' With a strange species bind not friendship's chain ; 
 From good companions floods of pleasure flow, 
 
 From evil, torrents of eternal pain ; 
 And since his kind is diverse from thine own, 
 Be thou as glass, and hold thou him as stone ! ' 
 
 But heedless Vanity and Self-conceit 
 
 Too strongly at his heart-strings 'gan to pull : 
 
 Said he, 'The interchange of thought is sweet. 
 And soHtude I find a little dull ; 
 
 'Tis time to let my caged heart go free, 
 
 And taste the joys of sweet society.'
 
 The Mo2ise and the Frog. 43 
 
 Thus having pondered to the mouse he said, 
 * Dear sir, I see your mind and mine are one, 
 
 And since our spirits in such bonds are wed. 
 Why should our bodies choose to live alone ? 
 
 Why should you heaven in dismal solo praise, 
 
 While I, below, my " De profundis " raise ? 
 
 * The thousand beauties of the earth and air, 
 The limpid brightness of the water cool, 
 Are things at once so pleasant and so fair 
 
 They lift my soul above this narrow pool : 
 And then for some dear comrade's voice I long 
 To join my own in sky-resounding song. 
 
 ' Why will you shrink within the dungeon dark 
 
 That you and yours delight to call a home, 
 
 When here no cruel man or beast doth mark, 
 
 No ravening vulture ever dares to come ? 
 Then why the glorious sights of Nature shun. 
 The verdant meadow and the shining sun ? '
 
 44 The Mouse and ike Frog. 
 
 The listening mouse, who many a time had sighed 
 To share his thoughts with some one true and kind, 
 
 In courteous tone with fitting words rephed ; 
 His smihng face displayed his willing mind ; 
 
 And then with most affectionate embrace 
 
 They sealed their friendship on that very place. 
 
 So often now upon the pebbly side 
 
 Of that fresh fountain did their hearts combine 
 In the swift flow of conversation's tide, 
 
 Or recitation of some thrilling line, 
 Or moved at once by inspiration strong 
 They strained tlieir throats in their accustomed song. 
 
 One day the mouse to his companion said, 
 ' It often happens, when I cannot sleep. 
 And some grief wakes again as from the dead, 
 I long to call you from the water deep, 
 That so your words like balm may soothe my wound — 
 But then, ah me ! how seldom are you found !
 
 The Mouse and the Frog. 45 
 
 ' My puny voice can never reach your ear, 
 IMien, seeking comfort in my woe, I call, 
 The air-waves vainly smite the fountain clear 
 Which thus divides us Hke a crystal wall : 
 Oh, can we not some stratagem devise 
 Whereby, like wizard, I may bid you rise ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, dear companion ! ' cried the frog, much moved, 
 ' What you complain of, I myself have felt, 
 And oft desired the presence that I loved, 
 
 Condemned, alas ! in absence' fire to melt. 
 And chanced to your dark castle's gate to come 
 When adverse fate had sent you forth from home. 
 
 ' And now what strange device can we employ 
 That I from water may call you on land, 
 Or you, in pressing time of grief or joy, 
 
 JMay summon me to meet you on the strand ? 
 If aught you've settled, speak in happy hour, 
 That dire Division so may lose his power.'
 
 46 The Mouse and tJie Frog. 
 
 * Methinks,' the mouse replied, ' I've found a clue 
 Tliat, in the hand of Caution tightly held, 
 Will guide us easily this labyrinth through, 
 
 As Ariadne Theseus did of eld ; 
 But you, beloved friend, a while give ear, 
 'Tvvas said, " 'Tis mine to speak and yours to hear." 
 
 ' I will set off for the next market-town. 
 
 And enter there some general chandler's shop, 
 And there will buy — but ah ! we've ne'er a "brown," 
 
 Or any article that I could " pop " — 
 Why then I'll steal — " convey " the wise it call — 
 Of the best twine or string a penny ball. 
 
 ' This ball, unrolled, will stretch for many a yard, 
 And will not break for hardest snatch or pull, 
 
 So that from motion not at all debarred 
 We shall thereby attain our purpose full, 
 
 If each tie tightly one end to his leg ; 
 
 What telegraph so good as this, I beg ?
 
 The Moicsc and the Frog. 47 
 
 ' Thus friendship's rivets will be firmly knit, 
 
 And baffled Distance will be banished quite, 
 And free from dread of envious cut or split, 
 The chain of Concord will our souls unite, 
 And while we conjugate amat, amabit. 
 Wondering, the world will say, " Quis separahit ? ' ' 
 
 The mouse's plan in practice straight they put, 
 Hugging themselves on their ingenious scheme. 
 
 Whereby sweet Converse' door could ne'er be shut, 
 Nor dam arise in Intercourse's stream, 
 
 And strict Connection, with such fastening true. 
 
 Would make their very bodies hardly two. 
 
 One day the mouse toward the fountain side 
 Went forth. Association's string to pull, 
 
 But ah ! stern Sorrow comes in bitter tide 
 
 Just when we deem the cup of gladness full !— 
 
 A sable crow swooped downward from the air, 
 
 And whiz ! high up the wretched mouse did bear.
 
 /J 8 The Mouse and the Frog. 
 
 The frog, reposing in the water deep, 
 
 And venting croaks, expressive of content, 
 
 Was sinking gently into bUssful sleep 
 With many a fair ilkisive vision blent : 
 
 When lo ! that string becoming quickly ' taut,' 
 
 Up in the air like flying fish he shot. 
 
 Tied by the leg, his poor head hanging down. 
 The helpless frog was borne at speed along, 
 
 Till, when the crow had passed o'er dale and down, 
 This wondrous sight attracted quite a throng, 
 
 Who staring open-mouthed, exclaimed ' Well, now ! 
 
 To see a frog caught by a common crow ! ' 
 
 The frog, incensed, bawled out to those below, 
 
 ' Asses and idiots ! use your eyes and see 
 I am not caught by this confounded crow, 
 But bound in chain of strong calamity : 
 And now too late I learn the deep damnation 
 Of those not cautious in association ! '
 
 The Greedy Cat. 49 
 
 THE GREEDY CAT. 
 
 A Sultan's capital within 
 
 There dwelt a beldame poor and thin ; 
 
 Her skinny frame in rags was clad, 
 
 Her face with constant fasting sad, 
 
 Her bleared eyes dropped with rheumy tears, 
 
 A staff propped up her weight of years : 
 
 The filthy hole wherein she dwelt 
 
 Like nether Hades reeked and smelt, 
 
 A home of darkness to be felt : 
 
 A wretched hut, a narrow cave. 
 
 Like bigot's heart, or miser's grave, 
 
 Unfit for murderer, thief, or slave. 
 
 This dwelling, shunned by bat and rat. 
 Maintained a starved and meagre cat, 
 
 E
 
 50 The Greedy Cat. 
 
 One of a faithful race, who still, 
 In wealth and want, in good and ill, 
 Affect the spot where first they're fed 
 With partridge plump, or coarsest bread. 
 But this poor cat, in happiest hour, 
 Had never even dreamed of flour. 
 In its imagination, meat 
 Was something not for cats to eat : 
 The passing scent of wary mouse 
 Through ruined walls of that dark house, 
 The print the foot of one had left, 
 By cat's eyes seen through Stygian cleft, 
 By it were held as daily food. 
 Its portion of the common good. 
 Or if, perchance, through happy fate 
 There strayed, where it in ambush sate, 
 Some mouse, some orphan unadvised, 
 How much tiiat hapless prey it prized ! 
 The fire of joy lit up its cheek, 
 'Twas carnival for full a week.
 
 The Greedy Cat. 5 i 
 
 Its heartfelt thanks to Heaven it mewed, 
 And dallying much, the god-send chewed. 
 
 The diet of this ill-starred cat 
 Could hardly be a source of fat, 
 Hence it appeared on roof or tree a 
 Shadow, phantom, or idea. 
 No words our language doth possess 
 Could e'er describe its wretchedness. 
 
 One day, with languid nerveless paw, 
 And fainting heart and empty maw. 
 And many a slip and many a fall, 
 It climbed at last upon a wall ; 
 And looking round in wild despair, 
 And uttering piteous prayer and swear, 
 Upon a neighbouring roof beheld 
 A brother cat so puffed and swelled 
 With rolls of fat or\ form and face, 
 It hardly seemed of feline race ; 
 
 E 2
 
 52 The Greedy Cat. 
 
 With looks of pride it gazed around 
 And uttered soft a purring sound, 
 With lazy tail it flicked the flies, 
 And licked its chaps and blinked its eyes. 
 
 When the starved cat this wonder viewed, 
 It lifted up its voice and mewed, 
 And then, inspired by fasting long, 
 Burst into voluntary song. 
 
 * Oh, whence art thou so plump and sleek? 
 And why am I so wan and weak ? 
 
 Oh, happy brother, kindly speak 
 And tell me ! 
 
 * Why should'st thou lick thy greasy cheek. 
 While I must fast, and pine, and peak ? 
 Oh, happy brother, kindly speak 
 
 And tell me !
 
 The Greedy Cat. 53 
 
 ' Where dost thou go thy food to seek ? 
 Here hunger makes me yell and shriek ; 
 Oh, happy brother, kindly speak 
 And tell me ! 
 
 AN'ith stretch and yawn, the neighbour cat 
 Replied, ' I dine the Sultan's at ; 
 There, when the royal board they spread, 
 1 snatch the meat, I steal the bread, 
 I lick the dishes, clean the plates. 
 Then here repose, and thank the Plates.' 
 
 ' Sweet friend,' the beldame's cat exclaimed, 
 ' What things are those that thou hast named ? 
 What taste has bread that great men eat ? 
 And oh ! what flavour has their meat? 
 My richest food is broth or stews 
 That now and then my mistress brews, 
 Made of— alas 1 I know not what — 
 They smack of cinders, tongs, and pot.
 
 54 The Greedy Cat. 
 
 Few times a year a mouse I catch, 
 And glimpse of purest pleasure snatch.' 
 
 Yes,' said the other, ' in my sight 
 
 Thy form is like a spider's quite. 
 
 So little fat, such wealth of lean 
 
 Before on cat was never seen. 
 
 Thy meagre frame, thy skinny face, 
 
 Are perfect libels on our race. 
 
 Oh, could'st thou see the Sultan's board 
 
 And taste the things wherewith 'tis stored, 
 
 Thy bones, though dry as from the tomb. 
 
 In life renewed would haste to bloom.' 
 
 ' Oh, brother !' venting sobs and sighs, 
 The fleshless cat entreating cries, 
 
 ' Since thou hast found the golden key 
 That opens doors of luxury, 
 For pity's sake, and kinship old 
 Leave not thy fellow in the cold.
 
 The Greedy Cat. 55 
 
 If thou to royal feast repair 
 Oh, let me too thy fortune share ! 
 The charity thou shew'st to me 
 May ope the gate of heaven for thee.' 
 
 The spectre form, the piteous tale 
 Did on the neighbour cat prevail : 
 'Twas fixed that both, at evening fall, 
 Should boune them to the Sultan's hall. 
 But first the beldame's cat, in tone 
 Of rapture, made the compact known 
 To that old woman, lorn and lone ; 
 For oft, we hear, in days of eld, 
 Such wondrous councils have been held. 
 Through spectacles with rims of horn 
 Gazing, she now began to warn. 
 And shook her head with aspect sage 
 And caution of experienced age. 
 
 ' My dear companion,' thus she said, 
 ' 'Tis true with me thou'rt poorly fed,
 
 56 The Greedy Cat. 
 
 Right few the scraps that I can spare, 
 Thy daily bread is simply air : 
 
 But if so few the means of life, 
 
 At least thou livest free from strife, 
 
 And if this house be close and dark, 
 
 For us 'tis safe as Noah's ark. 
 
 So mean a place no thief would mark ; 
 
 No tyrant to our humble home 
 
 In search of spoil or prey would come: 
 
 If sweet content the spirit bless, 
 
 Wliat state so good as lowliness ? 
 
 But if thou go'st among the great, 
 
 Ah me ! I tremble for thj- fate ! 
 
 The soul that always seeks for more 
 
 In boundless wealth will still be poor, 
 
 The mind whose longings ne'er are stilled 
 
 With grave-dust only can be filled. 
 
 Sweet baits and viands fat beneath. 
 
 How oft is spread the snare of Death ! '
 
 The Greedy Cat. 57 
 
 With these wise saws that ancient dame 
 Fought long with Hunger's furious flame ; 
 The more the flood of words she poured 
 The more the fire imperious roared. 
 And strong desire to dine and sup 
 Burnt faith and patience wholly up. 
 So when the hour appointed came 
 The cat's design remained the same. 
 Supported by its neighbour sleek 
 It turned its tottering steps and weak, 
 With many a stumble, many a fall, 
 To haven of the Sultan's hall. 
 
 But oh ! to plague the hapless poor 
 
 What buffets Fortune has in store ! 
 
 It chanced, the very day before 
 
 That stealing through ill-guarded door, 
 
 Of ravenous cats at least a score 
 
 With hideous yell and screech and roar
 
 58 The Greedy Cat. 
 
 Had on the table rushed, and soiled 
 
 The cloth, and dragged the roast and boiled 
 
 With swearing much and caterwaul 
 
 All up and down the banquet hall : 
 
 In trying one bold thief to catch, 
 
 The Sultan's self received a scratch. 
 
 The royal wrath blazed up at this, 
 
 He swore each cat the dust should kiss, 
 
 And bade a band of archers wait, 
 
 Whose flying arrows, winged with fate, 
 
 Should swift convey to feline heart 
 
 Due retribution's dreadful smart. 
 
 All ignorant of ambushed bow 
 That cat, with stealthy pace and slow, 
 And snifTmg nostrils forward thiust. 
 Approached at once the board august ; 
 Then maddened by the smell of meat 
 It rushed towards the royal seat,
 
 The Greedy Cat. 59 
 
 But ere its teeth could touch the joint 
 
 It ate an arrow's piercing point ! 
 
 All former thoughts of meat and bread 
 
 Its bleeding bosom instant fled, 
 
 But squealing worse than ' wry-necked fife ' 
 
 It ran like fire to save its life. 
 
 ' Alas, alas,' it panting said, 
 •Why did I leave our lowly shed, 
 Our calm and quiet house ? 
 Oh, might I reach that tranquil spot, 
 Henceforth 'twill be my only plot 
 To catch the wily mouse ! 
 
 ' Oh, ancient Mistress, tried and true. 
 How could I ever part from you 
 
 In danger's path to roam ? 
 No mention now of daintiest dish. 
 Of hash or stew, of game or fish, 
 
 Shall tempt me forth from home !
 
 6o The Greedy Cat. 
 
 ' On greedy schemes imprudent bent 
 I've learned the sweetness of content, 
 And every erring cat can tell 
 Le jcu ne vaut pas la chandelle !'
 
 The Old IVomaji and Death. 6 1 
 
 THE OLD WOMAN AND THE ANGEL 
 OF DEATH, 
 
 Once an old woman, indigent and worn, 
 Dwelt in an ancient house beside a waste, 
 
 Dead was her husband ; widowed and forlorn, 
 Her hopes, she said, in heaven alone were placed. 
 
 But one tie bound her spirit to the earth, 
 An orphan daughter, beautiful and young. 
 
 Her mother's sole companion from her birth. 
 As fau: a flower as ever poet sung. 
 
