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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Singing Caravan, by Robert Vansittart

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most

-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions

-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of

-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at

-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have

-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.

-

-Title: The Singing Caravan

-       A Sufi Tale

-

-Author: Robert Vansittart

-

-Release Date: July 7, 2015 [EBook #49385]

-

-Language: English

-

-Character set encoding: ASCII

-

-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SINGING CARAVAN ***

-

-

-

-

-Produced by Emmanuel Ackerman, University of California

-Libraries, Microsoft (scanning) and the Online Distributed

-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was

-produced from images generously made available by The

-Internet Archive)

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

-

-

-_FICTION_

-

-    THE GATES

-    JOHN STUART

-

-_VERSE_

-

-    SONGS AND SATIRES

-

-_THEATRE_

-

-    LES PARIAHS

-    THE CAP AND BELLS

-    PEOPLE LIKE OURSELVES

-    CLASS

-

-_THEATRE IN VERSE_

-

-    FOOLERY

-    DUSK

-

-

-

-

-THE SINGING CARAVAN

-

-

-

-

-_RECENT POETRY_

-

-

-  THE HEART OF PEACE

-    By LAURENCE HOUSMAN.           5s. net

-

-  ESCAPE AND FANTASY

-    By GEORGE ROSTREVOR.       3s. 6d. net

-

-  THE SAILING SHIPS

-    By ENID BAGNOLD.               5s. net

-

-  COUNTER-ATTACK

-    By SIEGFRIED SASSOON.      2s. 6d. net

-

-  POEMS

-    By GEOFFREY DEARMER.       2s. 6d. net

-

-

-

-

-THE SINGING

-CARAVAN

-

-A SUFI TALE

-

-BY

-

-ROBERT VANSITTART

-

-  Each man is many as a caravan;

-    His straggling selves collect in tales like these.

-  Only the love of one can make him one.

-    Who takes the Sufi Way--the Way of Peace?

-

-

-NEW YORK

-GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

-1919

-

-_Printed in Great Britain_

-

-

-

-

-_IN MEMORIAM_

-

-MY BROTHER ARNOLD

-

-  2ND LIEUTENANT, 11TH HUSSARS

-  KILLED IN ACTION NEAR YPRES

-  MAY 1915

-

-

-    _In twenty years of lands and seas and cities

-      I had small joy and sought for it the more,

-    Thinking: "If ever I am polymetis,

-      'Tis yours to draw upon the hard-won store."_

-

-    _I had some bouts from Samarkand to Paris,

-      And took some falls 'twixt Sweden and Sudan.

-    If I was slow and patient learning parries,

-      I hoped to teach you when you were a man._

-

-    _I cannot fall to whining round the threshold

-      Where Death awaited you. I lack the skill

-    Of hands for ever working out a fresh hold

-      On life. In mystic ways I serve you still._

-

-    _The age of miracles is not yet ended.

-      As on the humble feast of Galilee

-    Surely a touch of heaven has descended

-      On the cheap earthen vessel, even on me,_

-

-    _Whose weak content--the soul I travail under--

-      Unstable as water, to myself untrue,

-    God's mercy makes an everlasting wonder,

-      Stronger than life or death, my love of you._

-

-

-

-

-I am indebted to Mr. Arthur Humphreys, Mr. John Murray, and the

-Editor of the _Spectator_ for kind permission to reproduce a few of

-the shorter poems in this tale of Persian mystics. I have included

-them, firstly, because I wished otherwise new work, being a memorial,

-to include such fragments of the past as might be worth preserving;

-secondly, because decreasing leisure inspires a diffidence in the

-future that may justify me in asking a reader or a friend to judge or

-remember me only by "Foolery" and "The Singing Caravan."

-

-                                                  R. V.

-

-

-

-

-CONTENTS

-

-

-                                               PAGE

-

-         IN MEMORIAM                             vi

-

-         ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS                      viii

-

-         PRELUDE                                  1

-

-      I. THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN                 9

-

-     II. THE JOY OF THE WORDS                    15

-

-    III. THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT                  17

-

-     IV. THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT          20

-

-      V. THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL                 22

-

-     VI. THE BOASTING OF YOUTH                   28

-

-    VII. THE HEART OF THE SLAVE                  33

-

-   VIII. THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK               37

-

-     IX. THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR              39

-

-      X. THE SONG OF THE SELVES                  49

-

-     XI. THE STORY OF THE SUTLER                 57

-

-    XII. THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT               62

-

-   XIII. THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER            66

-

-    XIV. THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR                78

-

-     XV. THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH           81

-

-    XVI. THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC             90

-

-   XVII. THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR                100

-

-  XVIII. THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER          103

-

-    XIX. FUSION                                 161

-

-     XX. LONG LEAVE                             167

-

-         EPILOGUE                               169

-

-

-

-

-PRELUDE

-

-

-    The sun smote Elburz like a gong.

-      Slow down the mountain's molten face

-    Zigzagged the caravan of song.

-      Time was its slave and went its pace.

-

-    It bore a white Transcaspian Queen

-      Whose barque had touched at Enzeli.

-    Splendid in jewelled palanquin

-      She cleft Iran from sea to sea,

-

-    Bound for the Persian Gulf of Pearls,

-      Where demons sail for drifting isles

-    With bodyguards of dancing girls

-      And four tamed winds for music, smiles

-

-    For passports. Thus the caravan,

-      Singing from chief to _charvadar_,

-    Reached the great gate of screened Tehran.

-      The burrows of the dim bazaar

-

-    Swarmed thick to see the vision pass

-      On broidered camels like a fleet

-    Of swaying silence. One there was

-      Who joined the strangers in the street.

-

-    They called him Dreamer-of-the-Age,

-      The least of Allah's _Muslimeen_

-    Who knew the joys of pilgrimage

-      And wore the sign of sacred green,

-

-    A poet, poor and wistful-eyed.

-      Him all the beauty and the song

-    Drew by swift magic to her side,

-      And in a trance he went along

-

-    Past friends who questioned of his goal:

-      "The Brazen Cliffs? The Realms of Musk?

-    Goes he to Mecca for his soul?..."

-      The town-light dwindled in the dusk

-

-    Behind. Ahead Misr? El Katif?

-      The moon far up a brine-green sky

-    Made Demavend a huge pale reef

-      Set in an ocean long gone dry.

-

-    Bleached mosques like dwarf cave-stalagmites,

-      Smooth silver-bouldered _biyaban_

-    And sevenfold velvet of white nights

-      Vied with the singing caravan

-

-    To make her pathway plain.

-                                Then one

-      Beside the poet murmured low:

-    "I plod behind, sun after sun,

-      O master, whither do we go?

-

-    "Are we for some palmed port of Fars,

-      Or tombed Kerbela, or Baghdad

-    The Town-of-Knowledge-of-the-Stars?

-      Is worship wise or are we mad?"

-

-    Answered the poet: "Do we ask

-      Allah to buy each Friday's throng?

-    None to whom worship is a task

-      Should join the caravan of song.

-

-    "With heart and eyes unquestioning, friend,

-      We follow love from sea to sea,

-    And Love and Prayer have common end:

-      'May God be merciful to me!'"

-

-    So fared they, camped from noon to even,

-      Till dawn, quick-groping through the gloom,

-    Pounced on gilt planets low in heaven.

-      Thus they beheld the domes of Kum.

-

-    And onward nightly. Though the dust

-      Swirled in dread shapes of desert _Jinn_,

-    Ever the footsore poet's trust

-      Soared to the jewelled palanquin,

-

-    Parched, but still singing: "God, being great,

-      Lent me a star from sea to sea,

-    The drop in his hand-hollow, Fate.

-      He holds it high, and signs to me

-

-    "Although She--She may not ..."

-                                "For thirst

-      My songs and dreams like mirage fail.

-    Yea, mad "--his fellow pilgrim cursed--

-      "I was. The Queen lifts not her veil."

-

-    "Put no conditions to her glance,

-      O happy desert, where the guide

-    Is Love's own self, Life's only chance ..."

-      He saw not where the other died,

-

-    But pressed on strongly, loth to halt

-      At Persia's pride, Rose-Ispahan,

-    Whose hawks are bathed in pure cobalt.

-      To meet the singing caravan

-

-    Came henna-bearded prince and sage

-      With henna-fingered _houris_, who

-    Strove to retard the pilgrimage,

-      Saying: "Our streets are fair and you

-

-    "A poet. Sing of us instead.

-      God may be good, but life is short.

-    Yon are the mountains of the dead.

-      Here are clean robes to wear at court."

-

-    He said: "I seek a bliss beyond

-      The range of your _muezzin_-call.

-    Do birds cease song till heaven respond?

-      The road is naught. The Hope is all."

-

-    "You know not this Transcaspian Queen,

-      Or what the journey's end may be.

-    Fool among Allah's _Muslimeen_,

-      You chase a myth from sea to sea."

-

-    "Because I bargain not nor guess

-      If Waste or Garden wait for me,

-    Love gives me inner loveliness.

-      I hold to her from sea to sea."

-

-    So he was gone, nor seemed to care

-      For beckoning shade, or boasting brook,

-    Or human alabaster-ware

-      Flaunted before him in the _suk_,

-

-    Nor paused at sunburnt far Shiraz,

-      The home of sinful yellow wine,

-    Where morning mists, like violet gauze,

-      Deck the bare hills, and blossoms twine

-

-    In seething coloured foam around

-      The lighthouse minarets.

-                                And sheer--

-    A thin cascade bereft of sound--

-      The track falls down to dank Bushir.

-

-    The caravan slipped to the plain.

-      Its song rose through the rising damp,

-    Till, through the grey stockade of rain,

-      The Gulf of Pearls shone like a lamp.

-

-    Here waiting rode a giant _dhow_,

-      Each hand a captive _Roumi_ lord,

-    Who rose despite his chains to bow

-      As straight her beauty went aboard,

-

-    Sailed. For the Tableland of Rhyme?

-      The Crystal Archipelago?

-    Who knows! This happened on a time

-      Among the times of long ago.

-

-    He only, Dreamer-of-the-Age,

-      Was left alone upon the sands,

-    The goal of his long pilgrimage,

-      The soil of all the promised lands,

-

-    Watching the _dhow_ cut like a sword

-      The leaden waves. Yet, ere she sailed,

-    God poured on broken eyes reward

-      Out of Heaven's heart.

-                            The Queen unveiled.

-

-    There for a space fulfilment shone,

-      While worship had his soul for priest

-    And altar. Then the light was gone,

-      And on the sea the singing ceased.

-

-           *       *       *       *       *

-

-    And is this all my story? Yes,

-      Save that the _Sufi's_ dream is true.

-    Dearest, in its deep lowliness

-      This tale is told of me and you.

-

-    O love of mine, while I have breath,

-      Whatever my last fate shall be,

-    I seek you, you alone, till death

-      With all my life--from sea to sea.

-      And God be merciful to me.

-

-

-

-

-I

-

-THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN

-

-

-    The pilgrims from the north

-      Beat on the southern gate

-    All eager to set forth,

-      In little mood to wait

-    While watchman Abdelal

-      Expounded the Koran

-    To that wise seneschal,

-      His mate, Ghaffir Sultan.

-

-    At length Ghaffir: "Enough!"

-      Even watchmen's heads may nod.

-    "Asraeil is not rough

-      If we have faith in God."

-    His fellow tapped the book:

-      The _Darawish_ discuss

-    The point you overlook:

-      Has Allah faith in us?

-

-    Know, then, that Allah, fresh

-      And splendid as a boy

-    Who thinks no ill of flesh,

-      Had one desire: a toy.

-    And so he took for site

-      To build his perfect plan

-    The Earth, where His delight

-      Was manufactured: Man.

-

-    Ah, had we ever seen

-      The draft, our Maker's spit,

-    I think we must have been

-      Drawn to live up to it.

-    God was so pure and kind

-      He showed Shaitan the lease

-    Of earth that He had signed

-      For us, His masterpiece.

-

-    The pilgrims cried: "You flout

-      Our calm. Beware. It flags.

-    Unbar and let us out,

-      Sons of a thousand rags."

-    And Abdelal said: "Hark!

-      Methought I heard a din."

-    Said Ghaffir: "After dark

-      I let no devils in.

-

-    "Proceed." He sucked his pipe:

-      God in His happiest mood

-    Laid down our prototype,

-      And saw that man was good.

-    Aglow with generous pride:

-      "Shaitan the son of Jann,

-    This is my crown," He cried.

-      "Bow down and worship man."

-

-    Said Evil with a smirk--

-      He was too sly to hiss--

-    "I cannot praise your work.

-      I could have bettered this."

-    God said: "I could have sown

-      The soil my puppet delves,

-    Yet rather gave my own

-      Power to perfect themselves."

-

-    Still the fiend stiffened. "I

-      Bow not." Our prophet saith

-    That he would not comply

-      Because he had no faith

-    In us. He only saw

-      The worst of Allah's toy,

-    The springs, some surface flaw,

-      The strengthening alloy.

-

-    Said God: "The faults are mine.

-      I gave him hope and doubt,

-    The mind that my design

-      Shall have to work Me out.

-    What though he fall! Is love

-      So faint that I should grieve?

-    How else, friend, should I prove

-      To him that I believe?

-

-    "And how else should he rise?

-      Lo, I, that made the night,

-    Have given his conscience eyes

-      Therein to find the Right.

-    I have stretched out his hand,

-      Oh, not to grasp but feel,

-    Have taught his aims to land,

-      But tipped the aims with steel;

-

-    "Have given him iron resolve

-      And one great master-key,

-    Courage, to bid revolve

-      The hinge of destiny,

-    And beams from heaven to build

-      The road to Otherwise,

-    With broken gloom to gild

-      The causeway of his sighs

-

-    "Whereby I watch him come

-      At last to judge of Me,

-    Beyond the thunder's drum,

-      The cymbals of the sea.

-    Aye, Shaitan, plumb the Space

-      And Time that planets buoy,

-    And you shall know the place

-      Appointed for my toy.

-

-    "I could not give him rest,

-      And see him satiate

-    At once, or make the zest

-      Of life an opiate.

-    I might have been his lord,

-      I had not been his friend

-    To sheathe his spirit's sword

-      And start him at the end.

-

-    "I would not make him old,

-      That he might see his port

-    Fling its nocturne of gold

-      And cheerfulness athwart

-    The dusk. I planned the wave,

-      And wealth of wind and star.

-    Could one be gay and brave

-      Who never saw afar

-

-    "The cause that he outlives

-      Only because he fought,

-    The peaks to which he strives,

-      The ranges of his thought,

-    Until the dawn to be

-      Relieve his watchfires dim,

-    Not by his faith in Me

-      But by my faith in him!

-

-    "I also have my dreams,

-      And through my darkest cloud

-    His climbing phalanx gleams

-      To my salute, and, proud

-    Of him even in defeat,

-      My light upon his brow,

-    My roughness at his feet,

-      I triumph. Shaitan, bow!"

-

-    But Shaitan like an ass

-      Jibbed and would not give ear.

-    Just so it came to pass,

-      Declares our Book, Ghaffir.

-    We know that in the heat

-      Of disputation--well,

-    Allah shot out his feet,

-      And Shaitan went to hell.

-

-    Thus Abdelal. The gate

-      Shook to the pilgrims' cry:

-    "When will you cease to prate,

-      Beards of calamity!"

-    The poet: "Allah's bliss

-      Fall on his watchmen! Thus

-    Our journey's password is

-      That God has faith in us."

-

-

-

-

-II

-

-THE JOY OF THE WORDS

-

-

-    The Sufis trembled: "Open, open wide,

-      Dismiss us to illuminate the East."

-    Old Ghaffir fumbled the reluctant bolts,

-      Lifting his hands and eyes as for a feast.

-    And this was their viaticum. His words

-      Were mingled with their eagerness like yeast:

-

-    Go forth, poor words!

-      If truly you are free,

-    Simple, direct, you shall be winged like birds,

-      Voiced like the sea.

-

-    Walk humbly clad!

-      Be sure those words are lame

-    That ride a-clatter, or that deck and pad

-      A puny frame.

-

-    As in your dress,

-      So in your speech be plain!

-    Be not deceived; the Mighty Meaningless

-      Are loud in vain.

-

-    Be not puffed up,

-      Nor drunk with your own sound!

-    Shall men drink deeply when an empty cup

-      Is handed round?

-

-    Shout not at heaven!

-      Say what I bade you say.

-    Simplicity is beauty dwelling even

-      In yea or nay.

-

-    Be this your goal.

-      Beauty within man's reach

-    Is poetry. You cannot touch man's soul

-      Save with man's speech.

-

-    Therefore go straight.

-      You shall not turn aside

-    To vain display; for yonder lies the gate

-      Where gods abide

-

-    Your coming. Go!

-      The way was never hard.

-    What would you more than common flowers or snow?

-      For your reward,

-

-    Be understood,

-      And thus shall you be sung.

-    Aye, you who think to show us any good,

-      Speak in our tongue.

-

-

-

-

-III

-

-THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT

-

-

-    The watchman finished, as the southern gate

-    Clanged, and the breathless city lay behind.

-    The Dreamer's shadows shrank against the wall,

-    As though the desert called and none replied,

-    Till the young pilot, standing out to night,

-    Swung clear these lines to sound the depths of her:

-

-          "Blue Persian night,

-    Soft, voiceless as the summer sea!

-    Flooding the bouldered desert sand, submerge

-          This cypressed isle

-    And Demavend's snow-spire--a sunken rock

-    On your hushed floor, where I the diver stand

-          Beyond the reach of day.

-    And though, up through your overwhelming peace,

-          I see your surface, heaven,

-    I would not rise there, being drowned in you,

-          Blue Persian night.

-

-          "Blue Persian night,

-    O consolation of the East!

-    In your clear breathless oceanic sheen

-          My heart's an isle,

-    From whose innumerable caves and coigns--

-    When dusk awakes the city of my mind--

-          Exploring boats set forth,

-    Bound for the harbour-lights of God knows where,

-          Full, full of God knows what;

-    It must be love of Him, or Her, or You,

-          Blue Persian night."

-

-    Her signal answered; for a slender wand

-    Of moonbeam touched the Dreamer on the mouth.

-    The caravan looked upward with a shout

-    And set its camels rolling to the south,

-    Murmuring: "Blue Persian night, none ever saw

-    You through your own sheer purity before us.

-    Rise up our songs as bubbles from the sand ..."

-    Somewhere among the camels rose this chorus:

-

-                  Dong! Dong!

-              Lurching along

-              Out of the dusk

-              Into the night.

-            Noiseless and lusty,

-            Dreamy and dusty,

-        Looms the long caravan-line into sight.

-

-                  Dong! Dong!

-              Never a song,

-              Never a footfall

-              A breath or a sigh.

-            Ghostly and stolid,

-            Stately and squalid,

-        Creeps the monotonous caravan by.

-

-                  Dong! Dong!

-              Fugitive throng.

-              Out of the dark

-              Into the night,

-            Silent and lonely,

-            Gone!... the bells only

-        Tells us a caravan once was in sight.

-

-

-

-

-IV

-

-THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT

-

-

-    Moussa, the son of the Crypto-Jew,

-    Had eaten his fill of yellow stew

-

-    And a bit besides (as a business man

-    He was far too quick for the caravan,

-

-    Who loved him not, though it feared his guile).

-    Moussa then: "I shall walk awhile

-

-    "To ease my soul of its heavy load."

-    His pious friends: "May you find a road,"

-

-    And winked. "His soul has begun to feel

-    There's nothing left but a march to steal."

-

-    But one from the village, decoying quail

-    For the governor's pot, came back with a tale

-

-    Of a lean arm shaken against the sky

-    Like a stunted thorn, and this piteous cry:

-

-      "As sound within an ice-bound desert mewed

-      Drags out existence at the very core

-      Of isolation, as breakers slip ashore

-      In vainly eternal whispers to the nude

-      Reef-coral, where no human feet intrude

-      Upon the purity of stillness; or

-      As, far from life, unmated eagles soar

-      Above the hilltops' breathless solitude,

-

-      "So moves my love, like these a thing apart,

-      Fierce, in the ruined temple of my heart,

-      Shy as a shooting star that peers new-risen

-      Mid strangers. Even so. Pent in the prison

-      Of space my soul, a lonely planet, wheels ...

-      Men call the sum of loneliness 'Ideals.'"

-

-    This is the plaint that the cross-road heard

-    Where it strikes from Kashan to Burujird.

-

-    The townsmen, met by the sun-dried stream,

-    Caught a voice high up like an angel's scream

-

-    Or a teaspoon tapping the bowl of heaven,

-    And they cried: "_Ajab!_ May we be forgiven,

-

-    "But it sounds a soul of the rarer sort

-    Whose wings are set for no earthly port."

-

-    And the answer came, as they cried: "Who's that?"

-    "One that sells short weight in mutton fat."

-

-

-

-

-V

-

-THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL

-

-

-    Light was not. All was still. The caravan

-    Had ceased its song and motion by the bed

-    Wherein the hill-stream tosses sleeplessly,

-    The only sound, save one staccato note

-    Interminably piped by tiny owls.

-    The camp lay balmed in slumber, as the dead

-    Are straitened in white trappings. Then a voice,

-    Deeper than any dead black mountain pool

-    Or blacker well where devils cool by day,

-    Seemed to commune with Dreamer-of-the-Age,

-    Who, peering through the cloak about his head,

-    Challenged: "Who speaks?" The voice replied: "A friend

-    Unknown to you." ... It was old Peacock Tous,

-    The great grey camel with the crimson tail

-    On whom the queen was wont to ride. He said:

-

-    "Sheikh, I was born among the Bakhtiari,

-      The shelter of their hawthorn vales was mine;

-    For me, unbroken to the loads men carry,

-      The breeze that crowns their uplands glowed as wine

-    To drink. I, Tous, the Peacock, whom men call so

-      Because I ever moved as one above

-    The common herd, was mad and merry. Also

-      I knew not yet the prickled herb of Love.

-

-    "Spring tricked the desert out with flowered patterns

-      For me to tread like flowered carpets wrought

-    In patience by my master's painted slatterns--

-      He said that only Persian _women_ fought.

-    Ah, youth is free and silken-haired and leggy!

-      No camel knows why Allah makes it end,

-    But He is wiser. Me the tribe's Il-Beggi

-      Spied out and sent as tribute to a friend,

-

-    "A dweller in black tents, a nomad chieftain

-      Of Khamseh Arabs or unruled Kashgai,

-    Whose cattle-raids and rapines past belief stain

-      The furthest page of camel-history.

-    And shamefully the ragged sutlers thwacked us,

-      Until I learned, as to this manner born,

-    That pride must find a mother in the cactus

-      And hope the milk of kindness in the thorn.

-

-    "O Sheikh, I found. A milk-white _nakeh_ followed

-      The drove of males, and I would lag behind

-    With her, no matter how the drivers holloa'ed--

-      Man never doubts that all but he are blind.

-    At nightfall, when our champing echoed surly

-      Beyond the cheerful circle of the fire,

-    Something within me whispered, and thus early

-      I bore the burden of the world's desire.

-

-    "But I was saddled with the will of Allah,

-      Since one there was more fleet of foot than I,

-    The chosen of the chief of the Mehallah,

-      Whose nostrils quivered as he passed me by.

-    To her, beside his paces and his frothing,

-      My steadfastness was common as the air,

-    My passion and my patience were as nothing,

-      Because fate chose to make my rival fair.

-

-    "I suffered and was silent--some said lazy--

-      Until the seasons drove us to the plain.

-    The nomads sold me then to a Shirazi.

-      I never met my happiness again,

-    But trod the same old measure back and forward,

-      And passed a friend as seldom as a tree.

-    Oh, heaviness of ever going shoreward,

-      Of bringing all fruition to the sea!

-

-    "For I have fared from sea to sea like you, sirs,

-      And with your like, not once but many times.

-    Your path acclaims me eldest of its users,

-      It tells my step as I foresee your rhymes.

-    I know by heart a heartache's thousandth chapter

-      As you have read the preface of delight.

-    The silence you shall enter, I have mapped her.

-      O singing caravan, I was To-night

-

-    "Long ere you dreamed. I dreaming of my lady

-      Became the cargo-bearer we call Self.

-    Two hundredweight of flesh that spouted Sa'di,

-      A restless bag of bones intent on pelf,

-    Have straddled me in turn.... Hashish and spices,

-      Wheat, poisons, satins, brass, and graven stone,

-    I, Tous, have borne all human needs and vices

-      As solemnly as had they been my own.

-

-    "Moon-faced sultanas blue with kohl a-pillion,

-      Grey ambergris, pink damask-roses' oil,

-    Deep murex purple, beards or lips vermilion

-      As Abu Musa's flaming scarlet soil

-    I have borne--and dung and lacquer. I have flooded

-      Bazaars with poppy-seed and filigree.

-    Men little guess the stuff that I have studied,

-      Or what their vaunted traffic seems to me.

-

-    "I am hardened to all wonderments and stories--

-      My ears have borne the hardest of my task--

-    I have carried pearls from Lingah up to Tauris,

-      And Russian Jews from Lenkoran to Jask.

-    I have watched fat vessels crammed by sweating coolies

-      With all the rubbish that the rich devise,

-    And often I have wondered who the fool is

-      That takes it all, and whom the fool supplies.

-

-    "Yet ran my thoughts on her, though cedar rafters

-      Were laid on me, or mottled silk and plush,

-    Although the tinkling scales of varied laughters

-      Rode me from Bandar Abbas to Barfrush,

-    Or broken hearts from Astara to Gwetter.

-      All ironies have made their moving house

-    Of me. I smile to think how many a letter

-      Has passed from loved to lover thanks to Tous

-

-    "The loveless. Think you men alone are lonely,

-      My masters? I have also worshipped one,

-    Have built my days of faith and service only,

-      And while I worshipped all my life was gone.

-    I spent the funds of life in growing older,

-      In heaping fuel on a smothered fire.

-    See how my tale is rounded! On my shoulder

-      I bear the burden of _your_ world's desire.

-

-    "Yet keep that inner smile; and never show it

-      Though the Account be nothing--shorn of her.

-    Be wise, O Sheikh. Pray God to be a poet

-      Lest life should make you a philosopher,

-    Or lest the dreams of which you had the making

-      Should prove to be such stuff as still I trail,

-    And bring your heart, my withers, nigh to breaking

-      When at the last the Bearer eyes the Bale,

-

-    "As you shall penetrate this day or morrow

-      The miracle of willing servitude,

-    And yet believe therein. It is the sorrow

-      And not the love that asks to be subdued;

-    It is the mirage not the truth that trammels

-      The travelling feet. Ah, if men only knew

-    How their brief frenzies move the mirth of camels,

-      Our rests were longer and our journeys few.

-

-    "Old Tous is up. The camp is struck and ready

-      For fresh emprise. Dawn sifts the clay-blue sky

-    For gold. Now see how dominant and steady

-      I prose along that have no mind to fly.

-    This is my lesson: over sand or shingle,

-      Blow hot, blow cold, by mountain, plain and khor,

-    Coming and going, I must set a-jingle

-      My own deep bell.... And you must ask for more!"

-

-    He ceased. White on the mirror of the air

-    His breath made patterns. In a ruined farm

-    Red cocks blared out and shouted down the owls.

-    The drivers rubbed their eyes. Another day

-    Among the days was starting on its march....

-    Above the pilgrims fallen to their prayers

-    Old Tous stood upright, blinking at the sun.

-

-

-

-

-VI

-

-THE BOASTING OF YOUTH

-

-

-    The soldier-lad from Kerman,

-      The sailor-lad from Jask

-    Knew naught that should deter man

-      From finishing the cask.

-    "Wine sets the Faithful jibbing

-      Like mules before an inn,

-    But we sit bravely bibbing,

-      And hold our own with sin."

-

-    Said the stout-hearted wonder

-      Of Jask: "Wine frights not me.

-    I fear no foe but thunder

-      And winds that sting the sea."

-    "And I," said he of Kerman,

-      "Fear nothing but the night,

-    Or some imperious _firman_

-      That bids the Faithful fight."

-

-    "They say some lads fear ladies

-      And truckle to them." "Who

-    Could be so weak? The _Cadis_

-      Rise up for me and you."

-    "But doctors, nay and princes,

-      Have troubles of their own,

-    Save those whom fire convinces....

-      I leave the stuff alone."

-

-    "And I...." Then both bethought them

-      That, howso strong and wise,

-    Their principles had caught them

-      On this mad enterprise.

-    "'Tis time to act with daring,

-      And rest," said he of Jask,

-    And swore a mighty swearing,

-      (And drained another flask).

-

-    "If I go on, attendant

-      Upon this woman's way,

-    May I become dependant

-      On your arrears of pay!"

-    "If I," said Captain Kerman,

-      "Should knuckle to my mate,

-    May I become a merman

-      And live on maggot-bait!"

-

-    "Then since we have discovered

-      That women need our strength"--

-    (The tavern-houris hovered)

-      "To hold them at arm's length,

-    Sit down in this rest-house, and

-      Tell me a tale among

-    The tales, one in your thousand!"

-      This was the story sung:

-

-      "I threw my love about you like fine raiment;

-        I let you kill my pride.

-      You passed me by, but smiled at me in payment,

-        And I was satisfied.

-

-      "I made my mind a plaything for your leisure,

-        Content to be ignored.

-      Body and soul I waited on your pleasure,

-        Waited--without reward.

-

-      "I have no faint repinings that we met, dear,

-        Or that I left you cold.

-      I rub my hands. You will be colder yet, dear,

-        Some day when you are old."

-

-        "Forbidden wine is mellow.

-          The sun has set. Of whom

-        Sing you this song, Brave Fellow?

-          Night is the ante-room

-        Breeze-sprinkled to keep cooler

-          The feasting-halls behind."

-        "She might have been my ruler

-          But for my _Strength of Mind_."

-

-        "That was the tune to whistle!

-          How have I longed to learn

-        The deeds of men of gristle

-          Like mine!..." "Tell me in turn

-        Some of your lore of women,

-          Whose wiles are deep as _bhang_.

-        Your strength shall teach to swim men

-          Who fall in love...." He sang:

-

-    "You came to me, and well you chose your quarry.

-    You told your tale, and well you played your role.

-    You spoke of suffering, and I was sorry

-      With all my heart, with all my soul.

-    'Out of the deep,' you said. I thought to save you,

-    And stunned myself upon the covered shoal.

-    Yet, poor deceptive shallows, I forgave you

-      With all my heart, with all my soul.

-    You sought whatever evil had not sought you.

-    In vain I strove to make your nature whole.

-    I did not know the market that had bought you

-      With all your heart, with all your soul.

-    If man had one pure impulse you would smudge it.

-    You had one gift, my pity, which you stole.

-    Now I will only tell you that I grudge it

-      With all my heart, with all my soul."

-

-      "Of whom this song, Brave Fellow?

-        The stars in heaven's black soil

-      Fold up their petalled yellow

-        That pays the angels' toil."

-      The lamp had burned its wick dim,

-        The pair had drunk their fill....

-      "I might have been her victim

-        But for my _Strength of Will_."

-

-      Then one said to the other:

-        "Such strength as yours and mine

-      Must put its foot down, brother,

-        And stay here--pass the wine--

-      Till, for the world's salvation,

-        Shall radiate from this den

-      The Great Confederation

-        Of Independent Men."

-

-           *       *       *       *       *

-

-      The last sour mule was saddled,

-        On went the caravan.

-      These twain turned on the raddled

-        Handmaidens of the _han_,

-      Blinked, cast them forth with loathing

-        Because the queen was fair,

-      And lest their lack of clothing

-        Should lay man's weakness bare.

-

-      White as a cloud in summer,

-        Slender as sun-shot rain--

-      Earth knows what moods become her--

-        The queen passed....

-                             In her train

-      The Great Confederation

-        Trod with such wealth of _Will_

-      That, in its trepidation,

-        It never paid its bill.

-

-

-

-

-VII

-

-THE HEART OF THE SLAVE

-

-

-    But as they fared slave Obeidullah failed.

-    Devouring fever shook him like a rat,

-    And ere they reached Kashan his course was run.

-    Then freedom came towards him, and he spoke:

-    "Here is an eye of water, mulberry-trees,

-    A rest-house, and to me a stranger thing,

-    Rest. Caravan be strong, fare on with blessings

-    Whence you must forge your happiness--but I,

-    Possessed of peace, shall never see the end.

-    The heart within me has been fire so long

-    That now my body is smoke. I watch it drift

-    Life leaves me gently as a mistress goes

-    Before her time to meet the uncoloured days,

-    Saying: 'I have lived. Plead not. 'Twill be in vain.

-    You were the end of summer. I have passed

-    Out of the garden with fresh scents and dews

-    Upon me, out ere sunset with cool hands,

-    The supple tread of youth and glorying limbs

-    Firm as resolve, unblemished as my pride;

-    Passed ere a leaf be fallen, or losing fights

-    Begin, that smirch the memory of love....'

-    Sweet is the shade, and death's cool lips are welcome

-    After the burning kisses of the sun,

-    The strained embraces of my owner, Toil.

-    I shall remember her with gratitude

-    But no regret, as I lie here. The dawn

-    Biting the desert-edge shall not disturb me,

-    Nor green oases zigzagged through the heat

-    Like stepping-stones. The many-coloured hills,

-    Heaven's mutable emotions, these are past.

-    Beyond them I shall find security

-    Of tenure in the outstretched hands of God."

-    Thereat his fellows made lament, and urged:

-    "Sleep on and take your rest, but not for ever.

-    Time adds to strength, and you shall rise with us

-    Who wait. Already we foresee the coast.

-    A little while...." Slave Obeidullah raised

-    Himself and looked ahead with shining eyes:

-

-      "The moon is faint. A dust-cloud swirls.

-        Therein I see dim marching hosts:

-      Strange embassies and dancing girls,

-        Spice-caravans and pilgrims. Ghosts

-      Rise thick from this else fruitless plain,

-        A waste that every season chars.

-      Yet teeming centuries lie slain

-        And trodden in the road to Fars.

-

-      "The still, white, creeping road slips on,

-        Marked by the bones of man and beast.

-      What comeliness and might have gone

-        To pad the highway of the East!

-      Long dynasties of fallen rose,

-        The glories of a thousand wars,

-      A million lovers' hearts compose

-        The dust upon the road to Fars.

-

-      "No tears have ever served to hold

-       This shifting velvet, fathom-deep,

-      Though vain and ceaseless winds have rolled

-        Its pile wherein the ages sleep.

-      Between your fingers you may sift

-        Kings, poets, priests and _charvadars_.

-      Heaven knows how many make a drift

-        Of dust upon the road to Fars.

-

-      "The wraiths subside. And, One with All,

-        Soon, in the brevity of length,

-      Our lives shall hear the voiceless call

-        That builds this earth of love and strength.

-      Eternal, breathless, we shall wait,

-        Till, last of all the Avatars,

-      God finds us in his first estate:

-        The dust upon the road to Fars."

-

-    So still he lay, so still the pilgrims deemed

-    He was no longer there. The deepening shade

-    Covered him softly. With his latest breath

-    Slave Obeidullah looked upon the Queen:

-

-      "You whom I loved so steadfastly,

-      If all the blest should ask to see

-        The cause for which my spirit came

-        Among them with so little claim

-      To peace, this book should speak for me.

-

-      "I strove and only asked in fee

-      Hope of your immortality

-        Not mine--I had no other aim

-              You whom I loved.

-

-        "The Judge will bend to hear my plea,

-      And take my songs upon his knee.

-        Perhaps His hand will make the lame

-        Worthy to worship you, the same

-      As here they vainly tried to be,

-              You whom I loved."

-

-    Then, turned towards her, Obeidullah slept.

-

-

-

-

-VIII

-

-THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK

-

-

-    Among the fruit-trees still he slumbers. All

-    Mourned for their brother with one heavy heart.

-    Even Tous drooped, swaying weakly in his stride;

-    Until Farid Bahadur, cheapjack, spoke,

-    One bootlessly afoot whose years had brought

-    For profit this, to see existence clear

-    And empty as a solid ball of glass.

-

-    Erstwhile, he said, my peddling carried me

-    Clean through two empires like a paper hoop,

-    Setting me down upon the olive slopes

-    Where Smyrna nestles back to mother earth,

-    And so lures in the ocean. I filled my pack

-    With kerchiefs, beads, dross, chaffering with a Greek,

-    Although he vowed a much-loved partner's death

-    Left him no heart for it. He blew his nose,

-    Asking strange prices as a man distraught.

-    I had no heart to bargain while he crooned:

-

-      "Our loves were woven of one splendid thread,

-      But not our lives, though we had been, we twain,

-      Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane

-      Of him who brought his brother from the dead.

-      Ah, would our God were like his gods that said:

-      Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain,

-      And let the younger Castor live again

-      The space that Pollux lay with Death instead.

-      Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave

-      Not for a part of time but for God's whole

-      Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save

-      Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul

-      Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask

-      From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task.

-

-      "They say the Olympian grace was not content

-      With housing Death, but giving Love the key.

-      It set the troths that guided you and me

-      Among the jewels of the firmament;

-      And there they dwell for ever and assent

-      To each propitious ploughing of the sea.

-      The coasting-pilots of Infinity

-      Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent,

-      Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here

-      With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut

-      All day; but every night an Argonaut

-      Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far

-      Beyond the limitations of his sphere

-      Into the vacant place beside a star."

-

-    So crooned he desolate in his dim shop,

-    Till I became all ears and had no eyes.

-    The fellow cheated me of three _dinars_.

-

-

-

-

-IX

-

-THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR

-

-

-    Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed

-    The caravan. Its courage failed

-    A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled

-      The sun, that overhead

-    From fields The Plough had turned to grain,

-    Star-honey laden on The Wain

-    And spices from the wind-domain,

-      Was baking angel-bread.

-    (Astronomers in Baghdad say

-    That Allah gave the Milky Way

-      To feed his guests, the dead.)

-

-    Even as the dead the pilgrims lay

-    Until the sun received his pay--

-    Man counts in gold, but he in grey--

-      Then, whining as one daft,

-    A voice crept to each sleeper's ear,

-    And one by one sat up to hear

-    It soughing like a Seistan mere

-      Where nothing ever laughed.

-    A blur at elbow on the floor

-    Cried: "Sleep! 'Tis but the tavern door

-      Amoaning in the draught."

-

-    "Ay," said the master of the inn,

-    "A black-faced gaper that lets in

-    The dark, my creditors, and kin!

-      Last month it strained my wrist, did

-    The lout, so hard it slams. This week

-    Claims it for fuel. See the leak

-    Of air it springs! Its hinges creak,

-      Its wood is warped and twisted.

-    'Tis heavy-hearted as a man,

-    Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...."

-      The wheezing voice persisted.

-

-    "Earth bare me in Mazanderan,

-    Where, breaking her dead level plan,

-    Steep foliage opens like a fan

-      To hide her virgin blush;

-    And singing, caravan, like you

-    Brooks dance towards the Caspian blue

-    Past coolth wherein mauve turtles coo

-      To panthers in the rush,

-    That turn hill-pools to amethyst.

-    Here bucks drink deep and tigers tryst

-      Neck-deep in grasses lush.

-

-    "And there the stainless peaks are kissed

-    By heaven whose crowning mercy, mist,

-    With cloud-lands white as Allah's fist

-      Anoints their heads with rain.

-    We never dreamed, where nature pours,

-    That life could run as thin as yours--

-    A waif thirst-stricken to all fours--

-      Or verdure, but a vein

-    In sandscapes wincing from the sun

-    That burns your flesh and visions dun,

-      Crawl throbbing through the plain.

-

-    "I grew. My shadow weighed a ton;

-    I held a countless garrison;

-    My boughs were roads for apes to run

-      Around the white owl's niche.

-    The hum of bees, the blue jay's scream....

-    The forest came to love and teem

-    In me beside the vivid stream

-      Shot through with speckled fish;

-    Till, weary of my sheltered glen,

-    I craved a human denizen

-      Fate granted me my wish.

-

-    "Yea, I had longed (if slope and fen

-    Can love like this, the love of men

-    Must live above our nature's ken)

-      To see and shade the room,

-    To shield far-leaning the abode,

-    Wherein the souls of lovers glowed

-    To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...

-      And man became my doom.

-    He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,

-    And took the heart of me to make

-      A tavern-door at Kum."

-

-    The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,

-    Or searched the crannies for a ghost.

-    "Ah, heed it not," implored the host;

-      "This hell-burnt father's son

-    Moans ever like a soul oppressed,

-    And takes the fancy of a guest,

-    And makes my house no house of rest:

-      I would its voice were gone.

-    Yet be indulgent, sirs! 'Tis old.

-    Next week it shall be burnt or sold.

-      A new--" The voice went on:

-

-    "Here have I stood while life unrolled

-    But not the tale my breezes told.

-    Moonlight alone conceals the cold

-      Drab city's lack of heart.

-    Here have I watched an hundred years

-    Bespatter me with blood and tears,

-    Yet leave man ever in arrears

-      Of where my monkeys start.

-    No more, dog-rose and meadow-sweet!

-    The harlot's musk and rotten meat

-      Blow at me from the mart.

-

-    "No more, clear streams and fairy feet!

-    But through my mouth the striving street

-    Drains in brown spate the men who eat

-      And drink and curse and die;

-    And out of me the whole night long

-    Reel revellers--O God, their song!...

-    Are there no mortals clean and strong,

-      Or do they pass me by?

-    I little thought that I should leave

-    For this the groves where turtles grieve

-      Far closer to the sky.

-

-    "Instead of every song-bird's note

-    I know the scales a merchant's throat

-    Can compass. I have learned by rote

-      The tricks of Copt and Jew;

-    Can tell if Lur or Afghan brawls,

-    The Armenian way of selling shawls

-    Softly, and how an Arab bawls

-      To rouse the raider's crew,

-    Lest ululating strings of slaves

-    Should take the kennel for their graves....

-      Raids! I have seen a few,

-

-    "Or wars, occasion dubs them--waves

-    Of Mongol sultans, Kurdish braves.

-    They--Find me words! the Simun _raves_--

-      They worked ... 'tis called their will,

-    Battered me in--behold the dint--

-    With all their hearts that felt like flint,

-    Besmeared the city with the tint

-      Of sunset on my hill.

-    My leopards stalk my bucks at eve--

-    I shivered as I heard them heave--

-      At least they ate their kill.

-

-    "I followed that.... But men who weave

-    Such flowing robes of make-believe,

-    I think the flood was wept by Eve--

-      Some sportsman shot the dove--

-    These puzzled me, for God is good

-    And man His image--not of wood,

-    Thank God!--At last I understood

-      All ... all except their love.

-    I grew so hard that I could trace

-    His hand's chief glory in their race.

-      Perhaps He wore a glove."

-

-    Then one without made haste to smite

-    The malcontent. It opened. Night

-    Stood on the threshold dressed in white,

-      And myriad-eyed and blind.

-    The ostler murmured: "Some _Afrit_

-    Or bitter worm has entered it;

-    Nor jamb nor lintel seems to fit.

-      I know its frame of mind."

-    "Air stirs the dust upon the floor,"

-    The landlord cried. "Fool! Shut that door

-      Amoaning in the wind."

-

-    "My glade was deep, a lichened well

-    Of ether, limpid as a bell

-    Buoyed on the manifold ground-swell

-      Whose distance changed attires

-    As sun-stroked plush, a roundelay

-    Of all red-blue and purple grey,

-    And, at each rise and fall of day,

-      Snows dyed like altar fires

-    Licked through those loud green sheaves of copse,

-    Bent hyphens 'twixt the mountain-tops,

-      Mosques of my motley choirs.

-

-    "And I, who gave them bed and bower

-    For nights enduring but an hour

-    Mid blaring miles of trumpet-flower,

-      Leagues of liana-wreath,

-    I saw the rocks through leaves and lings,

-    Could blink the fangs and feel the wings,

-    Thrill with the elemental things

-      Of life and love and death.

-    The purity of air and brook

-    And song helped me to overlook

-      The rapine underneath.

-

-    "But you--no! one dream more: an elf,

-    Askip on ochre mountain-shelf,

-    Who once had seen a man himself.

-      I used his wand to gauge

-    The sheen of moths and peacocks' whir,

-    To plumb the jungle-aisles, to stir

-    The drifts of frankincense and myrrh,

-    And amorous lithe shapes that purr....

-      'Tis finished. Turn the page

-    To where man cased his bones in fat.

-    His mate moved like a tiger-cat

-      Until he built her cage.

-

-    "You, I have watched you all who sat

-    Successive round the food-stained mat,

-    And reckoned many who lived for that

-      Alone; have seen the mark

-    Of that last state the Thinking Beast

-    Peep through the foliage of the feast,

-    And crown its poet's flight with greased

-      Fingers that grope the dark;

-    Have heard a cleanlier bosom catch

-    Her breath, and fumble with my latch

-      Irresolute. The lark

-

-    "My inmates never feared to match

-    Bespoke the end. I belched the batch,

-    Rolling them down the street, a patch

-      Of dirt against the dawn.

-    Then in its stead there came a saint,

-    Inventor of a soul-complaint,

-    Who gave men's faith a coat of paint

-      Like mine, and made me yawn

-    With furtive wenching. Here have sighed

-    Exultant groom and weeping bride

-      Led like a captive fawn.

-

-    "This way passed those who marry lean

-    Girl-chattels ere their times of teen.

-    I knew a like but milder scene:

-      A hawk, small birds that cower.

-    How soon the chosen was brought back dead--

-    Poisoned, the _hakim_ always said--

-    The husband groaned beside the bed,

-      Arose, and kept the dower,

-    But swept his conscience out with prayer.

-    Man took the angels unaware

-      When he became a power.

-

-    "And what of woman? On my stair

-    The merchants spread their gaudiest ware,

-    For which fools bought a love affair

-      That ended in a jerk.

-    Enough! To round the _tamasha_

-    A bloated thing came by, the Shah;

-    It grinned, and viziers fawned 'Ha! ha!'

-      Curs, brainless as a Turk.

-    And all the women in his train

-    Beheld him once and ne'er again,

-      And called his love their work.

-

-    "You see, my friends, I tired of this

-    Wild doubling in the chase of bliss.

-    Pards miss their spring as men their kiss,

-      And yet the quarry dies.

-    I learned the world's least mortal god,

-    Whose epitaph is Ichabod,

-    May sport till noon, but if he nod

-      Shall never more arise.

-    Then, caravan, you passed, and I

-    Have solved my riddle with a cry:

-      The sad are never wise.

-

-    "Your song was all that I had heard

-    In dreams beyond the wildest bird,

-    That rose above my yellow-furred

-      Basses that bell and roar.

-    It took the heart of me in tow

-    To heights that I had longed to know,

-    To the great deeps where lovers go

-      And find--and want--no shore.

-    In these alone is man fulfilled;

-    And gleaming in the air I build

-      My hope of him once more.

-

-    "For all the few that see truth whole,

-    And take its endlessness for goal,

-    And steer by stars as if no shoal

-      Could mar their firmament,

-    For all the few that sing and sail

-    Knowing their quest of small avail,

-    Thank God who gave them strength to fail

-      In finding what He meant...."

-    "Poets!" the landlord groaned, "and poor!

-    This house is cursed." He banged the door

-    Behind them as they went.

-

-    And distance placed soft hands upon their mouths.

-

-

-

-

-X

-

-THE SONG OF THE SELVES

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    'Twas in old Tehran City,

-      Hard by the old bazaar,

-    I heard a restless ditty

-      That pushed my door ajar;

-

-    A song nor great nor witty,

-      It spoke of my own mind.

-    I looked on Tehran City,

-      And knew I had been blind,

-

-    Or else the streets were altered

-      As by a peri's wand.

-    "Who are you, friends?" I faltered.

-      "The Pilgrims of Beyond,"

-

-    They said. I kissed the tatters

-      That wiser heads contemn.

-    I saw the Thing-that-matters,

-      And took the road with them.

-

-    I seek. Bestow no pity

-      On Failure's courtier. Say:

-    "'Twas well to find the city,

-      But that was yesterday."

-

-

-THE PILGRIMS

-

-    Athirst as the Hadramut,

-      Our spirits correspond

-    With God by all the gamut

-      Of harmony, too fond

-    Of Him for prayer that rifles

-    His treasury for trifles.

-    No load of blessing stifles

-      The Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    And yet the empty-handed

-      Hold richer merchandise

-    Than ever fable landed

-      From Dreamland's argosies,

-

-    Since we, the symbol-merchants,

-      Are partners with Bulbul.

-    The silversmith of her chants

-      Knows how our chests are full.

-

-    In marts, where echoes answer

-      And only they, we trade.

-    But join our caravan, sir,

-      And count your fortune made.

-

-    Dawn brings us dazzling offers

-      With fingers gemmed and pearled,

-    And evening fills our coffers

-      As we explain the world,

-

-    Green fields and seas that curtsey

-      To us and mock Despair;

-    For blossoms in the dirt see

-      Their spirit in the air.

-

-    And Ecstasy our servant

-      Demands no other wage

-    But that we be observant

-      To joy in pilgrimage.

-

-

-THE MERCHANTS

-

-    We do not bid our master

-      Declare His word His bond,

-    Or make His payments faster--

-      As though He would abscond!

-    We ask Him for too little

-    To strain at jot or tittle.

-    We know our lives are brittle,

-      We Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    We come from everlasting

-      Towards eternity,

-    Ho! not in dirge and fasting

-      But lapped in jollity.

-

-    Though sackcloth be our clothing

-      We bear no ash but fire.

-    We have no sickly loathing

-      Of youth and youth's desire.

-

-    We prize no consummation

-      Of one peculiar creed.

-    We travel for a nation,

-      The one that feels our need.

-

-    Our tongue conceals no message,

-      But leaves you free to find,

-    And vaunts itself the presage

-      Of those that come behind.

-

-

-THE CAMELMEN

-

-    Here is no patch of shade. A

-      Fierce wilderness and blonde

-    Links Delhi to Hodeidah,

-      Tashkent to Trebizond.

-    The cargo is our brother's,

-    We march and moil for others,

-    Until the desert smothers

-      The Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    Hark how our camels grumble

-      At morn! Would you permit

-    The stone on which you stumble

-      To make you carry it?

-

-    And if at last your burden

-      Be cheapened in a shop,

-    Seraglio or Lur den,

-      Should lack of humour stop

-

-    The game at its beginning?

-      We lug the stuff of dreams.

-    Earth does her best by spinning,

-      She cannot help the seams;

-

-    But you can help to monger

-      The broidery. She may

-    Have made you richer, stronger,

-      To give her best away.

-

-    I own no musk or camphor,

-      I have no truck with care,

-    Nor change the thing I am for

-      The things men only wear.

-

-

-THE SOLDIERS

-

-    First cousin of a sieve is

-      The uniform we donned.

-    We slop along on _ghivehs_,

-      In rags caparisonned.

-    No Shah has ever paid us.

-    All brigands mock and raid us,

-    And misery has made us

-      The Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    What then! Would you be willing

-      To quit the caravan,

-    And fall again to drilling,

-      Pent in the walled _meidan_,

-

-    When history flings open

-      Blank scrolls for you to write

-    Such victories as no pen

-      Has ever brought to light?

-

-    You shall not burn as Jengiz,

-      Nor rage like Timur Lang.

-    Your foemen are _ferengis_

-      Of whom no epic sang.

-

-    The housed that blame the tented,

-      Or comfort those that think,

-    The flocks that die contented

-      With settling down to blink

-

-    The sun we keep our eyes on,

-      That bow their heads too far

-    To face their own horizon,

-      On these be war on war.

-

-    Cursed by the bonds you sever,

-      The bondsmen you release,

-    Go, seek the Land of Fever

-      And find the Land of Ease.

-

-

-THE CARAVAN

-

-    Lift up your hearts, ye singers!

-      We lift them up in song.

-    Behold, the sunset lingers.

-      No less shall night be long.

-    We meet her unaffrighted,

-    Though never bourne be sighted.

-    We _meant_ to be benighted

-      Still moving fleet and strong.

-

-    We smooth the stony places

-    For those that else despond.

-    We pass, and leave no traces

-      Save this, a broken frond,

-    And this, that hands once craven

-    Take hardship for the haven

-    Upon whose rocks is graven:

-      "The Pilgrims of Beyond."

-

-

-

-

-XI

-

-THE STORY OF THE SUTLER

-

-

-    And so the song was finished. Then they called

-    To Kizzil Bash, the Sutler of Dilman,

-    "Take up the tale, for you have wandered far

-    Behind strange masters...." Once, he said, I served

-    One of the Roumi lordlings, silver-faced,

-    Who to forget some sorrow or lost love--

-    Such is their way--came with an embassage

-    To cringe before the Caliph in Stamboul

-    For something sordid, trade.... He mouthed our verse

-    To please his guests, and I corrected him.

-    The man was cypress-sad and lone, but he

-    Could not be silent as the great should be,

-    Because he neither knew his place nor me.

-    The boatman marvelled at his lack of dignity.

-    They knew the currents. He was bent on steering,

-    And spoke of God in terms wellnigh endearing.

-    I see him still, sharp beard, black velvet mantle, ear-ring.

-    He dug with slaves for Greekling manuscript,

-    Danced like a slave-girl when he found, and shipped

-    Westward cracked heads and friezes we had chipped.

-    I saw him kiss a statue, murmuring eager-lipped:

-

-    "Fear was born when the woods were young.

-      Chance had gathered an heap of sods,

-    Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue

-      Throned the dam of the elder gods.

-        Twilight, a rustled leaf,

-        Started the first belief

-        In some unearthly Chief

-          Latent behind

-        Cover of aspen shade.

-        Skirting the haunted glade

-        Some one found speech, and prayed.

-          Was it the wind

-    Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?

-    Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,

-      Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.

-    Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,

-    And gods went whither none was fain to follow,

-      Because the earth was green

-      And Afterwards was black.

-

-    "Man, the child of a tale of rape,

-      Drew the seas with his hunting ships,

-    Cut their prows to a giant's shape,

-      Fitted names to their snarling lips:

-        Gods in his image born,

-        Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn,

-        Lords of a drinking-horn

-          Five fathoms deep;

-        Holding the one reward

-        Carved by a dripping sword,

-        Feasts, and above them stored

-          Ceiling-high sleep.

-    Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying,

-    And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying--

-      How long--with over-restful hosts abed.

-    The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking,

-    Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking.

-      And so the earth was red

-      While Afterwards was grey.

-

-    "Jungles thinned, and the clearings merged

-      Where the wandering clans drew breath.

-    Druids rose and the people surged.

-      Then the blessing of Nazareth

-        Fell on them mad and mild,

-        Boasting itself a child.

-        Smite it! And yet it smiled.

-          There, as it kneeled,

-        Lowliness rose to might,

-        Deeming our days a night,

-        Bodily joy a plight

-          Soon to be healed;

-    Gave to one god all credit for creation,

-    But, lest the Path should seem the Destination,

-      Strove to attune man's heartstrings to a rack,

-    Until the soul was fortified to change hells,

-    While saints and poets chanted songs of angels,

-      Confessing earth was black

-      But Afterwards was gold.

-

-    "Faith was raised to the power of millions,

-      Went as wine to a single head,

-    Took its chiefs for the sun's postillions,

-      Claimed to speak in its founder's stead;

-        Till in the western skies

-        Reason's epiphanies

-        Beckoned the other-wise

-          Men to rebirth.

-        Doubt, that makes spirits lithe,

-        Woke and began to writhe,

-        Burst through the osier withe,

-          Freed the old earth.

-    Nature cried out again for recognition,

-    Claiming that flesh is more than mere transition,

-      That mouths were made for sweeter things than prayer.

-    Yea, she, that first revealed the superhuman,

-    Out of the depths in us shall bring the new man

-      Who knows that earth is fair,

-      And Afterwards--who knows!"

-

-    We knew his childish searching meant no harm,

-    But his own people somehow took alarm;

-    For when his heart was healed, and he returned

-    With songs, 'tis said that he and they were burned.

-    Only this one survived. I put it by

-    Lest one who lived so much should wholly die.

-    He tried to spend far more than every day,

-    And never asked what he would have to pay.

-    To him a pint of music was a potion

-    That set him dabbling in some small emotion.

-    Wherever he could drown he marked an ocean

-    He got no pleasure but the pains he took

-    To bring himself to death by one small book

-    Filled with what he had heard, the babble of a brook.

-

-

-

-

-XII

-

-THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT

-

-

-    They passed a field of purple _badinjan_.

-    A peasant raised his head to hear the tune,

-    And, seeking some excuse for holiday,

-    He followed humming ballads, this the first:

-

-    "It happened say a century ago,

-      Somewhere between Mazanderan and Fars,

-    A Frank was in the picture--that I know--

-      Mud-walls and roses, cypresses and stars,

-        White dust and shadows black.

-

-    "It happened She was loved by more than One,

-      Though no one now recalls the name and rank

-    Of even One, whose heart was like the stone

-      That framed the water of the garden tank

-        Long gone to utter wrack.

-

-    "It happened that one night She had a mind

-      To roam her garden. Youth was hidden there,

-    It happened One was watching from behind

-      A Judas-tree, though neither of the pair

-        Heard the twigs sigh and crack.

-

-    "It happened that next night She wandered out

-      Once more, and Youth was hiding there again.

-    And One sprang forth upon them with a shout,

-      And fanatics and _seyids_ in his train

-        Streamed in a wolfish pack.

-

-    "It happened that the sun found something red

-      Among the Judas-blossoms where Youth lay

-    Upon his face; a crow was on his head,

-      And desert dogs began to sniff and bay

-        At something in his back.

-

-    "It happened that none ever knew Her fate--

-      Except that She was never heard of more--

-    Save One, and two that through a secret gate--

-      Perhaps they knew--a struggling burden bore.

-        I think it was a sack."

-

-    Some one applauded; then the humming drone

-    Was stung to louder efforts, and went on:

-

-    "They staggered down the stiff black avenue,

-      Hiding the sack's convulsions from the moon,

-    To drown its cries they feigned the shrill _iouiou_

-      Of owls, then dropped it in the swift Karun,

-        Paused, and admired the view.

-

-    "The ripples took her, trying not to leap,

-      But, copying the uneventful sky,

-    Serenely burnished where the stream grows deep

-      They smoothened their staccato lullaby.

-        And so she fell asleep

-

-    "Where no sharp rock disturbs the river bed,

-      A moving peace, whose eddies turn half-fain

-    Towards their youth's tumultuous watershed,

-      And slow blank scutcheons widen like a stain

-        Portending Sound is dead.

-

-    "No herd or village fouls the shining tide,

-      Till ocean lays a suzerain's armistice

-    On brawling tributaries. Like a bride

-      Greeting her lord it laved her with a kiss,

-        And left her purified.

-

-    "But the sea-_Jinn_, who dwell and dress in mauve,

-      And hunt blind monsters down the corridors

-    Between sunk vessels--fishers know the drove,

-      Their horns and conches and the quarry's roars

-        In autumn--hold that love

-

-    "Should meet with more than pardon. So the pack

-      Spliced up a wand of all the spillikin spars

-    Flagged with the purple fantasies of wrack,

-      Composed a spell not one of them could parse,

-        And tried it on the sack.

-

-    "'Twas filled with pearls! Each _Jinni_ dipped his hand,

-      And scattered trails through labyrinths of ooze,

-    Or sowed gems thick upon the golden sand,

-      Festooned a bed from Bahrein to Ormuz,

-        Muscat to Ras Naband....

-

-    "_Hajji_, a deeper meaning than appears

-      Beneath the surface of my song may lurk

-    Like _Jinn_. How oft the crown of gathered years,

-      The dazzling things for which men thank their work,

-        Are made by Woman's tears."

-

-    Tous shook his head and grunted, ceaselessly

-    The caravan limped onward to the Gulf.

-

-

-

-

-XIII

-

-THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER

-

-

-    Serdar-i-Jang, the Wazir of the west,

-    Of all mankind had served his country best

-    By weeding it. The terror of his name

-    Lapped up the barren Pusht-i-kuh like flame,

-    Till the Shah smiled: "My other lords of war lose

-    Battles, but he wrings love from my Baharlus."

-

-    He smote them hip and thigh. The man was brave.

-    Having four wives, he needs must take for slave

-    Whatever captive baggage crossed his path,

-    And never feared love for its aftermath.

-    Thus fared the Wazir while his locks were blue.

-    The silver in them found him captive too.

-

-    The singing caravan in chorus flowed

-    Past the clay porticoes of his abode.

-    She came, he saw, was conquered--like a puppet

-    Drawn to the window, to the street and up it,

-    Forth to the desert, leaving in the lurch

-    His pleasant wars and policies to search

-

-    For what? He knew not. Haply for the truth

-    Whose home is open eyes, not dreams or youth.

-    But this he dimly knew, that something strange,

-    Beauty, had come within his vision's range;

-    And a new splendour, running through the world,

-    Drummed at the postern of his senses, hurled

-

-    Him forth, this warrior proud and taciturn,

-    Footsore upon a pilgrimage to learn

-    Humility.... These beggars, in whose wake

-    He toiled, ne'er paused for him to overtake

-    Their echoes. When at dusk he joined their ring

-    None rose or bowed. All watched him. Could he sing?

-

-    And he could not, for never had he thrown

-    His days away on verse! He sat alone,

-    So that his silence stamped him with the badge

-    Of hanger-on or menial of this _haj_.

-    Thrust as he would with much unseemly din,

-    He found no place beside the palanquin,

-

-    Till Seyid Rida, scholar of Nejaf,

-    Took pity on him, saying: "You shall laugh

-    At these black days when, having served your time,

-    You share the sovereignty of Persian rhyme.

-    Be patient, pray to Allah, O my son,

-    For power of worship. It shall come anon...."

-

-    Seyid Rida spoke in vain. The Wazir's place

-    So far behind the Queen, her perfect face

-    But half-divined, as Sight denied to Faith,

-    A doubt lest love itself should be a wraith

-    Dazzling but mocking him, these stirred his passion

-    To sworn defiance, to his last Circassian

-

-    And thoughts of many a woman taken by force,

-    Restive and then submissive as a horse.

-    And now.... He followed in the wake of vision

-    Lofty and pure as Elburz snows. Derision

-    Would follow him in turn!... He shook his fist

-    Toward the feet his soul would fain have kissed:

-

-      "Oh, I was born for women, women, women.

-      Through my still boyhood rang the first alarm;

-      And since that terror ever fresh invaders

-      Have occupied and sacked me to their harm.

-      I am the cockpit where endemic fever

-      Holds the low country in a broken lease

-      From waves that ruined dykes appear to welcome.

-      Only one great emotion spares me--Peace!

-

-      "I have grown up for women, women, women;

-      And suffering has had her fill of me.

-      My ears still echo with receding laughter,

-      As shells retain the voices of the sea.

-      I am the gateway only, not the garden,

-      That opens from a crowded thoroughfare.

-      I stand ajar to every passing fancy,

-      And all have knocked, but none have rested there.

-

-      "And I shall die for women, women, women,

-      But not for love of them. Adventure calls

-      Or waits with old romance to disappoint me

-      Behind the promise of surrendered walls.

-      I am the vessel of some mad explorer,

-      That sails to seek for treasure in strange lands

-      Without a steersman in a crew of gallants,

-      And, finding fortune, ends with empty hands."

-

-    A deathly silence fell. Green-turbaned men

-    Fell noiselessly to sharpening their knives

-    On their bare hardened feet. Seyid Rida sighed:

-    "Alas, your heart is set upon reward

-    For gifts of self. You cannot understand

-    Love loves for nothing, brother. Those who serve

-    God the most purely cannot count that He

-    Will love them in return...."

-                                  The Wazir scowled.

-    But Dreamer-of-the-Age took him aside,

-    "I would unfold a story like a carpet.

-    The camel Tous told it to me last night:

-

-    "King Suleiman's wives were as jewels, his jewels as stones of the

-                                             desert

-    In number. His concubines herded as desert-gazelles in their grace,

-    That answered his bidding as meekly as all his wild animal kingdom,

-    The beasts and the birds and the fishes. Yet the world was as pitch

-                                             on his face.

-

-    "Now it chanced that the ruler of Saba had news by a merchant of

-                                             peacocks

-    From this king like a hawk-god of Egypt, whose beak was set deep in

-                                             the gloom

-    Of his grape-purple beard, and she said: 'We shall see how his

-                                             vanities stead him

-    When from under the arch of his eyebrows he sees my feet enter his

-                                             room.'

-

-    "For her feet were far whiter than manna. Her body was white as the

-                                             cry

-    Of a child when the chords of hosanna draw the beauty of holiness

-                                             nigh.

-    The droop of her eyelids would fan a revolt from Baghdad to Lake

-                                             Tsana,

-    Her fingers were veined alabaster. The sprites of her escort would

-                                             sigh,

-

-    "As they bathed her with sun set in amber and cooled in the snow of

-                                             a cloudlet,

-    And taught her chief eunuch to clamber up moonbeams as fleet as a

-                                             ghost:

-    These, lavish of reed-pipe and tamburine, slaves of the Son of

-                                             Daoud, let

-    Her palanquin down into Zeila--gambouge and magenta, the coast!"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Ha!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "Round the harbour a hoopoe was strutting, for Suleiman's Seal had

-                                             appointed

-    Him messenger-bird, and he thought: 'If I bring the good news of

-                                             this beauty,

-    This Sovereign of Silkiness, I shall harvest great thanks and

-                                             promotion.'

-    So he flew to the Presence and twittered a text on the pleasure of

-                                             Duty.

-

-    "'Fulfiller of faint Superstition, whose hand rolls the eyeballs of

-                                             Thunder,

-    And lightens forked tongues on a mission of menace to bat or to

-                                             eagle!

-    There comes to your portal a vision whose light shall make Israel

-                                             wonder.

-    Immortal her beauty and mortal her glance that is soft as a

-                                             seagull.'"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Hey!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "But Suleiman, sated with women and governance, lifted his beak

-    From his beard. Naught escaped the magician, not a thought, not a

-                                             tone. Ah, he knew

-    All! He said: 'I have measured your mind as my pity has measured my

-                                             people.

-    We shall speak of reward when she comes; I may live to regret

-                                             it--and you!

-

-    "'Lo, I am the servant of God, whom I serve as you serve me, not

-                                             asking

-    For pay by each day or each act, but just for the general sum.

-    The work of the world must be done without wage to be done to our

-                                             credit.

-    We shall profit in claiming our guerdon not by what we are but

-                                             become.'

-

-    "So the Queen came to Kuddus. Mashallah! Shall a picture be limned

-                                             of her coming!

-    Flushed dancers and lutists athrumming light-limbed as Daoud round

-                                             the Ark!

-    Crushed roadway and crowd-applause rumbled, loud music, hushed

-                                             barbarous mumming!

-    To the cry, 'On to Sion' above her, this lover rode straight at her

-                                             mark!"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Ho!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "She had but to flatter the wizard to win him. He said to the

-                                             hoopoe:

-    'I will haggle no more. You shall learn to your cost what the

-                                             bargainer buys,

-    Whose faith levies toll upon duty, whose trust will not serve me on

-                                             trust,

-    Or love for Love. On your head be it.' The hoopoe said:

-                                             '_Cheshm_--on my eyes!'

-

-    "All other birds fainted with envy, as Suleiman lifted a digit.

-    Thereon was the Ring-of-most-Magic. Then he spat on the dust from

-                                             his bed,

-    And the miracle came! for the hoopoe went swaggering out of the

-                                             presence

-    (So he struts in his walking to-day) with a crown of pure gold on

-                                             his head.

-

-    "But the Jews thus learnt avarice. Some one spread news of the

-                                             bird-coronation

-    To the ends of the kingdom. The tribes ran out as one man armed

-                                             with lime,

-    Bows, nets, slings--and slew the hoopoes for the sake of their

-                                             crowns. There was profit

-    In sport then; none other has liked them so well since King

-                                             Suleiman's time.

-

-    "They divided the spoil till in Israel only our messenger-bird

-    Survived with two fellows.... He fled to Suleiman's closet for

-                                             _bast_,

-    Sobbing, 'Spare us, O king! Make a sign with the ring that men sing

-                                             of! We fare as

-    Amalekites. If I have sinned, I am punished. We three are the last

-

-    "'Of our race. In your grace turn your face to our case. We place

-                                             hope in your favour!

-    My brood is a Yahudi's food. Israel--who disputes it--insane

-    For gain. We are slain all day long by the strong sons of Cain. Let

-                                             us waive our

-    Gold bane for plain down, lest we drown in our own blood! Discrown

-                                             us again!'"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Hi!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "The King made reply. He was sadder than rain in the willows of

-                                             Jordan.

-    'We are God's passing thoughts. They alone that await their

-                                             fulfilment are wise.

-    You shall be for a warning, O hoopoe. I had given you more than

-                                             gold-wages

-    If you had believed we not only had ears, I and Allah, but eyes!

-

-    "'Yet giving is fraught with forgiveness. Now therefore the crown

-                                             you did covet

-    Is gone. You are healed of your pride; you shall live till the

-                                             Angel of Death errs

-    From Allah's command. By my Ring-of-most-Magic the gold is

-                                             transmuted.

-    Go forth! He has set for a sign on your brow a tiara of feathers.'

-

-    "So the hoopoe went forth in the glory of plumes that he won in

-                                             this wise

-    And wears. Then the hunters, assembled from the uttermost quarters

-                                             of Sham, should

-    Have shot, but did not, for they said: 'What a head! We will not

-                                             waste an arrow

-    On sport of this sort. We are sold! We were told it was gold

-                                             and....'"

-                                                       Tamam Shud

-

-    And the Wazir shrieked "Halt!" at the rhymes.

-

-    But as he slept that night the Dreamer prayed

-    That understanding might bedew his head.

-    And so it was. The fountain of the Dawn

-    Rose in the whiteness of the month _Rajab_,

-    Washing the desert stones, and made each body

-    Shine as the sun-swift chariot of a soul.

-

-    While the last swimmer in the sea of slumber,

-    Out of the deep, its jungled bottom, its ghosts,

-    Its weight and wonders, rises to the surface

-    In final breaths of sleep, the Wazir stirred

-    And flung out joyful arms. Not otherwise

-    The groping diver in the Gulf of Pearls,

-    Having achieved adventure, comes to light

-    And grasps the painted gunwale--with his prize.

-

-            "For every hour and day

-            Of youth that spelled delay

-            In finding you, I pray

-              To life for pardon,

-            I that long since have faced

-            My task in patient haste:

-            Out of my former waste

-              To make your garden.

-

-            "With these soiled hands I made

-            My Self (man's hardest trade).

-            The sun was _you_: the shade

-              My toil, my seed did.

-            I drove my strong soul through

-            Years in the thought of you,

-            For whom my garden grew,

-              And grew unheeded;

-

-            "For you, an episode

-            That lay beside your road,

-            For me, my long abode,

-              My will's whole centre.

-            Lo now my task fulfilled,

-            Yet not the hope that thrilled

-            The stubborn realm I tilled

-              For you to enter.

-

-            "Ah, must all sacrifice

-            Be weighed with balance nice!

-            To ask the gods our price

-              Makes all creeds shoddy.

-            Then should I bargain now--

-            Troubling my worship--how

-            You will reward my vow

-              Of soul and body?

-

-            "I have not striven in vain,

-            Though all my poor domain

-            Cries daily for your reign.

-              I hold its treasure,

-            A source of splendour, known

-            Haply to me alone,

-            A boundless love--my own.

-              Had you but leisure

-

-            "To pause beside this spring

-            A moment, harkening

-            How through my silence sing

-            The dreams that here rest,

-              I yet might make you see

-            Some of the You in Me.

-            This song not I but we

-              Have written, dearest."

-

-    Long ropes of stillness joined the caravan

-    Closer together; no man spoke a word,

-    Till Dreamer-of-the-Age: "Friend, go up higher

-    At the Queen's right hand." Seyid Rida smiled:

-    "I knew you would outrun us." The Wazir

-    Heard neither fame nor blame, and so was blest

-    Because he sought praise only of the Queen.

-

-

-

-

-XIV

-

-THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR

-

-

-    At Ispahan the notables were met

-    In conclave. Seyid Rida, scholar scamp--

-    As Dawlatshah records--perched in the porch:

-

-        "Round the table sit the sages--

-        Different views and different ages--

-        Secretaries scribble pages,

-          Taking down each 'er' and 'hem,'

-        Taking down each word they utter

-        Like the solemn measured sputter

-        Of fat raindrops from a gutter.

-          I speak last of them.

-

-       "Outside in the summer weather

-       Birds are talking all together,

-       While a tiny pecked-out feather

-         Flutters past the pane.

-       Dare you own: The work before us

-       Seems at moments like their chorus,

-       Just a little more sonorous,

-         Similar in strain?

-

-        "Have a care! The bird that chatters

-        Is the only bird that matters,

-        Heedless of the hand that scatters

-          Grains of sense or chaff

-        Mid your Barmecides and Cleons.

-        I have listened here for aeons

-        To these rooster-flights and paeans.

-          No one heard me laugh.

-

-        "Parrot, jackdaw, jay, and pigeon,

-        Prose would be the whole religion

-        Of the Nephelococcygian

-          State to which you steer.

-        If the earth remains a youngster

-        With some waywardness amongst her

-        Virtues, I should thank the songster

-          Whom you cannot hear.

-

-        "Tits that swing upon a thistle,

-        Wrens and chats that pipe and whistle,

-        Join their notes to our epistle,

-          Where the bee-fraught lime

-        Orchestrates the lark's espousal

-        Not of causes but carousal:

-        Owl, we hear you charge the ouzel

-          With a waste of time!

-

-        "Princeling, a fantastic prophet

-        Tweaks your robe and bids you doff it,

-        Offers you escape from Tophet

-          On the wings of words.

-        Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell

-        All you have for this one counsel:

-        Sing and never mind the groundsel!

-          Come, we too are birds."

-

-    Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out,

-    And I have heard them on the Persian roads,

-    In half-dead cities. History repeats

-    Nothing except the rose. But Persians say

-    This was the last they heard of government.

-

-

-

-

-XV

-

-THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH

-

-

-    Alas! 'Twas time to go--"Conceal the wine,

-    The purple and the yellow infidel!"--

-    Rice cooked in saffron, honey-cakes, and _mast_

-    With many-coloured _shirini_ were all

-    Packed up in paunches capon-lined....

-                                          The Queen

-    Sailed through the city, mounted high on Tous,

-    Full in the moonlight, purer than the moon,

-    Whose beauty, being weighed with hers, the scale

-    Sent up to heaven and left the Queen on earth....

-

-    Followed quick tumbles to the lambent street,

-    Graspings of shoes, and search for garments lost,

-    With tunes that mounted all awry as flame

-    Draught-blown, short breaths and straggling feet.

-                                           The Dreamer

-    Reddened and drooped his head; for at the Gate

-    Sat a portentous Sheikh, thrice great in girth,

-    Ali-el-Kerbelai, Known-of-Men,

-    To whom--he slept all day--his nightly school

-    Resorted in the porch. He saw, and shrugged

-    His shoulders, rounded in glory like the hills

-    That drift and clash about the Gulf of Pearls--

-    Bahreinis tell the tale lest rival _dhows_

-    Should venture into trade--and thus held forth:

-

-      "Gossips, I have watched fools wander through this gate

-      In generations. Never have I seen

-      Men so bewitched by one closed palanquin,

-      So little fain to chatter with the great,

-      So blind, or single-eyed, they did not see

-      Ali-el-Kerbelai, even me.

-

-      "Poor souls! Dusk swamps our wriggling thoroughfares

-      Like trenches; and I rub my hands to think

-      How I to-night in coolth shall sleep and drink,

-      While sunrise takes these vagrants unawares.

-      Madmen set out each day to beard the sun,

-      And seventy years ago Your Slave was one.

-

-      "When all the world was young, that is when _I_

-      Was young, I promised Allah to be wise,

-      And started on the road of enterprise

-      That leads towards the snow-capped hills of Why,

-      Passing my hand across my shaven brow

-      Heavy with all the lower lore of How."

-

-    Ali-el-Kerbelai sighed his soul

-    Out of his nostrils pious and serene,

-    For the swift curtain of the night had slid

-    Along the rings of stillness, as he peered

-    Into the plain. The singing caravan

-    Had dwindled slowly to a speck of white.

-    Then said the sage: "Behold they go to nothing,

-    These lovers, these far-eyed. To think they passed

-    Within a foot of wisdom and my robe!

-    Alas, they passed and knew not. 'Tis the risk

-    Of all such noisy dreamers. Ah, my head

-    Pities.... Well, God is great. And God made me.

-

-      "Thus first I reached Mohammerah, whose sheikh

-      In speechless gratitude besought a boon--

-      To make me eunuch in his _anderun_--

-      For I had talked away his stomach-ache.

-      And of this epoch I need only say

-      I had fresh dates for dinner every day.

-

-      "But I was young. I spurned the unmanly job,

-      For I loved conquest, and the world lay flat

-      Before me like a purple praying-mat,

-      And all young women made my heart _kebob_,

-      Until the sheikh conceived himself disgraced.

-      Then I took ship from Basra--in some haste.

-

-      "We put to sea, fair sirs, a foul-faced sea

-      Puckered with viciousness and green with hate

-      Of all the sons of Adam; and black fate

-      Conspired with her to take account of me,

-      For all the _Jinn_ who lurk among the gales

-      Came down to fecundate our bellied sails.

-

-      "They blew. They thrust my skull against the sky,

-      The jade-backed _Jinn_ disguised as ocean-swell,

-      But I saw through them.... Down we went to hell,

-      Where Iblis tried to teach me blasphemy

-      In vain. No devil's wile could make me speak.

-      Thus I learned self-control. (I was so weak.)

-

-      "We drifted past bare cliff and jungle sedge,

-      Past spouting loose volcanoes known as whales,

-      And sirens that blew kisses with their tails,

-      Till we fell over the horizon's edge,

-      Fell sheer three thousand parasangs. And there

-      I first discovered that the world is square.

-

-      "We were in China, sir. The Home of Yellows,

-      Soil, porcelain, manuscripts, men.... Here I spent

-      Six weeks in stuffing to my heart's content

-      The thought-scraps given to these whoreson fellows

-      By heaven. My zeal picked all tradition's locks,

-      And knowledge opened like a lacquered box

-

-      "Wrought with strange figures.... Now I learned by heart

-      Eleven score ways of dodging every sin.

-      So, having sucked the marrow from Pekin,

-      I planned with Allah that I should depart,

-      And having thus obtained a ruly wind

-      I shone like lightning through the schools of Hind.

-

-      "I shall say little of Hind. Its mouth is wide

-      With sacred texts and precepts packed in lyrics

-      For carriage, verse unversed in our empirics.

-      I grasped all Indian knowledge like a bride

-      Without a dower, enjoyed and let her go,

-      Giving God thanks that only Persians _know_."

-

-    The singing caravan shrank in a clear

-    Green sideless tunnel of the firmament.

-    Ali-el-Kerbelai paused and watched

-    Intent, even as by torchlight men spear fish,

-    While searching flame-reflections brushed and lit

-    The deep brown-watered caverns of his eyes,

-    Where dim shapes moved profoundly in the pool.

-    His listeners watched the sage in ecstasy

-    Poise, concentrate his massive thought on Nothing,

-    Heard his _narghile_ bubble like a brain....

-

-      "From Hind to Misr. At Cairo's El-Azhar,

-      The flower of Moslem scholarship, I sat

-      Among the Sunni bastards. As a cat

-      Watches the sun through eyelids scarce ajar,

-      From dawn till evening prayer I laboured hard,

-      Lolling in ambush round the great courtyard

-

-      "To pounce on winged words. Athwart the arcade

-      Midday in golden bars came clanging down

-      Upon the anvil of each turbaned crown,

-      And many minds took refuge in my shade.

-      I was divinely hard to understand,

-      Talking until my throat was dry as sand.

-

-      "So to the mosque well--into it they pushed

-      A dog who disagreed with me--and drew

-      Relief what time the pigeons ceased to coo

-      Or rustle round its rainbow-juice. We hushed

-      Our flights of eloquence when my _roghan_

-      Sizzled complacent in the frying-pan.

-

-      "Mashallah, what a life! Yet in this scene

-      I found a fleck of rust upon my tongue.

-      Propelled by Fate and my own force of lung,

-      I flitted with two reverend _Maghrebin_

-      Whom I had favoured, having learned the trick

-      Of speaking their foul breed of Arabic.

-

-      "Immortal spirits led us, yea the chief

-      _Afrit_, the crown of all the _Afarit_.

-      We crossed the great Sahara like a street.

-      My fame allows me licence to be brief.

-      Enough. Whatever any sceptic says,

-      I still maintain I spent a year at Fez.

-

-      "Here was a sect that said one God was three.

-      I plied Moriscos who had tasted two

-      Beliefs perforce, I even asked a Jew

-      To make this strange _Tariqah_ clear; but he--

-      By this judge Christians--he could not explain,

-      Although his father had been burnt in Spain.

-

-      "Ah, how I studied in that narrow city,

-      Whose walls are changeless as a Persian law,

-      And full of loopholes. To the seers I saw

-      Is due the gamut of my human pity.

-      We stirred the puddles of the human mind

-      Till none could see the bottom but the blind.

-

-      "Now Shaitan tempted me. I fell for once,

-      A venial sin.... I journeyed to Stamboul

-      To plumb the errors of the _Greegi_ school.

-      'Twas there I read the Stagyrite, a dunce,

-      The Frankish ruler of theology,

-      And father of a dunce, Alfarabi.

-

-      "I laid him low and hurried home to indite

-      A book, the fruit of all my Thought and Travel,

-      Entitled 'Contemplation of the Navel,'

-      A mystic book. (But first I learned to write.)

-      Such of our doctors as can read have read it.

-      But I was bent on even higher credit.

-

-      "I sought a cave whence madmen hunt wild sheep,

-      And there for thirteen years I held my head,

-      Until the dupes decided I was dead.

-      Indeed I spent the better part in sleep,

-      Lest I should be beguiled from abstract chatter

-      By lust for this world's striped and dazzling matter.

-

-      "Night brought me counsel, and a pock-marked Kurd

-      Or angels brought me food. Day spared my dreams

-      That tilled the solitude like slow white teams

-      Of oxen, till it blossomed, and I heard

-      The Roc's huge pinions scour the starry cobbles;

-      And so I rose above all human squabbles.

-

-      "For me the burning haze made sandhills dance,

-      Till blushing shadows covered their nude breasts.

-      The eternal heirs of leisure were my guests,

-      And feasted on my glory in advance.

-      Then on an eve among the eves.... The End!

-      My soul sat by me talking as a friend.

-

-      "I bleached my beard, and came to Ispahan.

-      You know the rest. To Allah's will I bowed

-      In suffering the plaudits of the crowd,

-      For all must listen; those must preach who can.

-      I stirred the town with fingers raised to bless....

-      And gauged the people by my emptiness."

-

-    The caravan was gone. Its song survived

-    A little, faint, an echo, not at all.

-    Then like a magic carpet warmth was drawn

-    Back into heaven, and left behind a void

-    Where thin-faced breezes, huddling from the hills,

-    Sat down to breathe hard tales upon their hands.

-    And suddenly earth looked her age. Like her

-    The shapes round Ali-el-Kerbelai shivered,

-    Pulling their coloured _abbas_ to their ears

-    And drawing in their feet. At last one spoke:

-    "O master, you to whom the world is known,

-    What is your thought's conclusion, what the sum

-    Of added knowledge in the tome of YOU?"

-    And Ali answered weighing out his words:

-

-       "Sir, I have seen the East and West, great peace,

-      Great wars, indifferent fates that blessed or cursed

-      Their builders. I have touched the best and worst

-      In flesh and thought, have watched flames rise and cease,

-      Consoled high hopes, deep passions, men that die

-      For things beneath the earth, behind the sky,

-

-      "For god or woman. I have counted change

-      For the Sarraf of Changelessness, have marked

-      Kings, Wazirs, coursed by sons of dogs that barked

-      And bit, the uninhabitable range

-      Of power, where all that climb in others' shoes

-      Are honoured and unperched like cockatoos.

-

-      "Now having known mankind in hell and bliss

-      Through thrice a generation, I have formed

-      From all the problems I besieged or stormed

-      One firm conviction, only one! 'Tis this:

-      The Faith, the Pomp, the Loves, the Lives of men

-      Outshine the firefly and outcrest the wren."

-

-    He added as he rose: "But God is great."

-    And bent, repassing through the city gate,

-    Lest he should bump his venerable pate.

-

-

-

-

-XVI

-

-THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC

-

-

-    Beside the Sufis ran a whited wall.

-    Two cypress-trees peeped over from the waist,

-    Stiff, motionless as toys. Among their spires

-    A lithe voice mounted and leaned down again:

-

-      "Come, for to-night the hills are all white marble

-        Under a sapphire dome,

-      Where bats scrawl riddles which the bulbuls garble

-        For owls to answer. Come.

-

-      "The air is sick of moon-discoloured roses,

-        The plain stagnates like some

-      Weird archipelago of garden-closes

-        And dead, bleached waters. Come.

-

-      "O night of miracles! Come, let us wander

-        Over this ghostly sea

-      To that dark cypress-circled island yonder,

-        In whose clear centre we

-

-      "Will lie and float in phosphorescent ether.

-        Thank heaven that night is cool

-      As day was scorching. Let us watch together

-        The lovers in the pool.

-

-      "Look in! Lie still! A jewelled ripple spangles

-        The hand upon her hair;

-      While, lying listless on her back, she dangles

-        A finger in the air.

-

-      "How still he is. Your motionless perfection

-        Absorbs him utterly.

-      Doubtless you seem to him his love's reflection

-        Face downwards in the sky,

-

-      "Whence I am hanging, seeing only her face,

-        As he sees only yours.

-      Lean down! And they shall meet us at the surface.

-        O silent paramours

-

-      "We bring to you, by stealth, while men are sleeping,

-        A gift. Let your domain

-      Have it for ever in its steadfast keeping;

-        We shall not come again.

-

-      "We bring our shadows: just the fleeting semblance

-        Of human love. O might

-      Your waters hold them for us in remembrance

-        Of one short summer night!

-

-      "A wondrous night, when two reflections hovered,

-        Dreaming of love aloud

-      Here by the pool, until the moon was covered

-        By an impending cloud;

-

-      "And then they lost each other. Where but lately

-        The magic mirror shone,

-      A wider shadow, cruelly, sedately,

-        Passes ... and we are gone."

-

-    The Dreamer stayed: "Who speaks of passing here?

-    The river passes, passes to the sea,

-    Drawing in rills the voices of the earth

-    To make its voice that merges in the swell.

-    The river passes and the boatman's chant

-    Is swallowed up in distance and the night.

-    Or is it, friend, the boats alone that pass?

-    The river, as I sometimes think, remains.

-    Even so it is with lovers and with love.

-    Then sing us something wise where laughter lurks,

-    As underneath the desert, from the hills

-    Whence cometh help, the hidden water-course

-    Chuckles. Upon this thread your garden hangs.

-    Nay, never shake that cypress head! We need

-    Not only sun but cloud and tears to build

-    Laughter, the rainbow of the inner man."

-    But the voice answered, or the cypress sighed:

-

-        "I am the brain of Hitherto.

-        In darkness I revolve and flash.

-      Books are the fortune I ran through.

-      My painted pen-case, yellow hue

-        And yellow sash

-

-        "Were famed from Yezd to Yezdikhast.

-        I taught what space and learned what mud is.

-      My metaphysics were my past.

-      Alas, I left my lust till last

-        Of all my studies.

-

-        "I kept my mind so clear and keen

-        By grinding guesswork into saws,

-      You scarce could fit a meal between

-      The triumphs of my thought-machine,

-        Its puissant jaws.

-

-        "The process of my intellect,

-        Mazed by the clapping hands that fed it,

-      Rolled on. They, founding a new sect

-      On premises that I had wrecked,

-        Gave me the credit.

-

-        "And so I used my fame to part

-        Man from his planks to sink or swim;

-      I plumbed his shallows, drew the chart....

-      Illusions broke the blacksmith's heart.

-        I envied him

-

-        "Suddenly, and set out to moon

-        About this garden scholarwise.

-      One silver laugh, two silken shoon,

-      To fill my empty _anderun_

-        With splendid lies

-

-        "I ask of shadows, battering

-        My bars, and wonder why I ache.

-      O You who made both cage and wing,

-      Let me redeem my toilsome spring

-        By one mistake."

-

-    In the parched road the Dreamer took his lute

-    And tossed these chords across the battlement:

-

-          "The myrtles of Damascus,

-            The willows of Gilan,

-          Have sent the breeze to ask us

-            If aught but sceptics can

-          Deny the spirit calling

-            To flesh--we are the call--

-          And save themselves from falling

-            Behind a whited wall.

-

-          "Most pure was Abu Bakr,

-            And Allah speeds the plough

-          That furrows young wiseacre

-            Across an open brow.

-          Most fair is self-possession--

-            Give me the open road--

-          But Solomon in session

-            Went mad and wrote an ode.