 But dire disease, it chanced, to that lone place 
 Came with his blasting step and wasting hand. 
 
 He plucked the roses from the daughter's face, 
 And made her pale and thin as willow wand.
 
 62 The Old Woman 
 
 Gone was the sprightly walk wherewith she left 
 The house at morn to drive her mother's herd 
 
 To desert pasture ; of her voice bereft, 
 
 No more she poured her notes like woodland bird. 
 
 Her stature, once as poplar straight and tall, 
 
 A broken reed, on bed uneasy lay, 
 All day she wished that pleasant night would fall, 
 
 Through dreary night she longed for opening day. 
 
 The aged mother, swallowed up in grief, 
 
 Knowing no rest, with groans and tears prayed 
 
 That Heaven would spare this newly-budding leaf, 
 This fresh green shoot, this young unspotted maid. 
 
 ' Alas !' she cried, ' if Death is not content 
 That both should live, lo ! / am ready, I ! 
 My light of life is gone, my days are spent, 
 
 'Tis time that I, poor useless wretch, should die !
 
 and the A ngel of Death. 6 3 
 
 In life prolonged I have no hope of joy, 
 But pain increases as the years increase, 
 
 Would I were where no sorrow can annoy, 
 Lapt in the sweetness of eternal peace ! 
 
 ' So if my life a ransom can be made 
 
 For her, more dear than thousand lives to me, 
 Gladly I'll pass through Death's most grateful shade 
 To gain the light of immortality !' 
 
 One day while thus that ancient dame did grieve, 
 And her sad heart for her sick daughter burned, 
 
 Before the accustomed time of falling eve, 
 A sti'aying cow from the wild waste returned. 
 
 Into the kitchen walked the errant cow, 
 
 Thirsty, regardless of domestic rule, 
 And in a vessel plunged her nose and brow. 
 
 Full of good broth, in corner placed to cool.
 
 64 The Old Woman 
 
 When not a single drop of broth remained, 
 The cow made efforts to withdraw her nose, 
 
 But all in vain ; it stuck as though 'twere chained ; 
 So pot and all, away in fright she goes. 
 
 Hither and thither through the house and yard 
 The maddened cow with many a bellow ran. 
 
 And knocked her head 'gainst wall and doorway hard, 
 And made a fearful clattering with the pan. 
 
 The mistress rose in haste from bended knees, 
 And went to learn what this dread noise might be ; 
 
 Oh, how her heart stood still and blood did freeze 
 When that strange raging monster she did see ! 
 
 She thought this Being sure was Izrail, 
 Death's awful angel, come at last to slay, 
 
 And instant terror 'gan her bosom thrill 
 Lest he had come to take her soul away, -
 
 and the A ngel of Death. 65 
 
 Her many tears and prayers she clean forgot, 
 Her wish to be her daughter's sacrifice ; 
 
 In fear and horror rooted to the spot, 
 
 For the bare life she screamed to pitying skies. 
 
 She cried with trembling limbs and streaming eyes, 
 ' Oh, mighty angel, / am not the one ! 
 
 'See, see ! in yonder chamber sick she lies, 
 Take her away, she is indeed thine own ! 
 
 ' I am her mother, I have no disease. 
 But ah ! I have not very long to live ; 
 Then take my daughter, who is ready, please. 
 And me till fated day short respite give ! '
 
 66 The Gardener and the Bear. 
 
 THE GARDENER AND THE BEAR. 
 
 'Tis merry, I ween, in a garden green 
 
 To walk amid bushes and flowers and fruit, 
 Where the damascene 
 And the kidney bean, 
 And everything else, doth flourish and shoot : 
 
 Where the rosy-cheeked apple burns rosy and red 
 As a farmer's face through a quickset hedge, 
 
 And the peach on the wall, 
 
 And the raspberry small. 
 Like whetstones sharpen the appetite's edge : 
 
 And the bright yellow ball of the orange is framed 
 In the background dark of the changeless yew.
 
 The Gardener and the Bear. 67 
 
 And the lily white 
 Springs fresh and bright 
 By the side of nemophila, lovely and blue. 
 
 And the nightingale calls to the bursting rose, 
 Or the blackbird sings from the hawthorn tree — ■ 
 
 Both in West and East, 
 
 So I've heard at least, 
 Such a pearl of a garden you'll frequently see. 
 
 And 'tis said that in such a fair garden as this, 
 There dwelt an old peasant, ungainly and rough. 
 Who all his days 
 Had done nothing but raise 
 Cauliflowers, onions, and artichokes tough. 
 
 His affections were set upon early peas. 
 And asparagus' charms his heart beguiled, 
 A new apple-graft 
 Sent him perfectly daft. 
 And a seedling's decease made him cry like a child. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 The Gardener and the Bear. 
 
 The red beet-root and white celery shoot 
 Were fairer to him than a maiden's face, 
 
 He would kneel in the mud 
 
 Whole days, and bud 
 On the briar-stocks scattered all over the place. 
 
 And oft he would sit on a wall or a gate 
 
 Where that beautiful garden he best could view, 
 And chuckle for hours 
 O'er his fruits and his flowers. 
 Each graceful shape and each brilliant hue. 
 
 And had he been any way given to verse 
 
 There's not the least doubt he'd have chanted the 
 praise. 
 Of each blossom and plant he 
 Had tended, as Dante 
 And Petrarch their strains to their ladies would 
 raise.
 
 The Gardener and the Bear. 69 
 
 His heart, like a Dryad's, was bound up in trees, 
 To the animal kingdom he'd little to say, 
 
 He never could ' freeze ' ^ 
 
 To his own species, 
 And few were the persons who came that way. 
 
 He had no desire for a son or a daughter, 
 For he was too fond of himself to wish 
 To gather a fig 
 Or a ' tater' dig, 
 Except just to furnish his own little dish. 
 
 But at last it so happened he managed to catch 
 That cramp of retirement, a fit of the blues, 
 And Solitude's smart 
 Affected his heart 
 And got through the rind of his feelings obtuse. 
 
 ' American for ' take a liking.'
 
 JO The Gardener and the Bear. 
 
 He'd no one to whom he could utter his woes, 
 Or the overstrung bow of his spirit unbend, 
 
 And his mind to disclose, 
 
 To the violet or rose 
 He found worth but litde — without a friend ! 
 
 The spectre of loneliness haunted his steps 
 In shady alley or sunshiny lawn, 
 
 He had no delight 
 
 In the balmy night 
 And he dreaded the flush of the breezy dawn. 
 
 So one day in despair, tired of wandering there, 
 He turned his sad face to the distant hill, 
 
 That perchance he might find 
 
 Some relief for his mind 
 In the desert that no one would sow or till.
 
 The Gardener and the Bear. 
 
 He walked o'er the breadth of the dreary plain 
 To the skirt of the mountain, rocky and grey, 
 
 And the troublesome chain 
 
 Of his lonely pain 
 Was broken in two in a very odd way. 
 
 For it chanced that a Bear who lived up there, 
 And was used in the caves and the hills to roam, 
 Without any he 
 Or affectionate she 
 To make matters easy and pleasant at home— 
 
 It chanced that this bear, to take the air. 
 Had started off, weary of dwelling alone, 
 And eager to meet 
 With some comrade sweet 
 To the bush-covered base of the mountain had gone.
 
 72 The Gardener and the Bear. 
 
 The Bear was growling in sorrowful style 
 
 When he stopped in surprise at a curious sight- 
 That Gardener old, 
 Who was pacing the wold, 
 And banning the Powers of darkness and light. 
 
 The Bear saw the Gardener, the Gardener the Bear, 
 Each felt Fate had sent him the wished-for friend, 
 And they interchanged vows 
 With hugs and bows, 
 And their way to the garden did joyfully wend. 
 
 And whatever was meet of those fruits so sweet 
 To his follower strange the Gardener gave, 
 And the man and the brute 
 So exactly did suit. 
 That the Bear came and went like a dog or a 
 slave.
 
 The Gardener and the Bear. 73 
 
 When the master slept, the attendant kept 
 A careful watch by his honoured bed, 
 And with angry paw 
 Would endeavour to claw 
 The flies who would buzz round his face and his 
 head. 
 
 One day when the Gardener according to wont 
 Was sleeping at noon in the shade of a tree, 
 
 A number of flies 
 
 On his forehead and eyes 
 Came settling and rolling in midsummer glee. 
 
 'Twas in vain that his paw in a constant see-saw 
 The Bear kept shaking on this side and that ; 
 When he saw that the flies 
 His attempts did despise, 
 He said, ' I'll come down on them heavy, that's flat ! '
 
 74 The Gardener and the Bear. 
 
 Then uplifting a stone of at least half-a-ton, 
 He pounded it down with a terrible crash, 
 And, as you may suppose, 
 The poor Gardener's nose 
 And his eyes, mouth, and brains, were reduced to a 
 mash. 
 
 And hence they have said that a wise enemy 
 Is better by far than an ignorant friend ; 
 
 And that if a man passes 
 
 His time among asses. 
 He's certain to get a good kick in the end !
 
 The Devotee mid the Jar of Honey. 75 
 
 THE DEVOTEE AND THE JAR 
 OF HOAEY. 
 
 ' Once on a time ' in some Eastern clime, 
 There lived a Devotee 
 Who cared for nought save heavenly thought 
 And the hopes of eternity. 
 
 He seldom slept, but often wept 
 
 And passed the day in prayer, 
 And at eve would stray along the way 
 
 To breathe the cooler air. 
 
 Hard by a Merchant dwelt, possessed 
 
 Of hives and linden trees, 
 From which would come the constant hum 
 
 Of never-tiring bees.
 
 76 The Devotee 
 
 The Merchant marked that holy man 
 
 How sad his face and brow, 
 Like a yew that waves o'er many graves 
 
 When the winds of winter blow. 
 
 He heard how poor he was and lone, 
 
 How pure and kind his soul, 
 How in hunger and thirst he still prayed on, 
 
 Nor borrowed, begged, or stole. 
 
 ' I have meat and bread,' the Merchant said, 
 ' And honey and oil also, 
 Sure some I can spare for my brother there 
 Who liveth in want and woe ! 
 
 ' For strength and health, and lands and wealth, 
 To men, I ween, were given 
 That their souls they might lift by dole and gift 
 To the treasure-house of heaven.'
 
 and the Jar of Honey. 77 
 
 So day by day the Merchant sent 
 
 From his abundant store 
 A portion meet of his honey sweet 
 
 To be left at the poor man's door. 
 
 The holy man with thanks and prayers 
 
 And tears the present took, 
 A little he ate and the rest he set 
 
 Aside in a secret nook. 
 
 In that secret nook an earthen jar 
 
 High on a shelf he placed, 
 And his daily store in it would pour, 
 
 And never a drop would waste. 
 
 Bright dreams of wealth and thoughts of pelf 
 
 In his mind began to rise, 
 And oft he would think of the jar on the shelf 
 
 When his heart should have been in the skies.
 
 78 The Devotee 
 
 In that jar to peep was food and sleep 
 And balm for sorrow and sin ; 
 
 And himself he would pinch to add an inch 
 To the golden flood within. 
 
 Beneath the shelf he sat one day 
 
 In that quiet corner cool, 
 He felt too gay to go and pray 
 
 For the jar was almost full. 
 
 He said to himself, ' The times of woe 
 
 For me are nearly past. 
 Though the wind of trouble strongly blow, 
 
 Thank God, it lulls at last. 
 
 ' And now 'twere well my store to sell. 
 
 Good honey's a precious thing ; 
 Now, let me see — It well may be 
 That dirams ' ten 'twill bring. 
 
 ' A diram is worth about twopence sterling.
 
 and the Jar of Honey. jc) 
 
 ' Ten dirams is a goodly sum ; 
 I trow I shall not lose, 
 If with them I from a shepherd buy 
 Five young and likely ewes. 
 
 ' For tv/ice a year those ewes will bear 
 Two healthy lambs apiece — 
 There'll be twenty head ere a year be sped 
 And many a goodly fleece. 
 
 ' 'Tis well, 'tis well — and how to tell 
 Their number in 'ten years ? 
 So vast a flock doth my reckoning mock — . 
 What work for knife and shears ! 
 
 'Search through the land on every hand, 
 Whose substance will match mine ? 
 I will court some dame of noble name, 
 Perhaps of royal line.
 
 8o TJie Devotee 
 
 ' A palace high and wide I'll build 
 To bring my bride unto, 
 The spacious floor with gold I'll gild. 
 And the ceiling shall be blue. 
 
 ' With many a coloured lamp the walls 
 At night shall shine like day, 
 And fountains fresh and waterfalls 
 Shall dash their sparkling spray. 
 
 ' And when the long-expected hour 
 And wished-for moment come, 
 A darling son, a princely flower 
 In beauty there shall bloom. 
 
 ' No bud beside the Ganges wide 
 Shall blush so fair as he ; 
 His face shall be bright as the foam-flake white 
 Where the river meets the sea.
 
 and the Jar of Ho7tey. 8 1 
 
 * And when his years of Hfe attain 
 The hicky time of four,i 
 I will instil in heart and brain 
 The rudiments of lore. 
 
 ' From height to height of learning's hill 
 
 His little feet shall rise ; 
 With various tongues his mind I'll fill 
 And deep philosophies. 
 
 ' And should the headlong tide of youth 
 
 In disobedience swell, 
 I'll bid him turn towards the truth 
 And shun the pains of hell. 
 
 'And should my teaching not prevail 
 
 His erring soul upon, 
 With this stout staff I will assail 
 The tempting Evil One ! ' 
 
 ^ The age at which Mussulman children commence their 
 studies.
 
 S2 The Devotee and the Jar of Honey 
 
 The holy man, thus wrapped in thought, 
 
 Raised up his staff to smite, 
 Alas ! the blow to ruin brought 
 
 That jar of honey quite ! 
 
 Down through the board like rain it poured 
 
 O'er hair and face and beard, 
 No insect drunk in treacle sunk, 
 
 Was ever so besmeared ! 
 
 Bitter his tears, for schemes of years 
 
 At once dissolved away ; 
 But soon he rose, and washed his clothes ; 
 
 Resolved to fast and pray.
 
 An Episode of Sadi. ^'^ 
 
 AN EPISODE OF SADI. i 
 
 Tripoli town is a lovely sight, 
 
 'Twixt the merry blue sea and the mountain white 
 
 The mountain of ten thousand snows ; 
 
 The sea, alive with thousand prows ; 
 
 The battled walls, whose highest tower 
 
 Is bright with sunset's crimson shower, 
 
 The Red Cross, waving fair and free, 
 
 Far seen by land and eke by seaj 
 
 The plumed helms of the warriors tall ; 
 
 The lance-heads glittering on the wall ; 
 
 The purple grapes, in vineyards low 
 
 Beneath yon hillock's rocky brow ; 
 
 ' Bom A.D. 1 1 76. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 An Episode of Sddl. 
 
 The varying crowds that ceaseless pass 
 To market, musjid, or to mass : — 
 Such sight is fair to all men, save 
 To two, the captive and the slave ! 
 