-

-          "All fields of thought are arid,

-            No earthly soil is rich,

-          By thirst of knowledge harried

-            And those ambitions which

-          The heart like Pharaoh's harden

-            To let no impulse go.

-          But every yard's a garden

-            Through which we mystics flow.

-

-          "I conjure hawthorn blossom

-            From Bakhtiari vales--

-          As when one looks across some

-            Choked channel where the sails

-          Of anchored vessels jostle--

-            I tune their rhythmic sway

-          In hollows where the throstle

-            Is only dumb by day.

-

-          "Red routs of rhododendron,

-            That slope to Trebizond,

-          Rapt round the garden's end run

-            To mask the waste beyond.

-          There facts are free to wonder

-            Down pathways like the streak

-          Of silver pavement under

-            The palms of Basra creek.

-

-          "In charity of jasmin

-            My poor designs are clad,

-          As nature cloaked the chasm in

-            The ramparts of Baghdad,

-          Where passed the fabled Caliph

-            With Giafar by night

-          To mystify the bailiff

-            At Garden-of-Delight.

-

-          "The orchard-grave of Omar,

-            Neglected Nishapur,

-          Where sprays of petaled foam are,

-            Sighs through my garden-door

-          With boughs round whose gnarled stem men

-            Had never thought to twine

-          Green tendrils from rich Yemen,

-            The sunburnt Smyrniot vine.

-

-          "Wild lilies, whose rich red owes

-            Its undertone to brown,

-          From Kurd-betented meadows

-            Break out in every town.

-          Blind alleys' bursts of lilac,

-            Where russet warblers woo,

-          Are set to cover my lack

-            Of vocal retinue.

-

-          "The myrtles of Damascus,

-            The poppies of Shiraz,

-          Have sent the breeze to ask us

-            If they are dumb, because

-          Wisdom and one that had her

-            To wife still hug the fence,

-          Where we have left a ladder

-            To rescue men from sense."

-

-    The cypress swayed. Hard by another voice

-    Climbed the twin tree, and thus its theme began:

-

-          "Young man, Shirin is out of date.

-            We have to thank the West

-          That Attar's latest is too late

-            To waken Interest,

-          And one of Love's great names, Majnun,

-          Is now generic for a loon.

-

-          "Our crust is cooling, and the bent

-            For culture bears its fruit,

-          As we that weed out sentiment

-            Likewise outgrow the brute;

-          While Providence matures a blend

-          That pure philosophers commend

-

-          "In logic. Constancy declined

-            Because we pruned our morals.

-          Love practises the change of mind

-            That ethics preach in quarrels...."

-

-    There cried the Dreamer: "Who are you that mock

-    Exiles in search of that from which they came,

-    Intent to know themselves and so the Lord

-    Whose ways are as the number of men's souls?

-    By these we compass our escape from Self,

-    The mirage in the waste through which we pass

-    Across the bridge Phantasmal to the Real;

-    Until, forgetting Self, we see in All

-    The Loved that leads us to the eternal beauty

-    Shown in a thousand mirrors yet but one.

-    These are the Sufi tenets. What of you?"

-    From the first tree the quavering voice replied:

-

-        "It is my double, Peder Sag,

-        The summit of the civilized

-        Above such heats as woman or flag.

-        It is my double, Peder Sag,

-        Who bows the poet to the wag,

-        The hero to the undersized.

-        It is my double, Peder Sag,

-        The summit of the civilized.

-

-        "His mission is to educate

-        By atrophy, the cure for spasm,

-        And so to serve the future state.

-        His mission is to educate

-        A world of fellowships that hate

-        One living thing--enthusiasm.

-        His mission is to educate

-        By atrophy, the cure for spasm.

-

-        "He dresses us in faultless drab.

-        His colour-scheme for you is tan,

-        And, level as a marble slab,

-        He dresses us in faultless drab.

-        Him urchins call Abu Kilab:

-        The Father-of-the-Modern-Man.

-        He dresses us in faultless drab.

-        His colour-scheme for you is tan.

-

-        "My double did a deal for truth.

-        He teaches balance to the Young,

-        And knows a better thing than youth.

-        My double did a deal for truth,

-        His emblem is the wisdom tooth,

-        A flowery and fruitless tongue.

-        My double did a deal for truth.

-        He teaches balance to the Young."

-

-    Serdar-i-Jang impatient pulled his beard

-    And growling Tous his bridle: "Let him be

-    The fool I was, and so mine enemy

-    From whom I part in peace." Farid Bahadur

-    Shrugged that: "Our wares are not for such as these."

-

-    Once more the Brain: "I might have come with you,

-    Leaving my gloomy castle in the air,

-    For, overgrown with tangles, in its flank

-    Lies hid the thrice-veiled door of happiness;

-    Only--my double has mislaid the key."

-

-    Seyid Rida laughed and answered: "We have found it."

-          The Lover knocked: "'Tis I!"

-          The Loved One made reply:

-          "There is no room for two

-          Beyond the Gateway."

-          In solitude he learned

-          The Secret; so returned

-          Saying: "O Love, 'tis you."

-          And entered straightway.

-

-    A wicket opened gently of itself,

-    And so a sceptic joined the caravan.

-

-

-

-

-XVII

-

-THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR

-

-

-    Oh, sliding down the desert from Shiraz

-      The tailor-man from Meshed tore his hose:

-    A crowning test, a broken man! "Ah, was

-      I born that fate might practise fancy-blows?

-

-    "The road is rougher than a magnate's mirth

-      Toward the humble, long as a bad debt.

-    I cannot dream of any woman worth

-      This cloth. To me 'twas dearer than a pet."

-

-    Then Dreamer-of-the-Age cried: "Bring me thread

-      Strong as the bridge as they call Pul-i-Katun!

-    For Meshed's champion tailor-man is dead

-      Unless his wounded pride be succoured soon."

-

-    Launched on the seaward slope the pilgrims went

-      On to the gulf, and heard, athwart the dim

-    Night echoing, a sufferer's lament

-      And Dreamer-of-the-Age consoling him:

-

-      "The night fits down on the desert, brother;

-        We are drawn there-through like a piece of thread.

-      The steepened sky and the vastness smother

-        Uneasy sleep in her league-wide bed.

-      Rocked to and fro with a camel's burden

-        On broken tracks, that are thin as scars,

-      We near the Gulf. Have we seen our guerdon?"

-        "Yea, every night we have seen the stars."

-

-      "The dust is thick, and our own feet raise it.

-        Our eyes were clear did our feet but rest.

-      We give our heart and no sign repays it.

-        What need we ever a further test!

-      We drift along with the old dumb neighbour

-        In the old blind alley we call our goal,

-      Hope: all that comes of a soul's life-labour."

-        "It was the labour that made the soul."

-

-      "We stride ahead, but in every village

-        A brother faints and a weakness falls.

-      The tribes that till and the tribes that pillage

-        Are reconciled with the life that palls.

-      Oh, townsmen tread to a fixed thanksgiving,

-        But what of us, if these pitying throngs

-      Should ask the end of our harder living?"

-        "God knows the answer. They know our songs,

-

-      "The coloured patch on the background, Silence,

-        The gleaming thought that is Love's to wear

-      Undimmed through space to a myriad-while hence.

-        Could the hands be worthy that knew not care

-      To weave Love's garb? Though we needs must suffer,

-        Shall we sing the worse that we sing in vain?

-      Our songs shall rise as the road grows rougher.

-        In the breathless hills, in the fevered plain,

-

-      "They mount as sparks from the night's oases,

-        And fall far short of the idol's feet.

-      They are stored by God in his secret places,

-        The least-lit stars of his darkest street.

-      Yet ten worlds hence they shall dance, my brother,

-        To travelling winds.... If our songs were worth

-      One gleam of light to the Way of Another,

-        We bless the sorrow that gave them birth."

-

-

-

-

-XVIII

-

-THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER

-

-

-    So to the journey's end. The Gulf was there

-    Steaming and soundless, and the weary feet

-    Were stayed at last from following the Queen.

-    The great _dhow_ nosed the creek; slow water lapped

-    About her burnished; burnished in her sat

-    Unmoving bronze, her oarsmen. Then they rose:

-    "Hail, Bringers of the Queen!" "Hail, ship! you bear

-    What cargo hence?" "We carry on your charge."

-    "But leave us nothing--nothing in exchange?"

-    "Only the ancient story of a slave.

-    There lies a secret buried none too deep."

-

-    Thus the chief rower. This the far-off tale.

-

-    I dwelled beside the impulsive Rhone, a child that loved to be

-                                             alone.

-    The forest was my nursery. My happiness was all my own.

-

-    I knew by name each cloud that lowers the sunshine through in

-                                             liquid showers.

-    Deep in the tangled undergrowth I caught the singing of the

-                                             flowers.

-

-    Our minstrels sang of rape and arson, all the joys of private wars.

-    The forest wall was calm and tall. My tutor laughed, and drank to

-                                             Mars.

-

-    Bald, vulture-like upon its perch, our crag-born castle seemed to

-                                             search

-    The gorge for prey, its shade to still the bells a-twitter in the

-                                             church

-

-    Where, cheek by jowl with fearsome fowl and gargoyle, ghostly men,

-                                             in foul

-    Incense that tried to stifle me, recited magic formulae.

-

-    At home clanked metal psalm and spur; but, oh the woods ...! I

-                                             tried to tame

-    A wolf-cub that the gardener called Life. He knew. The preacher

-                                             came.

-

-    I see him yet, his visage wet with hot emotion, tears, and sweat.

-    Contorted in the market-place he shrieked that all must pay a debt

-

-    To one Jehovah and His Son, by bursting eastward as the Hun

-    Had scourged the West. In unison we all replied 'twere nobly done,

-

-    For he explained that heaven was gained more featly--wrenching

-                                             Saint Jerome--

-    From Palestine than Christendom. That night no peasant durst go

-                                             home.

-

-    His words were like a wind that fanned a grass-fire: God would lend

-                                             His hand

-    To purge away the infidel whose breath profaned the Holy Land.

-

-    He showered indulgences, and kissed the brows of those who would

-                                             enlist

-    To take a chance of martyrdom or give the devil's tail a twist.

-

-    He promised we should see the light, that cursed Arabs could not

-                                             fight,

-    Counted them dead since we were "led by General Jesus," said the

-                                             pope.

-

-    Moreover we must win and use Christ, His true Cross, the Widow's

-                                             cruse,

-    All talismans that found no scope for miracles among the Jews.

-

-    Upon the walls the veriest dolt and clown, arow like birds that

-                                             moult,

-    Chattered with one accord--or some small priestly prompting:--

-                                             "Diex el volt."

-

-    No wonder that our heartstrings glowed within us like a smelted

-                                             lode

-    Whence Kobolds welded Durandal; and like one man we ran or rode

-

-    Forth. Were we not enchanted? This was first among God's

-                                             certainties.

-    Even our steeds were like Shabdiz, the pride of King Khusraw

-                                             Parviz.

-

-    We saw our path made plain, the hills removed by faith, whose

-                                             foaming course

-    Flooded the continents like flats. We saw the world made one--by

-                                             force.

-

-    In ecstasy our spirits soared. With beatific face toward

-    My cloudland all the crowd shed tears, and vowed to serve and save

-                                             the Lord.

-

-    But cloudland, seeming to disdain such warmth, replied with

-                                             slapping rain.

-    Conjuring such black augury the monks recited formulae.

-

-    Besides, lest women, priests and traders should tempt the appetite

-                                             of raiders,

-    The Church proclaimed the Truce of God. Not all our barons were

-                                             crusaders.

-

-    Those who were frightened not to go sold all they had to make a

-                                             show,

-    Land, tool and ware to pay a fare. The panic made sly kings its

-                                             heir.

-

-    So much was sold by young and old, by fond, ambitious, hot and

-                                             cold,

-    That steel took sudden silver wings, then flew beyond the reach of

-                                             gold.

-

-    In such a gust my tender age availed not with the preaching sage,

-    For I was born of fighting men; and one of them took me for page,

-

-    Though I was loth to go, and prayed for mercy and a little maid

-    Whose hair was shining sunflower brown. I thought of all the games

-                                             we played

-

-    All day with hay and idle mowers. She dubbed me knight in pixy

-                                             bowers,

-    Where in the hindering undergrowth I caught the singing of the

-                                             flowers,

-

-    Ah me, how distant!... I was blest in my young lord who shared the

-                                             test,

-    Being sent upon this pilgrimage, his snow-white love still

-                                             unpossessed.

-

-    He, too, was paler than a ghost, as though already all were lost.

-    She dreamed of empery for him. He taught me this to show the cost:

-

-            _My heart was mine.

-            Ambition kept it whole.

-            I gained the world,

-            And so I lost my soul._

-

-            _Then you were mine,

-            But only mine in part.

-            You loved the world,

-            And so I lost my heart._

-

-    Only my tutor lay abed, calling us savages, and read

-    His pagan books. The fever would abate, he sneered, when we were

-                                             bled.

-

-    He chilled me. His head was like a block of ice, so clear. He tried

-                                             to shock

-    Me with his whispered flings that saints and monarchs came of

-                                             laughing-stock,

-

-    Or boasted some loud organ, Reason, which doctors had confused with

-                                             treason,

-    Looked round lest walls should hear, then wept that he was one born

-                                             out of season.

-

-    Our preaching-man pronounced a ban upon him, cried good riddance:

-                                             he

-    Was like to lead young men astray because he knew geography,

-

-    (And sciences, as medicine, reduce the value of a shrine).

-    My tutor passed for riding gnomes through space upon a pack of

-                                             tomes.

-

-    But at the water-parting I waved to the castle green and dun,

-    A tapestry where liquid sun--or tears--had made the colours run.

-

-    I looked my last on every stone and tree to whom my face was known.

-    The warriors smiled and called me child. They had not understood

-                                             the Rhone,

-

-    Nor that I _loved_ the birchwood's skin, the pansy's face, the

-                                             sheep-dog's grin,

-    That sleep with Nature in a field was sweet to me as mortal sin.

-

-    For love so fierce I stole: I gave my summer holidays to save

-    Lambs from the butcher, built for them sanctuary at my wolf-cub's

-                                             grave.

-

-    I stroked the landscape like a lute. No scentless words, no colours

-                                             mute,

-    Could paint its music. Henceforth I had only heaven for substitute.

-

-    Sling, crossbow, bludgeon, axe and spud, cilice and vials of sacred

-                                             blood,

-    On such equipment we relied. Our foes were misery and mud.

-

-    Each Norman keep, each Frankish hold, each corner of the Christian

-                                             fold

-    Sent forth its sheep to sound of bells. Our prophets might have had

-                                             them tolled.

-

-    Prince, abbot, squire, felt the desire of bliss that swept stews,

-                                             taverns, farms.

-    Soft damosels ploughed through the mire with babe at breast and

-                                             men-at-arms;

-

-    And, since this journey was the price of entrance into Paradise,

-    The gaols belched out their criminals and beggars all alive with

-                                             lice.

-

-    We took no food, for God is good; besides we heard that convents

-                                             strewed

-    Converted Hungary for us. We never dared mistrust His mood.

-

-    Heading the mass far up the pass, that led us straight to Calvary,

-    The preaching-man upon an ass recited magic formulae.

-

-    Soon we were joined by northern lords; no few among their folk had

-                                             swords.

-    (Walter the Pennyless his rout had gone before and died in hordes,

-

-    While Gotschalk's dupes, with geese and goats upon their flags, had

-                                             found the boats

-    To pass beyond the Bosphorus, where Kilidj Arslan cut their

-                                             throats.)

-

-    Our force could not await the Turk, but in its ardour got to work

-    That was not mentioned in the breves. It murdered all the Jews in

-                                             Treves.

-

-    And I was sad a Christian lad should march with myrmidons so mad.

-    They made our Holy War appear too near a Musulman Jehad.

-

-    We plodded on for many weeks through mazes where the Austrian ekes

-    A bare existence on the slips of alp below the granite peaks,

-

-    And all those weeks did naught betide us palmers save that many

-                                             died.

-    Our gaol-birds eyed the preaching-man, and scholars spoke of

-                                             vaticide;

-

-    But I was happy when our stout commander sent me on to scout.

-    I cried for little Sunflower-tress, and made strange faces at the

-                                             trout.

-

-    Because I was a fighting-man I trained myself to nettle-stings,

-    And copied oaths and made up things my tutor would have tried to

-                                             scan:

-

-            _Briar and bramble,

-            Don't be so dense.

-            You scratch and you scramble

-              Like things without sense.

-            Why grudge me a ramble?

-              You can't want my hose,

-            White-coated bramble,

-              Pink briar-rose._

-

-            _Bramble and briar,

-              Leave me alone.

-            Cling to the friar,

-              Make him your own.

-            Kiss him, the liar

-              Who brought us all here,

-            Gentle sweet-briar,

-              Bramble my dear._

-

-    Thus through the months of slapping rain we plunged into the

-                                             Hungarian plain,

-    And paid its mounted bowmen dear for wretched stocks of fruit and

-                                             grain,

-

-    Or shelter in a reed-built town. They asked for hostages. We gave

-    Our leaders to these dirty-brown mongrels, who brought us to the

-                                             Save

-

-    With loss. My tutor's Damocles perhaps had lived in times like

-                                             these;

-    For whoso straggled from the main body was never seen again.

-

-    Ere this my rhyme had spread, and swelled into a marching-song. I

-                                             blushed

-    To witness how the spearmen held their sides with laughter, as they

-                                             yelled

-

-    "Bramble and briar." 'Twas the first faint mutiny. These men of

-                                             Gaul

-    Bantered the sterner pilgrims so I wondered why they came at all.

-

-    Yea, often now that I am old and hear how zealous scribes have told

-    The zeal that made the first crusade, well--history is eaten cold.

-

-    My lord could think of nothing but the lady who had bidden him cut

-    His way to her by such detours. Aye, this was true romance--the

-                                             slut.

-

-    We called her secretly The Burr--whereof was plenty in our beds--

-    For night by night he crooned of her, nor even named the Sepulchre:

-

-        _I waited, and the hours were loth to close.

-          They scarcely stirred till evening leapt to sight

-        Between the shadows that all substance throws

-          As bridges for its passage to the night._

-

-        _You never came. Life dozes at the touch

-          Of those not wholly resolute to live,

-        Who let themselves mistrust her overmuch

-          To take the only thing she has to give._

-

-    Amid the rags there caracoled fop-penitents whose panders lolled

-    With human baggage in the rear, and hound and hawk. So chaos rolled

-

-    Adown the Danube rolling east. Beyond Semlin the pinewoods filled

-    With Celt and Saxon, man and beast inspired to leave the west

-                                             untilled.

-

-    The locust-swarms were better drilled than we, the owls were not so

-                                             blind.

-    At every stage we left behind poor simpletons that moaned and

-                                             shrilled,

-

-    Thinking each swamp Gethsemane. It seemed that at their agony

-    The doctors scoffed with cross aloft, reciting magic formulae.

-

-    Alone the princes lightly pranced, as if the pilgrimage enhanced

-    Their right to weigh upon the world thereafter. So the doom

-                                             advanced

-

-    To dervish cries and jester's japes. Hermit and boor and

-                                             jackanapes,

-    I and my ghost-pale master threw a trail of shadows, motley shapes,

-

-    Where Rhodope's wine-purples mix snow with the moonlight. Oh, 'twas

-                                             gall

-    Amid the horror of it all that Bulgars thought us lunatics,

-

-    Or worse; for ever at our flank a stream, that in my nostrils

-                                             stank,

-    Seethed; and amid the best of her the scum of Europe wenched and

-                                                      drank.

-

-    At last we halted where Constantinople's grandeur puts to scorn

-    The villaged west, and challenges the Orient on her Golden Horn.

-

-    Ah, brazen, were your heart as strong as looked your square-chinned

-                                             ramparts.... Long

-    We waited at the gates in dust knee-deep. The Emperor did not trust

-

-    The help that he had craved. He swore he had not asked so many ...

-                                             more

-    Would ruin him.... He let the heat suck out our strength at every

-                                             pore.

-

-    But we were told great noblemen, Godfrey of Bouillon in Ardennes,

-    Robert of Flanders, "Sword and Lance of Christians," all the flower

-                                             of France

-

-    Were on our side, Hugh Vermandois, Stephen of Chartres and Troyes

-                                             and Blois,

-    Baldwin and Raymond of Toulouse. The preacher said we could not

-                                             lose.

-

-    Moreover he had spoken with angel-reserves behind us, sith

-    They sent assurance (Saracens we mocked, but had our own _Hadith_)

-

-    That we should root the heathen out, and blight as with a ten

-                                             years' drought

-    Their fields. Jehovah willed that we should leave no seed of theirs

-                                             to sprout.

-

-    Our mates streamed in from lands beyond the Adriatic, Bohemond

-    With Tancred; strait Dalmatian bays, Epirus, Scodra, devious ways

-

-    Bore them with boastful tales of sport and plunder, and a vague

-                                             report

-    That this was nothing to the spoil that beckoned from the Moslem

-                                             court.

-

-    Henceforth impatient ups and downs possessed us. Asiatic towns

-    Flamed to the general vision. We heard less perhaps of heavenly

-                                             crowns

-

-    Than flowers and peacocks made of gems, the Caliph's crusted

-                                             diadems

-    That crushed the head like Guthlac's bell, and trees with solid

-                                             emerald stems.

-

-    And I confess Christ counted less to us than tales of leash and

-                                             gess,

-    Or Harun-el-Rashid's largesse that sent the clock to Charlemagne.

-

-    We practised sums, and tried to train our cavalry in loss and gain.

-    Upon the misty wizard-world rose like a star the money-brain.

-

-    Even monks planned theft of saintly scalps; stray hairs and chips

-                                             of nail and chine,

-    Divinely shielded through the Alps, would make the fortune of the

-                                             Rhine.

-

-    I often tried to hide myself from this besetting spook of pelf.

-    In olive-groves I called in vain to simple faun and acorn-elf.

-

-    I pictured kine that kissed their own reflections on the impulsive

-                                             Rhone,

-    A little maid with sunflower hair, a nest we found ... the birds

-                                             had flown.

-

-    I think Alexius was wise to keep us out. Our hungry eyes

-    Fixed on his capital. Why go farther when here were rich supplies?

-

-    The Pope that cursed our tastes had laid the hand of blessing on

-                                             this raid.

-    Blest chance indeed--as though a man should drink his fill and then

-                                             be paid!

-

-    Each set to whet his falchion-pet that only friends had tasted yet.

-    We dressed our hopes in purple silk, wallowed in dreamland's wine

-                                             and milk.

-

-    Yet more than any Sultan's spoil fair women should repay our toil.

-    Already some were filled with thoughts that our red cross was meant

-                                             to foil.

-

-    The notion twinged us. We compared our prospects with the way we

-                                             fared

-    On these lean suburbs and the flats about Barbyses. We were snared!

-

-    The very Greeks, whose prayers had lured us into this adventure,

-                                             lodged

-    Their saviours in a baited trap. Lord, how these foxes turned and

-                                             dodged.

-

-    There lay our army like a log; our camp, our tenets, turned to bog.

-    We sank. Disorder brought disease that stalked us spectral through

-                                             the fog.

-

-    The Greeks we came to bolster up against their weakness filled our

-                                             cup

-    With turpitude; the Byzantine put Circe's poison in our wine.

-

-    Our aspirations all became mean as our hosts; the inner flame

-    Went out. From many a starting-point we found a common ground in

-                                             shame;

-

-    For here no soul can keep its health, but cat-like honour creeps by

-                                             stealth

-    Down side streets where the children breathe an atmosphere of

-                                             rotting wealth.

-

-    Between our fellow-churches rose the hate that heaven had meant for

-                                             foes....

-    The infidel might well have laughed. Perhaps he did. We came to

-                                             blows.

-

-    And I was sad that Christians had nothing in common, saving bad

-    Blood, that our highest dizziest heads could all divide but none

-                                             could add.

-

-    But when spring lit the Judas-trees our chieftains kissed the

-                                             Emperor's knees.

-    We crossed to Asia sick at heart. Alexius kept us well apart,

-

-    Shuffling us o'er the Bosphorus. The number and the rank of us

-    Exceeded those who went to Troy for Helen the Adulterous.

-

-    On the Bithynian plain our force drew up: an hundred thousand horse

-    With foot and monks and womankind in crowds that none can call to

-                                             mind.

-

-    Fear stuffed the empty space ahead with devils and the shapes of

-                                             dread

-    That decked our church. A ghastly rush of loneliness made every

-                                             head

-

-    Feel like a pinpoint. Discontent ran through the score of nations

-                                             blent

-    In cries. Their ribald spokesman forced a drunkard's way to

-                                             Godfrey's tent:

-

-        _You that have led us through the many tests

-          Of Hungary, King Caloman, and Thrace,

-        Who think of kingdoms as of palimpsests

-          And human nature as a carapace,

-        Go up and prosper in your lofty chase!

-          We cannot live on barren mountain-crests.

-        Our wildest dreams are prisoners that pace

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-        _Here lies the stronghold that our zeal invests,

-          This infidel alone we long to face.

-        This hollow, where our constant fancy nests,

-          Is more to us than pedestal and dais.

-        Nay, we will go no farther in the race

-          For gain, respond no more to mean behests.

-        We know our cause, and reverently embrace

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-        _It is our holy land, and we, the guests

-          Of passion, brand all other hosts as base.

-        The bees have led us to their treasure-chests,

-          A foxglove-sceptre and an hyacinth-mace,

-        The meadow's fleeting broidery and lace.

-          Their heaven like ours is nigh to vulgar jests.

-        A blossom's goal and glory is to grace

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-        _Prince, be content and choose your resting-place,

-          Ere we be all forgotten with our quests,

-        And this thin earth go crumbling into space,

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-    Thereat was scandal, and a priest exclaimed that man was half a

-                                             beast.

-    I could have told him that before. Man was the half I like the

-                                             least.

-

-    To obviate a sinful fate the monks laid on us many weeks

-    Of penance, wasting us the more with these inventions of the

-                                             Greeks.

-

-    Some paid in cash, some chose the lash--their backs were pitiful to

-                                             see--

-    While Bishop Adhemar of Puy recited magic formulae

-

-    That lurched us forward to our doom. We cleft the sultanate of

-                                             Roum,

-    Calling for bread. The peasants fled. We swept the country like a

-                                             broom.

-

-    Our armed migration choked the road. It ran ahead, a stream that

-                                             flowed

-    Uphill to glory, so it seemed; and so imagination strode--

-

-    O Jack o' lantern!--into the unknown. The Virgin on a silver

-                                             throne,

-    Our leaders swore, went on before us. I saw nothing but the Rhone,

-

-    The impulsive Rhone that tumbles down, and breaks clean through the

-                                             grey-walled town.

-    I heard it rustle in its bed where others heard the Virgin's gown.

-

-    I blamed the foeman for my thirst, for sandstorm, flies, heat,

-                                             scurvy--cursed

-    Them. Piles of grievance fumed until the red fire kindled. Madness

-                                             burst

-

-    All bounds, and capered in the glare that wrapped us round like

-                                             Nessus' shirt.

-    Each day 'twas there with yards to spare, and would not tear. How

-                                             blue can hurt!

-

-    In my delirium I smelt a mirage, heard the swallows skim

-    Above the reeds where angels knelt with envious eyes to watch me

-                                             swim.

-

-    The preacher said Jehovah's cloud and pillar would go with us. Yea,

-    The sky was on our heads alway. The sun rose up and cried aloud,

-

-    And stood immobilized at noon. We wondered if at Ajalon

-    The Jews thanked Joshua for the boon of this divine phenomenon.

-

-    We came to Nice and formed a siege with tortoise, belfry, catapult,

-    And curse that brought even less result. Each lordling quarrelled

-                                             with his liege,

-

-    Layman with priest, until the place surrendered, and again we

-                                             lurched

-    Forward. I heard our name was made. I only saw how it was smirched.

-

-    My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for

-                                             love's sweet sake

-    That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I

-                                             lay awake

-

-    All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be

-                                             full-grown,

-    A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own.

-

-    I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded

-                                             barge

-    Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain

-                                             was large.

-

-    Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards

-                                             meant

-    To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they

-                                             went.

-

-    Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of

-                                             grace!

-    The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was.

-

-    I, polishing my master's helmet, also longed to overwhelm

-    The miscreants, to hew in bits the devil and his earthly realm.

-

-    A boy's high spirits, weariness, a heart impulsive as the Rhone,

-    The wish to get this business done, the thought of little

-                                             Sunflower-tress--

-

-    A flower beside The Burr, and "Why, if knights sing rubbish, should

-                                             not I?"--

-    The preaching man's persistence, these stirred me to action by

-                                             degrees.

-

-    We had our fill at Dorylaeum. Our rogues were Paladins. We won,

-    And weighed our booty by the ton. That night we chanted a Te Deum,

-

-    A myriad voices in the dark; they rose like one colossal lark

-    Ere dawn. My soul flew up with them to see the new Jerusalem

-

-    And spite my tutor. I was mad to be a fighting-man, would pad

-    My arms like muscles. So my lord took me to foray. I was glad.

-

-    I had one thought: my hands were wet. That angered me: my mouth was

-                                             dry.

-    I had one fear: I might forget my master's silly battle-cry.

-

-    Belike 'twas well no foe would stand--our cavaliers were out of

-                                             hand--

-    So I was baulked. With scarce a blow we filed across the wasted

-                                             land

-

-    For leagues, till Baldwin turned aside, and out of Peradventure

-                                             carved

-    His slice, Edessa. We were plied to march on Antioch half-starved.

-

-    For seven months sheer courage toiled to take the town. Its

-                                             ramparts foiled

-    Our engines. Sulkiness sat down within us, and temptation coiled

-

-    Tight round our bodies; every vice was lurking like a cockatrice.

-    Ah, flesh can never quite repel the sinuous things which thoughts

-                                             entice.

-

-    You honey-coloured Syrian girls, whose voices turned our knights to

-                                             thirls,

-    I looked away and stopped my ears by thinking of the glossier

-                                             merles

-

-    At home. The arm upheld by Hur had not sufficed him to deter

-    The dissipation of our force, alas. My lord deceived The Burr.

-

-    'Twas worse when treachery let us in. Blood, lechery, pillage, fire

-                                             and din

-    Burned an impression on my mind: the sexual ugliness of sin.

-

-    Cool Bohemond called Antioch his. Ere we had killed our mutineers,

-    We the besiegers were besieged by Kurbugha and his Amirs.

-

-    Alternate famine and carouse brought plague; but doubtless God

-                                             allows

-    Expensive trials of faith that we might learn the magic formulae.

-

-    We melted, melted; kites were fed upon us, dogs ran dripping red

-    From piles of nameless carrion, the race that Europe might have

-                                             bred.

-

-    Throughout our ranks desertion raged by daily sermons unassuaged.

-    The preaching man was first in this "rope-dancing." Disillusion

-                                             aged

-

-    My youth by years. My master stayed. If he had erred he promptly

-                                             paid.

-    The pestilence ran after him. Despite the fervour I displayed

-

-    He died of sores, this prince of tilt, though guarded by ten

-                                             hallowed charms,

-    This subject of all _trouvere_-lilt, lord in an hundred ladies'

-                                             arms.

-

-    Oh, how I struggled to be brave when the Pope's legate, grey and

-                                             grim,

-    Said simply this beside the grave: "Christ died for you. You died

-                                             for Him."

-

-    Only his jester seemed to care, and ceased awhile to swear and

-                                             daff.

-    "Who," he repeated in despair, "will pay me for his epitaph?"

-

-          _Poor friend, this alien hungry land

-            Has closed her lips upon her prey.

-          The tree is spoiled into her hand;

-            She sucks the brook's thin veins away._

-

-          _A sterner voice than bade you come

-            To reap the tears that exiles sow

-          Has called you to her longer home,

-            That neither bids nor lets you go._

-

-          _Seven times you baulked her lawless laws,

-            And foiled the customs of the year;

-          But Death defends the tyrant's cause,

-            And makes the silent court his lair._

-

-          _The lease of life, that none can own,

-            Is written on her agent's roll;

-          And from the desert and the sown

-            He takes a harsh and equal toll,_

-

-          _High-handed, scorning code or text.

-            No hope the debtor's gaol unlocks.

-          A friend appeals? He is the next

-            To occupy the narrow box._

-

-          _The witness cowers, pale with fear,

-            When Death the stalker passes by;

-          And only prays he may not hear

-            That ugly sound--a victim's cry._

-

-          _One weeps; his eyes are wet as long

-            As on Death's hand the blood is wet.

-          He says: "The King can do no wrong!"

-            And craves permission to forget._

-

-          _How briefly to an echo clings

-            The memory of these solemn days,

-          The thought of those tremendous things

-            That Death implies but never says._

-

-          _An hour ago we laid you down.

-            The tender, tardy autumn rain

-          Is dried within the dusty town,

-            And we are at our rounds again._

-

-    With every round our spirits sank in bodies lean and members lank.

-    I saw the soul of man, a cave, a wick that smouldered and smelled

-                                             rank.

-

-    Men's fluid facts may wash the grime from pictures of a distant

-                                             time,

-    But I can paint the truth in one small touch: our poets ceased to

-                                             rhyme.

-

-    Such was the army's hopelessness. I understood, who once had seen

-    Our fading gardener rouse himself to kick and curse the wolf-cub,

-                                             Life.

-

-    I would not let my feet desert, but oh the woods--the woods of home

-    That bent and beckoned in the damp zephyr in vain! I could not

-                                             stoop

-

-    To play false in an enterprise however mad, if once begun.

-    Besides another miracle was wrought in me. I was in love.

-

-    I was enamoured of dear Christ; His utter beauty struck me dumb,

-    His face alone could compensate for scenes that almost made me long

-

-    For blindness. Yea, to Him I turned from all this heartache,

-                                             nightly kissed

-    His hand with passion. I at least would not betray the children's

-                                             Friend.

-

-    Haply His strength has always lain in contrast. I found strength to

-                                             press

-    Toward the mark. Not so the host: we could not kick it to its feet.

-

-    Then heaven inspired us to devise a pious fraud--The Holy Lance.

-    We hid it in Saint Peter's crypt, and dug it up. The people wept

-

-    With rapture at this talisman, and sang the Psalm "Let God arise."

-    Also our chiefs--they knew my zeal--bade me complete the heartening

-                                             sign.

-

-    White-plumed, white-horsed, with golden shield and halo, I

-                                             contrived to appear

-    On the horizon, waved my sword while Adhemar proclaimed Saint

-                                             George.

-

-    Our men responded with a shout. Through the five gates they tumbled

-                                             out,

-    An headlong torrent. In a trice the infidel was put to rout,

-

-    And I joined in to hack and prod. Pure Tancred praised me with a

-                                             nod.

-    Ascetic Godfrey even spoke to me: "Lad, you belong to God."

-

-    I won my spurs. They _made_ me proud. Before my sword the wizards

-                                             bowed,

-    Though me they washed. In vigil and fast I joined the perfect

-                                             order, vowed

-

-    To hold my manhood chaste, to gird on might with right and

-                                             courtesy,

-    To speak the truth, and so to be at variance with the common herd.

-

-    Such loftiness a man can feel once in a flash: strong arms, clean

-                                             hands

-    That forged us into iron bands to unify the world with steel.

-

-    But as I left the altar daft with the ambition I had quaffed--

-    A word can kill a century--one of my perfect brothers laughed:

-

-          _I took the vow of virtue

-            As others take to vice.

-          I could not break my heart of you.

-            Men call that sacrifice._

-

-          _The priests applauded nature.

-            Poor devil, she was loth

-          Enough. The love of God and you

-            Has made me hate you both._

-

-    And I was sad that Christians, clad in robes so dazzling, were not

-                                             glad

-    To keep them spotless from the world, and give the Virgin all they

-                                             had.

-

-    Yet I was racked by continence of all we rightly rank as sense.

-    I hungered for the Sunflower-tress that now my lips would never

-                                             press.

-

-    I wrenched and wrestled to believe that God had sent us here to

-                                             grieve

-    Our bodies with this fruitlessness, that only fakirs could achieve

-

-    His purpose. Then in blind revolt my soul like an unbroken colt

-    Ran round and round an empty field. The hedge was thick. I could

-                                             not bolt,

-

-    Though one poor knight on stiffened knee revealed beneath his

-                                             breath to me

-    His thoughts on women while the monks recited magic formulae.

-

-    I sought for solace in renown. Men watched me swagger through the

-                                             town

-    The youngest knight in Christendom. When women passed I tried to

-                                             frown.

-

-    A year I suffered in this way before the wreck of our array

-    Would undertake the final march. My soul was saved by movement. May

-

-    Was with us, when my tutor closed his wintry Juvenal and posed

-    Mid nightingales to quote and kiss the _Pervigilium Veneris_.

-

-    I drove his authors from my head, and read Augustin hard instead;

-    But sap was mounting in my veins and western groves where finches

-                                             wed.

-

-    To these no sound of sapphire seas, no stunted firs of Lebanon,

-    Not Tyrian dyes nor Tripoli's loud yellows deafened. We ran on

-

-    Through landmarks famed in Holy Writ, Emmaus, Bethlehem ... at last

-    We saw the walls of Zion lit blood-red by sunset and the past.

-

-    The conquest of another world unfurled beneath our feet, the land

-    Of miracle and mystery lay as a bauble in our hand.

-

-    Men flung their caps up, feigned a swoon. With prostrate lines of

-                                             us the moon

-    Drew silver circles round the site. A cock crowed--many hours too

-                                             soon.

-

-    We thought to prise the gates ajar. My tutor wrote their private

-                                             Lar

-    Or else--with Tacitus--their folk designed them for eternal war.

-

-    The moat was wide; we feebly tried to stop its gape with pebbles,

-                                             cried

-    "Fall, Jericho!" The blessed wall stood firm; but Christ was on our

-                                             side.

-

-    The Church had saved Him from His wan repute and thrust Him in our

-                                             van,

-    Bronzed, scarred. Alas, the first crusade had made Him out a

-                                             fighting man!

-

-    He taught the Turks to mock Giaours!... sent timely Genoese to

-                                             build

-    Wheeled wooden turrets. These we filled brimful. Jerusalem was

-                                             ours.

-

-    We entered reverent, barefoot; slew three livelong nights and

-                                             mornings through,

-    Then paused to sing a thanksgiving. We massacred the morrow too.

-

-    And I was glad a Christian lad could boast of some small

-                                             suffering _ad

-    Majorem Dei gloriam_. I only longed to burn Baghdad.

-

-    Nay, I can say I never hid to chamber as my fellows did.

-    I felt my conscience clear as frost, and touched no woman--God

-                                             forbid.

-

-    I set my contrite soul apart with mass, procession, penance, rites

-    That took me out to see the sights, brushing ecstatic lanes athwart

-

-    The quiddering mob with tears of joy--my tutor's phrase was hoi

-                                             polloi--

-    Though few were left. Some Greeks of ours confused Jerusalem with

-                                             Troy.

-

-    But most the bestial German louts made even their hardest allies

-                                             sick;

-    They ran to mutilate the quick and sniff the dead with joyous

-                                             snouts.

-

-    Shriven, forgiven, we embraced each stone that Christ had touched,

-                                             and placed

-    Such relics under treble guard. One note in our rejoicings jarred.

-

-    It seemed some types of Jewish dog escaped the flaming synagogue,

-    And their ingratitude was base. They joined to form a

-                                             wailing-place.

-

-    I heard them as I roamed among blind alleys dark and overhung

-    By one-eyed dens. With whining nose against the wall the pack gave

-                                             tongue:

-

-      _Behold Thy people, Lord, a race of mourners.

-        Through this Thy sacred dwelling-place they creep

-      Like strangers. Hearken, Lord, in holes and corners

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _For Thy decree, most terrible and holy,

-        That as the fathers sow the sons shall reap,

-      For all Thy just affliction of the lowly,

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _For all the glory that is now departed,

-        For all the stones that Thou hast made an heap,

-      Yea, for the city of the broken-hearted,

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _For all the wealth wherewith Thou hadst endowed her,

-        For all our shepherds gone astray like sheep,

-      For all Thy temple's jewels ground to powder,

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _Because our soul is chastened as with lashes,

-        Because Thine anger like a stormy deep

-      Goes over us, in sackcloth and in ashes

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-    Nobody gave them heed; indeed each man was thinking how to speed

-    His interests, and if the prey would satisfy ambition or need.

-

-    To honest minds with zeal imbued the Pope's indulgence, their own

-                                             merit

-    Bestowed some licence to be lewd, and take--their preachers said

-                                             "inherit."

-

-    Even I who was in love with Christ, I with the conscience clean and

-                                             cold

-    That hankered not for lands or gold, was wondering how to clinch my

-                                             hold

-

-    On reputation, while our chiefs, before we could consolidate,

-    Rode a great wallop round the State and split it into petty fiefs.

-

-    Their overlords revolted me. Alas, for our brief unity!

-    Edessa snarled at Antioch, Jerusalem at Tripoli.

-

-    Poor Godfrey, who would not accept a crown where his Redeemer wore

-    Thorns, nor be strong where Jesus wept! From the beginning weakness

-                                             crept

-

-    Into our councils. Worse, we watched the bulk of our brave lads

-                                             disperse

-    Well-pleased. At most we raised the ghost of needful power to hold

-                                             their post.

-

-    Franks and Provincials, German brutes that bullied babes and

-                                             prostitutes,

-    Lombards and Flemings, made for home with clapping and the sound of

-                                             flutes.

-

-    It flowed away, the unstable stuff, to whom a cause was but a noun.

-    They stood to sea. Thank heaven 'twas rough! My place was here with

-                                             my renown.

-

-    They vanished ... home ... to Sunflower-tress ... home, where a man

-                                             may die obscure!

-    Far off a carle of Albemarle trolled chanties like a Siren's lure.

-

-          _East, are you calling still,

-          Who tried your strength of will

-        For naught on brown Ulysses long ago?

-          We have an island too,

-          And haul away from you

-        To cleaner kin that bend a stronger bow._

-

-          _Your caravans string out

-          On many a golden route

-        The turbaned Magi's offerings; but we

-          Steer forth on loner trails

-          Through rough wind-scented vales

-        To England, the oasis of the sea._

-

-          _Child Jesus chose you, East,

-          Not that He loved us least,

-        But just because His Father had foreseen

-          The dear and only Son

-          Might dwell too long upon

-        Our swinging greys and many-coloured green._

-

-    So we were left alone. The spring broke out in buds of bickering.

-    Each summer brought contentious fruit. Strife waxed with every

-                                             waning king.

-

-    And I waxed also, better known, resolved to reap what I had sown.

-    My childless manhood fixed my heart. The Holy Land was all my own.

-

-    I grew in grace with man--I hoped with God; from Beersheba to Dan

-    I went about my Father's work. Faith could not shirk what Faith

-                                             began.

-

-    Sometimes qualms came. I looked askance on Bishop Daimbert's

-                                             schemes to enhance

-    His seat. The native Christians sighed they missed the Caliph's

-                                             tolerance.

-

-    Not that had hurt me, but the void which love will make if

-                                             unemployed.

-    I spent my strength to keep him quiet, and free the thoughts that

-                                             he decoyed,

-

-    Till woods and Rhone were out of range. I often wondered at the

-                                             change

-    In nature's child, in me. The formulae were there. "God's ways are

-                                             strange."

-

-    Yet in my struggle with the powers of darkness I recalled the

-                                             showers

-    Of light that fought the undergrowth to catch the singing of the

-                                             flowers.

-

-    Time passed, and no one seemed to reck of Zenghi, the first Atabek,

-    Though every year we failed to act the Saracens grew more compact.

-

-    In vain I urged that we might fall, so slender was our human wall,

-    So numberless the foe beside the Templars and the Hospital.

-

-    The answer was that dyke and fosse were useless when we had the

-                                             Cross,

-    With other relics by the score, to guard against defeat or loss.

-

-    My prophecies of coming ills fell on deaf ears and weakly wills.

-    I did my best. You know I did, who saw me peer beyond the hills

-

-    Where Karak like a lighthouse loomed at waves of sand that never

-                                             spumed,

-    The tideless main, an ocean-plain bare, petrified. Its silence

-                                             boomed.

-

-    I saw in all that vastitude, the one, the drab, the many-hued,

-    No sign of life, no moving speck; and yet I knew that trouble

-                                             brewed.

-

-    I tortured every hour to find material things to prop behind--

-    Forgive me, God!--Your earthly realm. The need was great, for it

-                                             was blind.

-

-    The mathematics of Abul Hassan, three hundred years at school

-    In Arabic philosophy, showed that the West was still a fool.

-

-    Nay, gently, call her still a babe. How should she know that I, the

-                                             Great,

-    Had learned from savages to prate of compass and of astrolabe.

-

-    Our miracles were not so sure to heal as Rhazes' simplest cure.

-    His friends the moon and stars obeyed the rules that Abul Wafa

-                                             made.

-

-    My stolen lore raised me above my fellows. Everything but love

-    Was mine, respect, authority. The jealous Churchmen dared not move.

-

-    Our infant realm could not dispense with me, its shield and main

-                                             defence.

-    I knew the Damascene recipe for making steel, and made it cheap.

-

-    My mind was fertile in resorts. I spent the pilgrims' fees on

-                                             forts,

-    And settled, for their skill in trade, Venetian slavers at our

-                                             ports.

-

-    Howbeit I trembled lest our main enthusiasm should be for gain.

-    I stripped myself to work against the working of the money-brain.

-

-    And I was glad I passed for mad and single-eyed as Galahad.

-    I sacrificed in saving Christ the profit that I might have had.

-

-    Nothing that I could do availed. My tongue grew bitter, girded,

-                                             railed.

-    My labour only builded Me, but not the kingdom. So I failed.

-

-    Our Viscounts could but show their gums, while from Aleppo, Hama,

-                                             Homs,

-    The foe crept onward like the months, culling our conquests like

-                                             ripe plums.

-

-    For all response in Chastel Blanc and towering Markab-of-the-Sea

-    Some clerkly knight in red-crossed white recited magic formulae;

-

-    Then darkly hinted science, hell and I were leagued, because their

-                                             spell

-    Would not or could not stave the blow that I foresaw. Edessa fell.

-

-    Curse our degenerate Poullains! The breed had need of spurs not

-                                             reins.

-    To stand an empty sack upright was easier than to warm their veins

-

-    Save with amours. One night I knelt to pray; but on the battlement

-    Hard by a lordling twanged a harp. I smelt the bastard's eastern

-                                             scent.

-

-    He thought his leman lay behind my casement, where the jasmin

-                                             twined

-    And almost jingled.... Oh the woods at home and whitethroats

-                                             calling blind!

-

-        _Suppose you left that window and came down

-          To meet me. Do not turn away.

-            Also you need not frown.

-              I only say:

-                "Suppose."_

-

-      _Suppose--you are a woman of resource--

-        The fastenings of your door undone.

-          No! They are not.... Of course!

-            But, just for fun,

-              Suppose._

-

-      _Suppose that--safe among the trees below

-        The terraces--you chanced to find ...

-          Impossible!... I know,

-            But never mind.

-              Suppose._

-

-      _Suppose that--being there--an eager arm

-        Drew you towards the little dell....

-          Why redden? Where's the harm?

-            You might as well

-              Suppose...._

-

-      _Suppose that, bending over you, a man

-        Breathed words of which you knew the gist.

-          Suppose it!... Yes, you can....

-            No, I insist....

-              Suppose!_

-

-      _Suppose you shut the window? Now? Pray do,

-        And take a lonely night to learn

-          This tune shut in with you.

-            Till I return,

-              Suppose...._

-

-    Then I peeped out. Some breath divine had made his face, compared

-                                             with mine,

-    An angel's. Love with all its faults had set there our Creator's

-                                             sign.

-

-    That shook me. One of us was wrong. Which? He or I? His soul was

-                                             vexed

-    Neither by this world nor the next, but floated in a bubble of

-                                             song.

-

-    It haunted me, as he had said; it chimed and rhymed about my bed.

-    It filled my head with Sunflower-tress; but she--I writhed--was old

-                                             or dead.

-

-    Was all my suffering a waste? Had superstition wed me chaste

-    To Its effect? Was this my Cause? My tutor in the dark grimaced.

-

-    I saw him snug at home, and how he would have chuckled at my vow!

-    Well, who laughs last.... I pictured him a dotard or in hell by

-                                             now.

-

-    I prayed for help all night; and, warned by lost Edessa, Baldwin

-                                             made

-    Great efforts to placate our God. The answer was a fresh crusade.

-

-    This was an answer none could doubt. We heard a preacher more

-                                             devout

-    Than ours was quartering the west, and pulling true believers out.

-

-    He hight Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the home of light and

-                                             miracles.

-    The wives and mothers trembled so before his spirit's tentacles,

-

-    They hid their males--in vain. He swept the Emperor Conrad with

-                                             him, kept

-    The collar of his pale adept, emasculated Louis Sept.

-

-    He cured King's Evils, raised the dead, he cast out devils by the

-                                             gross.

-    'Twas said he promised us twelve legions of angels.... From the

-                                             darkest regions

-

-    Men flocked to Metz and Ratisbon. News came of more than half a

-                                             million,

-    Not counting those that rode apillion. Our battle was as good as

-                                             won.

-

-    Such glorious news might well inflame our hopes. We waited. Nothing

-                                             came,

-    Not even light Turcopuli nor Conrad's Golden-footed Dame.

-

-    Our Poullains first began to whine; the fainthearts said the fault

-                                             was mine.

-    Saint Bernard was the oracle of Europe, I of Palestine.

-

-    And nothing came ... no troops.... The Greek misled, starved,

-                                             poisoned, murdered them,

-    Betrayed them to the Turk, whose bleak deserts went over them. Week

-                                             by week

-

-    We waited. Nothing. Cadmus saw them cut to bits, Attalia's maw

-    Could not be sated with their ruck. King Louis' mind had just one

-                                             flaw:

-

-    He would not hear of strategy, staked all on supernatural help.

-    And nothing came, and nothing came. Our half-bred curs began to

-                                             yelp

-

-    "Good God, if truly God is good!" They kissed the Cross. Gems hid

-                                             the wood.

-    Had He forgotten? Was He deaf? Could such things be? Who

-                                             understood?

-

-    Not I, though I had kept my word to save the Lamb by fire and

-                                             sword.

-    And after twelve long lustra spent in service this was my reward.

-

-    Louis and Conrad struggled through one day with some small retinue.

-    I watched. Almost I could foretell what they and Providence would

-                                             do.

-

-    And I remember, as we fared, a Sufi--so the sect is named--

-    Sat by the road as though he cared no jot for us, while he

-                                             declaimed:

-

-      _Her home is in the heart of spaciousness,

-      In the mid-city of ideals. The site

-      Is harmony, the walls are made of light.

-      There with the mother-thoughts she stands to bless

-      The godlike sons sent forth with her caress

-      To make new worlds. I see them all unite

-      Into the whole that our most starry flight

-      Of worship knew far off, and strove to express.

-      What can we do for her? We run to ask

-      As restless children for a grown-up task,

-      While wisdom in the porch, their kind old host,

-      Smiles at nurse nature, and replies: The most,

-      The least that we can do for Beauty is

-      To love for love's sake and serve God for His._

-

-    But Conrad drove his lance in jest right through the ragamuffin's

-                                             chest,

-    Because his creed was not as ours; and on we rode. I lost my zest.

-

-    To take Damascus was our plan, relying on a talisman.

-    I knew that this would not suffice, for I was still a fighting man.

-

-    It ended in repulse and shame. Saint Bernard proved we were to

-                                             blame

-    For want of faith. Ah, some of us had had too much. We said the

-                                             same

-

-    Of him. At our return thick mobs of women filled the church with

-                                             bobs

-    And bows, poor puppets, trying hard to sing between their stifled

-                                             sobs:

-

-        _God, whose Son has fathomed sorrow,

-          Give a mother strength to say:

-        Mine has faced and found To-morrow.

-          I will try to face To-day._

-

-    They turned to me. They thought me wise because I had been led by

-                                             lies

-    To blind myself to them; and now I saw things through a woman's

-                                             eyes,

-

-    And I went out. Not yet the end. Since innocence alone could save,

-    Saints hit on infant infantry, and fifty thousand found the grave.

-

-    My gorge rose, yet I stopped my ears. I had no hope, but I was

-                                             tarred

-    With fame too much to show my fears. My duty lay in dying hard.

-

-    Oh irony! That fame increased the more its robes were patched and

-                                             pieced.

-    My whole ambition was fulfilled when power and confidence had

-                                             ceased.

-

-    The women kissed my feet, my horse; they clung to me like my

-                                             remorse.

-    I that set out to make the world had made myself believe by force.

-

-    Nay, I that knew we were reprieved at best, had I in truth

-                                             believed?

-    My youth came back. I seemed to meet my tutor's sneer in every

-                                             street.

-

-    Fate cursed us with three minor kings, a leper then. Against these

-                                             Things

-    Salah-ad-Din combined the entire orient. I wished our fate had

-                                             wings

-

-    Instead of feet to end our dumb, keen, futile questionings, to numb

-    The brain that binds us with the chain of kingdom go and kingdom

-                                             come.

-

-    One of our knights for plunder's sake undid us, roused the foe who

-                                             brake

-    In through the pass of Banias, cutting our lands in two like cake.

-

-    The hour was here, but not the man. That murderer Guy de Lusignan

-    Was sent to head our fight for life. The craven took for talisman

-

-    ME and my hundred years, alas, a relic of the man I was.

-    I toiled to still our private feuds. We marched upon Tiberias,

-

-    For none would listen when I urged our leaders to await attack.

-    We marched across the waterless inferno. Summer burnt us black.

-

-    The Moslems scorched us with Greek fire. As rain upon a funeral

-                                             pyre

-    Their arrows hissed in sheets upon the smoking scrub. "Go on!"

-                                             "Retire!"

-

-    Our rabble cried, starting aside like broken bows; they tried to

-                                             hide,

-    Split, fled for refuge to a hill, did nothing while the Templars

-                                             died.

-

-    When all was lost I cut my way out through the thicket of the fray,

-    And galloped for Jerusalem to adjure Guy's Queen to stand at bay.

-

-    In this last desperate passage each proud noble still opposed his

-                                             friend.

-    A little while and we were penned, and yet a little while a breach

-

-    Was made. Jehovah's chosen seat was tottering, but no Paraclete

-    Came down to comfort us. I made some sallies. Then the Queen would

-                                             treat.

-

-    Perhaps in our appeal for ruth my wording stumbled on the truth,

-    "One God that went by many names," or else I knew Him in my youth,

-

-    Or else that Sufi haunted me with something that I could not see,

-    Something that only had not been because we would not let it be.

-

-    And when the foe marched in, I own that I was thinking of the Rhone

-    Long, long ago, and wondering--a child once more--if it had grown.

-

-    Yet there remained the sharpest cup to drain: the moan of us went

-                                             up,

-    When from the topmost dome was hurled the Sign that should have

-                                             ruled the world.

-

-    Down, down it rumbled with our grand designs. All we had built or

-                                             planned,

-    Toiled, bled for, crumbled at a touch, was ruined like a house of

-                                             sand.

-

-    So soon we pass. The wind knows why. The efforts of a century,

-    Three generations' handiwork failed in the twinkling of an eye.

-

-    And I was sad to think that shadows occupy us all. I had

-    No hope of earth. What boots a toy that thinks its maker raving

-                                             mad?

-

-    My soul had passed through every phase and, counting forty thousand

-                                             days,

-    Was farther off than at the start from comprehending heaven's ways

-

-    Or bowing to them. I came nearest when I pressed my childish ear

-    Earthward through briar and bramble bowers to catch the singing of

-                                             the flowers.

-

-    The last remains of faith were shaken when I, the oracle, was

-                                             taken.

-    My pride was made to sleep in chains. I prayed that I might never

-                                             waken,

-

-    But woke. They gave me to a _rais_ who wanted cattle, not advice.

-    He flogged me down to Damietta. I was old and fetched no price.

-

-    Nathless my battling heart was brave enough to work me till I

-                                             dropped.

-    I passed for twopence to a Copt who sold me as a galley-slave

-

-    To Muscat. In the rhythmic stroke, old, undefeated, gnarled as oak

-    I creaked and strained against my fate, until that Sufi-something

-                                             broke.

-

-    'Twas not my heart. An inner morn put the dark age in me to scorn,

-    And in the light I found myself, a child at play with worlds

-                                             unborn,

-

-    For all that I had thought and read, and fought and watched the

-                                             world be led

-    By any who contrived to cut a knot with that blunt tool, the head.

-

-    I laughed to think how sparrows might look down upon our highest

-                                             flight,

-    While each succeeding age would have its oracle or stagyrite,

-

-    Would trace the good we never did, the evil that we never saw,

-    And out of our blind pyramid extract a stepping-stone to Law.

-

-    Here, where ambition had to cease in servitude, I tasted peace,

-    Free of illusion stretched and yawned. A fool would clamour for

-                                             release.

-

-    I make the rowers' bench a throne to think, and thought implies

-                                             Alone,

-    Of changing woods and endless streams. My happiness is all my own.

-

-    And often, when my mates deplore a brother who shall row no more,

-    I talk about my wolf-cub, Life. They think I speak in metaphor.

-

-    They gather round me all agog, they think a chronicle and log

-    Of Progress lies in withered hands. Their cry is for an epilogue.

-

-    Has aught been drafted yet? A blot, an echo void and polyglot.

-    Each century is written off as preface. Yes, most true.... Of what?

-

-    My gathered weight had held me bound to find for every fog a

-                                             ground,

-    For every riddle a reply, an end to Being that goes round.

-

-    Now I can say, I do not know if there will be a book at all,

-    Or if the deepest chapters go beyond some writing on the wall,

-

-    Though wiser worlds will yet embark, sworn to eclipse our sorry

-                                             trades,

-    Succeed, and leave their little mark: a dynasty of thought that

-                                             fades,

-

-    Fresh undergrowths of formulae. Through these no _human_ eye can see

-    The open glade--the _last_ crusade, in which Jerusalem might be

-

-    The symbol of all peopled space, and Time an emblem of the day

-    On which the nations march as one to liberate and not to slay.

-

-    A story has no finish when it leads to nowhere out of ken?

-    O friend, the lack of knowledge brings wisdom within the reach of

-                                             men;

-

-    For whether hope can ever fit the future matters not a whit.

-    My duty is to tug my oar--so long as I am chained to it.

-

-

-

-

-XIX

-

-FUSION

-

-

-    It was fulfilled. The giant _dhow_ bestirred

-    Herself, burst from her slender moorings, ran

-    Exulting on her course beyond the green

-    Thin shallows to the deeper violet

-    Of that great gem wherein the continents

-    Are flaws. With creaking oars and fluttering sails

-    The winged ghost swept outward. On the prow

-    Unveiled the Queen stood whiter than the sails,

-    And save the revelation made no sign;

-    And all the sound of singing was brought low.

-    Then, as the vision vanished in the hushed

-    Twilight that painted out the caravan,

-    Leaving the pilgrims but a _burnus_-blur

-    On the drab canvas of the shore, a wail

-    Rose, and to them the Dreamer's last reply:

-

-        "The aimless spindrift mingles with the scats

-          Where suddenly the desert is the beach.

-        A low wind whimpers up and down the flats

-          Seeking some obstacle to lend it speech.

-

-        "The sky bleeds pale as from a mortal wound,

-          Darkening the waters. To a treble E

-        Gulls stiffly wheel their nomad escort round

-          A white sail dwindling in the impassive sea.

-

-        "A last beam smites it with a benison.

-          The lantern twinkles fainter at its mast.

-        It bears the purpose in me that is gone,

-          The only thing that cannot be, the past.

-

-        "Let there be night. Shall evensong complain?

-          My love was utter. Now I seek no sign.

-        Mine eyes have seen, and shall not see again.

-          Out of the deep shall call no voice of mine.

-

-        "Yet I, whose happiness is hidden from view,

-          Have climbed the hill and touched eternity,

-        And Pisgah is a memory--of you,

-          A white sail sinking in the summer sea."

-

-    The ship drove spaceward to the skyline's crater,

-      The last of day flared vibrant as a cry,

-    And in the Dreamer Emptiness loomed greater

-      Than the unrifted pumice of the sky.

-

-    He turned to see the friends whose hope had ended

-      Like his beside the gulf. He was alone.

-    The singers and the glory that had blended

-      With meaner notes and lowly, all were gone

-

-    Into thin air. But, patient of his tether,

-      Enduring as the dream he would not break,

-    Only old Tous remained. As back together

-      They fared, once more it seemed the camel spake:

-

-        "Lo, these the fleeting and the true,

-          The keen to sacrifice and slow,

-        The plumed, the crawling, all were You

-          That started hither long ago.

-        For man is many when begun,

-        But Love can weave his ends to one.

-

-        "The new, the ancient, song and prose,

-          The lower road, the higher aim,

-        The clean, the draggled, dust and snows

-          Were you the striving, you the same.

-        Pride and endeavour, love and loss,

-        The pattern is the threads that cross.

-

-        "Tilth, waste and water, sand and sap,

-          Tare, thorn and thistle, wine and oil,

-        Run through _your_ Nature like a map,

-          Are YOU. The ores that vein the soil

-        Of time and substance manifold

-        Await the hour that makes them gold,

-

-        "That found the force of you dispersed

-          On all adventure save a quest,

-        And part perhaps was on the worst.

-          It sent you all upon the best,

-        Wherein the journey is the goal.

-        Now leaving you they leave you whole.

-

-        "The rabble melts, but more remains:

-          The golden opportunity

-        By which the choir in us attains

-          Not unison but unity.

-        We feel the sunbeam, not the motes.

-        The Voice is made of many notes.

-

-        "Slave, merchant, scholar, fighting-man,

-          The gambling, stumbling, praying kith

-        We called the Singing Caravan,

-          Have made their song at least no myth

-        Not dawn to which yon skylark soared

-        But earth is his and your reward.

-

-        "The story ends, but not the book.

-          Sufi, the Queen that you ensued

-        Led and shall lead you still to look

-          On peace--it is not solitude.

-        Through her your warring kingdoms met,

-        And here is room for no regret."

-

-        So Dreamer-of-the-Age returned

-          With comfort, all his being fused

-          At last, and thus at night he mused

-        Beside the fire that in him burned:

-

-        "Heirs of the beauty yet to be,

-          Hail, from however far ahead

-          Or out of sight I hear you tread

-        The dust that made this tale and me.

-

-        "Each day shall raise me to rejoice

-          That lovers such as we must bear

-          The unbroken chain of life and share

-        Its thanksgiving. Perhaps my voice

-

-        "Shall be the servant of your mind,

-          Your linkman waiting in the arch

-          Of phantom city-gates to march

-        With you by secret ways. The wind

-

-        "Shall tell me of you, he and I

-          Be keenly with you, when you go

-          Forth in my footsteps and the glow

-        Of movement, steadfast to deny

-

-        "Only the frailer self. My grief

-          Shall answer your unspoken word

-          Through blithe interpreters, a bird

-        Waking, the sounds of rill and leaf.

-

-        "By many a caravanserai

-          I shall not fail to watch you come,

-          You of some far millennium,

-        Who, listening to the bird, will say:

-

-        "'I seem to know that tune of his;

-          He sings what all can understand.'

-          In the clear water dip your hand:

-        'His deepest note was only this.'

-

-        "You shall be glad of me, the shade,

-          Sighing 'O friend.' And I shall keep

-          The benediction of your sleep;

-        And, when the woods of darkness fade,

-

-        "Shall waken with you, I that had

-          Love to the full, and praised my lot,

-          Trusting in truth to be forgot

-        For worthier verse. Ah, make me glad,

-

-        "You that come after me, and call

-          From summits that outstrip my hopes.

-          Yet I shall linger on the slopes

-        And dwell with those who gave their all."

-

-

-

-

-XX

-

-LONG LEAVE

-

-

-    I bow my head, O brother, brother, brother,

-      But may not grudge you that were All to me.

-    Should any _one_ lament when this our Mother

-      Mourns for so many sons on land and sea.

-    God of the love that makes two lives as one

-    Give also strength to see that England's will be done.

-

-    Let it be done, yea, down to the last tittle,

-      Up to the fullness of all sacrifice.

-    Our dead feared this alone--to give too little.

-      Then shall the living murmur at the price?

-    The hands withdrawn from ours to grasp the plough

-    Would suffer only if the furrow faltered now.

-

-    Know, fellow-mourners--be our cross too grievous--

-      That One who sealed our symbol with His blood

-    Vouchsafed the vision that shall never leave us,

-      Those humble crosses in the Flanders mud;

-    And think there rests all-hallowed in each grave

-    A life given freely for the world He died to save.

-

-    And, ages hence, dim tramping generations

-      Who never knew and cannot guess our pain--

-    Though history count nothing less than nations,

-      And fame forget where grass has grown again--

-    Shall yet remember that the world is free.

-    It is enough. For this is immortality.

-

-    I raise my head, O brother, brother, brother.

-      The organ sobs for triumph to my heart.

-    What! Who will think that ransomed earth can smother

-      Her own great soul, of which you are a part!

-    The requiem music dies as if it _knew_

-    The inviolate peace where 'tis already well with you.

-

-

-

-

-EPILOGUE

-

-

-    "It's not as easy as you think,"

-      The nettled poet sighed.

-    "It's not as good as I could wish,"

-      The publisher replied.

-    "It might," the kindly critic wrote,

-      "Have easily been _worse_."

-    "We will not read it anyhow,"

-      The public said, "it's verse."

-

-

-PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS

-

-WEST NORWOOD, LONDON

-

-

-

-

-TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

-

-

-All unusual, archaic and inconsistent spellings and usage have been

-maintained as in the original text. The only changes made were:

-

-In the original text, the words "polymetis" and "hoi polloi" were

-written in Greek.

-

-I added the entries for "In Memoriam" and "Acknowledgements" to the

-Table of Contents.