 Below the wall, behold the trench 
 Where labouring hundreds toil to wrench 
 The earth-fast rock from the stubborn waste, 
 While whip and rod compel their haste ; 
 
 A motley crew are they. 
 There the lithe Arab, foe to work. 
 Digs by the side of stalwart Turk, 
 And the fair Koord, with eyes of blue. 
 Pulls at one rope with the swarthy Jew : 
 Unwillingly their limbs they move. 
 But the stern Norman stands above, 
 
 And they perforce obey. 
 Though each of them to other bears 
 The hate that springs from many years
 
 An Episode of Sddi. 85 
 
 Of mutual wrong and strife and crime 
 That fill the page of Eastern time, 
 Yet here united, all detest 
 Their mail-clad masters from the West. 
 As well may black combine with white. 
 As soon may day be mixed with night, 
 As East and West in love unite. 
 The soldiers strive, with warnings loud, 
 To urge to work the weary crowd ; 
 The while each slave, in language terse, 
 Utters his nation's deepest curse. 
 But see, apart there standeth one 
 Whose daily task is ' smoothly done,' — 
 Whose heart nor lips are prone to curse. 
 Who murmurs now an ancient verse 
 In the soft tongue that Sheeraz maids 
 Speak softly in Musalla's shades ; 
 ' Sorrow is good for patience's sake, 
 Through darkest night the dawn will break,'
 
 86 Ail Episode of Sadt. 
 
 And now his thoughts have wandered far 
 
 Towards the morning land 
 Where rises mighty Istakhar, 
 And Jamsheed's throne, that Peace and War 
 And Time and Change have failed to mar : 
 
 And now he sees the strand 
 Of that fair gulf that Paris ^ love, 
 Through whose green depths the coral grove 
 
 And pearly shells are seen 
 
 ' Sa'di ! this face is surely thine !' 
 Has brought him back to Palestine. 
 
 Before him stands, in flowing gown, 
 An ancient friend from Halab's * town. 
 And joy and pity and surprise 
 Are mingled in his face and eyes. 
 ' Thou amongst slaves ! all mire and sand. 
 In chains ! a pickaxe in thy hand ! 
 How cam'st thou here from Iran land ?' 
 
 ' Fairies. * Aleppo,
 
 An Episode of Sa di. 87 
 
 ' Oh, friend,' the poet smUing said. 
 In fair Damishk,^ I lately stayed, 
 But Nature me a wanderer made. 
 I cannot brook, for many days, 
 To see the light of morning rays 
 Gild the same waters, trees, or ways. 
 E'en in Damishk, though sweet at first, 
 I thought my prisoned heart would burst. 
 I longed to leave the throngs of men. 
 And dwell in desert lone again ; 
 To feel once more the morning air 
 Breathe on my brow, unvexed by care. 
 And at still eve, to pour my prayer, 
 Myself sole priest and worshipper. 
 So leaving mosque and minaret, 
 My face toward the West I set, 
 And roamed the sacred wilderness 
 Where Those have trod whom all men bless, 
 
 ' Damascus.
 
 88 An Episode of Sddi. 
 
 And Christian, Jew, and Muslim meet 
 
 To kiss the print of holy feet. 
 
 Glad was my heart what time I heard, 
 
 Through mountain wood, each tuneful bird 
 
 In many a varied strain of praise 
 
 Lauding our God, His works and ways : 
 
 Sweet 'twas to hear through rustling trees 
 
 The soft response of whispering breeze ; 
 
 Or standing on the lonely shore 
 
 To catch, through furious dash and roar. 
 
 The anthem of the stormy seas. 
 
 I saw, upon the hoary brow 
 
 Of Lebanon, the cedars bow, 
 
 The willows bent o'er Jordan's flood. 
 
 The fir trees stooped in Carmel's wood : 
 
 Each tree and rock, each flower and sod, 
 
 Seemed only made to worship God ! 
 
 Rapt from the world, I heedless went, 
 
 And wandered near the Prankish tent ;
 
 An Episode of Scvdi. 89 
 
 > 
 
 And now, a slave, I labour here — 
 What matter? Heaven is always near!' 
 
 ' Not so, my friend,' the other said, 
 ' Thy ransom shall be straightway paid, 
 And soon for joy exchanging woe. 
 With me to Halab shalt thou go.' 
 The merchant (such his trade) was known 
 To Christian leaders in the town ; 
 Money has power in peace and wars, 
 For ransom small often dinars,^ 
 He freed the sweetest bard of Fars. 
 
 That merchant had a daughter fair, 
 In curtained Haram nursed with care : 
 One of those flowers whose lovely sheen 
 Is doomed by man to ' blush unseen,' 
 
 ' A dinar was worth about thirty pence.
 
 90 An Episode of Sadi. 
 
 And be she maiden, be she wife, 
 Sees but the prison side of hfe — 
 
 But Woman still is she, 
 And so her lord will often find 
 That though he fetter mould and mind. 
 
 Her tongue is always free. 
 The merchant now this daughter gave 
 To Sa'di, late the Christian's slave, 
 With hundred gold dinars for dower, 
 And all that decks a bridal bower. 
 Alas ! delight can never last. 
 After joy's feast oft comes a fast. 
 
 And so the poet found ; 
 His dark-eyed spouse right soon began 
 
 To pass the common bound 
 That marks the plain of friendly strife 
 'Twixt loving husband, duteous wife : 
 Her woman's pride arose. 
 Little recked she of verse or prose.
 
 An Episode of Sadi. g i 
 
 And measured Misia', balanced Beit, ' 
 Were all in vein to check her spite ; 
 She lacked the power in him to find 
 That genius bright, that master mind 
 That could the whole %vide East beguile 
 From China's wall to source of Nile. 
 The great are seldom great at home. 
 
 Their powers, that sun-Uke stream 
 Without, are dim when there they come, 
 
 A rushlight's flickering beam ; 
 The eloquence, whose wondrous power 
 
 Can sway a lawless throng, 
 Has little might in quiet hour 
 
 Against a woman's tongue. 
 Do what he would, he could not please. 
 When he was summer, she would freeze. 
 When he would sleep, why she would wake. 
 And every hour some whim would take. 
 
 ' Misia', a hemistich. Beit, a couplet.
 
 92 An Episode of S a di. 
 
 At last she cried, ' That I should have 
 
 A husband who was once a slave ! 
 
 How oft I would dream of some dauntless Ameer 
 
 Some gallant and handsome lord, 
 Who had ridden a tilt with a Norman spear 
 
 And dared the Prankish sword ! 
 Some valiant noble who would come 
 
 Borne on his piebald steed, 
 Like Moo'tasim,^ from his distant home, 
 
 To succour his lady in need ! 
 And after those sweet dreams I see 
 A husband brought me such as thee / 
 Pray art not thou the captive found 
 By my fond sire on Christian ground, 
 A wretched serf, who toiled all day 
 At lifting stones and digging clay ? 
 And such as thou must I obey? 
 
 ' Referring to the Arabic account of the taking of Amoria, 
 when everyone was said to have been mounted on a piebald 
 hoise.
 
 Afi Episode of Sadi. 93 
 
 Did he not give to set thee free, 
 Twice five dinars, too much for thee?' 
 ' 'Tis true,' the poet sadly said, 
 Though well, I trow, that sum I've paid ; 
 E'en so the shepherd saves the sheep 
 From wolves that near the sheepfold creep, 
 And after gives the ransomed life 
 A prey to cruel butcher's knife ! 
 For ten dinars he set me free 
 
 From Christian bonds, my wife ; 
 But for one hundred tethered me 
 
 To thee, a slave for life ! '
 
 94 Hajaj and his Chamberlain. 
 
 HAJAJ^ AND HIS CHAMBERLAIN. 
 
 Cruel Hajaj, as the chroniclers say, 
 
 Though he'd Uttle respect for a hand or a head. 
 Though noses and fingers he lopped away 
 
 As a gardener does an asparagus bed ; 
 
 Possessed notwithstanding a great partiality 
 For a certain old chamberlain, largely endued 
 
 With one speciality — knowing the quality 
 Of all the good liquor that ever was brewed. 
 
 So oft 'on the quiet,' when firman and fiat 
 
 Were written and issued, and business was done, 
 
 And cutting and flaying, and slicing and slaying. 
 Had each had their turn till the set of the sun ; 
 
 ^ A cruel Governor of Irak, under the Omiad Khalifs.
 
 Hajaj and his Chamberlain. 95 
 
 In his private divan, with this jocund old man, 
 He would sit and hobnob, and each deep stern line 
 
 On his pitiless brow would softer grow 
 O'er a brimming flagon of Sheeraz wine. 
 
 They drank and they gossipped of matters and things, 
 And the various troubles that harass our lives, 
 
 Till they got to one, common to beggars and kings, 
 To wit, the unspeakable bother of wives. 
 
 Said Hajaj, ' They are brimfiill of fancies and v.-iles, 
 And no one can tell what they next •will be at — 
 
 Such a marvellous compound of whimper and smiles — 
 Trust my wife ! Why, I'd far rather trust a cat ! ' 
 
 Said the chamberlain, "Tis so with many, my lord. 
 Nay, 'tis so with most ; but I wash that my life 
 
 May be suddenly brought to an end with the sword 
 If I do not believe in my own dear wife !
 
 96 Hajaj and his Chamberlain. 
 
 ' She's lovely and sweet, and so very discreet 
 
 That stories and scandal she soons cut short ; 
 And for days together she'll talk of the weather, 
 And never ask once about news from the court. 
 
 ' If I come home late, she'll not question or prate, 
 
 Nor angrily ask, "Where on earth have you been?" 
 But simply say, " Have you had a nice day?" 
 And then she will hand me paijamahs^ clean. 
 
 ' If I tell her some matter, no fear of her chatter ; 
 
 From her faithful soul no vent 'twill find, 
 She's so perfectly safe, on the summit of Kaf '■* 
 She'd not even whisper a word to the wind !' 
 
 Said Hajaj, ' Oh, my friend, let us hope your end 
 
 May never depend on womankind. 
 For I can of all you say point out the fallacy 
 
 In a way that for ever will change your mind. 
 
 ' Loose drawers. ^ Caucasus.
 
 Hajaj and his Chamberlaiiu 97 
 
 ' Now take this bag with the sacred seal 
 
 Of the KhaUf (God shield him) impressed thereon ; 
 You must tell your wife that you happened to steal 
 (Heaven willed it) this gold, which belongs to the 
 throne. 
 
 ' With many a kiss and with many a prayer 
 You must beg her to keep this secret well, 
 For that if the affair should chance to take air. 
 Why — your head to the dogs and your soul to hell.' 
 
 The chamberlain promised his lord to obey : 
 Of his lady's discretion no doubts had he, 
 
 And gaily he carried the cash away 
 
 To the house where he lived with thac excellent she. 
 
 With many a kiss and with many a prayer 
 He showed the bag and his story told ; 
 
 And sweet 'twas to see the delight of the fair, 
 
 As she fondled her husband and collared the gold. 
 
 H
 
 gS Hajaj and Ids Chamberlain. 
 
 'You sharp little rogue,' she endearingly saiJ^, 
 
 '' Oh, how did you manage Hajaj to do ? 
 And what secret of yours have I ever l^etrayed ? 
 Do you think I've turned parrot, you sceptical Jew?' 
 
 Now when many a day had passed away, 
 
 The wily Hajaj to his chamberlain gave. 
 With aspect pleasant, a nice little present, 
 
 In the shape of a pretty young Georgian slave- 
 But alas ! such a smile, such a look full of guile 
 
 Had the Lady of Discord, when Pallas and Here 
 For the sake of her apple began to grapple 
 
 And spoiled all the fun of the festival cheery. 
 
 With sobs and with sighs and with tears in her eyes. 
 The news of this present the dame received, 
 
 And exclaimed ' Did you ever ?' and then ' No I never : 
 Such wickedness really who could have believed?'
 
 Hajaj and his Chamberlain. 99 
 
 Her husband not yet did she openly scold, 
 
 But her answers grew short and her face grew long, 
 
 And for days together the dinner was cold. 
 So at last he perceived there was something wrong. 
 
 ' My dear,' said he, ' I can plainly see 
 
 That something or other has put you out ; 
 If so, now pray why can't you say 
 
 At once what's the matter, not sulk and poui ? '■ 
 
 - I would rather be fried,' all in tears she replied, 
 
 ' Than utter a word or a syllable say ! ' 
 'J'hen her protest ignoring, in accents imploring, 
 Cried ' Do send that odious creature away ! ' 
 
 ' My love,' said the chamberlain, 'what can I do? 
 She's the governor's gift, and I do not choose 
 His favours to slight, when he's been so polite. 
 And besides— I have only got one head to Iosj. 
 
 H 2
 
 I oo Hajaj mid his Chamberlam. 
 
 Not at all like a tonic, this answer laconic 
 Stirred the lady's bile to a frightful degree ; 
 
 Not a word she said, but nodded her head, 
 And under her breath muttered ' We shall see 1 ' 
 
 That bag she took from its dark snug nook, 
 That bag with the Khalif's seal impressed, 
 
 And when day was spent, away she went 
 
 With the cash hidden carefully under her vest. 
 
 She walked up straight to the palace gate. 
 And gave the door such a thundering knock, 
 
 That the porter snoring, all things ignoring, 
 
 Fell clean off his bench with the fright and the 
 shock. 
 
 Himself then shaking, his bunch of keys taking, 
 He opened the door with astonishing speed. 
 
 For he thought that the dead must be certainly waking. 
 Or that Iblis from limbo was suddenly freed.
 
 Hajaj and his Chamberlain. i o i 
 
 To his great surprise, in female guise, 
 A person he saw, who thus began, 
 ' Come, time don't lose, I've particular news, 
 So let me in to your master, young man !' 
 
 The porter required but little persuasion, 
 For scandal whispered 'twas not very rare 
 
 For Hajaj to receive, as on this occasion, 
 A private visit from some of the fair. 
 
 When the chamberlain's wife in the presence august 
 
 Arrived, she performed the obeisance due ; 
 ' Your highness,' she said, 'will forgive me, I trust ; 
 My motive to this was devotion to you : 
 
 ' My husband, my lord, (may his features be blackened !) 
 Has been your chamberlain many a year. 
 And the bonds of fidelity how has he slackened ! 
 Alas ! to inform you I almost fear ;
 
 I02 Hajaj and his Chamberlain. 
 
 ' I've the strongest objection to tales and to slander. 
 And he is my husband, a brute though he be;. 
 But mj^duty to you and the sacred Commander 
 Of the Faithful, shall ever be first with me 1 
 
 ' 'i'he truth must be told that this bag of gold, 
 
 Impressed with the holy Khalif's seal, 
 
 He brought away from the palace one day, 
 
 And said "'twas a trifle he'd managed to steal." 
 
 • This secret long on the tip of my tongue 
 I have carried, a martyr to duty and love ; 
 "Have a care," one said, "for your husband's head 1" 
 Cried the other, "A dutiful subject prove 1" 
 
 ' So I leave him now to your highness' mercy 
 And justice, which every day active we see. 
 For since he's made free with the public purse, he 
 Is certainly not fit to live with me.'
 
 Hajaj and Ids Chamberlain. 103 
 
 Siid Hajaj, 'Ma'am, your visit's not quite unexpected, 
 
 Nor your kind information entirely new ; 
 Tis all the result of a plan I projected 
 'J'o teach your }X)or husband the truth about you." 
 
 Then he bid them summon the chamberlain straight. 
 
 Who hastened in, much surprised to see 
 His dumb-foundered spouse in a fainting state, 
 
 And Hajaj with the bag of gold safe on his knee. 
 