-

-

-

-

-

-End of Project Gutenberg's The Singing Caravan, by Robert Vansittart

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-

+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49385 ***
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
+
+
+_FICTION_
+
+    THE GATES
+    JOHN STUART
+
+_VERSE_
+
+    SONGS AND SATIRES
+
+_THEATRE_
+
+    LES PARIAHS
+    THE CAP AND BELLS
+    PEOPLE LIKE OURSELVES
+    CLASS
+
+_THEATRE IN VERSE_
+
+    FOOLERY
+    DUSK
+
+
+
+
+THE SINGING CARAVAN
+
+
+
+
+_RECENT POETRY_
+
+
+  THE HEART OF PEACE
+    By LAURENCE HOUSMAN.           5s. net
+
+  ESCAPE AND FANTASY
+    By GEORGE ROSTREVOR.       3s. 6d. net
+
+  THE SAILING SHIPS
+    By ENID BAGNOLD.               5s. net
+
+  COUNTER-ATTACK
+    By SIEGFRIED SASSOON.      2s. 6d. net
+
+  POEMS
+    By GEOFFREY DEARMER.       2s. 6d. net
+
+
+
+
+THE SINGING
+CARAVAN
+
+A SUFI TALE
+
+BY
+
+ROBERT VANSITTART
+
+  Each man is many as a caravan;
+    His straggling selves collect in tales like these.
+  Only the love of one can make him one.
+    Who takes the Sufi Way--the Way of Peace?
+
+
+NEW YORK
+GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
+1919
+
+_Printed in Great Britain_
+
+
+
+
+_IN MEMORIAM_
+
+MY BROTHER ARNOLD
+
+  2ND LIEUTENANT, 11TH HUSSARS
+  KILLED IN ACTION NEAR YPRES
+  MAY 1915
+
+
+    _In twenty years of lands and seas and cities
+      I had small joy and sought for it the more,
+    Thinking: "If ever I am polymêtis,
+      'Tis yours to draw upon the hard-won store."_
+
+    _I had some bouts from Samarkand to Paris,
+      And took some falls 'twixt Sweden and Sudan.
+    If I was slow and patient learning parries,
+      I hoped to teach you when you were a man._
+
+    _I cannot fall to whining round the threshold
+      Where Death awaited you. I lack the skill
+    Of hands for ever working out a fresh hold
+      On life. In mystic ways I serve you still._
+
+    _The age of miracles is not yet ended.
+      As on the humble feast of Galilee
+    Surely a touch of heaven has descended
+      On the cheap earthen vessel, even on me,_
+
+    _Whose weak content--the soul I travail under--
+      Unstable as water, to myself untrue,
+    God's mercy makes an everlasting wonder,
+      Stronger than life or death, my love of you._
+
+
+
+
+I am indebted to Mr. Arthur Humphreys, Mr. John Murray, and the
+Editor of the _Spectator_ for kind permission to reproduce a few of
+the shorter poems in this tale of Persian mystics. I have included
+them, firstly, because I wished otherwise new work, being a memorial,
+to include such fragments of the past as might be worth preserving;
+secondly, because decreasing leisure inspires a diffidence in the
+future that may justify me in asking a reader or a friend to judge or
+remember me only by "Foolery" and "The Singing Caravan."
+
+                                                  R. V.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                               PAGE
+
+         IN MEMORIAM                             vi
+
+         ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS                      viii
+
+         PRELUDE                                  1
+
+      I. THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN                 9
+
+     II. THE JOY OF THE WORDS                    15
+
+    III. THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT                  17
+
+     IV. THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT          20
+
+      V. THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL                 22
+
+     VI. THE BOASTING OF YOUTH                   28
+
+    VII. THE HEART OF THE SLAVE                  33
+
+   VIII. THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK               37
+
+     IX. THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR              39
+
+      X. THE SONG OF THE SELVES                  49
+
+     XI. THE STORY OF THE SUTLER                 57
+
+    XII. THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT               62
+
+   XIII. THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER            66
+
+    XIV. THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR                78
+
+     XV. THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH           81
+
+    XVI. THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC             90
+
+   XVII. THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR                100
+
+  XVIII. THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER          103
+
+    XIX. FUSION                                 161
+
+     XX. LONG LEAVE                             167
+
+         EPILOGUE                               169
+
+
+
+
+PRELUDE
+
+
+    The sun smote Elburz like a gong.
+      Slow down the mountain's molten face
+    Zigzagged the caravan of song.
+      Time was its slave and went its pace.
+
+    It bore a white Transcaspian Queen
+      Whose barque had touched at Enzelí.
+    Splendid in jewelled palanquin
+      She cleft Iran from sea to sea,
+
+    Bound for the Persian Gulf of Pearls,
+      Where demons sail for drifting isles
+    With bodyguards of dancing girls
+      And four tamed winds for music, smiles
+
+    For passports. Thus the caravan,
+      Singing from chief to _charvadar_,
+    Reached the great gate of screened Tehran.
+      The burrows of the dim bazaar
+
+    Swarmed thick to see the vision pass
+      On broidered camels like a fleet
+    Of swaying silence. One there was
+      Who joined the strangers in the street.
+
+    They called him Dreamer-of-the-Age,
+      The least of Allah's _Muslimeen_
+    Who knew the joys of pilgrimage
+      And wore the sign of sacred green,
+
+    A poet, poor and wistful-eyed.
+      Him all the beauty and the song
+    Drew by swift magic to her side,
+      And in a trance he went along
+
+    Past friends who questioned of his goal:
+      "The Brazen Cliffs? The Realms of Musk?
+    Goes he to Mecca for his soul?..."
+      The town-light dwindled in the dusk
+
+    Behind. Ahead Misr? El Katíf?
+      The moon far up a brine-green sky
+    Made Demavend a huge pale reef
+      Set in an ocean long gone dry.
+
+    Bleached mosques like dwarf cave-stalagmites,
+      Smooth silver-bouldered _biyaban_
+    And sevenfold velvet of white nights
+      Vied with the singing caravan
+
+    To make her pathway plain.
+                                Then one
+      Beside the poet murmured low:
+    "I plod behind, sun after sun,
+      O master, whither do we go?
+
+    "Are we for some palmed port of Fars,
+      Or tombed Kerbela, or Baghdad
+    The Town-of-Knowledge-of-the-Stars?
+      Is worship wise or are we mad?"
+
+    Answered the poet: "Do we ask
+      Allah to buy each Friday's throng?
+    None to whom worship is a task
+      Should join the caravan of song.
+
+    "With heart and eyes unquestioning, friend,
+      We follow love from sea to sea,
+    And Love and Prayer have common end:
+      'May God be merciful to me!'"
+
+    So fared they, camped from noon to even,
+      Till dawn, quick-groping through the gloom,
+    Pounced on gilt planets low in heaven.
+      Thus they beheld the domes of Kum.
+
+    And onward nightly. Though the dust
+      Swirled in dread shapes of desert _Jinn_,
+    Ever the footsore poet's trust
+      Soared to the jewelled palanquin,
+
+    Parched, but still singing: "God, being great,
+      Lent me a star from sea to sea,
+    The drop in his hand-hollow, Fate.
+      He holds it high, and signs to me
+
+    "Although She--She may not ..."
+                                "For thirst
+      My songs and dreams like mirage fail.
+    Yea, mad "--his fellow pilgrim cursed--
+      "I was. The Queen lifts not her veil."
+
+    "Put no conditions to her glance,
+      O happy desert, where the guide
+    Is Love's own self, Life's only chance ..."
+      He saw not where the other died,
+
+    But pressed on strongly, loth to halt
+      At Persia's pride, Rose-Ispahan,
+    Whose hawks are bathed in pure cobalt.
+      To meet the singing caravan
+
+    Came henna-bearded prince and sage
+      With henna-fingered _houris_, who
+    Strove to retard the pilgrimage,
+      Saying: "Our streets are fair and you
+
+    "A poet. Sing of us instead.
+      God may be good, but life is short.
+    Yon are the mountains of the dead.
+      Here are clean robes to wear at court."
+
+    He said: "I seek a bliss beyond
+      The range of your _muezzin_-call.
+    Do birds cease song till heaven respond?
+      The road is naught. The Hope is all."
+
+    "You know not this Transcaspian Queen,
+      Or what the journey's end may be.
+    Fool among Allah's _Muslimeen_,
+      You chase a myth from sea to sea."
+
+    "Because I bargain not nor guess
+      If Waste or Garden wait for me,
+    Love gives me inner loveliness.
+      I hold to her from sea to sea."
+
+    So he was gone, nor seemed to care
+      For beckoning shade, or boasting brook,
+    Or human alabaster-ware
+      Flaunted before him in the _suk_,
+
+    Nor paused at sunburnt far Shiraz,
+      The home of sinful yellow wine,
+    Where morning mists, like violet gauze,
+      Deck the bare hills, and blossoms twine
+
+    In seething coloured foam around
+      The lighthouse minarets.
+                                And sheer--
+    A thin cascade bereft of sound--
+      The track falls down to dank Bushír.
+
+    The caravan slipped to the plain.
+      Its song rose through the rising damp,
+    Till, through the grey stockade of rain,
+      The Gulf of Pearls shone like a lamp.
+
+    Here waiting rode a giant _dhow_,
+      Each hand a captive _Roumi_ lord,
+    Who rose despite his chains to bow
+      As straight her beauty went aboard,
+
+    Sailed. For the Tableland of Rhyme?
+      The Crystal Archipelago?
+    Who knows! This happened on a time
+      Among the times of long ago.
+
+    He only, Dreamer-of-the-Age,
+      Was left alone upon the sands,
+    The goal of his long pilgrimage,
+      The soil of all the promised lands,
+
+    Watching the _dhow_ cut like a sword
+      The leaden waves. Yet, ere she sailed,
+    God poured on broken eyes reward
+      Out of Heaven's heart.
+                            The Queen unveiled.
+
+    There for a space fulfilment shone,
+      While worship had his soul for priest
+    And altar. Then the light was gone,
+      And on the sea the singing ceased.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    And is this all my story? Yes,
+      Save that the _Sufi's_ dream is true.
+    Dearest, in its deep lowliness
+      This tale is told of me and you.
+
+    O love of mine, while I have breath,
+      Whatever my last fate shall be,
+    I seek you, you alone, till death
+      With all my life--from sea to sea.
+      And God be merciful to me.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN
+
+
+    The pilgrims from the north
+      Beat on the southern gate
+    All eager to set forth,
+      In little mood to wait
+    While watchman Abdelal
+      Expounded the Koran
+    To that wise seneschal,
+      His mate, Ghaffír Sultan.
+
+    At length Ghaffír: "Enough!"
+      Even watchmen's heads may nod.
+    "Asräil is not rough
+      If we have faith in God."
+    His fellow tapped the book:
+      The _Darawish_ discuss
+    The point you overlook:
+      Has Allah faith in us?
+
+    Know, then, that Allah, fresh
+      And splendid as a boy
+    Who thinks no ill of flesh,
+      Had one desire: a toy.
+    And so he took for site
+      To build his perfect plan
+    The Earth, where His delight
+      Was manufactured: Man.
+
+    Ah, had we ever seen
+      The draft, our Maker's spit,
+    I think we must have been
+      Drawn to live up to it.
+    God was so pure and kind
+      He showed Shaitan the lease
+    Of earth that He had signed
+      For us, His masterpiece.
+
+    The pilgrims cried: "You flout
+      Our calm. Beware. It flags.
+    Unbar and let us out,
+      Sons of a thousand rags."
+    And Abdelal said: "Hark!
+      Methought I heard a din."
+    Said Ghaffír: "After dark
+      I let no devils in.
+
+    "Proceed." He sucked his pipe:
+      God in His happiest mood
+    Laid down our prototype,
+      And saw that man was good.
+    Aglow with generous pride:
+      "Shaitan the son of Jann,
+    This is my crown," He cried.
+      "Bow down and worship man."
+
+    Said Evil with a smirk--
+      He was too sly to hiss--
+    "I cannot praise your work.
+      I could have bettered this."
+    God said: "I could have sown
+      The soil my puppet delves,
+    Yet rather gave my own
+      Power to perfect themselves."
+
+    Still the fiend stiffened. "I
+      Bow not." Our prophet saith
+    That he would not comply
+      Because he had no faith
+    In us. He only saw
+      The worst of Allah's toy,
+    The springs, some surface flaw,
+      The strengthening alloy.
+
+    Said God: "The faults are mine.
+      I gave him hope and doubt,
+    The mind that my design
+      Shall have to work Me out.
+    What though he fall! Is love
+      So faint that I should grieve?
+    How else, friend, should I prove
+      To him that I believe?
+
+    "And how else should he rise?
+      Lo, I, that made the night,
+    Have given his conscience eyes
+      Therein to find the Right.
+    I have stretched out his hand,
+      Oh, not to grasp but feel,
+    Have taught his aims to land,
+      But tipped the aims with steel;
+
+    "Have given him iron resolve
+      And one great master-key,
+    Courage, to bid revolve
+      The hinge of destiny,
+    And beams from heaven to build
+      The road to Otherwise,
+    With broken gloom to gild
+      The causeway of his sighs
+
+    "Whereby I watch him come
+      At last to judge of Me,
+    Beyond the thunder's drum,
+      The cymbals of the sea.
+    Aye, Shaitan, plumb the Space
+      And Time that planets buoy,
+    And you shall know the place
+      Appointed for my toy.
+
+    "I could not give him rest,
+      And see him satiate
+    At once, or make the zest
+      Of life an opiate.
+    I might have been his lord,
+      I had not been his friend
+    To sheathe his spirit's sword
+      And start him at the end.
+
+    "I would not make him old,
+      That he might see his port
+    Fling its nocturne of gold
+      And cheerfulness athwart
+    The dusk. I planned the wave,
+      And wealth of wind and star.
+    Could one be gay and brave
+      Who never saw afar
+
+    "The cause that he outlives
+      Only because he fought,
+    The peaks to which he strives,
+      The ranges of his thought,
+    Until the dawn to be
+      Relieve his watchfires dim,
+    Not by his faith in Me
+      But by my faith in him!
+
+    "I also have my dreams,
+      And through my darkest cloud
+    His climbing phalanx gleams
+      To my salute, and, proud
+    Of him even in defeat,
+      My light upon his brow,
+    My roughness at his feet,
+      I triumph. Shaitan, bow!"
+
+    But Shaitan like an ass
+      Jibbed and would not give ear.
+    Just so it came to pass,
+      Declares our Book, Ghaffír.
+    We know that in the heat
+      Of disputation--well,
+    Allah shot out his feet,
+      And Shaitan went to hell.
+
+    Thus Abdelal. The gate
+      Shook to the pilgrims' cry:
+    "When will you cease to prate,
+      Beards of calamity!"
+    The poet: "Allah's bliss
+      Fall on his watchmen! Thus
+    Our journey's password is
+      That God has faith in us."
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE JOY OF THE WORDS
+
+
+    The Sufis trembled: "Open, open wide,
+      Dismiss us to illuminate the East."
+    Old Ghaffír fumbled the reluctant bolts,
+      Lifting his hands and eyes as for a feast.
+    And this was their viaticum. His words
+      Were mingled with their eagerness like yeast:
+
+    Go forth, poor words!
+      If truly you are free,
+    Simple, direct, you shall be winged like birds,
+      Voiced like the sea.
+
+    Walk humbly clad!
+      Be sure those words are lame
+    That ride a-clatter, or that deck and pad
+      A puny frame.
+
+    As in your dress,
+      So in your speech be plain!
+    Be not deceived; the Mighty Meaningless
+      Are loud in vain.
+
+    Be not puffed up,
+      Nor drunk with your own sound!
+    Shall men drink deeply when an empty cup
+      Is handed round?
+
+    Shout not at heaven!
+      Say what I bade you say.
+    Simplicity is beauty dwelling even
+      In yea or nay.
+
+    Be this your goal.
+      Beauty within man's reach
+    Is poetry. You cannot touch man's soul
+      Save with man's speech.
+
+    Therefore go straight.
+      You shall not turn aside
+    To vain display; for yonder lies the gate
+      Where gods abide
+
+    Your coming. Go!
+      The way was never hard.
+    What would you more than common flowers or snow?
+      For your reward,
+
+    Be understood,
+      And thus shall you be sung.
+    Aye, you who think to show us any good,
+      Speak in our tongue.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT
+
+
+    The watchman finished, as the southern gate
+    Clanged, and the breathless city lay behind.
+    The Dreamer's shadows shrank against the wall,
+    As though the desert called and none replied,
+    Till the young pilot, standing out to night,
+    Swung clear these lines to sound the depths of her:
+
+          "Blue Persian night,
+    Soft, voiceless as the summer sea!
+    Flooding the bouldered desert sand, submerge
+          This cypressed isle
+    And Demavend's snow-spire--a sunken rock
+    On your hushed floor, where I the diver stand
+          Beyond the reach of day.
+    And though, up through your overwhelming peace,
+          I see your surface, heaven,
+    I would not rise there, being drowned in you,
+          Blue Persian night.
+
+          "Blue Persian night,
+    O consolation of the East!
+    In your clear breathless oceanic sheen
+          My heart's an isle,
+    From whose innumerable caves and coigns--
+    When dusk awakes the city of my mind--
+          Exploring boats set forth,
+    Bound for the harbour-lights of God knows where,
+          Full, full of God knows what;
+    It must be love of Him, or Her, or You,
+          Blue Persian night."
+
+    Her signal answered; for a slender wand
+    Of moonbeam touched the Dreamer on the mouth.
+    The caravan looked upward with a shout
+    And set its camels rolling to the south,
+    Murmuring: "Blue Persian night, none ever saw
+    You through your own sheer purity before us.
+    Rise up our songs as bubbles from the sand ..."
+    Somewhere among the camels rose this chorus:
+
+                  Dong! Dong!
+              Lurching along
+              Out of the dusk
+              Into the night.
+            Noiseless and lusty,
+            Dreamy and dusty,
+        Looms the long caravan-line into sight.
+
+                  Dong! Dong!
+              Never a song,
+              Never a footfall
+              A breath or a sigh.
+            Ghostly and stolid,
+            Stately and squalid,
+        Creeps the monotonous caravan by.
+
+                  Dong! Dong!
+              Fugitive throng.
+              Out of the dark
+              Into the night,
+            Silent and lonely,
+            Gone!... the bells only
+        Tells us a caravan once was in sight.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT
+
+
+    Moussa, the son of the Crypto-Jew,
+    Had eaten his fill of yellow stew
+
+    And a bit besides (as a business man
+    He was far too quick for the caravan,
+
+    Who loved him not, though it feared his guile).
+    Moussa then: "I shall walk awhile
+
+    "To ease my soul of its heavy load."
+    His pious friends: "May you find a road,"
+
+    And winked. "His soul has begun to feel
+    There's nothing left but a march to steal."
+
+    But one from the village, decoying quail
+    For the governor's pot, came back with a tale
+
+    Of a lean arm shaken against the sky
+    Like a stunted thorn, and this piteous cry:
+
+      "As sound within an ice-bound desert mewed
+      Drags out existence at the very core
+      Of isolation, as breakers slip ashore
+      In vainly eternal whispers to the nude
+      Reef-coral, where no human feet intrude
+      Upon the purity of stillness; or
+      As, far from life, unmated eagles soar
+      Above the hilltops' breathless solitude,
+
+      "So moves my love, like these a thing apart,
+      Fierce, in the ruined temple of my heart,
+      Shy as a shooting star that peers new-risen
+      Mid strangers. Even so. Pent in the prison
+      Of space my soul, a lonely planet, wheels ...
+      Men call the sum of loneliness 'Ideals.'"
+
+    This is the plaint that the cross-road heard
+    Where it strikes from Kashan to Burujird.
+
+    The townsmen, met by the sun-dried stream,
+    Caught a voice high up like an angel's scream
+
+    Or a teaspoon tapping the bowl of heaven,
+    And they cried: "_Ajab!_ May we be forgiven,
+
+    "But it sounds a soul of the rarer sort
+    Whose wings are set for no earthly port."
+
+    And the answer came, as they cried: "Who's that?"
+    "One that sells short weight in mutton fat."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL
+
+
+    Light was not. All was still. The caravan
+    Had ceased its song and motion by the bed
+    Wherein the hill-stream tosses sleeplessly,
+    The only sound, save one staccato note
+    Interminably piped by tiny owls.
+    The camp lay balmed in slumber, as the dead
+    Are straitened in white trappings. Then a voice,
+    Deeper than any dead black mountain pool
+    Or blacker well where devils cool by day,
+    Seemed to commune with Dreamer-of-the-Age,
+    Who, peering through the cloak about his head,
+    Challenged: "Who speaks?" The voice replied: "A friend
+    Unknown to you." ... It was old Peacock Tous,
+    The great grey camel with the crimson tail
+    On whom the queen was wont to ride. He said:
+
+    "Sheikh, I was born among the Bakhtiari,
+      The shelter of their hawthorn vales was mine;
+    For me, unbroken to the loads men carry,
+      The breeze that crowns their uplands glowed as wine
+    To drink. I, Tous, the Peacock, whom men call so
+      Because I ever moved as one above
+    The common herd, was mad and merry. Also
+      I knew not yet the prickled herb of Love.
+
+    "Spring tricked the desert out with flowered patterns
+      For me to tread like flowered carpets wrought
+    In patience by my master's painted slatterns--
+      He said that only Persian _women_ fought.
+    Ah, youth is free and silken-haired and leggy!
+      No camel knows why Allah makes it end,
+    But He is wiser. Me the tribe's Il-Beggi
+      Spied out and sent as tribute to a friend,
+
+    "A dweller in black tents, a nomad chieftain
+      Of Khamseh Arabs or unruled Kashgai,
+    Whose cattle-raids and rapines past belief stain
+      The furthest page of camel-history.
+    And shamefully the ragged sutlers thwacked us,
+      Until I learned, as to this manner born,
+    That pride must find a mother in the cactus
+      And hope the milk of kindness in the thorn.
+
+    "O Sheikh, I found. A milk-white _nakeh_ followed
+      The drove of males, and I would lag behind
+    With her, no matter how the drivers holloa'ed--
+      Man never doubts that all but he are blind.
+    At nightfall, when our champing echoed surly
+      Beyond the cheerful circle of the fire,
+    Something within me whispered, and thus early
+      I bore the burden of the world's desire.
+
+    "But I was saddled with the will of Allah,
+      Since one there was more fleet of foot than I,
+    The chosen of the chief of the Mehallah,
+      Whose nostrils quivered as he passed me by.
+    To her, beside his paces and his frothing,
+      My steadfastness was common as the air,
+    My passion and my patience were as nothing,
+      Because fate chose to make my rival fair.
+
+    "I suffered and was silent--some said lazy--
+      Until the seasons drove us to the plain.
+    The nomads sold me then to a Shirazi.
+      I never met my happiness again,
+    But trod the same old measure back and forward,
+      And passed a friend as seldom as a tree.
+    Oh, heaviness of ever going shoreward,
+      Of bringing all fruition to the sea!
+
+    "For I have fared from sea to sea like you, sirs,
+      And with your like, not once but many times.
+    Your path acclaims me eldest of its users,
+      It tells my step as I foresee your rhymes.
+    I know by heart a heartache's thousandth chapter
+      As you have read the preface of delight.
+    The silence you shall enter, I have mapped her.
+      O singing caravan, I was To-night
+
+    "Long ere you dreamed. I dreaming of my lady
+      Became the cargo-bearer we call Self.
+    Two hundredweight of flesh that spouted Sa'di,
+      A restless bag of bones intent on pelf,
+    Have straddled me in turn.... Hashish and spices,
+      Wheat, poisons, satins, brass, and graven stone,
+    I, Tous, have borne all human needs and vices
+      As solemnly as had they been my own.
+
+    "Moon-faced sultanas blue with kohl a-pillion,
+      Grey ambergris, pink damask-roses' oil,
+    Deep murex purple, beards or lips vermilion
+      As Abu Musa's flaming scarlet soil
+    I have borne--and dung and lacquer. I have flooded
+      Bazaars with poppy-seed and filigree.
+    Men little guess the stuff that I have studied,
+      Or what their vaunted traffic seems to me.
+
+    "I am hardened to all wonderments and stories--
+      My ears have borne the hardest of my task--
+    I have carried pearls from Lingah up to Tauris,
+      And Russian Jews from Lenkoran to Jask.
+    I have watched fat vessels crammed by sweating coolies
+      With all the rubbish that the rich devise,
+    And often I have wondered who the fool is
+      That takes it all, and whom the fool supplies.
+
+    "Yet ran my thoughts on her, though cedar rafters
+      Were laid on me, or mottled silk and plush,
+    Although the tinkling scales of varied laughters
+      Rode me from Bandar Abbas to Barfrush,
+    Or broken hearts from Astara to Gwetter.
+      All ironies have made their moving house
+    Of me. I smile to think how many a letter
+      Has passed from loved to lover thanks to Tous
+
+    "The loveless. Think you men alone are lonely,
+      My masters? I have also worshipped one,
+    Have built my days of faith and service only,
+      And while I worshipped all my life was gone.
+    I spent the funds of life in growing older,
+      In heaping fuel on a smothered fire.
+    See how my tale is rounded! On my shoulder
+      I bear the burden of _your_ world's desire.
+
+    "Yet keep that inner smile; and never show it
+      Though the Account be nothing--shorn of her.
+    Be wise, O Sheikh. Pray God to be a poet
+      Lest life should make you a philosopher,
+    Or lest the dreams of which you had the making
+      Should prove to be such stuff as still I trail,
+    And bring your heart, my withers, nigh to breaking
+      When at the last the Bearer eyes the Bale,
+
+    "As you shall penetrate this day or morrow
+      The miracle of willing servitude,
+    And yet believe therein. It is the sorrow
+      And not the love that asks to be subdued;
+    It is the mirage not the truth that trammels
+      The travelling feet. Ah, if men only knew
+    How their brief frenzies move the mirth of camels,
+      Our rests were longer and our journeys few.
+
+    "Old Tous is up. The camp is struck and ready
+      For fresh emprise. Dawn sifts the clay-blue sky
+    For gold. Now see how dominant and steady
+      I prose along that have no mind to fly.
+    This is my lesson: over sand or shingle,
+      Blow hot, blow cold, by mountain, plain and khor,
+    Coming and going, I must set a-jingle
+      My own deep bell.... And you must ask for more!"
+
+    He ceased. White on the mirror of the air
+    His breath made patterns. In a ruined farm
+    Red cocks blared out and shouted down the owls.
+    The drivers rubbed their eyes. Another day
+    Among the days was starting on its march....
+    Above the pilgrims fallen to their prayers
+    Old Tous stood upright, blinking at the sun.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+THE BOASTING OF YOUTH
+
+
+    The soldier-lad from Kerman,
+      The sailor-lad from Jask
+    Knew naught that should deter man
+      From finishing the cask.
+    "Wine sets the Faithful jibbing
+      Like mules before an inn,
+    But we sit bravely bibbing,
+      And hold our own with sin."
+
+    Said the stout-hearted wonder
+      Of Jask: "Wine frights not me.
+    I fear no foe but thunder
+      And winds that sting the sea."
+    "And I," said he of Kerman,
+      "Fear nothing but the night,
+    Or some imperious _firman_
+      That bids the Faithful fight."
+
+    "They say some lads fear ladies
+      And truckle to them." "Who
+    Could be so weak? The _Cadis_
+      Rise up for me and you."
+    "But doctors, nay and princes,
+      Have troubles of their own,
+    Save those whom fire convinces....
+      I leave the stuff alone."
+
+    "And I...." Then both bethought them
+      That, howso strong and wise,
+    Their principles had caught them
+      On this mad enterprise.
+    "'Tis time to act with daring,
+      And rest," said he of Jask,
+    And swore a mighty swearing,
+      (And drained another flask).
+
+    "If I go on, attendant
+      Upon this woman's way,
+    May I become dependant
+      On your arrears of pay!"
+    "If I," said Captain Kerman,
+      "Should knuckle to my mate,
+    May I become a merman
+      And live on maggot-bait!"
+
+    "Then since we have discovered
+      That women need our strength"--
+    (The tavern-houris hovered)
+      "To hold them at arm's length,
+    Sit down in this rest-house, and
+      Tell me a tale among
+    The tales, one in your thousand!"
+      This was the story sung:
+
+      "I threw my love about you like fine raiment;
+        I let you kill my pride.
+      You passed me by, but smiled at me in payment,
+        And I was satisfied.
+
+      "I made my mind a plaything for your leisure,
+        Content to be ignored.
+      Body and soul I waited on your pleasure,
+        Waited--without reward.
+
+      "I have no faint repinings that we met, dear,
+        Or that I left you cold.
+      I rub my hands. You will be colder yet, dear,
+        Some day when you are old."
+
+        "Forbidden wine is mellow.
+          The sun has set. Of whom
+        Sing you this song, Brave Fellow?
+          Night is the ante-room
+        Breeze-sprinkled to keep cooler
+          The feasting-halls behind."
+        "She might have been my ruler
+          But for my _Strength of Mind_."
+
+        "That was the tune to whistle!
+          How have I longed to learn
+        The deeds of men of gristle
+          Like mine!..." "Tell me in turn
+        Some of your lore of women,
+          Whose wiles are deep as _bhang_.
+        Your strength shall teach to swim men
+          Who fall in love...." He sang:
+
+    "You came to me, and well you chose your quarry.
+    You told your tale, and well you played your rôle.
+    You spoke of suffering, and I was sorry
+      With all my heart, with all my soul.
+    'Out of the deep,' you said. I thought to save you,
+    And stunned myself upon the covered shoal.
+    Yet, poor deceptive shallows, I forgave you
+      With all my heart, with all my soul.
+    You sought whatever evil had not sought you.
+    In vain I strove to make your nature whole.
+    I did not know the market that had bought you
+      With all your heart, with all your soul.
+    If man had one pure impulse you would smudge it.
+    You had one gift, my pity, which you stole.
+    Now I will only tell you that I grudge it
+      With all my heart, with all my soul."
+
+      "Of whom this song, Brave Fellow?
+        The stars in heaven's black soil
+      Fold up their petalled yellow
+        That pays the angels' toil."
+      The lamp had burned its wick dim,
+        The pair had drunk their fill....
+      "I might have been her victim
+        But for my _Strength of Will_."
+
+      Then one said to the other:
+        "Such strength as yours and mine
+      Must put its foot down, brother,
+        And stay here--pass the wine--
+      Till, for the world's salvation,
+        Shall radiate from this den
+      The Great Confederation
+        Of Independent Men."
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+      The last sour mule was saddled,
+        On went the caravan.
+      These twain turned on the raddled
+        Handmaidens of the _han_,
+      Blinked, cast them forth with loathing
+        Because the queen was fair,
+      And lest their lack of clothing
+        Should lay man's weakness bare.
+
+      White as a cloud in summer,
+        Slender as sun-shot rain--
+      Earth knows what moods become her--
+        The queen passed....
+                             In her train
+      The Great Confederation
+        Trod with such wealth of _Will_
+      That, in its trepidation,
+        It never paid its bill.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+THE HEART OF THE SLAVE
+
+
+    But as they fared slave Obeidullah failed.
+    Devouring fever shook him like a rat,
+    And ere they reached Kashan his course was run.
+    Then freedom came towards him, and he spoke:
+    "Here is an eye of water, mulberry-trees,
+    A rest-house, and to me a stranger thing,
+    Rest. Caravan be strong, fare on with blessings
+    Whence you must forge your happiness--but I,
+    Possessed of peace, shall never see the end.
+    The heart within me has been fire so long
+    That now my body is smoke. I watch it drift
+    Life leaves me gently as a mistress goes
+    Before her time to meet the uncoloured days,
+    Saying: 'I have lived. Plead not. 'Twill be in vain.
+    You were the end of summer. I have passed
+    Out of the garden with fresh scents and dews
+    Upon me, out ere sunset with cool hands,
+    The supple tread of youth and glorying limbs
+    Firm as resolve, unblemished as my pride;
+    Passed ere a leaf be fallen, or losing fights
+    Begin, that smirch the memory of love....'
+    Sweet is the shade, and death's cool lips are welcome
+    After the burning kisses of the sun,
+    The strained embraces of my owner, Toil.
+    I shall remember her with gratitude
+    But no regret, as I lie here. The dawn
+    Biting the desert-edge shall not disturb me,
+    Nor green oases zigzagged through the heat
+    Like stepping-stones. The many-coloured hills,
+    Heaven's mutable emotions, these are past.
+    Beyond them I shall find security
+    Of tenure in the outstretched hands of God."
+    Thereat his fellows made lament, and urged:
+    "Sleep on and take your rest, but not for ever.
+    Time adds to strength, and you shall rise with us
+    Who wait. Already we foresee the coast.
+    A little while...." Slave Obeidullah raised
+    Himself and looked ahead with shining eyes:
+
+      "The moon is faint. A dust-cloud swirls.
+        Therein I see dim marching hosts:
+      Strange embassies and dancing girls,
+        Spice-caravans and pilgrims. Ghosts
+      Rise thick from this else fruitless plain,
+        A waste that every season chars.
+      Yet teeming centuries lie slain
+        And trodden in the road to Fars.
+
+      "The still, white, creeping road slips on,
+        Marked by the bones of man and beast.
+      What comeliness and might have gone
+        To pad the highway of the East!
+      Long dynasties of fallen rose,
+        The glories of a thousand wars,
+      A million lovers' hearts compose
+        The dust upon the road to Fars.
+
+      "No tears have ever served to hold
+       This shifting velvet, fathom-deep,
+      Though vain and ceaseless winds have rolled
+        Its pile wherein the ages sleep.
+      Between your fingers you may sift
+        Kings, poets, priests and _charvadars_.
+      Heaven knows how many make a drift
+        Of dust upon the road to Fars.
+
+      "The wraiths subside. And, One with All,
+        Soon, in the brevity of length,
+      Our lives shall hear the voiceless call
+        That builds this earth of love and strength.
+      Eternal, breathless, we shall wait,
+        Till, last of all the Avatars,
+      God finds us in his first estate:
+        The dust upon the road to Fars."
+
+    So still he lay, so still the pilgrims deemed
+    He was no longer there. The deepening shade
+    Covered him softly. With his latest breath
+    Slave Obeidullah looked upon the Queen:
+
+      "You whom I loved so steadfastly,
+      If all the blest should ask to see
+        The cause for which my spirit came
+        Among them with so little claim
+      To peace, this book should speak for me.
+
+      "I strove and only asked in fee
+      Hope of your immortality
+        Not mine--I had no other aim
+              You whom I loved.
+
+        "The Judge will bend to hear my plea,
+      And take my songs upon his knee.
+        Perhaps His hand will make the lame
+        Worthy to worship you, the same
+      As here they vainly tried to be,
+              You whom I loved."
+
+    Then, turned towards her, Obeidullah slept.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK
+
+
+    Among the fruit-trees still he slumbers. All
+    Mourned for their brother with one heavy heart.
+    Even Tous drooped, swaying weakly in his stride;
+    Until Farid Bahadur, cheapjack, spoke,
+    One bootlessly afoot whose years had brought
+    For profit this, to see existence clear
+    And empty as a solid ball of glass.
+
+    Erstwhile, he said, my peddling carried me
+    Clean through two empires like a paper hoop,
+    Setting me down upon the olive slopes
+    Where Smyrna nestles back to mother earth,
+    And so lures in the ocean. I filled my pack
+    With kerchiefs, beads, dross, chaffering with a Greek,
+    Although he vowed a much-loved partner's death
+    Left him no heart for it. He blew his nose,
+    Asking strange prices as a man distraught.
+    I had no heart to bargain while he crooned:
+
+      "Our loves were woven of one splendid thread,
+      But not our lives, though we had been, we twain,
+      Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane
+      Of him who brought his brother from the dead.
+      Ah, would our God were like his gods that said:
+      Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain,
+      And let the younger Castor live again
+      The space that Pollux lay with Death instead.
+      Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave
+      Not for a part of time but for God's whole
+      Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save
+      Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul
+      Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask
+      From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task.
+
+      "They say the Olympian grace was not content
+      With housing Death, but giving Love the key.
+      It set the troths that guided you and me
+      Among the jewels of the firmament;
+      And there they dwell for ever and assent
+      To each propitious ploughing of the sea.
+      The coasting-pilots of Infinity
+      Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent,
+      Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here
+      With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut
+      All day; but every night an Argonaut
+      Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far
+      Beyond the limitations of his sphere
+      Into the vacant place beside a star."
+
+    So crooned he desolate in his dim shop,
+    Till I became all ears and had no eyes.
+    The fellow cheated me of three _dinars_.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR
+
+
+    Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed
+    The caravan. Its courage failed
+    A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled
+      The sun, that overhead
+    From fields The Plough had turned to grain,
+    Star-honey laden on The Wain
+    And spices from the wind-domain,
+      Was baking angel-bread.
+    (Astronomers in Baghdad say
+    That Allah gave the Milky Way
+      To feed his guests, the dead.)
+
+    Even as the dead the pilgrims lay
+    Until the sun received his pay--
+    Man counts in gold, but he in grey--
+      Then, whining as one daft,
+    A voice crept to each sleeper's ear,
+    And one by one sat up to hear
+    It soughing like a Seistan mere
+      Where nothing ever laughed.
+    A blur at elbow on the floor
+    Cried: "Sleep! 'Tis but the tavern door
+      Amoaning in the draught."
+
+    "Ay," said the master of the inn,
+    "A black-faced gaper that lets in
+    The dark, my creditors, and kin!
+      Last month it strained my wrist, did
+    The lout, so hard it slams. This week
+    Claims it for fuel. See the leak
+    Of air it springs! Its hinges creak,
+      Its wood is warped and twisted.
+    'Tis heavy-hearted as a man,
+    Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...."
+      The wheezing voice persisted.
+
+    "Earth bare me in Mazanderan,
+    Where, breaking her dead level plan,
+    Steep foliage opens like a fan
+      To hide her virgin blush;
+    And singing, caravan, like you
+    Brooks dance towards the Caspian blue
+    Past coolth wherein mauve turtles coo
+      To panthers in the rush,
+    That turn hill-pools to amethyst.
+    Here bucks drink deep and tigers tryst
+      Neck-deep in grasses lush.
+
+    "And there the stainless peaks are kissed
+    By heaven whose crowning mercy, mist,
+    With cloud-lands white as Allah's fist
+      Anoints their heads with rain.
+    We never dreamed, where nature pours,
+    That life could run as thin as yours--
+    A waif thirst-stricken to all fours--
+      Or verdure, but a vein
+    In sandscapes wincing from the sun
+    That burns your flesh and visions dun,
+      Crawl throbbing through the plain.
+
+    "I grew. My shadow weighed a ton;
+    I held a countless garrison;
+    My boughs were roads for apes to run
+      Around the white owl's niche.
+    The hum of bees, the blue jay's scream....
+    The forest came to love and teem
+    In me beside the vivid stream
+      Shot through with speckled fish;
+    Till, weary of my sheltered glen,
+    I craved a human denizen
+      Fate granted me my wish.
+
+    "Yea, I had longed (if slope and fen
+    Can love like this, the love of men
+    Must live above our nature's ken)
+      To see and shade the room,
+    To shield far-leaning the abode,
+    Wherein the souls of lovers glowed
+    To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...
+      And man became my doom.
+    He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,
+    And took the heart of me to make
+      A tavern-door at Kum."
+
+    The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,
+    Or searched the crannies for a ghost.
+    "Ah, heed it not," implored the host;
+      "This hell-burnt father's son
+    Moans ever like a soul oppressed,
+    And takes the fancy of a guest,
+    And makes my house no house of rest:
+      I would its voice were gone.
+    Yet be indulgent, sirs! 'Tis old.
+    Next week it shall be burnt or sold.
+      A new--" The voice went on:
+
+    "Here have I stood while life unrolled
+    But not the tale my breezes told.
+    Moonlight alone conceals the cold
+      Drab city's lack of heart.
+    Here have I watched an hundred years
+    Bespatter me with blood and tears,
+    Yet leave man ever in arrears
+      Of where my monkeys start.
+    No more, dog-rose and meadow-sweet!
+    The harlot's musk and rotten meat
+      Blow at me from the mart.
+
+    "No more, clear streams and fairy feet!
+    But through my mouth the striving street
+    Drains in brown spate the men who eat
+      And drink and curse and die;
+    And out of me the whole night long
+    Reel revellers--O God, their song!...
+    Are there no mortals clean and strong,
+      Or do they pass me by?
+    I little thought that I should leave
+    For this the groves where turtles grieve
+      Far closer to the sky.
+
+    "Instead of every song-bird's note
+    I know the scales a merchant's throat
+    Can compass. I have learned by rote
+      The tricks of Copt and Jew;
+    Can tell if Lur or Afghan brawls,
+    The Armenian way of selling shawls
+    Softly, and how an Arab bawls
+      To rouse the raider's crew,
+    Lest ululating strings of slaves
+    Should take the kennel for their graves....
+      Raids! I have seen a few,
+
+    "Or wars, occasion dubs them--waves
+    Of Mongol sultans, Kurdish braves.
+    They--Find me words! the Simûn _raves_--
+      They worked ... 'tis called their will,
+    Battered me in--behold the dint--
+    With all their hearts that felt like flint,
+    Besmeared the city with the tint
+      Of sunset on my hill.
+    My leopards stalk my bucks at eve--
+    I shivered as I heard them heave--
+      At least they ate their kill.
+
+    "I followed that.... But men who weave
+    Such flowing robes of make-believe,
+    I think the flood was wept by Eve--
+      Some sportsman shot the dove--
+    These puzzled me, for God is good
+    And man His image--not of wood,
+    Thank God!--At last I understood
+      All ... all except their love.
+    I grew so hard that I could trace
+    His hand's chief glory in their race.
+      Perhaps He wore a glove."
+
+    Then one without made haste to smite
+    The malcontent. It opened. Night
+    Stood on the threshold dressed in white,
+      And myriad-eyed and blind.
+    The ostler murmured: "Some _Afrit_
+    Or bitter worm has entered it;
+    Nor jamb nor lintel seems to fit.
+      I know its frame of mind."
+    "Air stirs the dust upon the floor,"
+    The landlord cried. "Fool! Shut that door
+      Amoaning in the wind."
+
+    "My glade was deep, a lichened well
+    Of ether, limpid as a bell
+    Buoyed on the manifold ground-swell
+      Whose distance changed attires
+    As sun-stroked plush, a roundelay
+    Of all red-blue and purple grey,
+    And, at each rise and fall of day,
+      Snows dyed like altar fires
+    Licked through those loud green sheaves of copse,
+    Bent hyphens 'twixt the mountain-tops,
+      Mosques of my motley choirs.
+
+    "And I, who gave them bed and bower
+    For nights enduring but an hour
+    Mid blaring miles of trumpet-flower,
+      Leagues of liana-wreath,
+    I saw the rocks through leaves and lings,
+    Could blink the fangs and feel the wings,
+    Thrill with the elemental things
+      Of life and love and death.
+    The purity of air and brook
+    And song helped me to overlook
+      The rapine underneath.
+
+    "But you--no! one dream more: an elf,
+    Askip on ochre mountain-shelf,
+    Who once had seen a man himself.
+      I used his wand to gauge
+    The sheen of moths and peacocks' whir,
+    To plumb the jungle-aisles, to stir
+    The drifts of frankincense and myrrh,
+    And amorous lithe shapes that purr....
+      'Tis finished. Turn the page
+    To where man cased his bones in fat.
+    His mate moved like a tiger-cat
+      Until he built her cage.
+
+    "You, I have watched you all who sat
+    Successive round the food-stained mat,
+    And reckoned many who lived for that
+      Alone; have seen the mark
+    Of that last state the Thinking Beast
+    Peep through the foliage of the feast,
+    And crown its poet's flight with greased
+      Fingers that grope the dark;
+    Have heard a cleanlier bosom catch
+    Her breath, and fumble with my latch
+      Irresolute. The lark
+
+    "My inmates never feared to match
+    Bespoke the end. I belched the batch,
+    Rolling them down the street, a patch
+      Of dirt against the dawn.
+    Then in its stead there came a saint,
+    Inventor of a soul-complaint,
+    Who gave men's faith a coat of paint
+      Like mine, and made me yawn
+    With furtive wenching. Here have sighed
+    Exultant groom and weeping bride
+      Led like a captive fawn.
+
+    "This way passed those who marry lean
+    Girl-chattels ere their times of teen.
+    I knew a like but milder scene:
+      A hawk, small birds that cower.
+    How soon the chosen was brought back dead--
+    Poisoned, the _hakim_ always said--
+    The husband groaned beside the bed,
+      Arose, and kept the dower,
+    But swept his conscience out with prayer.
+    Man took the angels unaware
+      When he became a power.
+
+    "And what of woman? On my stair
+    The merchants spread their gaudiest ware,
+    For which fools bought a love affair
+      That ended in a jerk.
+    Enough! To round the _tamasha_
+    A bloated thing came by, the Shah;
+    It grinned, and viziers fawned 'Ha! ha!'
+      Curs, brainless as a Turk.
+    And all the women in his train
+    Beheld him once and ne'er again,
+      And called his love their work.
+
+    "You see, my friends, I tired of this
+    Wild doubling in the chase of bliss.
+    Pards miss their spring as men their kiss,
+      And yet the quarry dies.
+    I learned the world's least mortal god,
+    Whose epitaph is Ichabod,
+    May sport till noon, but if he nod
+      Shall never more arise.
+    Then, caravan, you passed, and I
+    Have solved my riddle with a cry:
+      The sad are never wise.
+
+    "Your song was all that I had heard
+    In dreams beyond the wildest bird,
+    That rose above my yellow-furred
+      Basses that bell and roar.
+    It took the heart of me in tow
+    To heights that I had longed to know,
+    To the great deeps where lovers go
+      And find--and want--no shore.
+    In these alone is man fulfilled;
+    And gleaming in the air I build
+      My hope of him once more.
+
+    "For all the few that see truth whole,
+    And take its endlessness for goal,
+    And steer by stars as if no shoal
+      Could mar their firmament,
+    For all the few that sing and sail
+    Knowing their quest of small avail,
+    Thank God who gave them strength to fail
+      In finding what He meant...."
+    "Poets!" the landlord groaned, "and poor!
+    This house is cursed." He banged the door
+    Behind them as they went.
+
+    And distance placed soft hands upon their mouths.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE SONG OF THE SELVES
+
+
+DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE
+
+    'Twas in old Tehran City,
+      Hard by the old bazaar,
+    I heard a restless ditty
+      That pushed my door ajar;
+
+    A song nor great nor witty,
+      It spoke of my own mind.
+    I looked on Tehran City,
+      And knew I had been blind,
+
+    Or else the streets were altered
+      As by a peri's wand.
+    "Who are you, friends?" I faltered.
+      "The Pilgrims of Beyond,"
+
+    They said. I kissed the tatters
+      That wiser heads contemn.
+    I saw the Thing-that-matters,
+      And took the road with them.
+
+    I seek. Bestow no pity
+      On Failure's courtier. Say:
+    "'Twas well to find the city,
+      But that was yesterday."
+
+
+THE PILGRIMS
+
+    Athirst as the Hadramut,
+      Our spirits correspond
+    With God by all the gamut
+      Of harmony, too fond
+    Of Him for prayer that rifles
+    His treasury for trifles.
+    No load of blessing stifles
+      The Pilgrims of Beyond.
+
+
+DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE
+
+    And yet the empty-handed
+      Hold richer merchandise
+    Than ever fable landed
+      From Dreamland's argosies,
+
+    Since we, the symbol-merchants,
+      Are partners with Bulbul.
+    The silversmith of her chants
+      Knows how our chests are full.
+
+    In marts, where echoes answer
+      And only they, we trade.
+    But join our caravan, sir,
+      And count your fortune made.
+
+    Dawn brings us dazzling offers
+      With fingers gemmed and pearled,
+    And evening fills our coffers
+      As we explain the world,
+
+    Green fields and seas that curtsey
+      To us and mock Despair;
+    For blossoms in the dirt see
+      Their spirit in the air.
+
+    And Ecstasy our servant
+      Demands no other wage
+    But that we be observant
+      To joy in pilgrimage.
+
+
+THE MERCHANTS
+
+    We do not bid our master
+      Declare His word His bond,
+    Or make His payments faster--
+      As though He would abscond!
+    We ask Him for too little
+    To strain at jot or tittle.
+    We know our lives are brittle,
+      We Pilgrims of Beyond.
+
+
+DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE
+
+    We come from everlasting
+      Towards eternity,
+    Ho! not in dirge and fasting
+      But lapped in jollity.
+
+    Though sackcloth be our clothing
+      We bear no ash but fire.
+    We have no sickly loathing
+      Of youth and youth's desire.
+
+    We prize no consummation
+      Of one peculiar creed.
+    We travel for a nation,
+      The one that feels our need.
+
+    Our tongue conceals no message,
+      But leaves you free to find,
+    And vaunts itself the presage
+      Of those that come behind.
+
+
+THE CAMELMEN
+
+    Here is no patch of shade. A
+      Fierce wilderness and blonde
+    Links Delhi to Hodeidah,
+      Tashkent to Trebizond.
+    The cargo is our brother's,
+    We march and moil for others,
+    Until the desert smothers
+      The Pilgrims of Beyond.
+
+
+DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE
+
+    Hark how our camels grumble
+      At morn! Would you permit
+    The stone on which you stumble
+      To make you carry it?
+
+    And if at last your burden
+      Be cheapened in a shop,
+    Seraglio or Lur den,
+      Should lack of humour stop
+
+    The game at its beginning?
+      We lug the stuff of dreams.
+    Earth does her best by spinning,
+      She cannot help the seams;
+
+    But you can help to monger
+      The broidery. She may
+    Have made you richer, stronger,
+      To give her best away.
+
+    I own no musk or camphor,
+      I have no truck with care,
+    Nor change the thing I am for
+      The things men only wear.
+
+
+THE SOLDIERS
+
+    First cousin of a sieve is
+      The uniform we donned.
+    We slop along on _ghivehs_,
+      In rags caparisonned.
+    No Shah has ever paid us.
+    All brigands mock and raid us,
+    And misery has made us
+      The Pilgrims of Beyond.
+
+
+DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE
+
+    What then! Would you be willing
+      To quit the caravan,
+    And fall again to drilling,
+      Pent in the walled _meidan_,
+
+    When history flings open
+      Blank scrolls for you to write
+    Such victories as no pen
+      Has ever brought to light?
+
+    You shall not burn as Jengiz,
+      Nor rage like Timur Lang.
+    Your foemen are _ferengis_
+      Of whom no epic sang.
+
+    The housed that blame the tented,
+      Or comfort those that think,
+    The flocks that die contented
+      With settling down to blink
+
+    The sun we keep our eyes on,
+      That bow their heads too far
+    To face their own horizon,
+      On these be war on war.
+
+    Cursed by the bonds you sever,
+      The bondsmen you release,
+    Go, seek the Land of Fever
+      And find the Land of Ease.
+
+
+THE CARAVAN
+
+    Lift up your hearts, ye singers!
+      We lift them up in song.
+    Behold, the sunset lingers.
+      No less shall night be long.
+    We meet her unaffrighted,
+    Though never bourne be sighted.
+    We _meant_ to be benighted
+      Still moving fleet and strong.
+
+    We smooth the stony places
+    For those that else despond.
+    We pass, and leave no traces
+      Save this, a broken frond,
+    And this, that hands once craven
+    Take hardship for the haven
+    Upon whose rocks is graven:
+      "The Pilgrims of Beyond."
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+THE STORY OF THE SUTLER
+
+
+    And so the song was finished. Then they called
+    To Kizzil Bash, the Sutler of Dilman,
+    "Take up the tale, for you have wandered far
+    Behind strange masters...." Once, he said, I served
+    One of the Roumi lordlings, silver-faced,
+    Who to forget some sorrow or lost love--
+    Such is their way--came with an embassage
+    To cringe before the Caliph in Stamboul
+    For something sordid, trade.... He mouthed our verse
+    To please his guests, and I corrected him.
+    The man was cypress-sad and lone, but he
+    Could not be silent as the great should be,
+    Because he neither knew his place nor me.
+    The boatman marvelled at his lack of dignity.
+    They knew the currents. He was bent on steering,
+    And spoke of God in terms wellnigh endearing.
+    I see him still, sharp beard, black velvet mantle, ear-ring.
+    He dug with slaves for Greekling manuscript,
+    Danced like a slave-girl when he found, and shipped
+    Westward cracked heads and friezes we had chipped.
+    I saw him kiss a statue, murmuring eager-lipped:
+
+    "Fear was born when the woods were young.
+      Chance had gathered an heap of sods,
+    Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue
+      Throned the dam of the elder gods.
+        Twilight, a rustled leaf,
+        Started the first belief
+        In some unearthly Chief
+          Latent behind
+        Cover of aspen shade.
+        Skirting the haunted glade
+        Some one found speech, and prayed.
+          Was it the wind
+    Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?
+    Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,
+      Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.
+    Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,
+    And gods went whither none was fain to follow,
+      Because the earth was green
+      And Afterwards was black.
+
+    "Man, the child of a tale of rape,
+      Drew the seas with his hunting ships,
+    Cut their prows to a giant's shape,
+      Fitted names to their snarling lips:
+        Gods in his image born,
+        Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn,
+        Lords of a drinking-horn
+          Five fathoms deep;
+        Holding the one reward
+        Carved by a dripping sword,
+        Feasts, and above them stored
+          Ceiling-high sleep.
+    Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying,
+    And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying--
+      How long--with over-restful hosts abed.
+    The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking,
+    Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking.
+      And so the earth was red
+      While Afterwards was grey.
+
+    "Jungles thinned, and the clearings merged
+      Where the wandering clans drew breath.
+    Druids rose and the people surged.
+      Then the blessing of Nazareth
+        Fell on them mad and mild,
+        Boasting itself a child.
+        Smite it! And yet it smiled.
+          There, as it kneeled,
+        Lowliness rose to might,
+        Deeming our days a night,
+        Bodily joy a plight
+          Soon to be healed;
+    Gave to one god all credit for creation,
+    But, lest the Path should seem the Destination,
+      Strove to attune man's heartstrings to a rack,
+    Until the soul was fortified to change hells,
+    While saints and poets chanted songs of angels,
+      Confessing earth was black
+      But Afterwards was gold.
+
+    "Faith was raised to the power of millions,
+      Went as wine to a single head,
+    Took its chiefs for the sun's postillions,
+      Claimed to speak in its founder's stead;
+        Till in the western skies
+        Reason's epiphanies
+        Beckoned the other-wise
+          Men to rebirth.
+        Doubt, that makes spirits lithe,
+        Woke and began to writhe,
+        Burst through the osier withe,
+          Freed the old earth.
+    Nature cried out again for recognition,
+    Claiming that flesh is more than mere transition,
+      That mouths were made for sweeter things than prayer.
+    Yea, she, that first revealed the superhuman,
+    Out of the depths in us shall bring the new man
+      Who knows that earth is fair,
+      And Afterwards--who knows!"
+
+    We knew his childish searching meant no harm,
+    But his own people somehow took alarm;
+    For when his heart was healed, and he returned
+    With songs, 'tis said that he and they were burned.
+    Only this one survived. I put it by
+    Lest one who lived so much should wholly die.
+    He tried to spend far more than every day,
+    And never asked what he would have to pay.
+    To him a pint of music was a potion
+    That set him dabbling in some small emotion.
+    Wherever he could drown he marked an ocean
+    He got no pleasure but the pains he took
+    To bring himself to death by one small book
+    Filled with what he had heard, the babble of a brook.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT
+
+