 * My friend,' said the Governor, 'be pleased to perceive 
 The trick your ^vise excellent wife has played ; 
 And no woman, perhaps you will now believe, 
 Is worthy of trust, be she matron or maid : 
 
 '■ For had not this play been arranged one day 
 For a certain purpose, betwixt you and me, 
 The boys would be bowling, the dogs would be rolling 
 Your head down the gutter, with frolic and glee.''
 
 I04 The Hypocritical Cat. 
 
 THE HYPOCRITICAL CAT. 
 
 Within the border of a mountain high 
 
 A speckled Partridge once his nest had made. 
 
 And took dehght alone to walk and fly 
 
 And plume his feathers in the pleasant shade, 
 
 And unobserved with sprightly steps would move. 
 
 And send his merry cry through all tlie grove. 
 
 But Time, that alters so the minds of men, 
 
 O'er bird and beast, no less, doth ever reign : 
 All love to change the mountain for the glen. 
 
 Anon, to pass to hill-top from the plain ; 
 There is no creature of the earth or sea 
 That's not enamoured of sweet Liberty.
 
 The Hypocritical Cat. 105 
 
 And so that Partridge, tired of always seeing 
 The same grey landscape through the same green 
 grass, 
 
 And feeling Freedom's impulse stir his being, 
 Resolved some time in other lands to pass. 
 
 And, after having thus refreshed his mind, 
 
 Returning home, his desert nest to find. 
 
 But after he'd been gone a little while, 
 
 A Quail, who lived not very far from thence, 
 
 Thinking that nest of a superior style, 
 Resolved to profit at its lord's expense, 
 
 And straightway took up his abode therein. 
 
 Saying ' To leave it empty were a sin.' 
 
 But lo ! to his surprise and great chagrin. 
 After some months the Partridge reappeared, 
 And much in wrath, cried ' Sir, pray what d' you mean ? 
 Have you tl"te impudence to come and beard 
 Me in my very nest ? Come, mizzle, fly ! 
 Or you and I shall quarrel speedily.'
 
 1 06 The Hypocritical Cat. 
 
 'Quarrel or not,' the angry Quail replied, 
 
 ' I'm in possession, and I shall not move, 
 One day I found this nest unoccupied. 
 
 So that it's yours I don't see how you'll prove ; 
 Your threats and struts I value not a pin, 
 Do what you like : you're out and I am in.' 
 
 So after some time they had vainly passed 
 In question wrathful and quick repartee, 
 
 Becoming tired, it was agreed at last 
 That they should put the case in equity. 
 
 And seek some learned judge, who would decide 
 
 Which of the claimants Right had justified. 
 
 The Partridge said, ' Hard by there dwells a Cat 
 AVho earthly cares and worldly love has left, 
 
 Who injures neither bird nor mouse nor rat, 
 Whose heart of evil passions is bereft, 
 
 Who seeks continually the way of heaven 
 
 And aye with holy texts his speech doth leaven.
 
 The Hypocfitical Cat. 107 
 
 'And from the time when in the morning sky 
 The sun's red rim above the waste is seen, 
 To that sweet hour when from the plain on high 
 The stars, embattled, shine in splendour keen, 
 The portal of his mouth no food doth pass — 
 And all he breaks his fast on is dry grass. 
 
 ' But not content with this, when night comes on 
 And the last flush has vanished from the West, 
 He utters prayers with many a tear and groan, 
 
 Nor bathes his eyelids in the balm of rest ; 
 And till again the w'hite dawn climbs the East 
 His soul from wrestling never is released. 
 
 ' 'Tis best that we should now refer to him. 
 Nor waste our time in profitless debate ; 
 
 He will pour wisdom on our vision dim, 
 And our dark thoughts with light illuminate, 
 
 And far from dallying with our trust and awe. 
 
 Will bare the penetralia of the law.'
 
 1 08 The Hypocritical Cat. 
 
 The Quail consented, and away they went 
 To seek the cell of that serene recluse, 
 
 Who, when he saw them coming, straightway bent 
 His knees, whose fur was worn by constant use, 
 
 And turned his countenance towards the shrine, 
 
 And breathed a prayer with many a pious sign. 
 
 The prayer was lengthy, and aloof they stood 
 Until his worship should have finished quite. 
 
 Besides, the warning current of their blood 
 A little paused at that j^eculiar sight, 
 
 And while his piety they marvelled at 
 
 They could not quite forget he was a Cat. 
 
 At last, with many a sigh and upward look 
 Until his pupils were completely hid, 
 
 His bowed head several times he gently shook ; 
 And then those two in small soft whisper bid 
 
 To state their business, and to please be quick, 
 
 For he with heavenly desire was sick.
 
 The Hypocritical Cat. 109 
 
 Then each his case with artless eloquence 
 
 Began to urge ; but the judge seemed to catch 
 
 But here and there the thread of evidence, 
 
 And now and then his ears and nose did scratch ; 
 
 And said anon, ' Young friends, be pleased to bear 
 
 With my infirmities ; I cannot hear. 
 
 ' Alas ! my youth was spent in Folly's maze, 
 Unguided by the clue that leadeth well ; 
 I passed the reckless spring-tide of my days 
 
 In search of things that please the taste and smell ; 
 And now my senses fade in wintry blast 
 Of weak old age : what mortal power can last ? 
 
 And since my senses then offenders were, 
 
 'Tis meet and right they should be punished now, 
 
 Although in bitter penitence of prayer 
 
 From night till morn my weary knees I bow ; 
 
 But small, I know, the use of age'd breath. 
 
 And limbs that totter on the verge of death.
 
 I lo The Hypocritical Cat. 
 
 ' But if you fancy that experience sad 
 
 Reaped in my mis-spent life, at all avail 
 To make you separate good things from bad, 
 
 And valid Justice from Self-interest frail, 
 I would entreat you to draw somewhat near, 
 That so the/n;j- and cons I well may hear. 
 
 ' And kindly speak a little louder too, 
 
 That I no tittle of the case may lose. 
 And may adjudicate with conscience true 
 And neither me of favour may accuse; 
 But ere, O litigants, you plead your cause, 
 Beware you trifle not with heavenly laws. 
 
 The petty quibbles of an earthly court, 
 A word erased, or an undotted i, 
 
 A measure by a hair-breadth long or short, 
 Illegal action, doubtful alibi. 
 
 All these count nothing in the court of heaven, 
 
 Where by Truth only is the ju'lgment given.
 
 The Hypocritical Cat. 1 1 [ 
 
 ' Therefore bethink you of the real state 
 
 Of the affair, and search your conscience well, 
 And if in aught that mentor hesitate, 
 
 Beware how that is evidence you tell ; 
 For what avails it gold or lands to gain ? 
 They all must perish, but our souls remain. 
 
 ' And this is all that I demand as fee, 
 
 That you should listen to my counsels grave, 
 And in all things should act with equity, 
 
 And learn, to give is better than to have. 
 And free your spirits from the load of Self, 
 And filthy trammels of the love of pelf 
 
 ' And know, oh plaintiff and defendant both, 
 That whoso has the right upon his side. 
 Though he gain not his suit, yet vanquish doth, ■ 
 
 And in the angels' eyes is justified ; 
 But he who by unlawful means doth win. 
 In hottest flame must expiate his sin.'
 
 I 12 
 
 The ^ypociatical Cat. 
 
 Thus with sta^e truth and ancient platitude 
 He poured his poison in their silly hearts, 
 
 And by degrees their minds with trust imbued, 
 And dull oblivion of his cat-like arts; 
 
 And so they 'gan a little nearer draw 
 
 Till he could almost reach them with his paw. 
 
 ' And now/ quoth he ' young friends, let us unite 
 
 In one short prayer before our work begins, 
 That heaven may guide us in our task aright, 
 
 Or if we err, may pardon all our sins ; 
 And when I utter the Great Being's name, 
 Bow down your heads, and worship at the same.' 
 
 Then he, with whiskered visage bland and meek, 
 Began to drawl in softly-lisping tone 
 
 A supplication from the poor and weak 
 
 Against the proud and strong ; and soon his drone 
 
 Produced so great a stupor in their brains 
 
 That Slumber all but bound them in his chains.
 
 The Hypocritical Cat. 1 1 
 
 But at the name divine, with sudden jerk, 
 
 They bent their heads together to the ground ; 
 
 Whereat that ever-fasting pious Turk 
 Darted upon them with a furious bound, 
 
 And showing vast activity of jaw. 
 
 Conveyed their flesh to his abstemious maw. 
 
 And hence the sages of the East have said, 
 All things to their ovra nature will return ; 
 
 The nourishment of men dwells aye in bread ; 
 Water will drown, and fire will always burn ; 
 
 Trust not what seems unusual and strange, 
 
 For outward semblance shows not inward change. 
 
 o
 
 114 ^^^<? Geese and the Tortoise. 
 
 THE GEESE AI^D THE TORTOISE. 
 
 There was a pool, they say, whose water clear 
 
 Reflected everything for miles around ; 
 And had you searched the land both far and near, 
 Such sweetness elsewhere you could ne'er have 
 found ; 
 It simply was the most transparent mere 
 B}' any mortal man beheld on ground, 
 And of the Water of Life such foretaste gave * 
 
 As may be met with on this side the grave. 
 
 And by this pool, what time the ruddy dawn 
 Saw its own face in that translucent glass, 
 
 And on the waste the fallow-deer and fawn 
 Eose from their deep lair in the shaggy grass,
 
 The Geese and tJie Tortoise. 1 1 5 
 
 And the white veil of morning mist was drawn 
 O'er distant mountain range and craggy pass, 
 Two Geese were wont to plume their wings and di]) 
 Their yellow beaks therein, and take their sip 
 
 Of Nature's finest liquor ; and there too 
 
 A Tortoise dwelt, who was on closest terms 
 
 Of friendship with them, which through constant view 
 Of those two Geese, from first acquaintance' germs 
 
 Had ripened to affection tried and true, 
 (At least the chronicler thus much affirms) ; 
 
 And so they used to meet, and joke, and chat, 
 
 And splash and paddle on this side and that. 
 
 But after many times the circling sky 
 
 Had turned about them and the solar rays 
 
 Had slanted low or scorched them from on high, 
 And aged Earth had added many days 
 
 To her long Ufe, the pool began to dr}-. 
 
 And frogs and water-rats, with mournful face, 
 
 I 2
 
 1 1 6 The Geese and the Tortoise. 
 
 Were running here and there, and giving vent 
 To curses on that fleeting element. 
 
 Then said those prudent Geese, with one accord. 
 
 ' This is a very awkward state of things, 
 And although "Change" means always "being bored," 
 
 And Use its halo o'er this fountain flings. 
 And it was sweet upon this pleasant sward 
 
 To lie, and plume ourselves, and flap our wings, 
 Still we, perforce, these wonted bonds must burst, 
 Or else most surely we shall die of thirst.' 
 
 With looks of woe and eyes brim-full of tears, 
 The sorrowing Geese to find the Tortoise went ; 
 ' Sweet friend,' quoth they, ' and neighbour now for 
 years, 
 Widi whom our happy hours have most been spent, 
 Since Fortune's face an evil aspect wears, 
 And angry Fate is big with dark intent,
 
 The Geese and the Tortoise. 1 1 7 
 
 Distracted quite, we come to take our leave ; 
 Forgive us, friend, you know liow much w^e grieve ! 
 
 ' See how our dading pond is shrinking up 
 
 And daily showing more of weeds and mud ; 
 
 Soon there'll be nought to breakfast on or sup, 
 No vestige of the bright pellucid flood 
 
 AVhich erst was like an ever-brimming cup 
 
 Filled to the brim with heaven's choicest good ; 
 
 Alas ! we cannot bid the water flow. 
 
 So, ancient comrade, we must really go.' 
 
 Ah me,' replied that Tortoise slow and sad. 
 Rubbing his slimy flippers in his eyes, 
 ' If you go hence, why, I shall then go — mad. 
 Thus left in solitude by old alHes ! 
 
 Here no society can e'er be had 
 
 Besides yourselves, but frogs and dragon-flies ; 
 
 For water-rats are so uncommon shy, 
 
 They always hide when I am passing by.
 
 1 1 8 The Geese and the Tortoise. 
 
 ' And if indeed the pool should disappear, 
 
 Pray don't you know that I must die as well ? 
 
 TlKit, hke yourselves, I live in marsh and mere, 
 And count the dry-land as next door to hell, 
 
 And most do love, through all the rolling year. 
 In depth delicious of the flood to dwell ? 
 
 Tlien why d' you talk such nonsense about grieving, 
 
 AVhen me thus coolly in the lurch you're leaving?' 
 
 ' Oh, dear acquaintance,' said the Geese, ' why speak 
 In terms so cruel to companions old? 
 
 Why do these tears stain cither's downy cheek, 
 Why are we downcast, once so free and bold ? 
 
 It is because our hearts with sorrow weak 
 V.'ill hardly let our wretched plight be told, 
 
 And thrills of anguish through our bosoms shoot. 
 
 As at the parting of the web and foot. 
 
 And since 'tis evident we must depart, 
 (For life is dear to everything alive)
 
 TJie Geese and the Tortoise. 1 1 9 
 
 Why do you thus unkind objections start, 
 
 .\nd fondly think with fate's decree to strive? 
 
 Such folly lessens not leave-taking's smart, 
 But rather, more the bleeding soul doth rive ; 
 
 Say out at once what else you'd have us do ; 
 
 AMien time is short, 'tis best that words be few.' 
 
 ' I want to go with you,' the Tortoise said, 
 
 ' Why leave me here in this waste place alone ? 
 Tis true I have no wings, but in their stead 
 Devise me some contrivance of your own, 
 For you have wit and skill, in either's head 
 Are brains in plenty, as to all 'tis kno\Mi • 
 But I have no such articles in store, 
 I'm a " good fellow," not an atom more. 
 
 ' Alas ! that I had given to the arts 
 
 The time I've spent in burrowing in the mud, 
 And had but fostered what of natural parts 
 I did possess in budding babyhood \
 
 1 20 The Geese and the Tortoise. 
 
 But now in your two sympathising hearts 
 
 My trust is placed ; to your poor friend be good^ 
 And bear me also to some happier clime 
 Blessed with deep water and with deeper slime ! ' 
 
 The Geese replied, ' 'Tis true that we have notions. 
 
 And are not wholly barren as to brain, 
 For we have flown o'er continents and oceans, 
 
 And tasted many a diverse joy and pain, 
 And oft have drunk Experience' bitter potions, 
 
 Whereby e'en Ignorance may wisdom gain ; 
 And therefore, doubtless, we can well advise, 
 But our advice, we fear, won't make you wise. 
 
 ■ We have observed that you, dear gossip, are 
 Somewhat to levity and " larking " given ; 
 Forgive our mentioning this, for we are far 
 
 From wishing to annoy you, but are driven 
 By candour strict to tell you, that no star 
 Falls half so quickly through the midnight heaven.
 
 The Geese and the Tortoise. 1 2 1 
 
 As you are like to do, if you should fare 
 Along with us through realms of empty air, 
 
 ' Perhaps you've never studied gravitation ; 
 
 Indeed your way of life has not been such 
 As to produce that kind of lucubration — 
 
 A knowledge hitherto not needed much ; 
 But now the interests of your preservation 
 
 That science unexplored do nearly touch, 
 And if you practise not by our advice, 
 AVhy — you'll be smashed to pieces in a trice. 
 
 ' There is no doubt that if your teeth you fix 
 In a strong stick of stout and seasoned oak, 
 
 And can avoid your customary tiicks, 
 
 And recollect that nothing must be spoke, 
 
 And do but hold the aforesaid stick "like bricks," 
 Nor heed at all another's gibe or joke, 
 
 We can convey you yon blue mountains o'er 
 
 To sparkling water and a pleasant shore. 
 
 '-•*
 
 122 The Geese and the Tor'toise. 
 
 ' But if your head, sieve-like, our words should let 
 
 In by the one and out of t' other ear, 
 And you should happen choleric to get 
 
 At jests sarcastic you may chance to hear, 
 And then neglecting tight your teeth to set. 
 
 Should answer something, down you'll tumble sheer. 
 Describing many a wonderful gyration 
 Until you land upon annihilation. 
 
 * So you must promise faithfully to keep 
 
 Your teeth inserted in the seasoned wood. 
 
 And bid the porter of your hearing sleep 
 
 With doors fast shut to all things, bad or good. 
 
 Until we reach that water broad and deep, 
 And set you safe and sound beside the flood ; 
 
 We do not choose our friends and yours should chide, 
 
 And call us instruments of suicide.' 
 
 The Tortoise answered, ' Neighbours, you may think 
 That I'm an idiot, or at least a fool.
 
 The Geese and the Tortoise. i 23 
 
 Because I've never moved beyond the brink 
 Of diis much-loved but most inconstant pool, 
 
 From which, it seems, we now no more must drink ; 
 But though it's true I've never been to school, 
 
 Still I can keep my mouth shut if I like. 
 
 In spite of gibing man or barking tyke. 
 
 * Bear you the stick, and I'll do all the rest ; 
 
 My teeth will clutch it, while your beaks do hold ,; 
 Let no misgivings either downy breast 
 
 Afflict, but start oft", confident and bold, 
 And e'er the sun has sunk toward the West 
 
 And turned our harbour's azure sheet to gold, 
 Let us have changed dark care for smiling ease. 
 Couched by the sweet stream under shady trees.' 
 
 Thereat the Geese, consenting, thither brought 
 A good oak plant that would not lightly bend ; 
 
 The Tortoise seized it, and as quick as thought 
 The trio 'gan through yielding air ascend,
 
 124 The Geese and the Tortoise. 
 
 And the Geese steered toward the place they sought, 
 
 Holding the stick that bore their daring friend, 
 Who, looking far from the terrestrial orb, 
 Determined nothing should his phlegm disturb. 
 
 But as they flew above the mountain's brow 
 Just where a village hugged the brown hill-side, 
 
 As they perforce were moving somewhat slow. 
 The people there that burden strange espied, 
 
 And many a fore-finger that sight did show, 
 
 And many a cackHng beldame looked and cried, 
 ' Well, did I ever ? Wonders ne'er will cease ! 
 
 To see a Tortoise carried by two Geese ! ' 
 
 The Tortoise's bile began to rise at this, 
 
 He longed to meet these taunts with repartee ; 
 
 Thought he, ' The Geese at least might give a hiss. 
 To show how we despise their contumely ; 
 
 Oh, that I now could bite each withejed Miss 
 Who dares let fly her sarcasm at me ! '
 
 The Geese and the Tortoise. i 2 5 
 
 Then as his wrath his recollection passes, 
 
 He thus begins rejoinder, ' Dolts and asses ' 
 
 At once attraction did its force assert ; 
 
 His head went down, up flew his nether parts ; 
 No more he utters of his answer pert, 
 
 With headlong speed towards the earth he darts — 
 Now, crushed and pounded, mixed with stone and 
 dirt. 
 
 His shapeless body warns unstable hearts 
 To hold their way through ridicule and blame, 
 And learn to be, in either, still the same.
 
 126 How the Husband of Two Wives 
 
 HOW THE HUSBAND OF TWO WIVES 
 LOST HIS BEARD. 
 
 The beard of an elderly merchant, they say, 
 
 Resembled the time twixt the day and the night, 
 
 Or if you prefer it, the night and the day ; 
 
 That is, some hairs were black and the others were 
 white. 
 
 In early life he had married a wife 
 
 Of about the same years as himself, and now 
 
 Age's wintry finger, that will not linger, 
 
 Had frosted the scanty thatch on her old ' pow.' 
 
 Inconstant man's frail thoughts will rove 
 
 From the ugly and old to the pretty and young ; 
 
 And small is the empire of constant love. 
 
 In spite of the fine things that poets have sung.
 
 lost his Bcaj'd. 1 2 7 
 
 So that merchant has ta'en him a juvenile spouse 
 With a tuHp cheek and a sparkUng eye ; 
 
 But intent upon peace and a quiet house, 
 He treated them both most impartially. 
 
 He said in his heart, ' They shall live apart, 
 And in regular order I'll visit them both ; 
 
 And thus their collusion can't breed confusion, 
 Nor jealousy sting them, I'll take my oath. 
 
 ' I will act to both quite as is lawful and right; 
 
 Of favouring either I've no idea ; 
 And care I'll take that neither shall make 
 
 The complaint that was made against Rachel by 
 Leah.' 
 
 So if one day he went and the evening spent 
 
 With his last married fair one, the next he would go 
 
 And do the same with the ancient dame, 
 
 That the stream of existence might peaceably flow.
 
 128 Hozv the J-iiisband of Two Wives 
 
 Now after dinner, this shocking old sinner 
 
 (At least he'll be thought so, I fear, in the West), 
 
 Was wont to lay down his grizzled crown 
 On the sofa cushions, and take a short rest. 
 
 One evening he'd set up his usual snore, 
 After taking a snack with his elderly wife, 
 
 When she thought to herself, ' 'Tis a terrible bore 
 That my husband lives with me but half his life ! 
 
 ' How happy we were ere that nasty creature 
 
 Came spoiling the sweets of our conjugal bliss ! 
 A hideous wretch, too ! without a feature 
 
 That a tom-cat would think it worth while to kiss ! 
 
 ' If I C02dd but find some plan to my mind 
 
 That would draw him at once and for ever to me, 
 That here he might stay both night and day, 
 At breakfast and luncheon, at dinner and tea ! '
 
 lost his Bem^d. 129 
 
 Thus thinking, the place of her husband's repose, 
 With cat-Uke footstep she stealthily neared. 
 
 And admiringly gazed at his short snub nose, 
 And his mouth so capacious, half hid by his beard. 
 
 As she stood in thought, her fancy caught 
 A bright inspiration from that very beard. 
 
 Where in spite, as was said, of his being twice wed, 
 A great many black hairs still appeared. 
 
 ' Aha ! said she, ' I imagine I see 
 
 The way to manage this little affair ! 
 This once I will steal a device from Dalila, 
 
 And capture my Samson by means of his hair ! 
 
 ' Those black things I'll grub out and carefully rub out 
 All signs of youth from my husband's face, 
 His beard shall be white, which to youthful sight 
 Is a blemish far worse than the blot of disgrace. 
 
 K
 
 130 How the Husband of Two Wives 
 
 ' So in time I shall manage to make that slut 
 
 Take a perfect disgust to my sweet poppet here, . 
 And thus betwixt i/iem shall establish a "cut," 
 And I shall be thenceforth his only dear ! ' 
 
 Then cautiously grabbing his beard, she 'gan stabbing 
 It through with the tweezers in every spot, 
 
 And with many a pull she did gingerly cull 
 
 About half the black hairs her poor husband had 
 got. 
 
 t 
 
 The very next day he went to pay 
 
 His wonted respects to the younger spouse ; 
 
 After 'pegs' a good number, in grateful slumber, 
 He was giving a concert of bullocks and sows : 
 
 Now this lady's opinions were caught from the 
 moderns, 
 And therefore she stickled for fashion and rule,
 
 lost his Beard. 1 3 i 
 
 (As a poor man we see who his bread with a hod 
 earns 
 More poHshed than noblemen of the old school) : 
 
 So hearing this rumpus unearthly, she thought, 
 'What a terrible Goth my dear husband's been 
 made ! 
 'Tis that old harridan to this pickle has brought 
 His manners ; the twopence she cannot have paid ! 
 
 ' This grunting and wheezing is very unpleasing ; 
 
 But how shall I manage his errors to cure ? 
 If I scold him to-day, when he goes away. 
 To-morrow that hag to encourage is sure ! 
 
 ' It never will do, that is certain, to let her 
 
 Thus poison his mind with her old-fashioned ways, 
 I somehow must manage to make him forget he", 
 And pass with me only the rest of his days : ' 
 
 K 2
 
 132 Hozv the Husbajid of Two Wives 
 
 Then quietly creeping to where he lay sleeping, 
 She looked on his features with thoughtful eye ; 
 
 She examined the hair of his beard, and there 
 Was astonished so many white bristles to spy. 
 
 ' Aha ! ' said she, ' I can plainly see 
 
 The only way to manage the thing ; 
 I will instantly pluck these hairs, my duck, 
 
 From your beard, till it's black as a raven's wing ! 
 
 ' Then you'll look twice as young as you did before, 
 And therefore will naturally turn to me, 
 And will send, I tmst, that withered old — bore 
 To — , the place where she really deserves to 
 be!' 
 
 Then she narrowly peered through all parts of his 
 beard. 
 
 And pulled out as many white hairs as she could ; 
 So I think it is plain, that between the twain, 
 
 A thinness ensued in that bristly wood.
 
 lost his Beard. 133 
 
 When back he came to the elderly dame, 
 
 She inspected his hirsute appendage anew, 
 
 And, much amazed as thereon she gazed, 
 
 Thought, ' Why what on earth has been done to 
 you? 
 
 ' I fancied I'd pulled the black hairs out clean, 
 But now more than ever offend my sight ; 
 What can it all mean ? He can't have been 
 And dyed it ? Oh no ! for I see some white. 
 
 ' However, it's clear, if I still persevere, 
 In time I am sure to produce an effect ; 
 It must also be reckoned tliat Age will second 
 These efforts, that something untoward has 
 checked.' 
 
 While thus moralizing, she set to work prising 
 Out all the black hairs with a praiseworthy zeal.
 
 1 34 The Husband of Two Wives, &c. 
 
 And did so redouble attacks on that stubble, 
 
 That it soon looked as white as a fresh willow- 
 peel. 
 
 Ah ! why tell the tale how the younger female 
 
 Waged war to the knife on those white hairs 
 again ? 
 How that beard full of bristles, as stiff as a thistle's, 
 With the waning moon each night continued to 
 wane ! 
 
 Till sunk in thought, that merchant sought 
 One day, as he pondered, his beard to pull ; 
 
 Oh how he did stare ! There was never a hair 
 Of that forest that once was so thick and so full ! 
 
 He bellowed and swore- — but why tell any more ? 
 
 And of prosy moral pray what is the need ? 
 To the world I leave it — who does not perceive it 
 
 Is certain to meet with a similar meed !
 
 The A rchitect of Khawamak. 1 3 5 
 
 THE REWARD OF THE ARCHITECT OF 
 KHAWAMAK} 
 
 Khawamak palace is goodly to see, 
 Low in the river or high on the lea ; 
 From north and south and west and east 
 Alike, to the eye 'tis a royal feast : 
 Nothing there 
 Looks ugly or bare — 
 All is marvellous, all is fair : 
 From the vast central dome, all set 
 
 With richest fretting round, 
 And ringed by many a minaret 
 With wondrous carving cro^vned, 
 
 • Built in Babylonia.
 
 1 3^ The Rezuard of 
 
 To every single stone, 
 No curious glance of architect 
 Can one minutest flaw detect, 
 
 Save this, perchance, alone, 
 That such perfection ne'er before 
 In city, desert, hill, or shore 
 
 By eye of mortal seen, 
 Would seem to show it owed its birth 
 To no skilled hand of middle earth. 
 But rather Iram's vanished bower 
 Had there been brought in magic hour 
 
 And planted on that green. 
 
 And sure no necromancer's hall 
 
 . Deep down beneath the Kulgum Sea, 
 
 No palace girt with diamond wall 
 
 On storied Mount of Tartary, 
 E'er shone so bright, both noon and night, 
 With ever-varying coloured light.
 
 the A re kited of Khawamak. 1 3 7 
 
 That needed not the sun or moon : 
 It was Hght-music played in time ; 
 A giant prism, where each hue 
 Now plain was seen, now lost to view ; 
 Now, like a beam of morning sun, 
 The colours melted into one ; 
 Anon, in separate sheen disclose 
 The sapphire, emerald, and rose. 
 
 And all around those brilliant walls 
 
 A garden spread, whose bright parterres 
 Were such as in no halting verse 
 
 Could e'er be painted ; waterfalls 
 
 And sparkling fountains dashed and played 
 
 For ever in those lovely bowers 
 
 Where, loath to part, the enamoured Hours, 
 Neglectful of Time's march, delayed. 
 
 The box-tree and the cedar bowed 
 In the soft wind that, breathing spice.
 
 138 , The Reward of 
 
 Blew gently o'er that Paradise 
 
 The much-reluctant fleecy cloud. 
 And in the centre of the alleys green 
 
 That to the wild-wood branched this way and that, 
 There was a rose-garden, the finest seen 
 
 In any cHme at any time ; one flat 
 Of desert sand it had been, bare and lone, 
 Scorched by the wind ; no single plant had grown 
 Upon its tawny breast since Adam fell ; 
 Though here, some held, was once the deepest dell 
 
 Of happy Eden, when its flowers and trees 
 Bloomed fairest, fostered by the genial spell 
 
 Of Peace unbroken ; and the amorous breeze 
 Touched the sweet cheek that had not learned to 
 
 grieve. 
 And waved the tresses of untempted Eve. 
 
 The beauties of those roses who can tell ? 
 
 Not those who saw them ; why then how should I,
 
 the A rchitect of Khawmnak. 1 3 9 
 
 Or any man who writes ten times as well, 
 Unfold their charms with strict veracity ? 
 
 'Tis well the Roman of the P^stum beds 
 Should sing with rapture, and that Hafiz too 
 
 Sliould praise the blossoms wound round Sheeraz 
 heads, 
 Or I should speak of Sydenham and Kew, 
 
 Or any soul should talk of what it knows 3 
 
 But who shall dare to paint Khawamak's rose ? 
 
 Suffice it, then, that from the sandy plain 
 
 Genius had conjured up that place renowned, 
 Proceeding from the ever-toiHng brain 
 
 Of the then greatest architect on ground, 
 Who now stands pondering in an alley lone 
 
 On well-earned meed for that vast labour done. 
 'Twas Sinimmar that garden-palace ■\\T0ught, 
 And wrapped in train of dear delusive thought, 
 He plucks a flower, as they are wont who muse, 
 And o'er the walk its purple petals strews.
 
 1 40 The Reward of 
 
 Soft to himself he says, ' What work Hke this ? 
 What minarets hke those the skies do kiss ? 
 
 Who else could make 
 
 Yon lily-sprinkled lake, 
 Yon leaping fountains, and yon shady bowers, 
 This wealth of starlike flowers, 
 Out of the herbless, hardly-trodden waste. 
 Far from sown field and walled city placed ? 
 Not Eden, sacred dwelling-place of bliss, 
 Could e'er have been more beautiful than this ? 
 
 For this my brain, both night and day, 
 
 Not knowing rest, has thought and toiled alway. 
 