+    They passed a field of purple _badinjan_.
+    A peasant raised his head to hear the tune,
+    And, seeking some excuse for holiday,
+    He followed humming ballads, this the first:
+
+    "It happened say a century ago,
+      Somewhere between Mazanderan and Fars,
+    A Frank was in the picture--that I know--
+      Mud-walls and roses, cypresses and stars,
+        White dust and shadows black.
+
+    "It happened She was loved by more than One,
+      Though no one now recalls the name and rank
+    Of even One, whose heart was like the stone
+      That framed the water of the garden tank
+        Long gone to utter wrack.
+
+    "It happened that one night She had a mind
+      To roam her garden. Youth was hidden there,
+    It happened One was watching from behind
+      A Judas-tree, though neither of the pair
+        Heard the twigs sigh and crack.
+
+    "It happened that next night She wandered out
+      Once more, and Youth was hiding there again.
+    And One sprang forth upon them with a shout,
+      And fanatics and _seyids_ in his train
+        Streamed in a wolfish pack.
+
+    "It happened that the sun found something red
+      Among the Judas-blossoms where Youth lay
+    Upon his face; a crow was on his head,
+      And desert dogs began to sniff and bay
+        At something in his back.
+
+    "It happened that none ever knew Her fate--
+      Except that She was never heard of more--
+    Save One, and two that through a secret gate--
+      Perhaps they knew--a struggling burden bore.
+        I think it was a sack."
+
+    Some one applauded; then the humming drone
+    Was stung to louder efforts, and went on:
+
+    "They staggered down the stiff black avenue,
+      Hiding the sack's convulsions from the moon,
+    To drown its cries they feigned the shrill _iouiou_
+      Of owls, then dropped it in the swift Karûn,
+        Paused, and admired the view.
+
+    "The ripples took her, trying not to leap,
+      But, copying the uneventful sky,
+    Serenely burnished where the stream grows deep
+      They smoothened their staccato lullaby.
+        And so she fell asleep
+
+    "Where no sharp rock disturbs the river bed,
+      A moving peace, whose eddies turn half-fain
+    Towards their youth's tumultuous watershed,
+      And slow blank scutcheons widen like a stain
+        Portending Sound is dead.
+
+    "No herd or village fouls the shining tide,
+      Till ocean lays a suzerain's armistice
+    On brawling tributaries. Like a bride
+      Greeting her lord it laved her with a kiss,
+        And left her purified.
+
+    "But the sea-_Jinn_, who dwell and dress in mauve,
+      And hunt blind monsters down the corridors
+    Between sunk vessels--fishers know the drove,
+      Their horns and conches and the quarry's roars
+        In autumn--hold that love
+
+    "Should meet with more than pardon. So the pack
+      Spliced up a wand of all the spillikin spars
+    Flagged with the purple fantasies of wrack,
+      Composed a spell not one of them could parse,
+        And tried it on the sack.
+
+    "'Twas filled with pearls! Each _Jinni_ dipped his hand,
+      And scattered trails through labyrinths of ooze,
+    Or sowed gems thick upon the golden sand,
+      Festooned a bed from Bahrein to Ormuz,
+        Muscat to Ras Naband....
+
+    "_Hajji_, a deeper meaning than appears
+      Beneath the surface of my song may lurk
+    Like _Jinn_. How oft the crown of gathered years,
+      The dazzling things for which men thank their work,
+        Are made by Woman's tears."
+
+    Tous shook his head and grunted, ceaselessly
+    The caravan limped onward to the Gulf.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER
+
+
+    Serdar-i-Jang, the Wazir of the west,
+    Of all mankind had served his country best
+    By weeding it. The terror of his name
+    Lapped up the barren Pusht-i-kuh like flame,
+    Till the Shah smiled: "My other lords of war lose
+    Battles, but he wrings love from my Baharlus."
+
+    He smote them hip and thigh. The man was brave.
+    Having four wives, he needs must take for slave
+    Whatever captive baggage crossed his path,
+    And never feared love for its aftermath.
+    Thus fared the Wazir while his locks were blue.
+    The silver in them found him captive too.
+
+    The singing caravan in chorus flowed
+    Past the clay porticoes of his abode.
+    She came, he saw, was conquered--like a puppet
+    Drawn to the window, to the street and up it,
+    Forth to the desert, leaving in the lurch
+    His pleasant wars and policies to search
+
+    For what? He knew not. Haply for the truth
+    Whose home is open eyes, not dreams or youth.
+    But this he dimly knew, that something strange,
+    Beauty, had come within his vision's range;
+    And a new splendour, running through the world,
+    Drummed at the postern of his senses, hurled
+
+    Him forth, this warrior proud and taciturn,
+    Footsore upon a pilgrimage to learn
+    Humility.... These beggars, in whose wake
+    He toiled, ne'er paused for him to overtake
+    Their echoes. When at dusk he joined their ring
+    None rose or bowed. All watched him. Could he sing?
+
+    And he could not, for never had he thrown
+    His days away on verse! He sat alone,
+    So that his silence stamped him with the badge
+    Of hanger-on or menial of this _haj_.
+    Thrust as he would with much unseemly din,
+    He found no place beside the palanquin,
+
+    Till Seyid Rida, scholar of Nejaf,
+    Took pity on him, saying: "You shall laugh
+    At these black days when, having served your time,
+    You share the sovereignty of Persian rhyme.
+    Be patient, pray to Allah, O my son,
+    For power of worship. It shall come anon...."
+
+    Seyid Rida spoke in vain. The Wazir's place
+    So far behind the Queen, her perfect face
+    But half-divined, as Sight denied to Faith,
+    A doubt lest love itself should be a wraith
+    Dazzling but mocking him, these stirred his passion
+    To sworn defiance, to his last Circassian
+
+    And thoughts of many a woman taken by force,
+    Restive and then submissive as a horse.
+    And now.... He followed in the wake of vision
+    Lofty and pure as Elburz snows. Derision
+    Would follow him in turn!... He shook his fist
+    Toward the feet his soul would fain have kissed:
+
+      "Oh, I was born for women, women, women.
+      Through my still boyhood rang the first alarm;
+      And since that terror ever fresh invaders
+      Have occupied and sacked me to their harm.
+      I am the cockpit where endemic fever
+      Holds the low country in a broken lease
+      From waves that ruined dykes appear to welcome.
+      Only one great emotion spares me--Peace!
+
+      "I have grown up for women, women, women;
+      And suffering has had her fill of me.
+      My ears still echo with receding laughter,
+      As shells retain the voices of the sea.
+      I am the gateway only, not the garden,
+      That opens from a crowded thoroughfare.
+      I stand ajar to every passing fancy,
+      And all have knocked, but none have rested there.
+
+      "And I shall die for women, women, women,
+      But not for love of them. Adventure calls
+      Or waits with old romance to disappoint me
+      Behind the promise of surrendered walls.
+      I am the vessel of some mad explorer,
+      That sails to seek for treasure in strange lands
+      Without a steersman in a crew of gallants,
+      And, finding fortune, ends with empty hands."
+
+    A deathly silence fell. Green-turbaned men
+    Fell noiselessly to sharpening their knives
+    On their bare hardened feet. Seyid Rida sighed:
+    "Alas, your heart is set upon reward
+    For gifts of self. You cannot understand
+    Love loves for nothing, brother. Those who serve
+    God the most purely cannot count that He
+    Will love them in return...."
+                                  The Wazir scowled.
+    But Dreamer-of-the-Age took him aside,
+    "I would unfold a story like a carpet.
+    The camel Tous told it to me last night:
+
+    "King Suleiman's wives were as jewels, his jewels as stones of the
+                                             desert
+    In number. His concubines herded as desert-gazelles in their grace,
+    That answered his bidding as meekly as all his wild animal kingdom,
+    The beasts and the birds and the fishes. Yet the world was as pitch
+                                             on his face.
+
+    "Now it chanced that the ruler of Saba had news by a merchant of
+                                             peacocks
+    From this king like a hawk-god of Egypt, whose beak was set deep in
+                                             the gloom
+    Of his grape-purple beard, and she said: 'We shall see how his
+                                             vanities stead him
+    When from under the arch of his eyebrows he sees my feet enter his
+                                             room.'
+
+    "For her feet were far whiter than manna. Her body was white as the
+                                             cry
+    Of a child when the chords of hosanna draw the beauty of holiness
+                                             nigh.
+    The droop of her eyelids would fan a revolt from Baghdad to Lake
+                                             Tsana,
+    Her fingers were veined alabaster. The sprites of her escort would
+                                             sigh,
+
+    "As they bathed her with sun set in amber and cooled in the snow of
+                                             a cloudlet,
+    And taught her chief eunuch to clamber up moonbeams as fleet as a
+                                             ghost:
+    These, lavish of reed-pipe and tamburine, slaves of the Son of
+                                             Daoud, let
+    Her palanquin down into Zeila--gambouge and magenta, the coast!"
+
+    And the Wazir cried, "Ha!" to the rhymes.
+
+    "Round the harbour a hoopoe was strutting, for Suleiman's Seal had
+                                             appointed
+    Him messenger-bird, and he thought: 'If I bring the good news of
+                                             this beauty,
+    This Sovereign of Silkiness, I shall harvest great thanks and
+                                             promotion.'
+    So he flew to the Presence and twittered a text on the pleasure of
+                                             Duty.
+
+    "'Fulfiller of faint Superstition, whose hand rolls the eyeballs of
+                                             Thunder,
+    And lightens forked tongues on a mission of menace to bat or to
+                                             eagle!
+    There comes to your portal a vision whose light shall make Israel
+                                             wonder.
+    Immortal her beauty and mortal her glance that is soft as a
+                                             seagull.'"
+
+    And the Wazir cried, "Hey!" to the rhymes.
+
+    "But Suleiman, sated with women and governance, lifted his beak
+    From his beard. Naught escaped the magician, not a thought, not a
+                                             tone. Ah, he knew
+    All! He said: 'I have measured your mind as my pity has measured my
+                                             people.
+    We shall speak of reward when she comes; I may live to regret
+                                             it--and you!
+
+    "'Lo, I am the servant of God, whom I serve as you serve me, not
+                                             asking
+    For pay by each day or each act, but just for the general sum.
+    The work of the world must be done without wage to be done to our
+                                             credit.
+    We shall profit in claiming our guerdon not by what we are but
+                                             become.'
+
+    "So the Queen came to Kuddus. Mashallah! Shall a picture be limned
+                                             of her coming!
+    Flushed dancers and lutists athrumming light-limbed as Daoud round
+                                             the Ark!
+    Crushed roadway and crowd-applause rumbled, loud music, hushed
+                                             barbarous mumming!
+    To the cry, 'On to Sion' above her, this lover rode straight at her
+                                             mark!"
+
+    And the Wazir cried, "Ho!" to the rhymes.
+
+    "She had but to flatter the wizard to win him. He said to the
+                                             hoopoe:
+    'I will haggle no more. You shall learn to your cost what the
+                                             bargainer buys,
+    Whose faith levies toll upon duty, whose trust will not serve me on
+                                             trust,
+    Or love for Love. On your head be it.' The hoopoe said:
+                                             '_Cheshm_--on my eyes!'
+
+    "All other birds fainted with envy, as Suleiman lifted a digit.
+    Thereon was the Ring-of-most-Magic. Then he spat on the dust from
+                                             his bed,
+    And the miracle came! for the hoopoe went swaggering out of the
+                                             presence
+    (So he struts in his walking to-day) with a crown of pure gold on
+                                             his head.
+
+    "But the Jews thus learnt avarice. Some one spread news of the
+                                             bird-coronation
+    To the ends of the kingdom. The tribes ran out as one man armed
+                                             with lime,
+    Bows, nets, slings--and slew the hoopoes for the sake of their
+                                             crowns. There was profit
+    In sport then; none other has liked them so well since King
+                                             Suleiman's time.
+
+    "They divided the spoil till in Israel only our messenger-bird
+    Survived with two fellows.... He fled to Suleiman's closet for
+                                             _bast_,
+    Sobbing, 'Spare us, O king! Make a sign with the ring that men sing
+                                             of! We fare as
+    Amalekites. If I have sinned, I am punished. We three are the last
+
+    "'Of our race. In your grace turn your face to our case. We place
+                                             hope in your favour!
+    My brood is a Yahudi's food. Israel--who disputes it--insane
+    For gain. We are slain all day long by the strong sons of Cain. Let
+                                             us waive our
+    Gold bane for plain down, lest we drown in our own blood! Discrown
+                                             us again!'"
+
+    And the Wazir cried, "Hi!" to the rhymes.
+
+    "The King made reply. He was sadder than rain in the willows of
+                                             Jordan.
+    'We are God's passing thoughts. They alone that await their
+                                             fulfilment are wise.
+    You shall be for a warning, O hoopoe. I had given you more than
+                                             gold-wages
+    If you had believed we not only had ears, I and Allah, but eyes!
+
+    "'Yet giving is fraught with forgiveness. Now therefore the crown
+                                             you did covet
+    Is gone. You are healed of your pride; you shall live till the
+                                             Angel of Death errs
+    From Allah's command. By my Ring-of-most-Magic the gold is
+                                             transmuted.
+    Go forth! He has set for a sign on your brow a tiara of feathers.'
+
+    "So the hoopoe went forth in the glory of plumes that he won in
+                                             this wise
+    And wears. Then the hunters, assembled from the uttermost quarters
+                                             of Sham, should
+    Have shot, but did not, for they said: 'What a head! We will not
+                                             waste an arrow
+    On sport of this sort. We are sold! We were told it was gold
+                                             and....'"
+                                                       Tamam Shud
+
+    And the Wazir shrieked "Halt!" at the rhymes.
+
+    But as he slept that night the Dreamer prayed
+    That understanding might bedew his head.
+    And so it was. The fountain of the Dawn
+    Rose in the whiteness of the month _Rajab_,
+    Washing the desert stones, and made each body
+    Shine as the sun-swift chariot of a soul.
+
+    While the last swimmer in the sea of slumber,
+    Out of the deep, its jungled bottom, its ghosts,
+    Its weight and wonders, rises to the surface
+    In final breaths of sleep, the Wazir stirred
+    And flung out joyful arms. Not otherwise
+    The groping diver in the Gulf of Pearls,
+    Having achieved adventure, comes to light
+    And grasps the painted gunwale--with his prize.
+
+            "For every hour and day
+            Of youth that spelled delay
+            In finding you, I pray
+              To life for pardon,
+            I that long since have faced
+            My task in patient haste:
+            Out of my former waste
+              To make your garden.
+
+            "With these soiled hands I made
+            My Self (man's hardest trade).
+            The sun was _you_: the shade
+              My toil, my seed did.
+            I drove my strong soul through
+            Years in the thought of you,
+            For whom my garden grew,
+              And grew unheeded;
+
+            "For you, an episode
+            That lay beside your road,
+            For me, my long abode,
+              My will's whole centre.
+            Lo now my task fulfilled,
+            Yet not the hope that thrilled
+            The stubborn realm I tilled
+              For you to enter.
+
+            "Ah, must all sacrifice
+            Be weighed with balance nice!
+            To ask the gods our price
+              Makes all creeds shoddy.
+            Then should I bargain now--
+            Troubling my worship--how
+            You will reward my vow
+              Of soul and body?
+
+            "I have not striven in vain,
+            Though all my poor domain
+            Cries daily for your reign.
+              I hold its treasure,
+            A source of splendour, known
+            Haply to me alone,
+            A boundless love--my own.
+              Had you but leisure
+
+            "To pause beside this spring
+            A moment, harkening
+            How through my silence sing
+            The dreams that here rest,
+              I yet might make you see
+            Some of the You in Me.
+            This song not I but we
+              Have written, dearest."
+
+    Long ropes of stillness joined the caravan
+    Closer together; no man spoke a word,
+    Till Dreamer-of-the-Age: "Friend, go up higher
+    At the Queen's right hand." Seyid Rida smiled:
+    "I knew you would outrun us." The Wazir
+    Heard neither fame nor blame, and so was blest
+    Because he sought praise only of the Queen.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR
+
+
+    At Ispahan the notables were met
+    In conclave. Seyid Rida, scholar scamp--
+    As Dawlatshah records--perched in the porch:
+
+        "Round the table sit the sages--
+        Different views and different ages--
+        Secretaries scribble pages,
+          Taking down each 'er' and 'hem,'
+        Taking down each word they utter
+        Like the solemn measured sputter
+        Of fat raindrops from a gutter.
+          I speak last of them.
+
+       "Outside in the summer weather
+       Birds are talking all together,
+       While a tiny pecked-out feather
+         Flutters past the pane.
+       Dare you own: The work before us
+       Seems at moments like their chorus,
+       Just a little more sonorous,
+         Similar in strain?
+
+        "Have a care! The bird that chatters
+        Is the only bird that matters,
+        Heedless of the hand that scatters
+          Grains of sense or chaff
+        Mid your Barmecides and Cleons.
+        I have listened here for æons
+        To these rooster-flights and pæans.
+          No one heard me laugh.
+
+        "Parrot, jackdaw, jay, and pigeon,
+        Prose would be the whole religion
+        Of the Nephelococcygian
+          State to which you steer.
+        If the earth remains a youngster
+        With some waywardness amongst her
+        Virtues, I should thank the songster
+          Whom you cannot hear.
+
+        "Tits that swing upon a thistle,
+        Wrens and chats that pipe and whistle,
+        Join their notes to our epistle,
+          Where the bee-fraught lime
+        Orchestrates the lark's espousal
+        Not of causes but carousal:
+        Owl, we hear you charge the ouzel
+          With a waste of time!
+
+        "Princeling, a fantastic prophet
+        Tweaks your robe and bids you doff it,
+        Offers you escape from Tophet
+          On the wings of words.
+        Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell
+        All you have for this one counsel:
+        Sing and never mind the groundsel!
+          Come, we too are birds."
+
+    Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out,
+    And I have heard them on the Persian roads,
+    In half-dead cities. History repeats
+    Nothing except the rose. But Persians say
+    This was the last they heard of government.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH
+
+
+    Alas! 'Twas time to go--"Conceal the wine,
+    The purple and the yellow infidel!"--
+    Rice cooked in saffron, honey-cakes, and _mast_
+    With many-coloured _shirini_ were all
+    Packed up in paunches capon-lined....
+                                          The Queen
+    Sailed through the city, mounted high on Tous,
+    Full in the moonlight, purer than the moon,
+    Whose beauty, being weighed with hers, the scale
+    Sent up to heaven and left the Queen on earth....
+
+    Followed quick tumbles to the lambent street,
+    Graspings of shoes, and search for garments lost,
+    With tunes that mounted all awry as flame
+    Draught-blown, short breaths and straggling feet.
+                                           The Dreamer
+    Reddened and drooped his head; for at the Gate
+    Sat a portentous Sheikh, thrice great in girth,
+    Ali-el-Kerbelaï, Known-of-Men,
+    To whom--he slept all day--his nightly school
+    Resorted in the porch. He saw, and shrugged
+    His shoulders, rounded in glory like the hills
+    That drift and clash about the Gulf of Pearls--
+    Bahreinis tell the tale lest rival _dhows_
+    Should venture into trade--and thus held forth:
+
+      "Gossips, I have watched fools wander through this gate
+      In generations. Never have I seen
+      Men so bewitched by one closed palanquin,
+      So little fain to chatter with the great,
+      So blind, or single-eyed, they did not see
+      Ali-el-Kerbelaï, even me.
+
+      "Poor souls! Dusk swamps our wriggling thoroughfares
+      Like trenches; and I rub my hands to think
+      How I to-night in coolth shall sleep and drink,
+      While sunrise takes these vagrants unawares.
+      Madmen set out each day to beard the sun,
+      And seventy years ago Your Slave was one.
+
+      "When all the world was young, that is when _I_
+      Was young, I promised Allah to be wise,
+      And started on the road of enterprise
+      That leads towards the snow-capped hills of Why,
+      Passing my hand across my shaven brow
+      Heavy with all the lower lore of How."
+
+    Ali-el-Kerbelaï sighed his soul
+    Out of his nostrils pious and serene,
+    For the swift curtain of the night had slid
+    Along the rings of stillness, as he peered
+    Into the plain. The singing caravan
+    Had dwindled slowly to a speck of white.
+    Then said the sage: "Behold they go to nothing,
+    These lovers, these far-eyed. To think they passed
+    Within a foot of wisdom and my robe!
+    Alas, they passed and knew not. 'Tis the risk
+    Of all such noisy dreamers. Ah, my head
+    Pities.... Well, God is great. And God made me.
+
+      "Thus first I reached Mohammerah, whose sheikh
+      In speechless gratitude besought a boon--
+      To make me eunuch in his _anderûn_--
+      For I had talked away his stomach-ache.
+      And of this epoch I need only say
+      I had fresh dates for dinner every day.
+
+      "But I was young. I spurned the unmanly job,
+      For I loved conquest, and the world lay flat
+      Before me like a purple praying-mat,
+      And all young women made my heart _kebob_,
+      Until the sheikh conceived himself disgraced.
+      Then I took ship from Basra--in some haste.
+
+      "We put to sea, fair sirs, a foul-faced sea
+      Puckered with viciousness and green with hate
+      Of all the sons of Adam; and black fate
+      Conspired with her to take account of me,
+      For all the _Jinn_ who lurk among the gales
+      Came down to fecundate our bellied sails.
+
+      "They blew. They thrust my skull against the sky,
+      The jade-backed _Jinn_ disguised as ocean-swell,
+      But I saw through them.... Down we went to hell,
+      Where Iblis tried to teach me blasphemy
+      In vain. No devil's wile could make me speak.
+      Thus I learned self-control. (I was so weak.)
+
+      "We drifted past bare cliff and jungle sedge,
+      Past spouting loose volcanoes known as whales,
+      And sirens that blew kisses with their tails,
+      Till we fell over the horizon's edge,
+      Fell sheer three thousand parasangs. And there
+      I first discovered that the world is square.
+
+      "We were in China, sir. The Home of Yellows,
+      Soil, porcelain, manuscripts, men.... Here I spent
+      Six weeks in stuffing to my heart's content
+      The thought-scraps given to these whoreson fellows
+      By heaven. My zeal picked all tradition's locks,
+      And knowledge opened like a lacquered box
+
+      "Wrought with strange figures.... Now I learned by heart
+      Eleven score ways of dodging every sin.
+      So, having sucked the marrow from Pekin,
+      I planned with Allah that I should depart,
+      And having thus obtained a ruly wind
+      I shone like lightning through the schools of Hind.
+
+      "I shall say little of Hind. Its mouth is wide
+      With sacred texts and precepts packed in lyrics
+      For carriage, verse unversed in our empirics.
+      I grasped all Indian knowledge like a bride
+      Without a dower, enjoyed and let her go,
+      Giving God thanks that only Persians _know_."
+
+    The singing caravan shrank in a clear
+    Green sideless tunnel of the firmament.
+    Ali-el-Kerbelaï paused and watched
+    Intent, even as by torchlight men spear fish,
+    While searching flame-reflections brushed and lit
+    The deep brown-watered caverns of his eyes,
+    Where dim shapes moved profoundly in the pool.
+    His listeners watched the sage in ecstasy
+    Poise, concentrate his massive thought on Nothing,
+    Heard his _narghilé_ bubble like a brain....
+
+      "From Hind to Misr. At Cairo's El-Azhar,
+      The flower of Moslem scholarship, I sat
+      Among the Sunni bastards. As a cat
+      Watches the sun through eyelids scarce ajar,
+      From dawn till evening prayer I laboured hard,
+      Lolling in ambush round the great courtyard
+
+      "To pounce on wingèd words. Athwart the arcade
+      Midday in golden bars came clanging down
+      Upon the anvil of each turbaned crown,
+      And many minds took refuge in my shade.
+      I was divinely hard to understand,
+      Talking until my throat was dry as sand.
+
+      "So to the mosque well--into it they pushed
+      A dog who disagreed with me--and drew
+      Relief what time the pigeons ceased to coo
+      Or rustle round its rainbow-juice. We hushed
+      Our flights of eloquence when my _roghan_
+      Sizzled complacent in the frying-pan.
+
+      "Mashallah, what a life! Yet in this scene
+      I found a fleck of rust upon my tongue.
+      Propelled by Fate and my own force of lung,
+      I flitted with two reverend _Maghrebín_
+      Whom I had favoured, having learned the trick
+      Of speaking their foul breed of Arabic.
+
+      "Immortal spirits led us, yea the chief
+      _Afrit_, the crown of all the _Afarit_.
+      We crossed the great Sahara like a street.
+      My fame allows me licence to be brief.
+      Enough. Whatever any sceptic says,
+      I still maintain I spent a year at Fez.
+
+      "Here was a sect that said one God was three.
+      I plied Moriscos who had tasted two
+      Beliefs perforce, I even asked a Jew
+      To make this strange _Tariqah_ clear; but he--
+      By this judge Christians--he could not explain,
+      Although his father had been burnt in Spain.
+
+      "Ah, how I studied in that narrow city,
+      Whose walls are changeless as a Persian law,
+      And full of loopholes. To the seers I saw
+      Is due the gamut of my human pity.
+      We stirred the puddles of the human mind
+      Till none could see the bottom but the blind.
+
+      "Now Shaitan tempted me. I fell for once,
+      A venial sin.... I journeyed to Stamboul
+      To plumb the errors of the _Greegi_ school.
+      'Twas there I read the Stagyrite, a dunce,
+      The Frankish ruler of theology,
+      And father of a dunce, Alfarabi.
+
+      "I laid him low and hurried home to indite
+      A book, the fruit of all my Thought and Travel,
+      Entitled 'Contemplation of the Navel,'
+      A mystic book. (But first I learned to write.)
+      Such of our doctors as can read have read it.
+      But I was bent on even higher credit.
+
+      "I sought a cave whence madmen hunt wild sheep,
+      And there for thirteen years I held my head,
+      Until the dupes decided I was dead.
+      Indeed I spent the better part in sleep,
+      Lest I should be beguiled from abstract chatter
+      By lust for this world's striped and dazzling matter.
+
+      "Night brought me counsel, and a pock-marked Kurd
+      Or angels brought me food. Day spared my dreams
+      That tilled the solitude like slow white teams
+      Of oxen, till it blossomed, and I heard
+      The Roc's huge pinions scour the starry cobbles;
+      And so I rose above all human squabbles.
+
+      "For me the burning haze made sandhills dance,
+      Till blushing shadows covered their nude breasts.
+      The eternal heirs of leisure were my guests,
+      And feasted on my glory in advance.
+      Then on an eve among the eves.... The End!
+      My soul sat by me talking as a friend.
+
+      "I bleached my beard, and came to Ispahan.
+      You know the rest. To Allah's will I bowed
+      In suffering the plaudits of the crowd,
+      For all must listen; those must preach who can.
+      I stirred the town with fingers raised to bless....
+      And gauged the people by my emptiness."
+
+    The caravan was gone. Its song survived
+    A little, faint, an echo, not at all.
+    Then like a magic carpet warmth was drawn
+    Back into heaven, and left behind a void
+    Where thin-faced breezes, huddling from the hills,
+    Sat down to breathe hard tales upon their hands.
+    And suddenly earth looked her age. Like her
+    The shapes round Ali-el-Kerbelaï shivered,
+    Pulling their coloured _abbas_ to their ears
+    And drawing in their feet. At last one spoke:
+    "O master, you to whom the world is known,
+    What is your thought's conclusion, what the sum
+    Of added knowledge in the tome of YOU?"
+    And Ali answered weighing out his words:
+
+       "Sir, I have seen the East and West, great peace,
+      Great wars, indifferent fates that blessed or cursed
+      Their builders. I have touched the best and worst
+      In flesh and thought, have watched flames rise and cease,
+      Consoled high hopes, deep passions, men that die
+      For things beneath the earth, behind the sky,
+
+      "For god or woman. I have counted change
+      For the Sarraf of Changelessness, have marked
+      Kings, Wazirs, coursed by sons of dogs that barked
+      And bit, the uninhabitable range
+      Of power, where all that climb in others' shoes
+      Are honoured and unperched like cockatoos.
+
+      "Now having known mankind in hell and bliss
+      Through thrice a generation, I have formed
+      From all the problems I besieged or stormed
+      One firm conviction, only one! 'Tis this:
+      The Faith, the Pomp, the Loves, the Lives of men
+      Outshine the firefly and outcrest the wren."
+
+    He added as he rose: "But God is great."
+    And bent, repassing through the city gate,
+    Lest he should bump his venerable pate.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC
+
+
+    Beside the Sufis ran a whited wall.
+    Two cypress-trees peeped over from the waist,
+    Stiff, motionless as toys. Among their spires
+    A lithe voice mounted and leaned down again:
+
+      "Come, for to-night the hills are all white marble
+        Under a sapphire dome,
+      Where bats scrawl riddles which the bulbuls garble
+        For owls to answer. Come.
+
+      "The air is sick of moon-discoloured roses,
+        The plain stagnates like some
+      Weird archipelago of garden-closes
+        And dead, bleached waters. Come.
+
+      "O night of miracles! Come, let us wander
+        Over this ghostly sea
+      To that dark cypress-circled island yonder,
+        In whose clear centre we
+
+      "Will lie and float in phosphorescent ether.
+        Thank heaven that night is cool
+      As day was scorching. Let us watch together
+        The lovers in the pool.
+
+      "Look in! Lie still! A jewelled ripple spangles
+        The hand upon her hair;
+      While, lying listless on her back, she dangles
+        A finger in the air.
+
+      "How still he is. Your motionless perfection
+        Absorbs him utterly.
+      Doubtless you seem to him his love's reflection
+        Face downwards in the sky,
+
+      "Whence I am hanging, seeing only her face,
+        As he sees only yours.
+      Lean down! And they shall meet us at the surface.
+        O silent paramours
+
+      "We bring to you, by stealth, while men are sleeping,
+        A gift. Let your domain
+      Have it for ever in its steadfast keeping;
+        We shall not come again.
+
+      "We bring our shadows: just the fleeting semblance
+        Of human love. O might
+      Your waters hold them for us in remembrance
+        Of one short summer night!
+
+      "A wondrous night, when two reflections hovered,
+        Dreaming of love aloud
+      Here by the pool, until the moon was covered
+        By an impending cloud;
+
+      "And then they lost each other. Where but lately
+        The magic mirror shone,
+      A wider shadow, cruelly, sedately,
+        Passes ... and we are gone."
+
+    The Dreamer stayed: "Who speaks of passing here?
+    The river passes, passes to the sea,
+    Drawing in rills the voices of the earth
+    To make its voice that merges in the swell.
+    The river passes and the boatman's chant
+    Is swallowed up in distance and the night.
+    Or is it, friend, the boats alone that pass?
+    The river, as I sometimes think, remains.
+    Even so it is with lovers and with love.
+    Then sing us something wise where laughter lurks,
+    As underneath the desert, from the hills
+    Whence cometh help, the hidden water-course
+    Chuckles. Upon this thread your garden hangs.
+    Nay, never shake that cypress head! We need
+    Not only sun but cloud and tears to build
+    Laughter, the rainbow of the inner man."
+    But the voice answered, or the cypress sighed:
+
+        "I am the brain of Hitherto.
+        In darkness I revolve and flash.
+      Books are the fortune I ran through.
+      My painted pen-case, yellow hue
+        And yellow sash
+
+        "Were famed from Yezd to Yezdikhast.
+        I taught what space and learned what mud is.
+      My metaphysics were my past.
+      Alas, I left my lust till last
+        Of all my studies.
+
+        "I kept my mind so clear and keen
+        By grinding guesswork into saws,
+      You scarce could fit a meal between
+      The triumphs of my thought-machine,
+        Its puissant jaws.
+
+        "The process of my intellect,
+        Mazed by the clapping hands that fed it,
+      Rolled on. They, founding a new sect
+      On premises that I had wrecked,
+        Gave me the credit.
+
+        "And so I used my fame to part
+        Man from his planks to sink or swim;
+      I plumbed his shallows, drew the chart....
+      Illusions broke the blacksmith's heart.
+        I envied him
+
+        "Suddenly, and set out to moon
+        About this garden scholarwise.
+      One silver laugh, two silken shoon,
+      To fill my empty _anderûn_
+        With splendid lies
+
+        "I ask of shadows, battering
+        My bars, and wonder why I ache.
+      O You who made both cage and wing,
+      Let me redeem my toilsome spring
+        By one mistake."
+
+    In the parched road the Dreamer took his lute
+    And tossed these chords across the battlement:
+
+          "The myrtles of Damascus,
+            The willows of Gilan,
+          Have sent the breeze to ask us
+            If aught but sceptics can
+          Deny the spirit calling
+            To flesh--we are the call--
+          And save themselves from falling
+            Behind a whited wall.
+
+          "Most pure was Abu Bakr,
+            And Allah speeds the plough
+          That furrows young wiseacre
+            Across an open brow.
+          Most fair is self-possession--
+            Give me the open road--
+          But Solomon in session
+            Went mad and wrote an ode.
+
+          "All fields of thought are arid,
+            No earthly soil is rich,
+          By thirst of knowledge harried
+            And those ambitions which
+          The heart like Pharaoh's harden
+            To let no impulse go.
+          But every yard's a garden
+            Through which we mystics flow.
+
+          "I conjure hawthorn blossom
+            From Bakhtiari vales--
+          As when one looks across some
+            Choked channel where the sails
+          Of anchored vessels jostle--
+            I tune their rhythmic sway
+          In hollows where the throstle
+            Is only dumb by day.
+
+          "Red routs of rhododendron,
+            That slope to Trebizond,
+          Rapt round the garden's end run
+            To mask the waste beyond.
+          There facts are free to wonder
+            Down pathways like the streak
+          Of silver pavement under
+            The palms of Basra creek.
+
+          "In charity of jasmin
+            My poor designs are clad,
+          As nature cloaked the chasm in
+            The ramparts of Baghdad,
+          Where passed the fabled Caliph
+            With Giafar by night
+          To mystify the bailiff
+            At Garden-of-Delight.
+
+          "The orchard-grave of Omar,
+            Neglected Nishapur,
+          Where sprays of petaled foam are,
+            Sighs through my garden-door
+          With boughs round whose gnarled stem men
+            Had never thought to twine
+          Green tendrils from rich Yemen,
+            The sunburnt Smyrniot vine.
+
+          "Wild lilies, whose rich red owes
+            Its undertone to brown,
+          From Kurd-betented meadows
+            Break out in every town.
+          Blind alleys' bursts of lilac,
+            Where russet warblers woo,
+          Are set to cover my lack
+            Of vocal retinue.
+
+          "The myrtles of Damascus,
+            The poppies of Shiraz,
+          Have sent the breeze to ask us
+            If they are dumb, because
+          Wisdom and one that had her
+            To wife still hug the fence,
+          Where we have left a ladder
+            To rescue men from sense."
+
+    The cypress swayed. Hard by another voice
+    Climbed the twin tree, and thus its theme began:
+
+          "Young man, Shirín is out of date.
+            We have to thank the West
+          That Attar's latest is too late
+            To waken Interest,
+          And one of Love's great names, Majnûn,
+          Is now generic for a loon.
+
+          "Our crust is cooling, and the bent
+            For culture bears its fruit,
+          As we that weed out sentiment
+            Likewise outgrow the brute;
+          While Providence matures a blend
+          That pure philosophers commend
+
+          "In logic. Constancy declined
+            Because we pruned our morals.
+          Love practises the change of mind
+            That ethics preach in quarrels...."
+
+    There cried the Dreamer: "Who are you that mock
+    Exiles in search of that from which they came,
+    Intent to know themselves and so the Lord
+    Whose ways are as the number of men's souls?
+    By these we compass our escape from Self,
+    The mirage in the waste through which we pass
+    Across the bridge Phantasmal to the Real;
+    Until, forgetting Self, we see in All
+    The Loved that leads us to the eternal beauty
+    Shown in a thousand mirrors yet but one.
+    These are the Sufi tenets. What of you?"
+    From the first tree the quavering voice replied:
+
+        "It is my double, Peder Sag,
+        The summit of the civilized
+        Above such heats as woman or flag.
+        It is my double, Peder Sag,
+        Who bows the poet to the wag,
+        The hero to the undersized.
+        It is my double, Peder Sag,
+        The summit of the civilized.
+
+        "His mission is to educate
+        By atrophy, the cure for spasm,
+        And so to serve the future state.
+        His mission is to educate
+        A world of fellowships that hate
+        One living thing--enthusiasm.
+        His mission is to educate
+        By atrophy, the cure for spasm.
+
+        "He dresses us in faultless drab.
+        His colour-scheme for you is tan,
+        And, level as a marble slab,
+        He dresses us in faultless drab.
+        Him urchins call Abu Kilab:
+        The Father-of-the-Modern-Man.
+        He dresses us in faultless drab.
+        His colour-scheme for you is tan.
+
+        "My double did a deal for truth.
+        He teaches balance to the Young,
+        And knows a better thing than youth.
+        My double did a deal for truth,
+        His emblem is the wisdom tooth,
+        A flowery and fruitless tongue.
+        My double did a deal for truth.
+        He teaches balance to the Young."
+
+    Serdar-i-Jang impatient pulled his beard
+    And growling Tous his bridle: "Let him be
+    The fool I was, and so mine enemy
+    From whom I part in peace." Farid Bahadur
+    Shrugged that: "Our wares are not for such as these."
+
+    Once more the Brain: "I might have come with you,
+    Leaving my gloomy castle in the air,
+    For, overgrown with tangles, in its flank
+    Lies hid the thrice-veiled door of happiness;
+    Only--my double has mislaid the key."
+
+    Seyid Rida laughed and answered: "We have found it."
+          The Lover knocked: "'Tis I!"
+          The Loved One made reply:
+          "There is no room for two
+          Beyond the Gateway."
+          In solitude he learned
+          The Secret; so returned
+          Saying: "O Love, 'tis you."
+          And entered straightway.
+
+    A wicket opened gently of itself,
+    And so a sceptic joined the caravan.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR
+
+
+    Oh, sliding down the desert from Shiraz
+      The tailor-man from Meshed tore his hose:
+    A crowning test, a broken man! "Ah, was
+      I born that fate might practise fancy-blows?
+
+    "The road is rougher than a magnate's mirth
+      Toward the humble, long as a bad debt.
+    I cannot dream of any woman worth
+      This cloth. To me 'twas dearer than a pet."
+
+    Then Dreamer-of-the-Age cried: "Bring me thread
+      Strong as the bridge as they call Pul-i-Katûn!
+    For Meshed's champion tailor-man is dead
+      Unless his wounded pride be succoured soon."
+
+    Launched on the seaward slope the pilgrims went
+      On to the gulf, and heard, athwart the dim
+    Night echoing, a sufferer's lament
+      And Dreamer-of-the-Age consoling him:
+
+      "The night fits down on the desert, brother;
+        We are drawn there-through like a piece of thread.
+      The steepened sky and the vastness smother
+        Uneasy sleep in her league-wide bed.
+      Rocked to and fro with a camel's burden
+        On broken tracks, that are thin as scars,
+      We near the Gulf. Have we seen our guerdon?"
+        "Yea, every night we have seen the stars."
+
+      "The dust is thick, and our own feet raise it.
+        Our eyes were clear did our feet but rest.
+      We give our heart and no sign repays it.
+        What need we ever a further test!
+      We drift along with the old dumb neighbour
+        In the old blind alley we call our goal,
+      Hope: all that comes of a soul's life-labour."
+        "It was the labour that made the soul."
+
+      "We stride ahead, but in every village
+        A brother faints and a weakness falls.
+      The tribes that till and the tribes that pillage
+        Are reconciled with the life that palls.
+      Oh, townsmen tread to a fixed thanksgiving,
+        But what of us, if these pitying throngs
+      Should ask the end of our harder living?"
+        "God knows the answer. They know our songs,
+
+      "The coloured patch on the background, Silence,
+        The gleaming thought that is Love's to wear
+      Undimmed through space to a myriad-while hence.
+        Could the hands be worthy that knew not care
+      To weave Love's garb? Though we needs must suffer,
+        Shall we sing the worse that we sing in vain?
+      Our songs shall rise as the road grows rougher.
+        In the breathless hills, in the fevered plain,
+
+      "They mount as sparks from the night's oases,
+        And fall far short of the idol's feet.
+      They are stored by God in his secret places,
+        The least-lit stars of his darkest street.
+      Yet ten worlds hence they shall dance, my brother,
+        To travelling winds.... If our songs were worth
+      One gleam of light to the Way of Another,
+        We bless the sorrow that gave them birth."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER
+
+
+    So to the journey's end. The Gulf was there
+    Steaming and soundless, and the weary feet
+    Were stayed at last from following the Queen.
+    The great _dhow_ nosed the creek; slow water lapped
+    About her burnished; burnished in her sat
+    Unmoving bronze, her oarsmen. Then they rose:
+    "Hail, Bringers of the Queen!" "Hail, ship! you bear
+    What cargo hence?" "We carry on your charge."
+    "But leave us nothing--nothing in exchange?"
+    "Only the ancient story of a slave.
+    There lies a secret buried none too deep."
+
+    Thus the chief rower. This the far-off tale.
+
+    I dwelled beside the impulsive Rhone, a child that loved to be
+                                             alone.
+    The forest was my nursery. My happiness was all my own.
+
+    I knew by name each cloud that lowers the sunshine through in
+                                             liquid showers.
+    Deep in the tangled undergrowth I caught the singing of the
+                                             flowers.
+
+    Our minstrels sang of rape and arson, all the joys of private wars.
+    The forest wall was calm and tall. My tutor laughed, and drank to
+                                             Mars.
+
+    Bald, vulture-like upon its perch, our crag-born castle seemed to
+                                             search
+    The gorge for prey, its shade to still the bells a-twitter in the
+                                             church
+
+    Where, cheek by jowl with fearsome fowl and gargoyle, ghostly men,
+                                             in foul
+    Incense that tried to stifle me, recited magic formulæ.
+
+    At home clanked metal psalm and spur; but, oh the woods ...! I
+                                             tried to tame
+    A wolf-cub that the gardener called Life. He knew. The preacher
+                                             came.
+
+    I see him yet, his visage wet with hot emotion, tears, and sweat.
+    Contorted in the market-place he shrieked that all must pay a debt
+
+    To one Jehovah and His Son, by bursting eastward as the Hun
+    Had scourged the West. In unison we all replied 'twere nobly done,
+
+    For he explained that heaven was gained more featly--wrenching
+                                             Saint Jerome--
+    From Palestine than Christendom. That night no peasant durst go
+                                             home.
+
+    His words were like a wind that fanned a grass-fire: God would lend
+                                             His hand
+    To purge away the infidel whose breath profaned the Holy Land.
+
+    He showered indulgences, and kissed the brows of those who would
+                                             enlist
+    To take a chance of martyrdom or give the devil's tail a twist.
+
+    He promised we should see the light, that cursèd Arabs could not
+                                             fight,
+    Counted them dead since we were "led by General Jesus," said the
+                                             pope.
+
+    Moreover we must win and use Christ, His true Cross, the Widow's
+                                             cruse,
+    All talismans that found no scope for miracles among the Jews.
+
+    Upon the walls the veriest dolt and clown, arow like birds that
+                                             moult,
+    Chattered with one accord--or some small priestly prompting:--
+                                             "Diex el volt."
+
+    No wonder that our heartstrings glowed within us like a smelted
+                                             lode
+    Whence Kobolds welded Durandal; and like one man we ran or rode
+
+    Forth. Were we not enchanted? This was first among God's
+                                             certainties.
+    Even our steeds were like Shabdíz, the pride of King Khusraw
+                                             Parvíz.
+
+    We saw our path made plain, the hills removed by faith, whose
+                                             foaming course
+    Flooded the continents like flats. We saw the world made one--by
+                                             force.
+
+    In ecstasy our spirits soared. With beatific face toward
+    My cloudland all the crowd shed tears, and vowed to serve and save
+                                             the Lord.
+
+    But cloudland, seeming to disdain such warmth, replied with
+                                             slapping rain.
+    Conjuring such black augury the monks recited formulæ.
+
+    Besides, lest women, priests and traders should tempt the appetite
+                                             of raiders,
+    The Church proclaimed the Truce of God. Not all our barons were
+                                             crusaders.
+
+    Those who were frightened not to go sold all they had to make a
+                                             show,
+    Land, tool and ware to pay a fare. The panic made sly kings its
+                                             heir.
+
+    So much was sold by young and old, by fond, ambitious, hot and
+                                             cold,
+    That steel took sudden silver wings, then flew beyond the reach of
+                                             gold.
+
+    In such a gust my tender age availed not with the preaching sage,
+    For I was born of fighting men; and one of them took me for page,
+
+    Though I was loth to go, and prayed for mercy and a little maid
+    Whose hair was shining sunflower brown. I thought of all the games
+                                             we played
+
+    All day with hay and idle mowers. She dubbed me knight in pixy
+                                             bowers,
+    Where in the hindering undergrowth I caught the singing of the
+                                             flowers,
+
+    Ah me, how distant!... I was blest in my young lord who shared the
+                                             test,
+    Being sent upon this pilgrimage, his snow-white love still
+                                             unpossessed.
+
+    He, too, was paler than a ghost, as though already all were lost.
+    She dreamed of empery for him. He taught me this to show the cost:
+
+            _My heart was mine.
+            Ambition kept it whole.
+            I gained the world,
+            And so I lost my soul._
+
+            _Then you were mine,
+            But only mine in part.
+            You loved the world,
+            And so I lost my heart._
+
+    Only my tutor lay abed, calling us savages, and read
+    His pagan books. The fever would abate, he sneered, when we were
+                                             bled.
+
+    He chilled me. His head was like a block of ice, so clear. He tried
+                                             to shock
+    Me with his whispered flings that saints and monarchs came of
+                                             laughing-stock,
+
+    Or boasted some loud organ, Reason, which doctors had confused with
+                                             treason,
+    Looked round lest walls should hear, then wept that he was one born
+                                             out of season.
+
+    Our preaching-man pronounced a ban upon him, cried good riddance:
+                                             he
+    Was like to lead young men astray because he knew geography,
+
+    (And sciences, as medicine, reduce the value of a shrine).
+    My tutor passed for riding gnomes through space upon a pack of
+                                             tomes.
+
+    But at the water-parting I waved to the castle green and dun,
+    A tapestry where liquid sun--or tears--had made the colours run.
+
+    I looked my last on every stone and tree to whom my face was known.
+    The warriors smiled and called me child. They had not understood
+                                             the Rhone,
+
+    Nor that I _loved_ the birchwood's skin, the pansy's face, the
+                                             sheep-dog's grin,
+    That sleep with Nature in a field was sweet to me as mortal sin.
+
+    For love so fierce I stole: I gave my summer holidays to save
+    Lambs from the butcher, built for them sanctuary at my wolf-cub's
+                                             grave.
+
+    I stroked the landscape like a lute. No scentless words, no colours
+                                             mute,
+    Could paint its music. Henceforth I had only heaven for substitute.
+
+    Sling, crossbow, bludgeon, axe and spud, cilice and vials of sacred
+                                             blood,
+    On such equipment we relied. Our foes were misery and mud.
+
+    Each Norman keep, each Frankish hold, each corner of the Christian
+                                             fold
+    Sent forth its sheep to sound of bells. Our prophets might have had
+                                             them tolled.
+
+    Prince, abbot, squire, felt the desire of bliss that swept stews,
+                                             taverns, farms.
+    Soft damosels ploughed through the mire with babe at breast and
+                                             men-at-arms;
+
+    And, since this journey was the price of entrance into Paradise,
+    The gaols belched out their criminals and beggars all alive with
+                                             lice.
+
+    We took no food, for God is good; besides we heard that convents
+                                             strewed
+    Converted Hungary for us. We never dared mistrust His mood.
+
+    Heading the mass far up the pass, that led us straight to Calvary,
+    The preaching-man upon an ass recited magic formulæ.
+
+    Soon we were joined by northern lords; no few among their folk had
+                                             swords.
+    (Walter the Pennyless his rout had gone before and died in hordes,
+
+    While Gotschalk's dupes, with geese and goats upon their flags, had
+                                             found the boats
+    To pass beyond the Bosphorus, where Kilidj Arslan cut their
+                                             throats.)
+
+    Our force could not await the Turk, but in its ardour got to work
+    That was not mentioned in the breves. It murdered all the Jews in
+                                             Treves.
+
+    And I was sad a Christian lad should march with myrmidons so mad.
+    They made our Holy War appear too near a Musulman Jehad.
+
+    We plodded on for many weeks through mazes where the Austrian ekes
+    A bare existence on the slips of alp below the granite peaks,
+
+    And all those weeks did naught betide us palmers save that many
+                                             died.
+    Our gaol-birds eyed the preaching-man, and scholars spoke of
+                                             vaticide;
+
+    But I was happy when our stout commander sent me on to scout.
+    I cried for little Sunflower-tress, and made strange faces at the
+                                             trout.
+
+    Because I was a fighting-man I trained myself to nettle-stings,
+    And copied oaths and made up things my tutor would have tried to
+                                             scan:
+
+            _Briar and bramble,
+            Don't be so dense.
+            You scratch and you scramble
+              Like things without sense.
+            Why grudge me a ramble?
+              You can't want my hose,
+            White-coated bramble,
+              Pink briar-rose._
+
+            _Bramble and briar,
+              Leave me alone.
+            Cling to the friar,
+              Make him your own.
+            Kiss him, the liar
+              Who brought us all here,
+            Gentle sweet-briar,
+              Bramble my dear._
+
+    Thus through the months of slapping rain we plunged into the
+                                             Hungarian plain,
+    And paid its mounted bowmen dear for wretched stocks of fruit and
+                                             grain,
+
+    Or shelter in a reed-built town. They asked for hostages. We gave
+    Our leaders to these dirty-brown mongrels, who brought us to the
+                                             Save
+
+    With loss. My tutor's Damocles perhaps had lived in times like
+                                             these;
+    For whoso straggled from the main body was never seen again.
+
+    Ere this my rhyme had spread, and swelled into a marching-song. I
+                                             blushed
+    To witness how the spearmen held their sides with laughter, as they
+                                             yelled
+
+    "Bramble and briar." 'Twas the first faint mutiny. These men of
+                                             Gaul
+    Bantered the sterner pilgrims so I wondered why they came at all.
+
+    Yea, often now that I am old and hear how zealous scribes have told
+    The zeal that made the first crusade, well--history is eaten cold.
+
+    My lord could think of nothing but the lady who had bidden him cut
+    His way to her by such detours. Aye, this was true romance--the
+                                             slut.
+
+    We called her secretly The Burr--whereof was plenty in our beds--
+    For night by night he crooned of her, nor even named the Sepulchre:
+
+        _I waited, and the hours were loth to close.
+          They scarcely stirred till evening leapt to sight
+        Between the shadows that all substance throws
+          As bridges for its passage to the night._
+
+        _You never came. Life dozes at the touch
+          Of those not wholly resolute to live,
+        Who let themselves mistrust her overmuch
+          To take the only thing she has to give._
+
+    Amid the rags there caracoled fop-penitents whose panders lolled
+    With human baggage in the rear, and hound and hawk. So chaos rolled
+
+    Adown the Danube rolling east. Beyond Semlin the pinewoods filled
+    With Celt and Saxon, man and beast inspired to leave the west
+                                             untilled.
+
+    The locust-swarms were better drilled than we, the owls were not so
+                                             blind.
+    At every stage we left behind poor simpletons that moaned and
+                                             shrilled,
+