 And now at last the fruit I reap, 
 
 All is accomplished, and my brain may sleep : 
 
 But what the meed of my reflection deep 
 
 And constant wakefulness for many years? 
 To what strange height of honour shall I leap, — 
 
 What undreamed greatness, far above my peers ?
 
 the Architect of Khawamak. \ 4 1 
 
 ' Will they open the hoard, 
 
 Got with cursing and tears, 
 Gathered and stored 
 In Hira for years, 
 Wool that was shorn from that sheep, the people, 
 with bloody shears ? 
 
 ' Or in the wide hall 
 
 Of the Takht-i-Jamsheed ^ 
 My name will they call, 
 And my steps will they lead 
 To the throne of King Bahram the hunter, the lover 
 of hound and of steed ? 
 
 ' Will he bid them array me 
 In purple and gold. 
 On his own horse convey me 
 Through city and wold. 
 That o'er all the broad empire of Iran the tale of my 
 glory be told ? 
 
 • Persepolis.
 
 142 ThcRczvardof- 
 
 ' Or else it may be 
 
 That dominion and power 
 Will be granted to me 
 Over Gobar and Gour, 
 And a line of the nobles of Ajam may spring into 
 birth from that hour. 
 
 ' And my children will ride 
 With their feudal array 
 Where the leaders of Pride 
 Square the ranks for the fray, 
 And the banner of Kas ^ o'er the dust and the din 
 of mid-battle doth sway. 
 
 ' Let them do as they will, 
 And reward as they may. 
 
 ' The ancient banner of Persia, said to be the apron of the 
 blacksmith Kas, the conqueror of Zohak.
 
 the A rchitect of Khawamak. 1 4 3 
 
 A debt to me still 
 Must be owing alway, 
 For never the guerdons of Power the wages of Genius 
 can pay.' 
 
 Hira's King is sitting high 
 
 Upon Hira's throne, 
 Councillors are standing by, 
 
 Nobles many a one ; 
 Their speech is of that mighty pile 
 
 That Sinimmar had raised, 
 Size, and ornament, and style, 
 
 Everything they praised : 
 Such a work and such a man 
 Was not since the world began ! 
 
 N'uman the King sits still and listens, 
 Now and then his dark eye glistens, 
 Not a word says he.
 
 144 ^/^^ Reward of 
 
 But his hand, his robe beneath, 
 Trifles with his dagger-sheath 
 Somewhat curiously. 
 
 He was never given to prating, 
 And he sits there silent, waiting 
 
 Till they all have done ; 
 Then says, ' Now I recollect, 
 I must see this architect — 
 
 Send him here alone ! ' 
 
 Sinimmar is bowing low 
 
 Before Hira's throne, 
 Whereon N'um^n, dark of brow, 
 
 Sitteth all alone ; 
 There no single page doth wait, 
 All must stand without the gate. 
 ' Builder,' said the king at length, 
 
 All your work do praise.
 
 the Architect of Khazcaviak. 145 
 
 Monument of skill and strength 
 
 Till the latest days. 
 Let, they say, the force of nations 
 Try to sap those deep foundations, 
 They shall ne'er prevail ; 
 Rooted they as hell infernal, 
 And the towers, like heaven supernal, 
 Will not sink or fail. 
 Yet, I hear, there is a boulder 
 
 In that palace wall 
 That, if pushed by stalwart shoulder. 
 
 Straightway down will fall ; 
 And the castle then will totter, 
 Heave and burst, and ruin utter 
 
 Will demolish all. 
 Tell me, is this false or true — 
 Do any know that stone but you ? ' 
 
 Sinimmar replied, ' O king ! 
 Science is a wondrous thing ; 
 
 L
 
 146 The Reivard of 
 
 You who, loving only war, 
 Snuff the battle from afar, 
 Who from earliest spring of years 
 . See but flash of swords and spears, 
 Hold all men of little worth 
 Save the conquerors of earth ; 
 But to mortals such as we, 
 Armed with mighty alchemy, • 
 Peace gives fairer victory ; 
 While her golden wand she waves, 
 We can subjugate oin- slaves, 
 Push our arms of temper rare 
 Through the ocean, fire, and air, 
 Make the Powers of Matter yield, 
 1 nch by inch, the bloodless field ! 
 
 ' Those halls majestic that my hand has built. 
 
 The adamantine walls, the massy towers. 
 The floors and ceilings fretted, carved, and gilt. 
 The bosky labyrinth of woods and flowers.
 
 the Architect of Khazvamak. 147 
 
 These are a triumph of the eternal mind, 
 
 Where Chaos reigned before, and Ruin stalks behind ! 
 
 " Tliat stone, O king, no eyes but mine have seen, 
 For 'twas I placed it, as consummate Art 
 Has taught me ; it is small, and rough, and mean, 
 
 And has no beauty in its outer part ; 
 Yet all the structure on that stone depends, — 
 With it, shines on for aye, without it, instant ends ! ' 
 
 * 'Tis well,' the king said, 'bid all men come in, 
 
 And you your great reward shall straightway know.' 
 Then chiefs and nobles entered with a din, 
 
 And stood expectant the high throne below : 
 And smiling with a cold sardonic smile, 
 King N'uman pondered for a little while. 
 
 ' Subjects and slaves,' quoth he, ' all present here. 
 Myself included, Persia's Idng revere ; 
 
 L 2
 
 148 The Reward of 
 
 For him Khawamak's turrets touch the skies, 
 
 For him was formed that flowery Paradise ; 
 
 And since we hold him highest potentate 
 
 Of all the ear^i, and greatest of the great, 
 
 We must be careful that no other king 
 
 A fairer palace should to being bring, 
 
 And mock our efforts with more heavenly flowers, 
 
 A more abiding pleasure-house than ours. 
 
 We must guard too 'gainst finger of Decay 
 
 That else might steal our joy and boast away : 
 
 The secret place of the all-mining stone 
 
 Is patent to the master-mind alone. 
 
 How vast a mind that down that pile could fling 
 
 By trifling pressure on so small a thing ! 
 
 Admire the architect, most justly too ; 
 
 But I just now have something more to do ! 
 
 Take, slaves, the builder to the topmost tower, 
 
 Let him look well o'er garden, lake, and bower, 
 
 'Tis his reward ; his great work let him see. 
 
 Then hurl him downward to Eternity !
 
 the Architect of Khaivamak. 149 
 
 So shall that castle stand unmatched, alone, 
 And none be wiser for the hidden stone ! ' 
 
 And this was the Reward of Sinimmar, 
 Who carried skill miraculous too far !
 
 1 50 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 HOW THE CROWS CAME TO BE BLACK, 
 AND THE HOOPOES TO HAVE 
 CROWNS ON THEIR HEADS. 
 
 King Solomon's off to the furthest West, 
 He is fond of travel and never can rest; 
 
 But he has no need 
 
 Of mortal steed 
 Whatever its blood, or whatever its breed ; 
 
 He wants no train 
 
 Of mortal strain 
 Pages and nobles at home remain ; 
 
 His horse is the throne 
 
 That he sits upon. 
 By men unattended, but not alone ; 
 
 For everywhere
 
 The Crozvs and the Hoopoes. i 5 1 
 
 To him repair 
 The birds and the Jinns and the Powers of the Air ! 
 
 That golden throne moves steadily on 
 From the break of dawn till the day is done ; 
 With a favouring wind it steers aright 
 Without a pause, through the starry night ; 
 Above the earth it holds its way, 
 Without a let, with never a stay, 
 With no desire for corn or hay ; 
 It has no tricks. 
 It never kicks, 
 
 And is not driven by spurs or sticks ; 
 
 No starthng sight it passes by 
 
 Can ever make it jib or shy ; 
 
 'Tis better than a steam-engine, 
 
 Because it goes without a line, 
 
 'Tis better than the ' Monstre' balloon, 
 
 For it can visit the sun and moon ;
 
 152 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 And so, no doubt, King Solomon thinks 
 As he sits thereon, and winks and blinks. 
 
 Why should the eyes of King Solomon wink, 
 
 And why should he turn uneasilie, 
 
 As though the silk of his cushions pink 
 
 Had dared to harbour a rebel flea ? 
 
 The fact is that the sun is burning, 
 
 And the king keeps this and that way turning, 
 
 To look for a bird, or a demon, or sprite, 
 
 Who will fly 'twixt his head and the source of light. 
 
 He says to himself, 'Why didn't I tell a 
 
 Fairy to bring my green umbrella ? 
 
 I think I must have left it standing 
 
 Upon the first or second landing. 
 
 When I returned from the tea-party, 
 
 Given by the fair Astarte ; 
 
 Or stay — 'twas leaning 'gainst the door, 
 
 Upon Salome's second floor —
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 153 
 
 No, no — I left it at the gate 
 The day of Pharaoh's daughter's fete — 
 Then where's the ticket ? — But hallo ! 
 Come here, you flying there, you crow ! ' 
 
 It happened that a flight of crows 
 Were passing by the monarch's nose 
 
 In orderly array ; 
 Not dressed, as now, in plumage dark, 
 With voice as hoarse as bloodhound's bark, 
 
 But dappled hke the day, 
 When through light clouds and summer air 
 It rises, Phoebus' harbinger ; 
 And having voices mild and soft 
 As August wind through orchard croft ; 
 
 No birds more fair than they, 
 None woke a softer melody 
 From wind-rocked nest in old elm tree ; 
 Nought then was heard of dismal 'caw,' 
 The burden now of corvine 'jaw ! '
 
 154 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 ' Come here,' again that great king said, 
 ' And shade my scorche'd eyes and head ; 
 This heat is really past a joke, 
 I fear that I shall get a " stroke ;" 
 So come and fly above my poll, 
 And act the part of parasol ! ' 
 
 ' O puissant king ! ' their chief replied, 
 And for a moment turned aside, 
 
 ' Forgive if in laconic style 
 I answer you ; to Britain's isle 
 In headlong haste we now are bound 
 (It is the sweetest spot on ground) 
 To settle in a certain wood 
 That hangs o'er Avon's lovely flood. 
 
 And if we should delay, 
 Some other feathered tribe would seize 
 The feathery tops of those fair trees. 
 And rocked to sleep by ocean breeze 
 In twig-bound nest would sway.
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 1 5 5 
 
 On others lay your high commands ; 
 Adieu, great prince ! we kiss your hands.' 
 Then turning from the astonished king, 
 The crow flew off on Hghtning wing. 
 
 ' By Balaam's ass ! ' King Solomon exclaimed, 
 (The whole throne trembled when that oath was 
 named) 
 '■ Such barefaced impudence was never seen 
 Since misty vapour first made all things green ! 
 
 Don't they know I'm the lord 
 
 Of the flaming sword, 
 And the diamond breastplate that can't be bored, 
 And the shield that was forged by Jan bin Jan 
 Ages before there was ever a man ? 
 
 Do they want to feel 
 
 The powers of my seal ? 
 They shall, or I'll take me a sceptre of deal ! 
 And so, here goes, for better for worse ; 
 Look out, other people, I'm going to curse !
 
 156 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 ' Every man jack 
 Of a crow shall be black 
 On his head and his breast and his wings and his back, 
 And shall lose his sweet voice, 
 And utter a noise 
 To be mimicked by pert little girls and boys, 
 Hoarse and harsh, 
 Worse than frogs in a marsh. 
 Or the creaking that issues from juvenile toys ; 
 And every old crone, 
 All skin and bone, 
 Whose nose and chin are nearly one, 
 And whose back is curved like a bended bow 
 Shall be said to resemble an age'd crow ! 
 When the farmers sow, 
 And the seed doesn't grow. 
 All shall be laid to the door of tlie crow ! 
 Sticks and clods they all shall throw, 
 Twang shall go 
 The deadly cross-bow.
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 1 5 7 
 
 Ping ! ping ! 
 
 The stone from the sHng ; 
 
 And when the sun 
 
 Some ages has run, 
 Bang shall go the fowler's gun ; 
 Every one of them fraught with woe 
 Wounds and death to the wretched crow ! ' 
 
 When that fiat left the royal mouth, 
 East and west, and north, and south, 
 
 Everywhere 
 
 Through earth and air, 
 The winds and the Jinns the news did bear ; 
 
 Every young crow 
 
 Who in accents low 
 Was pleading his suit beneath the nest 
 Of the shy modest fair one he loved the best, 
 Found to his horror, surprise, and awe. 
 That his love-notes changed to a hideous 'caw !' 
 And his mistress almost fainted with fright,
 
 158 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 When she found herself minus her feathers white, 
 And hoarsely crying, 'Alas ! Alack ! ' 
 Observed that her wings and her breast and her back 
 Resembled the ' Gentleman dressed in black ! ' 
 
 The sun keeps on getting higher and higher 
 
 Till it scorches King Solomon's brain like fire ; 
 
 There's never a cloud in the clear blue sky 
 
 To serve as a shade and canopy ; 
 
 The king exclaims, ' How I envy the shiver 
 
 Of houseless beggars in wintry cold ! 
 
 How I wish I were one of the fish in the river, 
 
 And that somebody else had my throne of gold ! 
 
 But stay, but stay — 
 
 What's flying this way ? 
 Is it a pigeon, or jackdaw, or jay ? 
 No, no, by the pokers, here's my man, 
 The King of the Hoopoes, and all his clan ! 
 
 Hallo ! 1 say !— 
 
 How d'ye do ? Good day !
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 1 59 
 
 Just please to come and fly this way, 
 Or the heat my skin from my body will flay ! ' 
 The hoopoes were a cheerful race, 
 Somewhat bald as to head and face, 
 But largely possessed of CiviUty's grace : 
 And as soon as they saw the state of the case, 
 They came 'twixt the king and the burning rays. 
 With a sigh of relief, King Solomon now 
 Wipes the drops from his lofty brow, 
 Which looks a little peeled and brown 
 From the ardent looks the sun shot down ; 
 And he has ta'en off" his jewelled crown, 
 And begun to smile and ceased to frown ; 
 And presently, fanned by the hoopoes' wings 
 Has lost recollection of mundane things. 
 And sinking down in the cushions deep 
 Is ' taking it out ' in a pleasant sleep. 
 
 O'er tower and tree, 
 Lawn and lea.
 
 1 60 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 Yellow sand and emerald sea, 
 
 The throne flew on unceasingly, 
 
 Till the ridge of Kaf, the utmost bound 
 
 Of all the world, before it frowned ; 
 
 From inky clefts resounds the flow 
 
 Of the torrents that pour from the upper snow, 
 
 Snow that gUtters cold and white 
 
 From many a lone untrodden height ; 
 
 And on the topmost pointed spire 
 
 Is the beacon red of eternal fire. 
 
 Pity it is, from modern sight. 
 
 That famous peak has vanished quite 
 
 That once was real, through the East, 
 
 For peer and prophet, prince and priest ; 
 
 Vision for ages cherished long 
 
 By lay and legend, text and song, 
 
 A pageant, in this wiser day, 
 
 Swept by the 'march of mind ' away ! 
 
 But then, no pincushion so full of pins, 
 
 As was Mount Kaf of Fairies, Divs, and Jinns !
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. \ 6 1 
 
 Knowing the king was to this harbour bound, 
 The throne descended softly to the ground, 
 With just so much of a gentle bump 
 As made its master frdm slumber jump ; 
 He stared in surprise, 
 Rubbed his eyes, 
 Looked at the mountain, the throne, and the skies, 
 And said as he gazed at the towering steep, 
 ' I really think I have been asleep ! ' 
 But when he saw the heaven flecked 
 
 With the myriads of his train. 
 He began the matter to recollect, 
 So stretched and yawned, and commenced to reflect 
 That the King of the Hoopoes would doubtless expect 
 
 Some recompense to gain 
 For having thus travelled o'er land and main 
 Merely to act as a covering, or veil. 
 To preserve Solomon from a coup de soleil. 
 So he said to that complaisant potentate, 
 ' Be so kind as to wait 
 
 M
 
 1 62 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 A moment, for though it must be rather late, 
 You'll excuse me, I hope, if I keep you a second 
 "VVliile my debt to your kindness is being reckoned: 
 
 Let me see, let me see — 
 
 What is your fee 
 For attending upon me so courteously ? 
 Don't be afraid to mention your price, 
 My treasurer here will " shell out " in a trice ! 
 Or if you're afraid that because I'm a Jew 
 I may try to cheat you out of your due, 
 Instead of hard cash make you take a few 
 Rickety chairs and a picture or two, 
 With a grand piano " almost new," 
 Etcetera, pray take the trouble to choose 
 Yourself what you'd like, and I won't refuse \ 
 
 A carte-blanche fill 
 
 In as you will ; 
 Write what you like, and I'll honour the bill ! ' 
 
 ' Lord of the Seal,' the hoopoe prince replied, 
 ' To do your bidding is our joy and pride ;
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 163 
 
 And for reward — well, since you are so kind, 
 
 I'll tell you what I — No, no, never mind — 
 
 I think we all should — Stop though, that won't do- 
 
 Your majesty perhaps a day or two 
 
 Will grant me, just to talk the matter over 
 
 With my dear wife, who, greatly as I love her, 
 
 And she me too, of course, is sometimes taken 
 
 With tears, hysterics, and perhaps a fit. 
 And then the nest gets disagreeably shaken. 
 
 And I and every one fall out of it. 
 And the unfledged princesses in the dirt 
 Drop headlong down, and now and then are hurt. 
 I think, in order to avoid a scene, 
 
 I'd better ask her first what she would like, 
 You best must know that woman's wit is keen — 
 
 Rather too keen if angrily it strike ; 
 I think she's sure to fix on something nice, 
 And anyhow I inust take her advice. 
 Doubtless your majesty, with all your learning 
 
 And wisdom, finds it lively at odd times, 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 When one of your sultanas' wrath is burning, 
 
 To have to Hsten to the various chimes 
 Rung out by brass-like clapper of her tongue 
 In discord never to be said or sung ! ' 
 The great King Solomon hung his head, 
 With a sigh and a sheepish look, and said, 
 ' Yes, yes, 'tis a reasonable request, 
 And I wish her counsel may be for the best : 
 So off with you to your royal nest, 
 And when you have the whole confessed 
 To your spouse, bring me her high behest ; 
 I will endeavour her highness to please. 
 And the wheels of your conjugal cart to grease. 
 I shall be back in Jerusalem town 
 To-morrow, before the sun goes down ; 
 But now to the summit of Kaf I must go, 
 To chat with the Simurgh ^ among the snow.' 
 
 ' Sovereign of the birds.
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 165 
 
 Round Jerusalem town 
 
 The mountains brown 
 Are changed into blue as the sun goes down ; 
 A golden speck is resting yet 
 On wooded brow of Olivet ; 
 Though every moment up the hill 
 The evening shade creeps higher still ; 
 Hushed is the lonely wood-bird's trill, 
 But softly murmurs Kedron's rill ; 
 No sound beside invades the calm, 
 And listless droops the giant palm. 
 
 But there on high, 
 
 In the purple sky. 
 What flashes broad and bright ? 
 
 'Tis some flying thing. 
 
 Yet has never a wing. 
 And it looks too large for a kite ; 
 And now it glides o'er the sacred wall 
 That girds Jerusalem's city tall,
 
 1 66 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 And now, in the palace of David's son, 
 'Tis lost; long live great Solomon ! 
 
 The golden throne in the palace square 
 Descended from the upper air ; 
 
 When the king looked round 
 
 There on the ground, 
 With a loyal smile and a bow profound, 
 The hoopoe monarch in waiting he found. 
 ' Well,' said the king. 
 
 You're quick on the wing ! 
 
 How^s the queen? 
 
 Did she ask where you'd been 
 
 And what you had seen, 
 
 And what you could mean 
 By daring to loiter so long away 
 From her, when she'd told you not to stay ? 
 
 Never mind, never mind ! 
 
 Such remarks are unkind — 
 We all have our trials — at least, so / find !
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 167 
 
 So now just tell me what you want : 
 'Tis yours to ask, and mine to grant !' 
 
 ' My liege,' replied the hoopoe-king, 
 ' Honey is made by bees that sting ; 
 The fairest rose has got a thorn ; 
 The night's good liquor bites at morn. 
 I have a wife ; and so, you know, 
 I have my hours of joy and woe ; 
 But t J your grace it does not matter 
 Whether the former or the latter 
 Predominate ; but you can guess ; 
 Such things wlio dare in words express ? 
 My wife her heart hath wholly set 
 Upon a golden coronet 
 By every hoopoe to be worn. 
 She says, she hears that constant scorn. 
 Improper mocks, and heartless jests. 
 Attend our somewhat scanty crests ;
 
 1 68 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 And she opines a lady's head, 
 At least, should.be well-covered. 
 Thus I, O king ! will make so bold 
 As to request that crowns of gold 
 May shine on every hoopoe's head, 
 This "pitiful bald crown" instead !' 
 
 King Solomon paused for a little while, 
 And regarded his friend with a curious smile : 
 
 ' Ah,' said he, ' now I see 
 That one is as bad as three hundred times three, 
 
 Indeed I beHeve 
 
 That men will perceive, 
 In time, what a fine thing is plurality ! 
 A husband's unlikely to be led away 
 By what, 'mid a hundred, a unit may say ; 
 
 But with only 07iey 
 
 It's as clear as the sun. 
 That he cannot avoid being thoroughly done !
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes, 1 69 
 
 Now, my dear hoopoe, 
 
 I'm grateful to you 
 For the excellent service you happened to do ; 
 So I'll give you a piece of counsel true \ — 
 
 Though stay, stay — 
 
 Why throw away 
 Pearls upon — that is, I mean to say — 
 You shall all have gold crowns, glittering and gay, 
 And yet not a single farthing to pay ! 
 But there '11 be Someone else to — however, look here ! 
 
 If at last you find 
 
 Your crown not to your mind, 
 
 Have no fear ; 
 
 Hitherward steer. 
 And pour your griefs in my friendly ear ! ' 
 
 The hoopoe-king from the presence has flown. 
 Not quite certain whether his own 
 Or some other person's head stands on his 
 shoulders,
 
 1 70 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 So very weighty 't has suddenly grown ; 
 And in the palace-yard all beholders 
 
 Stare at the skies 
 
 Through which he flies, 
 And, with mouths wide open, remark, ' My eyes !' 
 
 All over Judah and Israel 
 
 There wasn't a river or fountain or well 
 
 Or bright little pool set in forest green, 
 
 Whereat a hoopoe was not to be seen, 
 
 With all its soul admiring the sheen 
 
 Of its golden crown, and with haughty mien. 
 
 Turning its head this way and that. 
 
 Like an East-end clerk in a West-end hat ; 
 
 Now, with its beak turned up in the air, 
 
 Winking knowingly at the broad glare 
 
 Of noon, as much as to say, ' You up there 
 
 Are all very well ; but how you do stare 
 
 At me ! 
 
 Now you see
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 1 7 1 
 
 A glory with which you can not compare ! ' 
 And then perhaps on the brink it stood, 
 
 Bending down, 
 
 Its flaming crown, 
 To see if it couldn't set fire to the flood ! 
 In short, it practised a select assortment 
 Of all the choicest antics of ' deportment.' 
 
 By evil hap, 
 One day in a trap, 
 A fowler (anything but an ass) 
 Instead of corn put a looking-glass, 
 And an orphan hoopoe, young, untaught, 
 Wrapped up in self-admiring thought, 
 By its own countenance was caught. 
 The fowler came to take his prey, 
 
 But when he saw its head 
 Set in a crown so bright and gay. 
 Quite taken aback, he had nothing to say. 
 
 But ' I'm ,' well, never mind what he said ;
 
 I 7 2 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 'Twas a very expressive Hebrew oath, 
 Which to translate I'm something loath. 
 
 The cap of pride soon all must doff — 
 
 In half a shake that crown was off ! 
 
 And the fowler's off to the great bazaar, 
 
 To the shop of an old merchant named Issachar, 
 
 Who was as cunning as cunning can be 
 
 In the very arcana of metallurgy ; 
 
 The fowler laid down 
 
 That golden crown 
 Before Issachar, who, with smile and frown, 
 And many a hitch of his greasy gown, 
 Felt it on this side, and smelt it on that, 
 Much in the way that a cautious cat 
 Sniffs an apparently dead mouse or rat ; 
 And then he got out his scales and weights. 
 And weighed it as though on its value the fates 
 Of Judah and Israel and all states 
 From Euphrates' river, to Gaza's gates,
 
 The Crozvs and the Hoopoes. 1 73 
 
 Must depend, 
 Till the world should end ; 
 And the fowler in silence his dictum awaits. 
 Quotes Issachar, with that wonderful leer, 
 Which so universally 's seen to appear 
 On the Hebrew ' mug/ when engaged in trading, 
 Meant to be pleading and also persuading — 
 ' Well now, this is pretty ! 
 In all the city 
 A sweeter thing is not to be found, 
 So nicely shaped and so perfectly round ! 
 But then you see, 
 To a man like me. 
 Ornament's not solidity ; 
 This is very well-gilt — there isn't a doubt ; 
 But want of reality's soon found out ; 
 With a regular goldsmith it never would pass 
 For anything more than a crown of brass ! 
 But though trade is so bad 
 That we 're all going mad.
 
 1 74 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 I wish to be liberal, especially to you, 
 
 Whose face is so open and honest and true. 
 
 To be other than generous is always amiss. 
 
 So I'll give you a shekel of silver for this ! 
 
 If you catch any more, you know, bring them to me. 
 
 I shall always treat you handsomely ! ' 
 
 When next the fowler a hoopoe caught, 
 
 With its crown in his hand the old merchant he sought ; 
 
 But on his way thither he happened to meet 
 
 With a goldsmith who lived in the selfsame street, 
 
 Who called to him, ' Stop ! 
 What's that you are taking to Issachar's shop ? 
 I saw you go there once before ; 
 Whoever enters that old villain's door 
 Is sure to be done completely broAVTi ; 
 What is it you've got ? Oh, I see, a crown — 
 
 And by Joshua it's gold ! 
 
 Stay, let me hold 
 It a moment ; yes, yes, and for what have you sold
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 1 75 
 
 The other you took to old Issachar's shop ? 
 For cash, or for something by way of a swop ? 
 A shekel of silver ? Come, come, pooh, pooh ! 
 Honour bright ? well, that was a regular do ! 
 
 Of course 'tis true 
 
 That every Jew 
 Likes a bit of a profit, but really that's too 
 Much of a good thing ; He ! he ! he ! 
 A shekel of silver ! Now just hear me ; 
 I'm ready to pay you, properly told, 
 And down on the nail, a full talent of gold ! ' 
 
 From Lebanon white to the lone Dead Sea, 
 
 By mountain and by flood, 
 In hilly Judsea and flat Galilee, 
 
 In desert and in wood. 
 Nothing is heard but the twang of the string 
 As through strident air the arrows sing, 
 
 And the stone's sharp ping
 
 I'jb The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 From the whirling sHng 
 
 After every hoopoe seen on the wing ! 
 
 For as to sitting, that wasn't a thing 
 
 That any one of them could venture to do; 
 
 For as sure as he did so, he fell, pierced through 
 
 By several stones and an arrow or two, 
 
 ^Vhile from every bush rushed an eager Hebrew 
 
 Yelling, ' My bird ! / killed him ! You let him alone ! 
 
 Just look at the mark of my arrow (or stone)?' 
 
 So at last the poor king. 
 
 Completely worn out by this kind of thing, 
 
 Resolved to return to Jerusalem town, 
 
 And beg Solomon to take off the gold crown ! 
 
 At dead of night 
 
 Did the hoopoe alight 
 At Solomon's window, much more like a sprite 
 Than a bird, and that prince, in a deuce of a fright, 
 
 Commenced to recite 
 A long exorcism, of marvellous might,
 
 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 1 7 7 
 
 Enough to turn Belial's blue beard white ; 
 
 But his visitor having no time to delay, 
 
 And in mortal terror of coming day, 
 
 Managed to smash a pane in two, 
 
 And with some loss of feathers, to scramble through. 
 
 With obeisance meet 
 
 He fell at the feet 
 Of the Lord of the Seal, who was pleased to greet 
 His friend, when he saw who it was had got in ; 
 And chucking him pleasantly under the chin, 
 
 Said, ' You needn't begin ; 
 You've found that your queen made a slight mistake. 
 And from dreams of her wisdom you're now wide awake; 
 And you've flown here at this most unearthly hour 
 To ask me to make a slight stretch of my power. 
 
 And be pleased to lift 
 
 My dangerous gift 
 From your heads, while you've got any heads at all ; 
 But listen ; I cannot entirely recall 
 
 N
 
 1 78 The Crows and the Hoopoes. 
 
 That precious boon 
 
 You've tired of so soon ; 
 
 But this much I'll do 
 
 Out of kindness to you : 
 
 Your heads shall be sore 
 
 With that weight no more, 
 And your crowns shall be thatched now with feathers, 
 
 not ore ! 
 And please to remember these parting words — 
 Fine feathers don't always make fine birds ! '
 
 The King of KJmrdsdn. 1 79 
 
 HOW THE KING OF KHURASAN WAS 
 CURED OF THE RHEUMATISM. 
 
 Khurasan is a sunny land, 
 
 As its name, it is thought, implies ; 
 And its soil is possessed of a good deal of sand, 
 
 And its air of some rather large flies ; 
 But what does that matter to me or to you ? 
 Our affair's with its puissant king, Mansoor bin Nuh. 
 
 Mansoor bin Nuh is ill at ease, 
 But not from the sand, or the flies, or the fleas ; 
 Oh no ! He is too much accustomed to these. 
 Though the sun without is scorching and baking, 
 Within the poor king sits, shivering and shaking, 
 And his limbs are all stiff, and his joints are all aching 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o How the King of Klmrdsdn 
 
 He can't find out 
 
 What it's all about, 
 And the pain makes him sometimes inclined to shout. 
 
 And the doctors stare 
 
 At the king in his chair. ; 
 They pinch him here and they poke him there, 
 In heart and liver, in lungs and wind, 
 
 Before and behind ; 
 They assault him with medicines of every kind, 
 Till he's very nearly out of his mind. 
 But alas ! no relief from that pain can he find ! 
 
 Hakeem Akbar Ali says, if he will take 
 A mixture composed of the skin of a snake, 
 And the web of one foot of a Brahmany drake, 
 And the tail and the fins and perhaps a flake 
 From the back of a fish from the Nishapin lake 
 
 That, by help of these articles. 
 
 The phlegmatic particles
 
 was aired of the Rheumatism. 1 8 1 
 
 That the mucous membrane 
 
 Had secreted, and pain 
 
 Had thus ensued, would at once collapse, 
 
 And his majesty would be relieved— perhaps ! 
 