+    Thinking each swamp Gethsemane. It seemed that at their agony
+    The doctors scoffed with cross aloft, reciting magic formulæ.
+
+    Alone the princes lightly pranced, as if the pilgrimage enhanced
+    Their right to weigh upon the world thereafter. So the doom
+                                             advanced
+
+    To dervish cries and jester's japes. Hermit and boor and
+                                             jackanapes,
+    I and my ghost-pale master threw a trail of shadows, motley shapes,
+
+    Where Rhodopé's wine-purples mix snow with the moonlight. Oh, 'twas
+                                             gall
+    Amid the horror of it all that Bulgars thought us lunatics,
+
+    Or worse; for ever at our flank a stream, that in my nostrils
+                                             stank,
+    Seethed; and amid the best of her the scum of Europe wenched and
+                                                      drank.
+
+    At last we halted where Constantinople's grandeur puts to scorn
+    The villaged west, and challenges the Orient on her Golden Horn.
+
+    Ah, brazen, were your heart as strong as looked your square-chinned
+                                             ramparts.... Long
+    We waited at the gates in dust knee-deep. The Emperor did not trust
+
+    The help that he had craved. He swore he had not asked so many ...
+                                             more
+    Would ruin him.... He let the heat suck out our strength at every
+                                             pore.
+
+    But we were told great noblemen, Godfrey of Bouillon in Ardennes,
+    Robert of Flanders, "Sword and Lance of Christians," all the flower
+                                             of France
+
+    Were on our side, Hugh Vermandois, Stephen of Chartres and Troyes
+                                             and Blois,
+    Baldwin and Raymond of Toulouse. The preacher said we could not
+                                             lose.
+
+    Moreover he had spoken with angel-reserves behind us, sith
+    They sent assurance (Saracens we mocked, but had our own _Hadith_)
+
+    That we should root the heathen out, and blight as with a ten
+                                             years' drought
+    Their fields. Jehovah willed that we should leave no seed of theirs
+                                             to sprout.
+
+    Our mates streamed in from lands beyond the Adriatic, Bohemond
+    With Tancred; strait Dalmatian bays, Epirus, Scodra, devious ways
+
+    Bore them with boastful tales of sport and plunder, and a vague
+                                             report
+    That this was nothing to the spoil that beckoned from the Moslem
+                                             court.
+
+    Henceforth impatient ups and downs possessed us. Asiatic towns
+    Flamed to the general vision. We heard less perhaps of heavenly
+                                             crowns
+
+    Than flowers and peacocks made of gems, the Caliph's crusted
+                                             diadems
+    That crushed the head like Guthlac's bell, and trees with solid
+                                             emerald stems.
+
+    And I confess Christ counted less to us than tales of leash and
+                                             gess,
+    Or Hárún-el-Rashíd's largesse that sent the clock to Charlemagne.
+
+    We practised sums, and tried to train our cavalry in loss and gain.
+    Upon the misty wizard-world rose like a star the money-brain.
+
+    Even monks planned theft of saintly scalps; stray hairs and chips
+                                             of nail and chine,
+    Divinely shielded through the Alps, would make the fortune of the
+                                             Rhine.
+
+    I often tried to hide myself from this besetting spook of pelf.
+    In olive-groves I called in vain to simple faun and acorn-elf.
+
+    I pictured kine that kissed their own reflections on the impulsive
+                                             Rhone,
+    A little maid with sunflower hair, a nest we found ... the birds
+                                             had flown.
+
+    I think Alexius was wise to keep us out. Our hungry eyes
+    Fixed on his capital. Why go farther when here were rich supplies?
+
+    The Pope that cursed our tastes had laid the hand of blessing on
+                                             this raid.
+    Blest chance indeed--as though a man should drink his fill and then
+                                             be paid!
+
+    Each set to whet his falchion-pet that only friends had tasted yet.
+    We dressed our hopes in purple silk, wallowed in dreamland's wine
+                                             and milk.
+
+    Yet more than any Sultan's spoil fair women should repay our toil.
+    Already some were filled with thoughts that our red cross was meant
+                                             to foil.
+
+    The notion twinged us. We compared our prospects with the way we
+                                             fared
+    On these lean suburbs and the flats about Barbyses. We were snared!
+
+    The very Greeks, whose prayers had lured us into this adventure,
+                                             lodged
+    Their saviours in a baited trap. Lord, how these foxes turned and
+                                             dodged.
+
+    There lay our army like a log; our camp, our tenets, turned to bog.
+    We sank. Disorder brought disease that stalked us spectral through
+                                             the fog.
+
+    The Greeks we came to bolster up against their weakness filled our
+                                             cup
+    With turpitude; the Byzantine put Circe's poison in our wine.
+
+    Our aspirations all became mean as our hosts; the inner flame
+    Went out. From many a starting-point we found a common ground in
+                                             shame;
+
+    For here no soul can keep its health, but cat-like honour creeps by
+                                             stealth
+    Down side streets where the children breathe an atmosphere of
+                                             rotting wealth.
+
+    Between our fellow-churches rose the hate that heaven had meant for
+                                             foes....
+    The infidel might well have laughed. Perhaps he did. We came to
+                                             blows.
+
+    And I was sad that Christians had nothing in common, saving bad
+    Blood, that our highest dizziest heads could all divide but none
+                                             could add.
+
+    But when spring lit the Judas-trees our chieftains kissed the
+                                             Emperor's knees.
+    We crossed to Asia sick at heart. Alexius kept us well apart,
+
+    Shuffling us o'er the Bosphorus. The number and the rank of us
+    Exceeded those who went to Troy for Helen the Adulterous.
+
+    On the Bithynian plain our force drew up: an hundred thousand horse
+    With foot and monks and womankind in crowds that none can call to
+                                             mind.
+
+    Fear stuffed the empty space ahead with devils and the shapes of
+                                             dread
+    That decked our church. A ghastly rush of loneliness made every
+                                             head
+
+    Feel like a pinpoint. Discontent ran through the score of nations
+                                             blent
+    In cries. Their ribald spokesman forced a drunkard's way to
+                                             Godfrey's tent:
+
+        _You that have led us through the many tests
+          Of Hungary, King Caloman, and Thrace,
+        Who think of kingdoms as of palimpsests
+          And human nature as a carapace,
+        Go up and prosper in your lofty chase!
+          We cannot live on barren mountain-crests.
+        Our wildest dreams are prisoners that pace
+          The little space between a woman's breasts._
+
+        _Here lies the stronghold that our zeal invests,
+          This infidel alone we long to face.
+        This hollow, where our constant fancy nests,
+          Is more to us than pedestal and dais.
+        Nay, we will go no farther in the race
+          For gain, respond no more to mean behests.
+        We know our cause, and reverently embrace
+          The little space between a woman's breasts._
+
+        _It is our holy land, and we, the guests
+          Of passion, brand all other hosts as base.
+        The bees have led us to their treasure-chests,
+          A foxglove-sceptre and an hyacinth-mace,
+        The meadow's fleeting broidery and lace.
+          Their heaven like ours is nigh to vulgar jests.
+        A blossom's goal and glory is to grace
+          The little space between a woman's breasts._
+
+        _Prince, be content and choose your resting-place,
+          Ere we be all forgotten with our quests,
+        And this thin earth go crumbling into space,
+          The little space between a woman's breasts._
+
+    Thereat was scandal, and a priest exclaimed that man was half a
+                                             beast.
+    I could have told him that before. Man was the half I like the
+                                             least.
+
+    To obviate a sinful fate the monks laid on us many weeks
+    Of penance, wasting us the more with these inventions of the
+                                             Greeks.
+
+    Some paid in cash, some chose the lash--their backs were pitiful to
+                                             see--
+    While Bishop Adhémar of Puy recited magic formulæ
+
+    That lurched us forward to our doom. We cleft the sultanate of
+                                             Roum,
+    Calling for bread. The peasants fled. We swept the country like a
+                                             broom.
+
+    Our armed migration choked the road. It ran ahead, a stream that
+                                             flowed
+    Uphill to glory, so it seemed; and so imagination strode--
+
+    O Jack o' lantern!--into the unknown. The Virgin on a silver
+                                             throne,
+    Our leaders swore, went on before us. I saw nothing but the Rhone,
+
+    The impulsive Rhone that tumbles down, and breaks clean through the
+                                             grey-walled town.
+    I heard it rustle in its bed where others heard the Virgin's gown.
+
+    I blamed the foeman for my thirst, for sandstorm, flies, heat,
+                                             scurvy--cursed
+    Them. Piles of grievance fumed until the red fire kindled. Madness
+                                             burst
+
+    All bounds, and capered in the glare that wrapped us round like
+                                             Nessus' shirt.
+    Each day 'twas there with yards to spare, and would not tear. How
+                                             blue can hurt!
+
+    In my delirium I smelt a mirage, heard the swallows skim
+    Above the reeds where angels knelt with envious eyes to watch me
+                                             swim.
+
+    The preacher said Jehovah's cloud and pillar would go with us. Yea,
+    The sky was on our heads alway. The sun rose up and cried aloud,
+
+    And stood immobilized at noon. We wondered if at Ajalon
+    The Jews thanked Joshua for the boon of this divine phenomenon.
+
+    We came to Nice and formed a siege with tortoise, belfry, catapult,
+    And curse that brought even less result. Each lordling quarrelled
+                                             with his liege,
+
+    Layman with priest, until the place surrendered, and again we
+                                             lurched
+    Forward. I heard our name was made. I only saw how it was smirched.
+
+    My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for
+                                             love's sweet sake
+    That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I
+                                             lay awake
+
+    All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be
+                                             full-grown,
+    A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own.
+
+    I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded
+                                             barge
+    Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain
+                                             was large.
+
+    Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards
+                                             meant
+    To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they
+                                             went.
+
+    Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of
+                                             grace!
+    The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was.
+
+    I, polishing my master's helmet, also longed to overwhelm
+    The miscreants, to hew in bits the devil and his earthly realm.
+
+    A boy's high spirits, weariness, a heart impulsive as the Rhone,
+    The wish to get this business done, the thought of little
+                                             Sunflower-tress--
+
+    A flower beside The Burr, and "Why, if knights sing rubbish, should
+                                             not I?"--
+    The preaching man's persistence, these stirred me to action by
+                                             degrees.
+
+    We had our fill at Dorylæum. Our rogues were Paladins. We won,
+    And weighed our booty by the ton. That night we chanted a Te Deum,
+
+    A myriad voices in the dark; they rose like one colossal lark
+    Ere dawn. My soul flew up with them to see the new Jerusalem
+
+    And spite my tutor. I was mad to be a fighting-man, would pad
+    My arms like muscles. So my lord took me to foray. I was glad.
+
+    I had one thought: my hands were wet. That angered me: my mouth was
+                                             dry.
+    I had one fear: I might forget my master's silly battle-cry.
+
+    Belike 'twas well no foe would stand--our cavaliers were out of
+                                             hand--
+    So I was baulked. With scarce a blow we filed across the wasted
+                                             land
+
+    For leagues, till Baldwin turned aside, and out of Peradventure
+                                             carved
+    His slice, Edessa. We were plied to march on Antioch half-starved.
+
+    For seven months sheer courage toiled to take the town. Its
+                                             ramparts foiled
+    Our engines. Sulkiness sat down within us, and temptation coiled
+
+    Tight round our bodies; every vice was lurking like a cockatrice.
+    Ah, flesh can never quite repel the sinuous things which thoughts
+                                             entice.
+
+    You honey-coloured Syrian girls, whose voices turned our knights to
+                                             thirls,
+    I looked away and stopped my ears by thinking of the glossier
+                                             merles
+
+    At home. The arm upheld by Hur had not sufficed him to deter
+    The dissipation of our force, alas. My lord deceived The Burr.
+
+    'Twas worse when treachery let us in. Blood, lechery, pillage, fire
+                                             and din
+    Burned an impression on my mind: the sexual ugliness of sin.
+
+    Cool Bohemond called Antioch his. Ere we had killed our mutineers,
+    We the besiegers were besieged by Kurbugha and his Amírs.
+
+    Alternate famine and carouse brought plague; but doubtless God
+                                             allows
+    Expensive trials of faith that we might learn the magic formulæ.
+
+    We melted, melted; kites were fed upon us, dogs ran dripping red
+    From piles of nameless carrion, the race that Europe might have
+                                             bred.
+
+    Throughout our ranks desertion raged by daily sermons unassuaged.
+    The preaching man was first in this "rope-dancing." Disillusion
+                                             aged
+
+    My youth by years. My master stayed. If he had erred he promptly
+                                             paid.
+    The pestilence ran after him. Despite the fervour I displayed
+
+    He died of sores, this prince of tilt, though guarded by ten
+                                             hallowed charms,
+    This subject of all _trouvère_-lilt, lord in an hundred ladies'
+                                             arms.
+
+    Oh, how I struggled to be brave when the Pope's legate, grey and
+                                             grim,
+    Said simply this beside the grave: "Christ died for you. You died
+                                             for Him."
+
+    Only his jester seemed to care, and ceased awhile to swear and
+                                             daff.
+    "Who," he repeated in despair, "will pay me for his epitaph?"
+
+          _Poor friend, this alien hungry land
+            Has closed her lips upon her prey.
+          The tree is spoiled into her hand;
+            She sucks the brook's thin veins away._
+
+          _A sterner voice than bade you come
+            To reap the tears that exiles sow
+          Has called you to her longer home,
+            That neither bids nor lets you go._
+
+          _Seven times you baulked her lawless laws,
+            And foiled the customs of the year;
+          But Death defends the tyrant's cause,
+            And makes the silent court his lair._
+
+          _The lease of life, that none can own,
+            Is written on her agent's roll;
+          And from the desert and the sown
+            He takes a harsh and equal toll,_
+
+          _High-handed, scorning code or text.
+            No hope the debtor's gaol unlocks.
+          A friend appeals? He is the next
+            To occupy the narrow box._
+
+          _The witness cowers, pale with fear,
+            When Death the stalker passes by;
+          And only prays he may not hear
+            That ugly sound--a victim's cry._
+
+          _One weeps; his eyes are wet as long
+            As on Death's hand the blood is wet.
+          He says: "The King can do no wrong!"
+            And craves permission to forget._
+
+          _How briefly to an echo clings
+            The memory of these solemn days,
+          The thought of those tremendous things
+            That Death implies but never says._
+
+          _An hour ago we laid you down.
+            The tender, tardy autumn rain
+          Is dried within the dusty town,
+            And we are at our rounds again._
+
+    With every round our spirits sank in bodies lean and members lank.
+    I saw the soul of man, a cave, a wick that smouldered and smelled
+                                             rank.
+
+    Men's fluid facts may wash the grime from pictures of a distant
+                                             time,
+    But I can paint the truth in one small touch: our poets ceased to
+                                             rhyme.
+
+    Such was the army's hopelessness. I understood, who once had seen
+    Our fading gardener rouse himself to kick and curse the wolf-cub,
+                                             Life.
+
+    I would not let my feet desert, but oh the woods--the woods of home
+    That bent and beckoned in the damp zephyr in vain! I could not
+                                             stoop
+
+    To play false in an enterprise however mad, if once begun.
+    Besides another miracle was wrought in me. I was in love.
+
+    I was enamoured of dear Christ; His utter beauty struck me dumb,
+    His face alone could compensate for scenes that almost made me long
+
+    For blindness. Yea, to Him I turned from all this heartache,
+                                             nightly kissed
+    His hand with passion. I at least would not betray the children's
+                                             Friend.
+
+    Haply His strength has always lain in contrast. I found strength to
+                                             press
+    Toward the mark. Not so the host: we could not kick it to its feet.
+
+    Then heaven inspired us to devise a pious fraud--The Holy Lance.
+    We hid it in Saint Peter's crypt, and dug it up. The people wept
+
+    With rapture at this talisman, and sang the Psalm "Let God arise."
+    Also our chiefs--they knew my zeal--bade me complete the heartening
+                                             sign.
+
+    White-plumed, white-horsed, with golden shield and halo, I
+                                             contrived to appear
+    On the horizon, waved my sword while Adhémar proclaimed Saint
+                                             George.
+
+    Our men responded with a shout. Through the five gates they tumbled
+                                             out,
+    An headlong torrent. In a trice the infidel was put to rout,
+
+    And I joined in to hack and prod. Pure Tancred praised me with a
+                                             nod.
+    Ascetic Godfrey even spoke to me: "Lad, you belong to God."
+
+    I won my spurs. They _made_ me proud. Before my sword the wizards
+                                             bowed,
+    Though me they washed. In vigil and fast I joined the perfect
+                                             order, vowed
+
+    To hold my manhood chaste, to gird on might with right and
+                                             courtesy,
+    To speak the truth, and so to be at variance with the common herd.
+
+    Such loftiness a man can feel once in a flash: strong arms, clean
+                                             hands
+    That forged us into iron bands to unify the world with steel.
+
+    But as I left the altar daft with the ambition I had quaffed--
+    A word can kill a century--one of my perfect brothers laughed:
+
+          _I took the vow of virtue
+            As others take to vice.
+          I could not break my heart of you.
+            Men call that sacrifice._
+
+          _The priests applauded nature.
+            Poor devil, she was loth
+          Enough. The love of God and you
+            Has made me hate you both._
+
+    And I was sad that Christians, clad in robes so dazzling, were not
+                                             glad
+    To keep them spotless from the world, and give the Virgin all they
+                                             had.
+
+    Yet I was racked by continence of all we rightly rank as sense.
+    I hungered for the Sunflower-tress that now my lips would never
+                                             press.
+
+    I wrenched and wrestled to believe that God had sent us here to
+                                             grieve
+    Our bodies with this fruitlessness, that only fakirs could achieve
+
+    His purpose. Then in blind revolt my soul like an unbroken colt
+    Ran round and round an empty field. The hedge was thick. I could
+                                             not bolt,
+
+    Though one poor knight on stiffened knee revealed beneath his
+                                             breath to me
+    His thoughts on women while the monks recited magic formulæ.
+
+    I sought for solace in renown. Men watched me swagger through the
+                                             town
+    The youngest knight in Christendom. When women passed I tried to
+                                             frown.
+
+    A year I suffered in this way before the wreck of our array
+    Would undertake the final march. My soul was saved by movement. May
+
+    Was with us, when my tutor closed his wintry Juvenal and posed
+    Mid nightingales to quote and kiss the _Pervigilium Veneris_.
+
+    I drove his authors from my head, and read Augustin hard instead;
+    But sap was mounting in my veins and western groves where finches
+                                             wed.
+
+    To these no sound of sapphire seas, no stunted firs of Lebanon,
+    Not Tyrian dyes nor Tripoli's loud yellows deafened. We ran on
+
+    Through landmarks famed in Holy Writ, Emmaus, Bethlehem ... at last
+    We saw the walls of Zion lit blood-red by sunset and the past.
+
+    The conquest of another world unfurled beneath our feet, the land
+    Of miracle and mystery lay as a bauble in our hand.
+
+    Men flung their caps up, feigned a swoon. With prostrate lines of
+                                             us the moon
+    Drew silver circles round the site. A cock crowed--many hours too
+                                             soon.
+
+    We thought to prise the gates ajar. My tutor wrote their private
+                                             Lar
+    Or else--with Tacitus--their folk designed them for eternal war.
+
+    The moat was wide; we feebly tried to stop its gape with pebbles,
+                                             cried
+    "Fall, Jericho!" The blessèd wall stood firm; but Christ was on our
+                                             side.
+
+    The Church had saved Him from His wan repute and thrust Him in our
+                                             van,
+    Bronzed, scarred. Alas, the first crusade had made Him out a
+                                             fighting man!
+
+    He taught the Turks to mock Giaours!... sent timely Genoese to
+                                             build
+    Wheeled wooden turrets. These we filled brimful. Jerusalem was
+                                             ours.
+
+    We entered reverent, barefoot; slew three livelong nights and
+                                             mornings through,
+    Then paused to sing a thanksgiving. We massacred the morrow too.
+
+    And I was glad a Christian lad could boast of some small
+                                             suffering _ad
+    Majorem Dei gloriam_. I only longed to burn Baghdad.
+
+    Nay, I can say I never hid to chamber as my fellows did.
+    I felt my conscience clear as frost, and touched no woman--God
+                                             forbid.
+
+    I set my contrite soul apart with mass, procession, penance, rites
+    That took me out to see the sights, brushing ecstatic lanes athwart
+
+    The quiddering mob with tears of joy--my tutor's phrase was hoi
+                                             polloi--
+    Though few were left. Some Greeks of ours confused Jerusalem with
+                                             Troy.
+
+    But most the bestial German louts made even their hardest allies
+                                             sick;
+    They ran to mutilate the quick and sniff the dead with joyous
+                                             snouts.
+
+    Shriven, forgiven, we embraced each stone that Christ had touched,
+                                             and placed
+    Such relics under treble guard. One note in our rejoicings jarred.
+
+    It seemed some types of Jewish dog escaped the flaming synagogue,
+    And their ingratitude was base. They joined to form a
+                                             wailing-place.
+
+    I heard them as I roamed among blind alleys dark and overhung
+    By one-eyed dens. With whining nose against the wall the pack gave
+                                             tongue:
+
+      _Behold Thy people, Lord, a race of mourners.
+        Through this Thy sacred dwelling-place they creep
+      Like strangers. Hearken, Lord, in holes and corners
+            We sit alone and weep._
+
+      _For Thy decree, most terrible and holy,
+        That as the fathers sow the sons shall reap,
+      For all Thy just affliction of the lowly,
+            We sit alone and weep._
+
+      _For all the glory that is now departed,
+        For all the stones that Thou hast made an heap,
+      Yea, for the city of the broken-hearted,
+            We sit alone and weep._
+
+      _For all the wealth wherewith Thou hadst endowed her,
+        For all our shepherds gone astray like sheep,
+      For all Thy temple's jewels ground to powder,
+            We sit alone and weep._
+
+      _Because our soul is chastened as with lashes,
+        Because Thine anger like a stormy deep
+      Goes over us, in sackcloth and in ashes
+            We sit alone and weep._
+
+    Nobody gave them heed; indeed each man was thinking how to speed
+    His interests, and if the prey would satisfy ambition or need.
+
+    To honest minds with zeal imbued the Pope's indulgence, their own
+                                             merit
+    Bestowed some licence to be lewd, and take--their preachers said
+                                             "inherit."
+
+    Even I who was in love with Christ, I with the conscience clean and
+                                             cold
+    That hankered not for lands or gold, was wondering how to clinch my
+                                             hold
+
+    On reputation, while our chiefs, before we could consolidate,
+    Rode a great wallop round the State and split it into petty fiefs.
+
+    Their overlords revolted me. Alas, for our brief unity!
+    Edessa snarled at Antioch, Jerusalem at Tripoli.
+
+    Poor Godfrey, who would not accept a crown where his Redeemer wore
+    Thorns, nor be strong where Jesus wept! From the beginning weakness
+                                             crept
+
+    Into our councils. Worse, we watched the bulk of our brave lads
+                                             disperse
+    Well-pleased. At most we raised the ghost of needful power to hold
+                                             their post.
+
+    Franks and Provincials, German brutes that bullied babes and
+                                             prostitutes,
+    Lombards and Flemings, made for home with clapping and the sound of
+                                             flutes.
+
+    It flowed away, the unstable stuff, to whom a cause was but a noun.
+    They stood to sea. Thank heaven 'twas rough! My place was here with
+                                             my renown.
+
+    They vanished ... home ... to Sunflower-tress ... home, where a man
+                                             may die obscure!
+    Far off a carle of Albemarle trolled chanties like a Siren's lure.
+
+          _East, are you calling still,
+          Who tried your strength of will
+        For naught on brown Ulysses long ago?
+          We have an island too,
+          And haul away from you
+        To cleaner kin that bend a stronger bow._
+
+          _Your caravans string out
+          On many a golden route
+        The turbaned Magi's offerings; but we
+          Steer forth on loner trails
+          Through rough wind-scented vales
+        To England, the oasis of the sea._
+
+          _Child Jesus chose you, East,
+          Not that He loved us least,
+        But just because His Father had foreseen
+          The dear and only Son
+          Might dwell too long upon
+        Our swinging greys and many-coloured green._
+
+    So we were left alone. The spring broke out in buds of bickering.
+    Each summer brought contentious fruit. Strife waxed with every
+                                             waning king.
+
+    And I waxed also, better known, resolved to reap what I had sown.
+    My childless manhood fixed my heart. The Holy Land was all my own.
+
+    I grew in grace with man--I hoped with God; from Beersheba to Dan
+    I went about my Father's work. Faith could not shirk what Faith
+                                             began.
+
+    Sometimes qualms came. I looked askance on Bishop Daimbert's
+                                             schemes to enhance
+    His seat. The native Christians sighed they missed the Caliph's
+                                             tolerance.
+
+    Not that had hurt me, but the void which love will make if
+                                             unemployed.
+    I spent my strength to keep him quiet, and free the thoughts that
+                                             he decoyed,
+
+    Till woods and Rhone were out of range. I often wondered at the
+                                             change
+    In nature's child, in me. The formulæ were there. "God's ways are
+                                             strange."
+
+    Yet in my struggle with the powers of darkness I recalled the
+                                             showers
+    Of light that fought the undergrowth to catch the singing of the
+                                             flowers.
+
+    Time passed, and no one seemed to reck of Zenghi, the first Atabek,
+    Though every year we failed to act the Saracens grew more compact.
+
+    In vain I urged that we might fall, so slender was our human wall,
+    So numberless the foe beside the Templars and the Hospital.
+
+    The answer was that dyke and fosse were useless when we had the
+                                             Cross,
+    With other relics by the score, to guard against defeat or loss.
+
+    My prophecies of coming ills fell on deaf ears and weakly wills.
+    I did my best. You know I did, who saw me peer beyond the hills
+
+    Where Karak like a lighthouse loomed at waves of sand that never
+                                             spumed,
+    The tideless main, an ocean-plain bare, petrified. Its silence
+                                             boomed.
+
+    I saw in all that vastitude, the one, the drab, the many-hued,
+    No sign of life, no moving speck; and yet I knew that trouble
+                                             brewed.
+
+    I tortured every hour to find material things to prop behind--
+    Forgive me, God!--Your earthly realm. The need was great, for it
+                                             was blind.
+
+    The mathematics of Abul Hassan, three hundred years at school
+    In Arabic philosophy, showed that the West was still a fool.
+
+    Nay, gently, call her still a babe. How should she know that I, the
+                                             Great,
+    Had learned from savages to prate of compass and of astrolabe.
+
+    Our miracles were not so sure to heal as Rhazes' simplest cure.
+    His friends the moon and stars obeyed the rules that Abul Wafa
+                                             made.
+
+    My stolen lore raised me above my fellows. Everything but love
+    Was mine, respect, authority. The jealous Churchmen dared not move.
+
+    Our infant realm could not dispense with me, its shield and main
+                                             defence.
+    I knew the Damascene recipe for making steel, and made it cheap.
+
+    My mind was fertile in resorts. I spent the pilgrims' fees on
+                                             forts,
+    And settled, for their skill in trade, Venetian slavers at our
+                                             ports.
+
+    Howbeit I trembled lest our main enthusiasm should be for gain.
+    I stripped myself to work against the working of the money-brain.
+
+    And I was glad I passed for mad and single-eyed as Galahad.
+    I sacrificed in saving Christ the profit that I might have had.
+
+    Nothing that I could do availed. My tongue grew bitter, girded,
+                                             railed.
+    My labour only builded Me, but not the kingdom. So I failed.
+
+    Our Viscounts could but show their gums, while from Aleppo, Hama,
+                                             Homs,
+    The foe crept onward like the months, culling our conquests like
+                                             ripe plums.
+
+    For all response in Chastel Blanc and towering Markab-of-the-Sea
+    Some clerkly knight in red-crossed white recited magic formulæ;
+
+    Then darkly hinted science, hell and I were leagued, because their
+                                             spell
+    Would not or could not stave the blow that I foresaw. Edessa fell.
+
+    Curse our degenerate Poullains! The breed had need of spurs not
+                                             reins.
+    To stand an empty sack upright was easier than to warm their veins
+
+    Save with amours. One night I knelt to pray; but on the battlement
+    Hard by a lordling twanged a harp. I smelt the bastard's eastern
+                                             scent.
+
+    He thought his leman lay behind my casement, where the jasmin
+                                             twined
+    And almost jingled.... Oh the woods at home and whitethroats
+                                             calling blind!
+
+        _Suppose you left that window and came down
+          To meet me. Do not turn away.
+            Also you need not frown.
+              I only say:
+                "Suppose."_
+
+      _Suppose--you are a woman of resource--
+        The fastenings of your door undone.
+          No! They are not.... Of course!
+            But, just for fun,
+              Suppose._
+
+      _Suppose that--safe among the trees below
+        The terraces--you chanced to find ...
+          Impossible!... I know,
+            But never mind.
+              Suppose._
+
+      _Suppose that--being there--an eager arm
+        Drew you towards the little dell....
+          Why redden? Where's the harm?
+            You might as well
+              Suppose...._
+
+      _Suppose that, bending over you, a man
+        Breathed words of which you knew the gist.
+          Suppose it!... Yes, you can....
+            No, I insist....
+              Suppose!_
+
+      _Suppose you shut the window? Now? Pray do,
+        And take a lonely night to learn
+          This tune shut in with you.
+            Till I return,
+              Suppose...._
+
+    Then I peeped out. Some breath divine had made his face, compared
+                                             with mine,
+    An angel's. Love with all its faults had set there our Creator's
+                                             sign.
+
+    That shook me. One of us was wrong. Which? He or I? His soul was
+                                             vexed
+    Neither by this world nor the next, but floated in a bubble of
+                                             song.
+
+    It haunted me, as he had said; it chimed and rhymed about my bed.
+    It filled my head with Sunflower-tress; but she--I writhed--was old
+                                             or dead.
+
+    Was all my suffering a waste? Had superstition wed me chaste
+    To Its effect? Was this my Cause? My tutor in the dark grimaced.
+
+    I saw him snug at home, and how he would have chuckled at my vow!
+    Well, who laughs last.... I pictured him a dotard or in hell by
+                                             now.
+
+    I prayed for help all night; and, warned by lost Edessa, Baldwin
+                                             made
+    Great efforts to placate our God. The answer was a fresh crusade.
+
+    This was an answer none could doubt. We heard a preacher more
+                                             devout
+    Than ours was quartering the west, and pulling true believers out.
+
+    He hight Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the home of light and
+                                             miracles.
+    The wives and mothers trembled so before his spirit's tentacles,
+
+    They hid their males--in vain. He swept the Emperor Conrad with
+                                             him, kept
+    The collar of his pale adept, emasculated Louis Sept.
+
+    He cured King's Evils, raised the dead, he cast out devils by the
+                                             gross.
+    'Twas said he promised us twelve legions of angels.... From the
+                                             darkest regions
+
+    Men flocked to Metz and Ratisbon. News came of more than half a
+                                             million,
+    Not counting those that rode apillion. Our battle was as good as
+                                             won.
+
+    Such glorious news might well inflame our hopes. We waited. Nothing
+                                             came,
+    Not even light Turcopuli nor Conrad's Golden-footed Dame.
+
+    Our Poullains first began to whine; the fainthearts said the fault
+                                             was mine.
+    Saint Bernard was the oracle of Europe, I of Palestine.
+
+    And nothing came ... no troops.... The Greek misled, starved,
+                                             poisoned, murdered them,
+    Betrayed them to the Turk, whose bleak deserts went over them. Week
+                                             by week
+
+    We waited. Nothing. Cadmus saw them cut to bits, Attalia's maw
+    Could not be sated with their ruck. King Louis' mind had just one
+                                             flaw:
+
+    He would not hear of strategy, staked all on supernatural help.
+    And nothing came, and nothing came. Our half-bred curs began to
+                                             yelp
+
+    "Good God, if truly God is good!" They kissed the Cross. Gems hid
+                                             the wood.
+    Had He forgotten? Was He deaf? Could such things be? Who
+                                             understood?
+
+    Not I, though I had kept my word to save the Lamb by fire and
+                                             sword.
+    And after twelve long lustra spent in service this was my reward.
+
+    Louis and Conrad struggled through one day with some small retinue.
+    I watched. Almost I could foretell what they and Providence would
+                                             do.
+
+    And I remember, as we fared, a Sufi--so the sect is named--
+    Sat by the road as though he cared no jot for us, while he
+                                             declaimed:
+
+      _Her home is in the heart of spaciousness,
+      In the mid-city of ideals. The site
+      Is harmony, the walls are made of light.
+      There with the mother-thoughts she stands to bless
+      The godlike sons sent forth with her caress
+      To make new worlds. I see them all unite
+      Into the whole that our most starry flight
+      Of worship knew far off, and strove to express.
+      What can we do for her? We run to ask
+      As restless children for a grown-up task,
+      While wisdom in the porch, their kind old host,
+      Smiles at nurse nature, and replies: The most,
+      The least that we can do for Beauty is
+      To love for love's sake and serve God for His._
+
+    But Conrad drove his lance in jest right through the ragamuffin's
+                                             chest,
+    Because his creed was not as ours; and on we rode. I lost my zest.
+
+    To take Damascus was our plan, relying on a talisman.
+    I knew that this would not suffice, for I was still a fighting man.
+
+    It ended in repulse and shame. Saint Bernard proved we were to
+                                             blame
+    For want of faith. Ah, some of us had had too much. We said the
+                                             same
+
+    Of him. At our return thick mobs of women filled the church with
+                                             bobs
+    And bows, poor puppets, trying hard to sing between their stifled
+                                             sobs:
+
+        _God, whose Son has fathomed sorrow,
+          Give a mother strength to say:
+        Mine has faced and found To-morrow.
+          I will try to face To-day._
+
+    They turned to me. They thought me wise because I had been led by
+                                             lies
+    To blind myself to them; and now I saw things through a woman's
+                                             eyes,
+
+    And I went out. Not yet the end. Since innocence alone could save,
+    Saints hit on infant infantry, and fifty thousand found the grave.
+
+    My gorge rose, yet I stopped my ears. I had no hope, but I was
+                                             tarred
+    With fame too much to show my fears. My duty lay in dying hard.
+
+    Oh irony! That fame increased the more its robes were patched and
+                                             pieced.
+    My whole ambition was fulfilled when power and confidence had
+                                             ceased.
+
+    The women kissed my feet, my horse; they clung to me like my
+                                             remorse.
+    I that set out to make the world had made myself believe by force.
+
+    Nay, I that knew we were reprieved at best, had I in truth
+                                             believed?
+    My youth came back. I seemed to meet my tutor's sneer in every
+                                             street.
+
+    Fate cursed us with three minor kings, a leper then. Against these
+                                             Things
+    Salah-ad-Din combined the entire orient. I wished our fate had
+                                             wings
+
+    Instead of feet to end our dumb, keen, futile questionings, to numb
+    The brain that binds us with the chain of kingdom go and kingdom
+                                             come.
+
+    One of our knights for plunder's sake undid us, roused the foe who
+                                             brake
+    In through the pass of Banias, cutting our lands in two like cake.
+
+    The hour was here, but not the man. That murderer Guy de Lusignan
+    Was sent to head our fight for life. The craven took for talisman
+
+    ME and my hundred years, alas, a relic of the man I was.
+    I toiled to still our private feuds. We marched upon Tiberias,
+
+    For none would listen when I urged our leaders to await attack.
+    We marched across the waterless inferno. Summer burnt us black.
+
+    The Moslems scorched us with Greek fire. As rain upon a funeral
+                                             pyre
+    Their arrows hissed in sheets upon the smoking scrub. "Go on!"
+                                             "Retire!"
+
+    Our rabble cried, starting aside like broken bows; they tried to
+                                             hide,
+    Split, fled for refuge to a hill, did nothing while the Templars
+                                             died.
+
+    When all was lost I cut my way out through the thicket of the fray,
+    And galloped for Jerusalem to adjure Guy's Queen to stand at bay.
+
+    In this last desperate passage each proud noble still opposed his
+                                             friend.
+    A little while and we were penned, and yet a little while a breach
+
+    Was made. Jehovah's chosen seat was tottering, but no Paraclete
+    Came down to comfort us. I made some sallies. Then the Queen would
+                                             treat.
+
+    Perhaps in our appeal for ruth my wording stumbled on the truth,
+    "One God that went by many names," or else I knew Him in my youth,
+
+    Or else that Sufi haunted me with something that I could not see,
+    Something that only had not been because we would not let it be.
+
+    And when the foe marched in, I own that I was thinking of the Rhone
+    Long, long ago, and wondering--a child once more--if it had grown.
+
+    Yet there remained the sharpest cup to drain: the moan of us went
+                                             up,
+    When from the topmost dome was hurled the Sign that should have
+                                             ruled the world.
+
+    Down, down it rumbled with our grand designs. All we had built or
+                                             planned,
+    Toiled, bled for, crumbled at a touch, was ruined like a house of
+                                             sand.
+
+    So soon we pass. The wind knows why. The efforts of a century,
+    Three generations' handiwork failed in the twinkling of an eye.
+
+    And I was sad to think that shadows occupy us all. I had
+    No hope of earth. What boots a toy that thinks its maker raving
+                                             mad?
+
+    My soul had passed through every phase and, counting forty thousand
+                                             days,
+    Was farther off than at the start from comprehending heaven's ways
+
+    Or bowing to them. I came nearest when I pressed my childish ear
+    Earthward through briar and bramble bowers to catch the singing of
+                                             the flowers.
+
+    The last remains of faith were shaken when I, the oracle, was
+                                             taken.
+    My pride was made to sleep in chains. I prayed that I might never
+                                             waken,
+
+    But woke. They gave me to a _rais_ who wanted cattle, not advice.
+    He flogged me down to Damietta. I was old and fetched no price.
+
+    Nathless my battling heart was brave enough to work me till I
+                                             dropped.
+    I passed for twopence to a Copt who sold me as a galley-slave
+
+    To Muscat. In the rhythmic stroke, old, undefeated, gnarled as oak
+    I creaked and strained against my fate, until that Sufi-something
+                                             broke.
+
+    'Twas not my heart. An inner morn put the dark age in me to scorn,
+    And in the light I found myself, a child at play with worlds
+                                             unborn,
+
+    For all that I had thought and read, and fought and watched the
+                                             world be led
+    By any who contrived to cut a knot with that blunt tool, the head.
+
+    I laughed to think how sparrows might look down upon our highest
+                                             flight,
+    While each succeeding age would have its oracle or stagyrite,
+
+    Would trace the good we never did, the evil that we never saw,
+    And out of our blind pyramid extract a stepping-stone to Law.
+
+    Here, where ambition had to cease in servitude, I tasted peace,
+    Free of illusion stretched and yawned. A fool would clamour for
+                                             release.
+
+    I make the rowers' bench a throne to think, and thought implies
+                                             Alone,
+    Of changing woods and endless streams. My happiness is all my own.
+
+    And often, when my mates deplore a brother who shall row no more,
+    I talk about my wolf-cub, Life. They think I speak in metaphor.
+
+    They gather round me all agog, they think a chronicle and log
+    Of Progress lies in withered hands. Their cry is for an epilogue.
+
+    Has aught been drafted yet? A blot, an echo void and polyglot.
+    Each century is written off as preface. Yes, most true.... Of what?
+
+    My gathered weight had held me bound to find for every fog a
+                                             ground,
+    For every riddle a reply, an end to Being that goes round.
+
+    Now I can say, I do not know if there will be a book at all,
+    Or if the deepest chapters go beyond some writing on the wall,
+
+    Though wiser worlds will yet embark, sworn to eclipse our sorry
+                                             trades,
+    Succeed, and leave their little mark: a dynasty of thought that
+                                             fades,
+
+    Fresh undergrowths of formulæ. Through these no _human_ eye can see
+    The open glade--the _last_ crusade, in which Jerusalem might be
+
+    The symbol of all peopled space, and Time an emblem of the day
+    On which the nations march as one to liberate and not to slay.
+
+    A story has no finish when it leads to nowhere out of ken?
+    O friend, the lack of knowledge brings wisdom within the reach of
+                                             men;
+
+    For whether hope can ever fit the future matters not a whit.
+    My duty is to tug my oar--so long as I am chained to it.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+FUSION
+
+
+    It was fulfilled. The giant _dhow_ bestirred
+    Herself, burst from her slender moorings, ran
+    Exulting on her course beyond the green
+    Thin shallows to the deeper violet
+    Of that great gem wherein the continents
+    Are flaws. With creaking oars and fluttering sails
+    The wingèd ghost swept outward. On the prow
+    Unveiled the Queen stood whiter than the sails,
+    And save the revelation made no sign;
+    And all the sound of singing was brought low.
+    Then, as the vision vanished in the hushed
+    Twilight that painted out the caravan,
+    Leaving the pilgrims but a _burnûs_-blur
+    On the drab canvas of the shore, a wail
+    Rose, and to them the Dreamer's last reply:
+
+        "The aimless spindrift mingles with the scats
+          Where suddenly the desert is the beach.
+        A low wind whimpers up and down the flats
+          Seeking some obstacle to lend it speech.
+
+        "The sky bleeds pale as from a mortal wound,
+          Darkening the waters. To a treble E
+        Gulls stiffly wheel their nomad escort round
+          A white sail dwindling in the impassive sea.
+
+        "A last beam smites it with a benison.
+          The lantern twinkles fainter at its mast.
+        It bears the purpose in me that is gone,
+          The only thing that cannot be, the past.
+
+        "Let there be night. Shall evensong complain?
+          My love was utter. Now I seek no sign.
+        Mine eyes have seen, and shall not see again.
+          Out of the deep shall call no voice of mine.
+
+        "Yet I, whose happiness is hidden from view,
+          Have climbed the hill and touched eternity,
+        And Pisgah is a memory--of you,
+          A white sail sinking in the summer sea."
+
+    The ship drove spaceward to the skyline's crater,
+      The last of day flared vibrant as a cry,
+    And in the Dreamer Emptiness loomed greater
+      Than the unrifted pumice of the sky.
+
+    He turned to see the friends whose hope had ended
+      Like his beside the gulf. He was alone.
+    The singers and the glory that had blended
+      With meaner notes and lowly, all were gone
+
+    Into thin air. But, patient of his tether,
+      Enduring as the dream he would not break,
+    Only old Tous remained. As back together
+      They fared, once more it seemed the camel spake:
+
+        "Lo, these the fleeting and the true,
+          The keen to sacrifice and slow,
+        The plumed, the crawling, all were You
+          That started hither long ago.
+        For man is many when begun,
+        But Love can weave his ends to one.
+
+        "The new, the ancient, song and prose,
+          The lower road, the higher aim,
+        The clean, the draggled, dust and snows
+          Were you the striving, you the same.
+        Pride and endeavour, love and loss,
+        The pattern is the threads that cross.
+
+        "Tilth, waste and water, sand and sap,
+          Tare, thorn and thistle, wine and oil,
+        Run through _your_ Nature like a map,
+          Are YOU. The ores that vein the soil
+        Of time and substance manifold
+        Await the hour that makes them gold,
+
+        "That found the force of you dispersed
+          On all adventure save a quest,
+        And part perhaps was on the worst.
+          It sent you all upon the best,
+        Wherein the journey is the goal.
+        Now leaving you they leave you whole.
+
+        "The rabble melts, but more remains:
+          The golden opportunity
+        By which the choir in us attains
+          Not unison but unity.
+        We feel the sunbeam, not the motes.
+        The Voice is made of many notes.
+
+        "Slave, merchant, scholar, fighting-man,
+          The gambling, stumbling, praying kith
+        We called the Singing Caravan,
+          Have made their song at least no myth
+        Not dawn to which yon skylark soared
+        But earth is his and your reward.
+
+        "The story ends, but not the book.
+          Sufi, the Queen that you ensued
+        Led and shall lead you still to look
+          On peace--it is not solitude.
+        Through her your warring kingdoms met,
+        And here is room for no regret."
+
+        So Dreamer-of-the-Age returned
+          With comfort, all his being fused
+          At last, and thus at night he mused
+        Beside the fire that in him burned:
+
+        "Heirs of the beauty yet to be,
+          Hail, from however far ahead
+          Or out of sight I hear you tread
+        The dust that made this tale and me.
+
+        "Each day shall raise me to rejoice
+          That lovers such as we must bear
+          The unbroken chain of life and share
+        Its thanksgiving. Perhaps my voice
+
+        "Shall be the servant of your mind,
+          Your linkman waiting in the arch
+          Of phantom city-gates to march
+        With you by secret ways. The wind
+
+        "Shall tell me of you, he and I
+          Be keenly with you, when you go
+          Forth in my footsteps and the glow
+        Of movement, steadfast to deny
+
+        "Only the frailer self. My grief
+          Shall answer your unspoken word
+          Through blithe interpreters, a bird
+        Waking, the sounds of rill and leaf.
+
+        "By many a caravanserai
+          I shall not fail to watch you come,
+          You of some far millennium,
+        Who, listening to the bird, will say:
+
+        "'I seem to know that tune of his;
+          He sings what all can understand.'
+          In the clear water dip your hand:
+        'His deepest note was only this.'
+
+        "You shall be glad of me, the shade,
+          Sighing 'O friend.' And I shall keep
+          The benediction of your sleep;
+        And, when the woods of darkness fade,
+
+        "Shall waken with you, I that had
+          Love to the full, and praised my lot,
+          Trusting in truth to be forgot
+        For worthier verse. Ah, make me glad,
+
+        "You that come after me, and call
+          From summits that outstrip my hopes.
+          Yet I shall linger on the slopes
+        And dwell with those who gave their all."
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+LONG LEAVE
+
+
+    I bow my head, O brother, brother, brother,
+      But may not grudge you that were All to me.
+    Should any _one_ lament when this our Mother
+      Mourns for so many sons on land and sea.
+    God of the love that makes two lives as one
+    Give also strength to see that England's will be done.
+
+    Let it be done, yea, down to the last tittle,
+      Up to the fullness of all sacrifice.
+    Our dead feared this alone--to give too little.
+      Then shall the living murmur at the price?
+    The hands withdrawn from ours to grasp the plough
+    Would suffer only if the furrow faltered now.
+
+    Know, fellow-mourners--be our cross too grievous--
+      That One who sealed our symbol with His blood
+    Vouchsafed the vision that shall never leave us,
+      Those humble crosses in the Flanders mud;
+    And think there rests all-hallowed in each grave
+    A life given freely for the world He died to save.
+
+    And, ages hence, dim tramping generations
+      Who never knew and cannot guess our pain--
+    Though history count nothing less than nations,
+      And fame forget where grass has grown again--
+    Shall yet remember that the world is free.
+    It is enough. For this is immortality.
+
+    I raise my head, O brother, brother, brother.
+      The organ sobs for triumph to my heart.
+    What! Who will think that ransomed earth can smother
+      Her own great soul, of which you are a part!
+    The requiem music dies as if it _knew_
+    The inviolate peace where 'tis already well with you.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+    "It's not as easy as you think,"
+      The nettled poet sighed.
+    "It's not as good as I could wish,"
+      The publisher replied.
+    "It might," the kindly critic wrote,
+      "Have easily been _worse_."
+    "We will not read it anyhow,"
+      The public said, "it's verse."
+
+
+PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS
+
+WEST NORWOOD, LONDON
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
+
+
+All unusual, archaic and inconsistent spellings and usage have been
+maintained as in the original text. The only changes made were:
+
+In the original text, the words "polymêtis" and "hoi polloi" were
+written in Greek.
+
+I added the entries for "In Memoriam" and "Acknowledgements" to the
+Table of Contents.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Singing Caravan, by Robert Vansittart
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49385 ***
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-