 Tabeeb Abu Nasar with scorn replies, 
 With uplifted hands and upturned eyes, 
 ' If the king (may he reign 
 For ever !) would deign 
 To listen awhile to the children of Science, 
 And in pompous pretenders place no reliance, 
 There isn't a doubt 
 We shall soon rout out 
 This accursed complaint from his person sublime. 
 And he will be right as a trivet— in time !' 
 He then proceeded, with unction and gravity. 
 To discourse at some length on the cerebral cavity. 
 The abdominal tissues, the functions of food, 
 And the stamina gained by absorption of wood :
 
 1 8 2 How the King of KImrdsdn 
 
 ' Let the king,' said he, ' take a seat facing the south, 
 With a pipe in his nostril instead of his mouth, 
 And for several hours inhale the smoke 
 Of fir, assafoetida, pine, and bog-oak, 
 And a marvellous change we soon shall see 
 In the powers of the royal vitality ! ' 
 
 And this was the way, the livelong day. 
 
 The embattled doctors hammered away, 
 
 And screamed their own renderings of Plato and 
 
 Socrates, 
 Fihngs from Galen, and scraps from Hippocrates, 
 
 Till the king, in despair. 
 
 No more could bear. 
 But roared in a tone would have gratified Grattan, 
 ' Get out, you d— d, humbugging, uncles of Satan ! ' 
 
 Then his majesty summoned the Pillars of State, 
 And the Eyes of the Presence, to high debate.
 
 was cured of the Rheumatism. 1 8 3 
 
 Said he, ' My lords, I tell you what, do you know 
 (Concealment is useless), this is a nice go ! 
 I can scarcely refrain from curses and stamps, 
 I'm so racked with aches and twisted with cramps !" 
 
 Then the doctors too ! 
 
 They do nothing but brew 
 Such fearful decoctions, they've turned my beard blue ! 
 There's simply not one of them worth a sou, 
 So I really can't tell what to do ! ' 
 
 Then one of the Oomara, a sensible man, 
 Gave a hitch to his trowsers, and thus began : 
 ' Peace to the king ! Though how that can be 
 With these spalpeens of doctors, I really don't see ! 
 And the slicing off heads. 
 Though it sometimes leads 
 To greater clearness in those that remain, 
 Will certainly not soothe your majesty's pain ! 
 
 And although the climate of Khurasan, 
 And its soil, are possessed of the needful appliances
 
 184 How the King of Khurdsdn 
 
 That go towards making an average man, 
 Yet they don't seem to foster the medical sciences. 
 
 Now, if you should care 
 
 To hunt elsewhere 
 For a doctor to whom king and kaiser repair, 
 
 The man that I 
 
 Should advise you to try 
 Is Meerza Muhammad Zakiria of Rei ! ' 
 
 Mansoor bin Null with delight cut a caper, 
 Cried, ' He is the cove !' and demanded some paper 
 Then composed an epistle, a trifle short, 
 (For literary labours were not his ' forte ') 
 To the sage above-mentioned, to this effect : 
 ' Your speedy attendance we daily expect ! 
 So take our advice, 
 Be here in a trice ; 
 And if you don't cure us of all our ills, 
 You shall swallow a box of your Purgative Pills ! '
 
 was cured of the Rheumatism. 1 8 5 
 
 Not doubting that savant renowned to inveigle 
 With this invitation, so wholly ai regie, 
 The king to that ameer said, ' Now, sir, I want you 
 To instantly pack up your private portmanteau, 
 
 And, without delay, 
 
 To hasten away, 
 
 And by no means to stay 
 
 At any inn, pothouse, or car'vanserai,^ 
 But encourage your horse with crack and whack 
 On his head and his tail and his sides and his 
 
 back, 
 As though Charles of the Hammer were hard on 
 
 your track ; 
 And although this treatment may disagree 
 With your steed's constitution, why, don't you see. 
 It's no matter — you're doing it all for me ! 
 So off with you, — That'll do ! — Ta-ta ! — Good-by ! 
 Take this letter and ride like old Harry to Rei ! ' 
 
 ' So pronounced and spelt in the East.
 
 1 86 How the King of Khurdsdu 
 
 Muhammad Zakiria sits moody and lone, 
 
 Wife nor chick nor child he hath none, 
 
 Alas ! they are under the cold grey stone. 
 
 For he was so wedded to frequent reflection 
 
 On some new elixir, drug, pill, or confection, 
 
 That constantly stewing, and boiling, and breAving 
 
 Made him sometimes forgetful of what he was doing ; 
 
 So after a day's scientific experiment 
 
 On root and on herb and on leaf and on berry, 
 
 blent 
 With various members of cat and dog, rat and frog, 
 And with everything down in the chemical catalogue, 
 
 He would often doubt 
 
 How his brews would turn out. 
 Having got a remarkably shady notion 
 Of how he had mixed each particular potion ; 
 So when he'd used up every monkey and rabbit 
 In the country around, he contracted a habit 
 Of making experiments his wife and his boys on, 
 To see if a compound were cordial or poison !
 
 was cured of the Rhezunatisin. 1 8 7 
 
 Thus one by one, in a little time, 
 They all, in the interests of science sublime, 
 Met with ' extinction of animation,' 
 Martyrs to medical investigation ! 
 
 Indeed, one day, 
 
 So people say, 
 Muhammad Zakiria was heard to avow 
 That he often wished, now, 
 That he'd not fallen out with his mother-in-law, 
 Who, in spite of the wonderful flow of her ' jaw,' 
 Was an excellent person for tr)dng a ' test ' on, 
 On account of her marvellous powers of digestion ! 
 
 Howe'er that may be, 
 
 'Tis nothing to me; 
 
 I repeat that he 
 Was sitting alone in his surgery, 
 Having just dissected by aid of a spoon, his 
 Most recent subject, a 'pulex communis,'
 
 1 88 Hozu the King of KImrdsdfi 
 
 (Or, as some antiquaries 
 Would probably call it, a ' pulex vulgaris,') 
 
 When all at once, 
 
 With a rush and a bounce, 
 Who should appear but that same ameer, 
 
 His boots all mire, 
 
 And his riding attire 
 So shockingly damaged about the rear 
 That all the small street-boys kept asking him, 
 
 ' whether 
 He was sure he'd not mislaid a good deal of leather?' 
 
 He straight drew forth the royal letter, 
 
 (A little bit creased and a trifle wetter 
 
 Than it was when the king his sign-manual august 
 
 Had affixed thereto,) and the envelope thrust 
 
 Under the nose of the wondering sage, 
 
 With little respect for his knowledge or age — 
 
 Merely said, ' Mind your eye ! 
 
 Get up and be spry !
 
 was cured of the Rheumatism. 1 89 
 
 Put up a clean handkerchief and a white tie ! 
 
 Here's a horse all ready, 
 
 Warranted steady ; 
 Or, if you don't like him, why here 's a nice Neddy ! 
 I regret there was no time to bring you a cart, 
 
 But please be smart : 
 Just five minutes, and then we must start !' 
 
 'Twas in vain that Muhammad Zakiria protested 
 That his last meal as yet was not quite digested ; 
 That all his best garments were gone to the wash ; 
 Et cetera. The envoy said nothing but ' Bosh ! ' 
 And finding he was n't inclined to hurry, 
 Without more demur, he 
 
 Called to his servants to come and surround him, 
 Who instantly floored him and carefully bound him, 
 Coolly carried him into the street, 
 And tied him on to a charger fleet ; 
 Then they started away, like the desert wind, 
 And soon left the town of Rei leagues behind !
 
 iQO How the King of K/iiwdsdn 
 
 'T is needless the tale of their journey to tell — 
 How sometimes they stumbled, and sometimes they 
 
 fell; 
 What rivers they swam in the course of their ride, 
 And how often the doctor was wetted and dried ; 
 
 But let us suppose 
 Them arrived at the court, where a change of clothes, 
 A large dose of liquor, a little repose, 
 A plentiful meal, and an upright position. 
 Made quite a new man of the learned physician ! 
 
 When he was shown 
 
 To the foot of the throne, 
 His majesty said, in a gracious tone, 
 ' How are you ? 
 
 How does your mother do ? 
 Your grandmother, uncle and aunt, and the other too?' 
 He uttered, in short, what, in every respect, 
 Oriental good-breeding considers correct : 
 
 Then added, ' You know, 
 
 I'm a good deal so so,
 
 zvas cured of the Rheumatism. 1 9 1 
 
 And the doctors about here are not worth a blow ; 
 So much to my sorrow, to save time and money, 
 I was really obliged to waive all ceremony, 
 And send an ameer, in a friendly way, 
 To get you to come here and make a short stay ; 
 
 I trust you don't feel 
 
 Any worse for the zeal 
 You Ve displayed in thus hurrying to soothe and to 
 
 heal; 
 'T was done, pray remember, "pro aris et focis;" 
 
 That is, for me ; 
 
 And now let us see 
 What's the result of your diagnosis ?' 
 Muhammad Zakiria had looked meanwhile 
 At the king, and had reckoned the phlegm and the 
 
 bile 
 And the humours and matters within that were 
 
 seething. 
 By merely observing his manner of breathing ; 
 So he answered at once with a bow and a smile.
 
 192 .How the King of KJnCrdsdii 
 
 ' Your majesty's person 's been bothered enough 
 With drugs and decoctions arid that sort of stuff. 
 
 There 's a certain — a — a — 
 
 What shall I say ? — 
 A kind .of " Je ne sais quoi" and a " bonhommie " 
 Perceptible in your august physiognomy, 
 That makes me think — seeing your — hum ! — and the 
 
 rest, 
 That a mental treatment will be the best ! 
 
 You will please to deign 
 
 Just to remain 
 Perfectly quiet and tranquil a day or two, 
 While I remove, extirpate, and purge away a few 
 Trifling vapours that seem to retain 
 A hold on the liver, the lungs, and the brain !' 
 
 Having uttered these sapient observations, 
 He proceeded at once to operations, 
 And the royal stomach did straightway fill 
 With that wondrous specific, the ' real bread pill,'
 
 was cured of the Rheumatism. \ 93 
 
 Prescribing also every quarter * 
 
 Of an hour, a good jorum of salt and water ; 
 Then, after the lapse of a day or two, 
 He informed the patient, he 'thought he would 
 
 do,' 
 And safely might now a new course pursue. 
 
 He then told the servants to go and see 
 That a big tub of water, as hot as could be, 
 Was prepared in his majesty's sanctum sanctorum. 
 With balms and sweet essences, ' more majorum ;' 
 And he bade that a horse should his coming 
 
 await. 
 All saddled and bridled, before the gate, 
 As he 'd have to depart upon matters of state. 
 
 Soon the king, with a sheet 
 On his royal back, in the steam and the heat. 
 Was fuming and fretting, and boiling and sweating, 
 And kicking and plunging, and constantly letting 
 
 o
 
 1 94 How the King of Khurdsdn 
 
 Off volleys of various exclamations, 
 
 Appeals to the Prophet, and strong imprecations ; 
 
 When lo and behold, with a threatening eye, 
 
 And a gleaming sabre lifted high. 
 
 There walked in Muhammad Zakiria of Rei ! 
 
 Said he : ' Now, you wretched, mean, monkey-like 
 thing, 
 
 Whom ignorant donkeys and idiots call "king !" 
 
 (Though if they had sense to become of my 
 mind, 
 
 'Stead of bowing before, they would kick you be- 
 hind !) 
 
 I've got you alone for a little while, 
 
 When there 's no need to talk about " humours " and 
 "bile," 
 
 When I don't care the least if you frown or you 
 smile ; 
 
 But intend to converse in my usual style. 
 
 And first, let me tell you, you 're no king at all, 
 
 But only the chief of a poor, worn-out, small
 
 was cured of the Rheumatism. 1 9 5 
 
 Principality, now for some years the prey 
 Of whoever can take it, be he who he may. 
 Next, were you ten thousand times sukan and king, 
 Your glory, at best, is a very slight thing ! 
 Let 's suppose you denuded of land and of power, 
 With no palace to shield you from sunshine or 
 shower ; 
 With no bowing and scraping 
 
 Of nobles and flunkeys. 
 Who keep constantly aping 
 The actions of monkeys ; 
 With none of those trappings, for apes only fit, 
 In which you are daily accustomed to sit; 
 In fact to be just as you squat there, a creature 
 Possessing no virtue, no single good feature ; 
 What do you think would be your price? 
 In the market you'd not fetch a single pice ! 
 Yet you have the cheek 
 To send and seek 
 
 o 2
 
 1 96 How the King of KJiurdsdn 
 
 For me, who have studied both Hebrew and 
 Greek ; 
 
 Who, though I look meek, 
 
 And gently speak, 
 Am a master of knowledge, that never is weak. 
 You send a big, thick-headed, frowsy ameer, 
 To bring me, " vi et armis " here ; 
 Who gives me no time to swallow a morsel, 
 But treats me just like a box or a parcel, 
 And without saying " By your leave," ties me by 
 
 force 
 On an ugly, stumbling, beast of a horse, 
 And tugs me here through the mud and dirt. 
 And then you, forsooth, "hope I have not been 
 
 hurt!" 
 All this is a little too much to bear. 
 
 So I think that ere 
 I depart from this country, whose people and 
 
 air 
 Are the most infernal I 've known anywhere,
 
 was cured of the Rheumatism. 1 9 7 
 
 I might venture upon such a trifling lark as 
 To let the life out of your useless carcase ! ' 
 
 Just at that word 
 He rushed at the king, made a sweep with his 
 
 sword, 
 Then ran through the door, which stood open wide, 
 Locked it and bolted it on the outside, 
 
 Passed to the gate 
 
 Where the steed did await, 
 In a moment the reins from the post untied, 
 Jumped on his back, and away did ride ! 
 
 But now it is curious 
 
 To tell 
 
 What befell 
 The king, who had been made both funky and 
 
 furious ; 
 At first he did nothing but rave and roar, 
 
 Cursed and swore 
 Till his tongue was swelled and his throat was sore ;
 
 198 How the King of Khurdsdn 
 
 Bid them follow, pursue, 
 
 Cut the doctor in two, 
 Make him into a roast, and a hash, and a stew ; 
 But finding that nothing at all would do, 
 Dropped down and indulged in a regular boo-hoo ! 
 After shedding a good many gallons of tears, 
 
 He next, it appears, 
 Broke out in a copious perspiration, 
 While anger brought on ' healthy inflammation ;' 
 The aches and the cramps left his limbs and his 
 joints ; 
 
 And, thanks to his rage 
 
 At the wily sage, 
 He soon became perfectly well at all points ! 
 
 Muhammad Zakiria took very good care 
 To make no particular stay anywhere 
 Until he arrived at a place where the air
 
 was cured of the Rheiunatism. 199 
 
 Was not breathed by subjects of Mansoor bin 
 
 Nuh; 
 
 And though the king sent several letters him to, 
 Chock-full of thanks, and describing his cure,- 
 And seeking the doctor again to allure, 
 
 It was all of no use ; 
 He knew that the great don't forget abuse ; 
 And in his one answer, his majesty crave'd 
 To read the short story of Shimei and David. 
 Then, by way of a postscript, quoted a poet, 
 Who had written to this effect — ' Not if I know it.' 
 
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 'TSYSe and stories in 
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