-<pre>

-

-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Singing Caravan, by Robert Vansittart

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most

-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions

-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of

-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at

-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have

-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.

-

-Title: The Singing Caravan

-       A Sufi Tale

-

-Author: Robert Vansittart

-

-Release Date: July 7, 2015 [EBook #49385]

-

-Language: English

-

-Character set encoding: UTF-8

-

-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SINGING CARAVAN ***

-

-

-

-

-Produced by Emmanuel Ackerman, University of California

-Libraries, Microsoft (scanning) and the Online Distributed

-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was

-produced from images generously made available by The

-Internet Archive)

-

-

-

-

-

-

-</pre>

-

-

-<div class="chap">

-<p class="ph2">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p>

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<ul id="advert">

-<li class="italic">FICTION</li>

-<li class="detailpad">THE GATES</li>

-<li class="detailpad">JOHN STUART</li>

-<li class="subt">VERSE</li>

-<li class="detailpad">SONGS AND SATIRES</li>

-<li class="subt">THEATRE</li>

-<li class="detailpad">LES PARIAHS</li>

-<li class="detailpad">THE CAP AND BELLS</li>

-<li class="detailpad">PEOPLE LIKE OURSELVES</li>

-<li class="detailpad">CLASS</li>

-<li class="subt">THEATRE IN VERSE</li>

-<li class="detailpad">FOOLERY</li>

-<li class="detailpad">DUSK</li>

-</ul>

-</div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div>

-

-<div class="chap">

-<p class="ph1">THE SINGING CARAVAN</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div>

-<div class="chap">

-

-<p class="ph2 italic">RECENT POETRY</p>

-

-<table id="recent"  summary="Recent poetry.">

-

-<tr><td class="ttop">THE HEART OF PEACE</td><td /></tr>

-<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Laurence Housman</span>.</td>

-<td class="tdr">5s. net</td></tr>

-

-<tr><td class="ttop">ESCAPE AND FANTASY</td><td /></tr>

-<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">George Rostrevor</span>.</td>

-<td class="tdr">3s. 6d. net</td></tr>

-

-<tr><td class="ttop">THE SAILING SHIPS</td><td /></tr>

-<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Enid Bagnold</span>.</td>

-<td class="tdr">5s. net</td></tr>

-

-<tr><td class="ttop">COUNTER-ATTACK</td><td /></tr>

-<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Siegfried Sassoon</span>.</td>

-<td class="tdr">2s. 6d. net</td></tr>

-

-<tr><td class="ttop">POEMS</td><td /></tr>

-<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Geoffrey Dearmer</span>.</td>

-<td class="tdr">2s. 6d. net</td></tr>

-

-</table>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-

-<h1><a name="THE_SINGING_CARAVAN" id="THE_SINGING_CARAVAN"></a>THE SINGING

-CARAVAN</h1>

-

-<p class="center">A SUFI TALE</p>

-

-<p class="center p2">BY</p>

-

-<p class="center">ROBERT VANSITTART</p>

-

-<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Each man is many as a caravan;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">His straggling selves collect in tales like these.</div>

-<div class="verse">Only the love of one can make him one.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Who takes the Sufi Way&mdash;the Way of Peace?</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />

-GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br />

-1919</p>

-

-<p class="center"><i>Printed in Great Britain</i></p>

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div>

-<div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="IN_MEMORIAM" id="IN_MEMORIAM"></a><i>IN MEMORIAM</i></h2>

-<p class="ph1">MY BROTHER ARNOLD</p>

-

-<p class="center"><span class="smcap">2nd Lieutenant, 11th Hussars</span><br />

-KILLED IN ACTION NEAR YPRES<br />

-MAY 1915</p>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse italic">In twenty years of lands and seas and cities</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">I had small joy and sought for it the more,</div>

-<div class="verse italic">Thinking: "If ever I am <span class="correction" title="Greek: polymêtis">πολύμητις</span>,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">'Tis yours to draw upon the hard-won store."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse italic">I had some bouts from Samarkand to Paris,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">And took some falls 'twixt Sweden and Sudan.</div>

-<div class="verse italic">If I was slow and patient learning parries,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">I hoped to teach you when you were a man.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse italic">I cannot fall to whining round the threshold</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Where Death awaited you. I lack the skill</div>

-<div class="verse italic">Of hands for ever working out a fresh hold</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">On life. In mystic ways I serve you still.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse italic">The age of miracles is not yet ended.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">As on the humble feast of Galilee</div>

-<div class="verse italic">Surely a touch of heaven has descended</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">On the cheap earthen vessel, even on me,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse italic">Whose weak content&mdash;the soul I travail under&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Unstable as water, to myself untrue,</div>

-<div class="verse italic">God's mercy makes an everlasting wonder,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Stronger than life or death, my love of you.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p>

-

-<h2><a name="acknowledgements" id="acknowledgements"></a></h2>

-

-<p>I am indebted to Mr. Arthur Humphreys, Mr. John Murray, and the

-Editor of the <i>Spectator</i> for kind permission to reproduce a few of

-the shorter poems in this tale of Persian mystics. I have included

-them, firstly, because I wished otherwise new work, being a memorial,

-to include such fragments of the past as might be worth preserving;

-secondly, because decreasing leisure inspires a diffidence in the

-future that may justify me in asking a reader or a friend to judge or

-remember me only by "Foolery" and "The Singing Caravan."</p>

-

-<p class="right">

-R. V.

-</p>

-

-

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-

-<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2>

-

-<table id="toc" summary="Table of Contents">

-<tr><th>&nbsp;</th><th>&nbsp;</th><th class="tdr">PAGE</th></tr>

-

-<tr><td /><td><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM"><span class="correction" title="Added by transcriber">IN MEMORIAM</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_vi">vi</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td /><td><a href="#acknowledgements"><span class="correction" title="Added by transcriber">ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_viii">viii</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td /><td><a href="#PRELUDE">PRELUDE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#I">I.</a></td><td><a href="#I">THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#II">II.</a></td><td><a href="#II">THE JOY OF THE WORDS</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#III">III.</a></td><td><a href="#III">THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td><a href="#IV">THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#V">V.</a></td><td><a href="#V">THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td><a href="#VI">THE BOASTING OF YOUTH</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td><a href="#VII">THE HEART OF THE SLAVE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td><a href="#VIII">THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td><a href="#IX">THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#X">X.</a></td><td><a href="#X">THE SONG OF THE SELVES</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td><td><a href="#XI">THE STORY OF THE SUTLER</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td><td><a href="#XII">THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td><td><a href="#XIII">THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td><td><a href="#XIV">THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td><td><a href="#XV">THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td><td><a href="#XVI">THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td><td><a href="#XVII">THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td><a href="#XVIII">THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td><td><a href="#XIX">FUSION</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td><td><a href="#XX">LONG LEAVE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>

-<tr><td /><td><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>

-

-</table>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span>

-

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="PRELUDE" id="PRELUDE"></a>PRELUDE</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The sun smote Elburz like a gong.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Slow down the mountain's molten face</div>

-<div class="verse">Zigzagged the caravan of song.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Time was its slave and went its pace.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">It bore a white Transcaspian Queen</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Whose barque had touched at Enzelí.</div>

-<div class="verse">Splendid in jewelled palanquin</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">She cleft Iran from sea to sea,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Bound for the Persian Gulf of Pearls,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Where demons sail for drifting isles</div>

-<div class="verse">With bodyguards of dancing girls</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And four tamed winds for music, smiles</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For passports. Thus the caravan,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Singing from chief to <i>charvadar</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse">Reached the great gate of screened Tehran.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The burrows of the dim bazaar</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Swarmed thick to see the vision pass</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On broidered camels like a fleet</div>

-<div class="verse">Of swaying silence. One there was</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Who joined the strangers in the street.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They called him Dreamer-of-the-Age,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The least of Allah's <i>Muslimeen</i></div>

-<div class="verse">Who knew the joys of pilgrimage</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And wore the sign of sacred green,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A poet, poor and wistful-eyed.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Him all the beauty and the song</div>

-<div class="verse">Drew by swift magic to her side,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And in a trance he went along</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Past friends who questioned of his goal:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"The Brazen Cliffs? The Realms of Musk?</div>

-<div class="verse">Goes he to Mecca for his soul?..."</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The town-light dwindled in the dusk</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Behind. Ahead Misr? El Katíf?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The moon far up a brine-green sky</div>

-<div class="verse">Made Demavend a huge pale reef</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Set in an ocean long gone dry.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Bleached mosques like dwarf cave-stalagmites,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Smooth silver-bouldered <i>biyaban</i></div>

-<div class="verse">And sevenfold velvet of white nights</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Vied with the singing caravan</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To make her pathway plain.</div>

-<div class="verse indent22">Then one</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beside the poet murmured low:</div>

-<div class="verse">"I plod behind, sun after sun,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">O master, whither do we go?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Are we for some palmed port of Fars,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or tombed Kerbela, or Baghdad</div>

-<div class="verse">The Town-of-Knowledge-of-the-Stars?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Is worship wise or are we mad?"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Answered the poet: "Do we ask</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Allah to buy each Friday's throng?</div>

-<div class="verse">None to whom worship is a task</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Should join the caravan of song.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"With heart and eyes unquestioning, friend,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We follow love from sea to sea,</div>

-<div class="verse">And Love and Prayer have common end:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">'May God be merciful to me!'"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So fared they, camped from noon to even,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Till dawn, quick-groping through the gloom,</div>

-<div class="verse">Pounced on gilt planets low in heaven.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Thus they beheld the domes of Kum.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And onward nightly. Though the dust</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Swirled in dread shapes of desert <i>Jinn</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse">Ever the footsore poet's trust</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Soared to the jewelled palanquin,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Parched, but still singing: "God, being great,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lent me a star from sea to sea,</div>

-<div class="verse">The drop in his hand-hollow, Fate.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">He holds it high, and signs to me</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Although She&mdash;She may not ..."</div>

-<div class="verse indent24">"For thirst</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My songs and dreams like mirage fail.</div>

-<div class="verse">Yea, mad "&mdash;his fellow pilgrim cursed&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"I was. The Queen lifts not her veil."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Put no conditions to her glance,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">O happy desert, where the guide</div>

-<div class="verse">Is Love's own self, Life's only chance ..."</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">He saw not where the other died,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But pressed on strongly, loth to halt</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">At Persia's pride, Rose-Ispahan,</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose hawks are bathed in pure cobalt.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To meet the singing caravan</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Came henna-bearded prince and sage</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With henna-fingered <i>houris</i>, who</div>

-<div class="verse">Strove to retard the pilgrimage,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Saying: "Our streets are fair and you</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"A poet. Sing of us instead.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">God may be good, but life is short.</div>

-<div class="verse">Yon are the mountains of the dead.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Here are clean robes to wear at court."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He said: "I seek a bliss beyond</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The range of your <i>muezzin</i>-call.</div>

-<div class="verse">Do birds cease song till heaven respond?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The road is naught. The Hope is all."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"You know not this Transcaspian Queen,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or what the journey's end may be.</div>

-<div class="verse">Fool among Allah's <i>Muslimeen</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">You chase a myth from sea to sea."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Because I bargain not nor guess</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">If Waste or Garden wait for me,</div>

-<div class="verse">Love gives me inner loveliness.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I hold to her from sea to sea."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So he was gone, nor seemed to care</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For beckoning shade, or boasting brook,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or human alabaster-ware</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Flaunted before him in the <i>suk</i>,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nor paused at sunburnt far Shiraz,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The home of sinful yellow wine,</div>

-<div class="verse">Where morning mists, like violet gauze,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Deck the bare hills, and blossoms twine</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In seething coloured foam around</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The lighthouse minarets.</div>

-<div class="verse indent22">And sheer&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">A thin cascade bereft of sound&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The track falls down to dank Bushír.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The caravan slipped to the plain.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Its song rose through the rising damp,</div>

-<div class="verse">Till, through the grey stockade of rain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Gulf of Pearls shone like a lamp.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Here waiting rode a giant <i>dhow</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Each hand a captive <i>Roumi</i> lord,</div>

-<div class="verse">Who rose despite his chains to bow</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As straight her beauty went aboard,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Sailed. For the Tableland of Rhyme?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Crystal Archipelago?</div>

-<div class="verse">Who knows! This happened on a time</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Among the times of long ago.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He only, Dreamer-of-the-Age,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Was left alone upon the sands,</div>

-<div class="verse">The goal of his long pilgrimage,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The soil of all the promised lands,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Watching the <i>dhow</i> cut like a sword</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The leaden waves. Yet, ere she sailed,</div>

-<div class="verse">God poured on broken eyes reward</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Out of Heaven's heart.</div>

-<div class="verse indent20">The Queen unveiled.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">There for a space fulfilment shone,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">While worship had his soul for priest</div>

-<div class="verse">And altar. Then the light was gone,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And on the sea the singing ceased.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-

-<hr class="tb" />

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And is this all my story? Yes,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Save that the <i>Sufi's</i> dream is true.</div>

-<div class="verse">Dearest, in its deep lowliness</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">This tale is told of me and you.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">O love of mine, while I have breath,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Whatever my last fate shall be,</div>

-<div class="verse">I seek you, you alone, till death</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With all my life&mdash;from sea to sea.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And God be merciful to me.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br />

-THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The pilgrims from the north</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beat on the southern gate</div>

-<div class="verse">All eager to set forth,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In little mood to wait</div>

-<div class="verse">While watchman Abdelal</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Expounded the Koran</div>

-<div class="verse">To that wise seneschal,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">His mate, Ghaffír Sultan.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">At length Ghaffír: "Enough!"</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Even watchmen's heads may nod.</div>

-<div class="verse">"Asräil is not rough</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">If we have faith in God."</div>

-<div class="verse">His fellow tapped the book:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The <i>Darawish</i> discuss</div>

-<div class="verse">The point you overlook:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Has Allah faith in us?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Know, then, that Allah, fresh</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And splendid as a boy</div>

-<div class="verse">Who thinks no ill of flesh,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Had one desire: a toy.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">And so he took for site</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To build his perfect plan</div>

-<div class="verse">The Earth, where His delight</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Was manufactured: Man.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Ah, had we ever seen</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The draft, our Maker's spit,</div>

-<div class="verse">I think we must have been</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Drawn to live up to it.</div>

-<div class="verse">God was so pure and kind</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">He showed Shaitan the lease</div>

-<div class="verse">Of earth that He had signed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For us, His masterpiece.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The pilgrims cried: "You flout</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Our calm. Beware. It flags.</div>

-<div class="verse">Unbar and let us out,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Sons of a thousand rags."</div>

-<div class="verse">And Abdelal said: "Hark!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Methought I heard a din."</div>

-<div class="verse">Said Ghaffír: "After dark</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I let no devils in.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Proceed." He sucked his pipe:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">God in His happiest mood</div>

-<div class="verse">Laid down our prototype,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And saw that man was good.</div>

-<div class="verse">Aglow with generous pride:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"Shaitan the son of Jann,</div>

-<div class="verse">This is my crown," He cried.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"Bow down and worship man."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Said Evil with a smirk&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">He was too sly to hiss&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">"I cannot praise your work.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I could have bettered this."</div>

-<div class="verse">God said: "I could have sown</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The soil my puppet delves,</div>

-<div class="verse">Yet rather gave my own</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Power to perfect themselves."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Still the fiend stiffened. "I</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Bow not." Our prophet saith</div>

-<div class="verse">That he would not comply</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Because he had no faith</div>

-<div class="verse">In us. He only saw</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The worst of Allah's toy,</div>

-<div class="verse">The springs, some surface flaw,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The strengthening alloy.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Said God: "The faults are mine.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I gave him hope and doubt,</div>

-<div class="verse">The mind that my design</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Shall have to work Me out.</div>

-<div class="verse">What though he fall! Is love</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">So faint that I should grieve?</div>

-<div class="verse">How else, friend, should I prove</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To him that I believe?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"And how else should he rise?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lo, I, that made the night,</div>

-<div class="verse">Have given his conscience eyes</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Therein to find the Right.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">I have stretched out his hand,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Oh, not to grasp but feel,</div>

-<div class="verse">Have taught his aims to land,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But tipped the aims with steel;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Have given him iron resolve</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And one great master-key,</div>

-<div class="verse">Courage, to bid revolve</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The hinge of destiny,</div>

-<div class="verse">And beams from heaven to build</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The road to Otherwise,</div>

-<div class="verse">With broken gloom to gild</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The causeway of his sighs</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Whereby I watch him come</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">At last to judge of Me,</div>

-<div class="verse">Beyond the thunder's drum,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The cymbals of the sea.</div>

-<div class="verse">Aye, Shaitan, plumb the Space</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And Time that planets buoy,</div>

-<div class="verse">And you shall know the place</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Appointed for my toy.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I could not give him rest,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And see him satiate</div>

-<div class="verse">At once, or make the zest</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of life an opiate.</div>

-<div class="verse">I might have been his lord,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I had not been his friend</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">To sheathe his spirit's sword</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And start him at the end.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I would not make him old,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That he might see his port</div>

-<div class="verse">Fling its nocturne of gold</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And cheerfulness athwart</div>

-<div class="verse">The dusk. I planned the wave,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And wealth of wind and star.</div>

-<div class="verse">Could one be gay and brave</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Who never saw afar</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"The cause that he outlives</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Only because he fought,</div>

-<div class="verse">The peaks to which he strives,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The ranges of his thought,</div>

-<div class="verse">Until the dawn to be</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Relieve his watchfires dim,</div>

-<div class="verse">Not by his faith in Me</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But by my faith in him!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I also have my dreams,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And through my darkest cloud</div>

-<div class="verse">His climbing phalanx gleams</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To my salute, and, proud</div>

-<div class="verse">Of him even in defeat,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My light upon his brow,</div>

-<div class="verse">My roughness at his feet,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I triumph. Shaitan, bow!"</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But Shaitan like an ass</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Jibbed and would not give ear.</div>

-<div class="verse">Just so it came to pass,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Declares our Book, Ghaffír.</div>

-<div class="verse">We know that in the heat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of disputation&mdash;well,</div>

-<div class="verse">Allah shot out his feet,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And Shaitan went to hell.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Thus Abdelal. The gate</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Shook to the pilgrims' cry:</div>

-<div class="verse">"When will you cease to prate,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beards of calamity!"</div>

-<div class="verse">The poet: "Allah's bliss</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fall on his watchmen! Thus</div>

-<div class="verse">Our journey's password is</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That God has faith in us."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br />

-THE JOY OF THE WORDS</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The Sufis trembled: "Open, open wide,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Dismiss us to illuminate the East."</div>

-<div class="verse">Old Ghaffír fumbled the reluctant bolts,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lifting his hands and eyes as for a feast.</div>

-<div class="verse">And this was their viaticum. His words</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Were mingled with their eagerness like yeast:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Go forth, poor words!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">If truly you are free,</div>

-<div class="verse">Simple, direct, you shall be winged like birds,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Voiced like the sea.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Walk humbly clad!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Be sure those words are lame</div>

-<div class="verse">That ride a-clatter, or that deck and pad</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A puny frame.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">As in your dress,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">So in your speech be plain!</div>

-<div class="verse">Be not deceived; the Mighty Meaningless</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Are loud in vain.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Be not puffed up,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Nor drunk with your own sound!</div>

-<div class="verse">Shall men drink deeply when an empty cup</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Is handed round?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Shout not at heaven!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Say what I bade you say.</div>

-<div class="verse">Simplicity is beauty dwelling even</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In yea or nay.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Be this your goal.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beauty within man's reach</div>

-<div class="verse">Is poetry. You cannot touch man's soul</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Save with man's speech.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Therefore go straight.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">You shall not turn aside</div>

-<div class="verse">To vain display; for yonder lies the gate</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Where gods abide</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Your coming. Go!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The way was never hard.</div>

-<div class="verse">What would you more than common flowers or snow?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For your reward,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Be understood,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And thus shall you be sung.</div>

-<div class="verse">Aye, you who think to show us any good,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Speak in our tongue.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br />

-THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The watchman finished, as the southern gate</div>

-<div class="verse">Clanged, and the breathless city lay behind.</div>

-<div class="verse">The Dreamer's shadows shrank against the wall,</div>

-<div class="verse">As though the desert called and none replied,</div>

-<div class="verse">Till the young pilot, standing out to night,</div>

-<div class="verse">Swung clear these lines to sound the depths of her:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Blue Persian night,</div>

-<div class="verse">Soft, voiceless as the summer sea!</div>

-<div class="verse">Flooding the bouldered desert sand, submerge</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">This cypressed isle</div>

-<div class="verse">And Demavend's snow-spire&mdash;a sunken rock</div>

-<div class="verse">On your hushed floor, where I the diver stand</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Beyond the reach of day.</div>

-<div class="verse">And though, up through your overwhelming peace,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">I see your surface, heaven,</div>

-<div class="verse">I would not rise there, being drowned in you,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Blue Persian night.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Blue Persian night,</div>

-<div class="verse">O consolation of the East!</div>

-<div class="verse">In your clear breathless oceanic sheen</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">My heart's an isle,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">From whose innumerable caves and coigns&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">When dusk awakes the city of my mind&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Exploring boats set forth,</div>

-<div class="verse">Bound for the harbour-lights of God knows where,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Full, full of God knows what;</div>

-<div class="verse">It must be love of Him, or Her, or You,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Blue Persian night."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Her signal answered; for a slender wand</div>

-<div class="verse">Of moonbeam touched the Dreamer on the mouth.</div>

-<div class="verse">The caravan looked upward with a shout</div>

-<div class="verse">And set its camels rolling to the south,</div>

-<div class="verse">Murmuring: "Blue Persian night, none ever saw</div>

-<div class="verse">You through your own sheer purity before us.</div>

-<div class="verse">Rise up our songs as bubbles from the sand ..."</div>

-<div class="verse">Somewhere among the camels rose this chorus:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent14">Dong! Dong!</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Lurching along</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Out of the dusk</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Into the night.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Noiseless and lusty,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Dreamy and dusty,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Looms the long caravan-line into sight.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent14">Dong! Dong!</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Never a song,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Never a footfall</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">A breath or a sigh.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent8">Ghostly and stolid,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Stately and squalid,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Creeps the monotonous caravan by.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent14">Dong! Dong!</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Fugitive throng.</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Out of the dark</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Into the night,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Silent and lonely,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Gone!... the bells only</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Tells us a caravan once was in sight.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br />

-THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Moussa, the son of the Crypto-Jew,</div>

-<div class="verse">Had eaten his fill of yellow stew</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And a bit besides (as a business man</div>

-<div class="verse">He was far too quick for the caravan,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Who loved him not, though it feared his guile).</div>

-<div class="verse">Moussa then: "I shall walk awhile</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"To ease my soul of its heavy load."</div>

-<div class="verse">His pious friends: "May you find a road,"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And winked. "His soul has begun to feel</div>

-<div class="verse">There's nothing left but a march to steal."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But one from the village, decoying quail</div>

-<div class="verse">For the governor's pot, came back with a tale</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Of a lean arm shaken against the sky</div>

-<div class="verse">Like a stunted thorn, and this piteous cry:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"As sound within an ice-bound desert mewed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Drags out existence at the very core</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of isolation, as breakers slip ashore</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In vainly eternal whispers to the nude</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Reef-coral, where no human feet intrude</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Upon the purity of stillness; or</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As, far from life, unmated eagles soar</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Above the hilltops' breathless solitude,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"So moves my love, like these a thing apart,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fierce, in the ruined temple of my heart,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Shy as a shooting star that peers new-risen</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Mid strangers. Even so. Pent in the prison</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of space my soul, a lonely planet, wheels ...</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Men call the sum of loneliness 'Ideals.'"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">This is the plaint that the cross-road heard</div>

-<div class="verse">Where it strikes from Kashan to Burujird.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The townsmen, met by the sun-dried stream,</div>

-<div class="verse">Caught a voice high up like an angel's scream</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or a teaspoon tapping the bowl of heaven,</div>

-<div class="verse">And they cried: "<i>Ajab!</i> May we be forgiven,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"But it sounds a soul of the rarer sort</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose wings are set for no earthly port."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And the answer came, as they cried: "Who's that?"</div>

-<div class="verse">"One that sells short weight in mutton fat."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>

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-

-

-<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V<br />

-THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Light was not. All was still. The caravan</div>

-<div class="verse">Had ceased its song and motion by the bed</div>

-<div class="verse">Wherein the hill-stream tosses sleeplessly,</div>

-<div class="verse">The only sound, save one staccato note</div>

-<div class="verse">Interminably piped by tiny owls.</div>

-<div class="verse">The camp lay balmed in slumber, as the dead</div>

-<div class="verse">Are straitened in white trappings. Then a voice,</div>

-<div class="verse">Deeper than any dead black mountain pool</div>

-<div class="verse">Or blacker well where devils cool by day,</div>

-<div class="verse">Seemed to commune with Dreamer-of-the-Age,</div>

-<div class="verse">Who, peering through the cloak about his head,</div>

-<div class="verse">Challenged: "Who speaks?" The voice replied: "A friend</div>

-<div class="verse">Unknown to you." ... It was old Peacock Tous,</div>

-<div class="verse">The great grey camel with the crimson tail</div>

-<div class="verse">On whom the queen was wont to ride. He said:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Sheikh, I was born among the Bakhtiari,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The shelter of their hawthorn vales was mine;</div>

-<div class="verse">For me, unbroken to the loads men carry,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The breeze that crowns their uplands glowed as wine</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">To drink. I, Tous, the Peacock, whom men call so</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Because I ever moved as one above</div>

-<div class="verse">The common herd, was mad and merry. Also</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I knew not yet the prickled herb of Love.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Spring tricked the desert out with flowered patterns</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For me to tread like flowered carpets wrought</div>

-<div class="verse">In patience by my master's painted slatterns&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">He said that only Persian <i>women</i> fought.</div>

-<div class="verse">Ah, youth is free and silken-haired and leggy!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">No camel knows why Allah makes it end,</div>

-<div class="verse">But He is wiser. Me the tribe's Il-Beggi</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Spied out and sent as tribute to a friend,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"A dweller in black tents, a nomad chieftain</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of Khamseh Arabs or unruled Kashgai,</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose cattle-raids and rapines past belief stain</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The furthest page of camel-history.</div>

-<div class="verse">And shamefully the ragged sutlers thwacked us,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Until I learned, as to this manner born,</div>

-<div class="verse">That pride must find a mother in the cactus</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And hope the milk of kindness in the thorn.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"O Sheikh, I found. A milk-white <i>nakeh</i> followed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The drove of males, and I would lag behind</div>

-<div class="verse">With her, no matter how the drivers holloa'ed&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Man never doubts that all but he are blind.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">At nightfall, when our champing echoed surly</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beyond the cheerful circle of the fire,</div>

-<div class="verse">Something within me whispered, and thus early</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I bore the burden of the world's desire.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"But I was saddled with the will of Allah,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Since one there was more fleet of foot than I,</div>

-<div class="verse">The chosen of the chief of the Mehallah,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Whose nostrils quivered as he passed me by.</div>

-<div class="verse">To her, beside his paces and his frothing,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My steadfastness was common as the air,</div>

-<div class="verse">My passion and my patience were as nothing,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Because fate chose to make my rival fair.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I suffered and was silent&mdash;some said lazy&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Until the seasons drove us to the plain.</div>

-<div class="verse">The nomads sold me then to a Shirazi.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I never met my happiness again,</div>

-<div class="verse">But trod the same old measure back and forward,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And passed a friend as seldom as a tree.</div>

-<div class="verse">Oh, heaviness of ever going shoreward,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of bringing all fruition to the sea!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"For I have fared from sea to sea like you, sirs,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And with your like, not once but many times.</div>

-<div class="verse">Your path acclaims me eldest of its users,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">It tells my step as I foresee your rhymes.</div>

-<div class="verse">I know by heart a heartache's thousandth chapter</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As you have read the preface of delight.</div>

-<div class="verse">The silence you shall enter, I have mapped her.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">O singing caravan, I was To-night</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Long ere you dreamed. I dreaming of my lady</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Became the cargo-bearer we call Self.</div>

-<div class="verse">Two hundredweight of flesh that spouted Sa'di,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A restless bag of bones intent on pelf,</div>

-<div class="verse">Have straddled me in turn.... Hashish and spices,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Wheat, poisons, satins, brass, and graven stone,</div>

-<div class="verse">I, Tous, have borne all human needs and vices</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As solemnly as had they been my own.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Moon-faced sultanas blue with kohl a-pillion,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Grey ambergris, pink damask-roses' oil,</div>

-<div class="verse">Deep murex purple, beards or lips vermilion</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As Abu Musa's flaming scarlet soil</div>

-<div class="verse">I have borne&mdash;and dung and lacquer. I have flooded</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Bazaars with poppy-seed and filigree.</div>

-<div class="verse">Men little guess the stuff that I have studied,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or what their vaunted traffic seems to me.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I am hardened to all wonderments and stories&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My ears have borne the hardest of my task&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">I have carried pearls from Lingah up to Tauris,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And Russian Jews from Lenkoran to Jask.</div>

-<div class="verse">I have watched fat vessels crammed by sweating coolies</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With all the rubbish that the rich devise,</div>

-<div class="verse">And often I have wondered who the fool is</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That takes it all, and whom the fool supplies.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Yet ran my thoughts on her, though cedar rafters</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Were laid on me, or mottled silk and plush,</div>

-<div class="verse">Although the tinkling scales of varied laughters</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Rode me from Bandar Abbas to Barfrush,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or broken hearts from Astara to Gwetter.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">All ironies have made their moving house</div>

-<div class="verse">Of me. I smile to think how many a letter</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Has passed from loved to lover thanks to Tous</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"The loveless. Think you men alone are lonely,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My masters? I have also worshipped one,</div>

-<div class="verse">Have built my days of faith and service only,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And while I worshipped all my life was gone.</div>

-<div class="verse">I spent the funds of life in growing older,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In heaping fuel on a smothered fire.</div>

-<div class="verse">See how my tale is rounded! On my shoulder</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I bear the burden of <i>your</i> world's desire.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Yet keep that inner smile; and never show it</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Though the Account be nothing&mdash;shorn of her.</div>

-<div class="verse">Be wise, O Sheikh. Pray God to be a poet</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lest life should make you a philosopher,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or lest the dreams of which you had the making</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Should prove to be such stuff as still I trail,</div>

-<div class="verse">And bring your heart, my withers, nigh to breaking</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">When at the last the Bearer eyes the Bale,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"As you shall penetrate this day or morrow</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The miracle of willing servitude,</div>

-<div class="verse">And yet believe therein. It is the sorrow</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And not the love that asks to be subdued;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">It is the mirage not the truth that trammels</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The travelling feet. Ah, if men only knew</div>

-<div class="verse">How their brief frenzies move the mirth of camels,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Our rests were longer and our journeys few.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Old Tous is up. The camp is struck and ready</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For fresh emprise. Dawn sifts the clay-blue sky</div>

-<div class="verse">For gold. Now see how dominant and steady</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I prose along that have no mind to fly.</div>

-<div class="verse">This is my lesson: over sand or shingle,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Blow hot, blow cold, by mountain, plain and khor,</div>

-<div class="verse">Coming and going, I must set a-jingle</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My own deep bell.... And you must ask for more!"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He ceased. White on the mirror of the air</div>

-<div class="verse">His breath made patterns. In a ruined farm</div>

-<div class="verse">Red cocks blared out and shouted down the owls.</div>

-<div class="verse">The drivers rubbed their eyes. Another day</div>

-<div class="verse">Among the days was starting on its march....</div>

-<div class="verse">Above the pilgrims fallen to their prayers</div>

-<div class="verse">Old Tous stood upright, blinking at the sun.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>

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-

-

-<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI<br />

-THE BOASTING OF YOUTH</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The soldier-lad from Kerman,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The sailor-lad from Jask</div>

-<div class="verse">Knew naught that should deter man</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">From finishing the cask.</div>

-<div class="verse">"Wine sets the Faithful jibbing</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Like mules before an inn,</div>

-<div class="verse">But we sit bravely bibbing,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And hold our own with sin."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Said the stout-hearted wonder</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of Jask: "Wine frights not me.</div>

-<div class="verse">I fear no foe but thunder</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And winds that sting the sea."</div>

-<div class="verse">"And I," said he of Kerman,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"Fear nothing but the night,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or some imperious <i>firman</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That bids the Faithful fight."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"They say some lads fear ladies</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And truckle to them." "Who</div>

-<div class="verse">Could be so weak? The <i>Cadis</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Rise up for me and you."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">"But doctors, nay and princes,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Have troubles of their own,</div>

-<div class="verse">Save those whom fire convinces....</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I leave the stuff alone."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"And I...." Then both bethought them</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That, howso strong and wise,</div>

-<div class="verse">Their principles had caught them</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On this mad enterprise.</div>

-<div class="verse">"'Tis time to act with daring,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And rest," said he of Jask,</div>

-<div class="verse">And swore a mighty swearing,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">(And drained another flask).</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"If I go on, attendant</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Upon this woman's way,</div>

-<div class="verse">May I become dependant</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On your arrears of pay!"</div>

-<div class="verse">"If I," said Captain Kerman,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"Should knuckle to my mate,</div>

-<div class="verse">May I become a merman</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And live on maggot-bait!"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Then since we have discovered</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That women need our strength"&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">(The tavern-houris hovered)</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"To hold them at arm's length,</div>

-<div class="verse">Sit down in this rest-house, and</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Tell me a tale among</div>

-<div class="verse">The tales, one in your thousand!"</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">This was the story sung:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I threw my love about you like fine raiment;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">I let you kill my pride.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">You passed me by, but smiled at me in payment,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And I was satisfied.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I made my mind a plaything for your leisure,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Content to be ignored.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Body and soul I waited on your pleasure,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Waited&mdash;without reward.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I have no faint repinings that we met, dear,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Or that I left you cold.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I rub my hands. You will be colder yet, dear,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Some day when you are old."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Forbidden wine is mellow.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The sun has set. Of whom</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Sing you this song, Brave Fellow?</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Night is the ante-room</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Breeze-sprinkled to keep cooler</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The feasting-halls behind."</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">"She might have been my ruler</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">But for my <i>Strength of Mind</i>."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"That was the tune to whistle!</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">How have I longed to learn</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The deeds of men of gristle</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Like mine!..." "Tell me in turn</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Some of your lore of women,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Whose wiles are deep as <i>bhang</i>.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent4">Your strength shall teach to swim men</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Who fall in love...." He sang:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"You came to me, and well you chose your quarry.</div>

-<div class="verse">You told your tale, and well you played your rôle.</div>

-<div class="verse">You spoke of suffering, and I was sorry</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With all my heart, with all my soul.</div>

-<div class="verse">'Out of the deep,' you said. I thought to save you,</div>

-<div class="verse">And stunned myself upon the covered shoal.</div>

-<div class="verse">Yet, poor deceptive shallows, I forgave you</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With all my heart, with all my soul.</div>

-<div class="verse">You sought whatever evil had not sought you.</div>

-<div class="verse">In vain I strove to make your nature whole.</div>

-<div class="verse">I did not know the market that had bought you</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With all your heart, with all your soul.</div>

-<div class="verse">If man had one pure impulse you would smudge it.</div>

-<div class="verse">You had one gift, my pity, which you stole.</div>

-<div class="verse">Now I will only tell you that I grudge it</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With all my heart, with all my soul."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Of whom this song, Brave Fellow?</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The stars in heaven's black soil</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fold up their petalled yellow</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">That pays the angels' toil."</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The lamp had burned its wick dim,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The pair had drunk their fill....</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"I might have been her victim</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">But for my <i>Strength of Will</i>."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">Then one said to the other:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">"Such strength as yours and mine</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">Must put its foot down, brother,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And stay here&mdash;pass the wine&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Till, for the world's salvation,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Shall radiate from this den</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Great Confederation</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of Independent Men."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-

-<hr class="tb" />

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">The last sour mule was saddled,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">On went the caravan.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">These twain turned on the raddled</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Handmaidens of the <i>han</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Blinked, cast them forth with loathing</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Because the queen was fair,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And lest their lack of clothing</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Should lay man's weakness bare.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">White as a cloud in summer,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Slender as sun-shot rain&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Earth knows what moods become her&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The queen passed....</div>

-<div class="verse indent22">In her train</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Great Confederation</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Trod with such wealth of <i>Will</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That, in its trepidation,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">It never paid its bill.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII<br />

-THE HEART OF THE SLAVE</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But as they fared slave Obeidullah failed.</div>

-<div class="verse">Devouring fever shook him like a rat,</div>

-<div class="verse">And ere they reached Kashan his course was run.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then freedom came towards him, and he spoke:</div>

-<div class="verse">"Here is an eye of water, mulberry-trees,</div>

-<div class="verse">A rest-house, and to me a stranger thing,</div>

-<div class="verse">Rest. Caravan be strong, fare on with blessings</div>

-<div class="verse">Whence you must forge your happiness&mdash;but I,</div>

-<div class="verse">Possessed of peace, shall never see the end.</div>

-<div class="verse">The heart within me has been fire so long</div>

-<div class="verse">That now my body is smoke. I watch it drift</div>

-<div class="verse">Life leaves me gently as a mistress goes</div>

-<div class="verse">Before her time to meet the uncoloured days,</div>

-<div class="verse">Saying: 'I have lived. Plead not. 'Twill be in vain.</div>

-<div class="verse">You were the end of summer. I have passed</div>

-<div class="verse">Out of the garden with fresh scents and dews</div>

-<div class="verse">Upon me, out ere sunset with cool hands,</div>

-<div class="verse">The supple tread of youth and glorying limbs</div>

-<div class="verse">Firm as resolve, unblemished as my pride;</div>

-<div class="verse">Passed ere a leaf be fallen, or losing fights</div>

-<div class="verse">Begin, that smirch the memory of love....'</div>

-<div class="verse">Sweet is the shade, and death's cool lips are welcome</div>

-<div class="verse">After the burning kisses of the sun,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">The strained embraces of my owner, Toil.</div>

-<div class="verse">I shall remember her with gratitude</div>

-<div class="verse">But no regret, as I lie here. The dawn</div>

-<div class="verse">Biting the desert-edge shall not disturb me,</div>

-<div class="verse">Nor green oases zigzagged through the heat</div>

-<div class="verse">Like stepping-stones. The many-coloured hills,</div>

-<div class="verse">Heaven's mutable emotions, these are past.</div>

-<div class="verse">Beyond them I shall find security</div>

-<div class="verse">Of tenure in the outstretched hands of God."</div>

-<div class="verse">Thereat his fellows made lament, and urged:</div>

-<div class="verse">"Sleep on and take your rest, but not for ever.</div>

-<div class="verse">Time adds to strength, and you shall rise with us</div>

-<div class="verse">Who wait. Already we foresee the coast.</div>

-<div class="verse">A little while...." Slave Obeidullah raised</div>

-<div class="verse">Himself and looked ahead with shining eyes:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The moon is faint. A dust-cloud swirls.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Therein I see dim marching hosts:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Strange embassies and dancing girls,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Spice-caravans and pilgrims. Ghosts</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Rise thick from this else fruitless plain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A waste that every season chars.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Yet teeming centuries lie slain</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And trodden in the road to Fars.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The still, white, creeping road slips on,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Marked by the bones of man and beast.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">What comeliness and might have gone</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">To pad the highway of the East!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">Long dynasties of fallen rose,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The glories of a thousand wars,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A million lovers' hearts compose</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The dust upon the road to Fars.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"No tears have ever served to hold</div>

-<div class="verse indent3">This shifting velvet, fathom-deep,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Though vain and ceaseless winds have rolled</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Its pile wherein the ages sleep.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Between your fingers you may sift</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Kings, poets, priests and <i>charvadars</i>.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Heaven knows how many make a drift</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of dust upon the road to Fars.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The wraiths subside. And, One with All,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Soon, in the brevity of length,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Our lives shall hear the voiceless call</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">That builds this earth of love and strength.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Eternal, breathless, we shall wait,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Till, last of all the Avatars,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">God finds us in his first estate:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The dust upon the road to Fars."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So still he lay, so still the pilgrims deemed</div>

-<div class="verse">He was no longer there. The deepening shade</div>

-<div class="verse">Covered him softly. With his latest breath</div>

-<div class="verse">Slave Obeidullah looked upon the Queen:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"You whom I loved so steadfastly,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">If all the blest should ask to see</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent4">The cause for which my spirit came</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Among them with so little claim</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To peace, this book should speak for me.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I strove and only asked in fee</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Hope of your immortality</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Not mine&mdash;I had no other aim</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">You whom I loved.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The Judge will bend to hear my plea,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And take my songs upon his knee.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Perhaps His hand will make the lame</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Worthy to worship you, the same</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As here they vainly tried to be,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">You whom I loved."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Then, turned towards her, Obeidullah slept.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII<br />

-THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Among the fruit-trees still he slumbers. All</div>

-<div class="verse">Mourned for their brother with one heavy heart.</div>

-<div class="verse">Even Tous drooped, swaying weakly in his stride;</div>

-<div class="verse">Until Farid Bahadur, cheapjack, spoke,</div>

-<div class="verse">One bootlessly afoot whose years had brought</div>

-<div class="verse">For profit this, to see existence clear</div>

-<div class="verse">And empty as a solid ball of glass.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Erstwhile, he said, my peddling carried me</div>

-<div class="verse">Clean through two empires like a paper hoop,</div>

-<div class="verse">Setting me down upon the olive slopes</div>

-<div class="verse">Where Smyrna nestles back to mother earth,</div>

-<div class="verse">And so lures in the ocean. I filled my pack</div>

-<div class="verse">With kerchiefs, beads, dross, chaffering with a Greek,</div>

-<div class="verse">Although he vowed a much-loved partner's death</div>

-<div class="verse">Left him no heart for it. He blew his nose,</div>

-<div class="verse">Asking strange prices as a man distraught.</div>

-<div class="verse">I had no heart to bargain while he crooned:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Our loves were woven of one splendid thread,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But not our lives, though we had been, we twain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of him who brought his brother from the dead.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">Ah, would our God were like his gods that said:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And let the younger Castor live again</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The space that Pollux lay with Death instead.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Not for a part of time but for God's whole</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"They say the Olympian grace was not content</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With housing Death, but giving Love the key.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">It set the troths that guided you and me</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Among the jewels of the firmament;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And there they dwell for ever and assent</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To each propitious ploughing of the sea.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The coasting-pilots of Infinity</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">All day; but every night an Argonaut</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beyond the limitations of his sphere</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Into the vacant place beside a star."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So crooned he desolate in his dim shop,</div>

-<div class="verse">Till I became all ears and had no eyes.</div>

-<div class="verse">The fellow cheated me of three <i>dinars</i>.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX<br />

-THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed</div>

-<div class="verse">The caravan. Its courage failed</div>

-<div class="verse">A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The sun, that overhead</div>

-<div class="verse">From fields The Plough had turned to grain,</div>

-<div class="verse">Star-honey laden on The Wain</div>

-<div class="verse">And spices from the wind-domain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Was baking angel-bread.</div>

-<div class="verse">(Astronomers in Baghdad say</div>

-<div class="verse">That Allah gave the Milky Way</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To feed his guests, the dead.)</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Even as the dead the pilgrims lay</div>

-<div class="verse">Until the sun received his pay&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Man counts in gold, but he in grey&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Then, whining as one daft,</div>

-<div class="verse">A voice crept to each sleeper's ear,</div>

-<div class="verse">And one by one sat up to hear</div>

-<div class="verse">It soughing like a Seistan mere</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Where nothing ever laughed.</div>

-<div class="verse">A blur at elbow on the floor</div>

-<div class="verse">Cried: "Sleep! 'Tis but the tavern door</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Amoaning in the draught."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Ay," said the master of the inn,</div>

-<div class="verse">"A black-faced gaper that lets in</div>

-<div class="verse">The dark, my creditors, and kin!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Last month it strained my wrist, did</div>

-<div class="verse">The lout, so hard it slams. This week</div>

-<div class="verse">Claims it for fuel. See the leak</div>

-<div class="verse">Of air it springs! Its hinges creak,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Its wood is warped and twisted.</div>

-<div class="verse">'Tis heavy-hearted as a man,</div>

-<div class="verse">Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...."</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The wheezing voice persisted.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Earth bare me in Mazanderan,</div>

-<div class="verse">Where, breaking her dead level plan,</div>

-<div class="verse">Steep foliage opens like a fan</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To hide her virgin blush;</div>

-<div class="verse">And singing, caravan, like you</div>

-<div class="verse">Brooks dance towards the Caspian blue</div>

-<div class="verse">Past coolth wherein mauve turtles coo</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To panthers in the rush,</div>

-<div class="verse">That turn hill-pools to amethyst.</div>

-<div class="verse">Here bucks drink deep and tigers tryst</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Neck-deep in grasses lush.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"And there the stainless peaks are kissed</div>

-<div class="verse">By heaven whose crowning mercy, mist,</div>

-<div class="verse">With cloud-lands white as Allah's fist</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Anoints their heads with rain.</div>

-<div class="verse">We never dreamed, where nature pours,</div>

-<div class="verse">That life could run as thin as yours&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">A waif thirst-stricken to all fours&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or verdure, but a vein</div>

-<div class="verse">In sandscapes wincing from the sun</div>

-<div class="verse">That burns your flesh and visions dun,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Crawl throbbing through the plain.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I grew. My shadow weighed a ton;</div>

-<div class="verse">I held a countless garrison;</div>

-<div class="verse">My boughs were roads for apes to run</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Around the white owl's niche.</div>

-<div class="verse">The hum of bees, the blue jay's scream....</div>

-<div class="verse">The forest came to love and teem</div>

-<div class="verse">In me beside the vivid stream</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Shot through with speckled fish;</div>

-<div class="verse">Till, weary of my sheltered glen,</div>

-<div class="verse">I craved a human denizen</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fate granted me my wish.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Yea, I had longed (if slope and fen</div>

-<div class="verse">Can love like this, the love of men</div>

-<div class="verse">Must live above our nature's ken)</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To see and shade the room,</div>

-<div class="verse">To shield far-leaning the abode,</div>

-<div class="verse">Wherein the souls of lovers glowed</div>

-<div class="verse">To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And man became my doom.</div>

-<div class="verse">He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,</div>

-<div class="verse">And took the heart of me to make</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A tavern-door at Kum."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or searched the crannies for a ghost.</div>

-<div class="verse">"Ah, heed it not," implored the host;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"This hell-burnt father's son</div>

-<div class="verse">Moans ever like a soul oppressed,</div>

-<div class="verse">And takes the fancy of a guest,</div>

-<div class="verse">And makes my house no house of rest:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I would its voice were gone.</div>

-<div class="verse">Yet be indulgent, sirs! 'Tis old.</div>

-<div class="verse">Next week it shall be burnt or sold.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A new&mdash;" The voice went on:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Here have I stood while life unrolled</div>

-<div class="verse">But not the tale my breezes told.</div>

-<div class="verse">Moonlight alone conceals the cold</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Drab city's lack of heart.</div>

-<div class="verse">Here have I watched an hundred years</div>

-<div class="verse">Bespatter me with blood and tears,</div>

-<div class="verse">Yet leave man ever in arrears</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of where my monkeys start.</div>

-<div class="verse">No more, dog-rose and meadow-sweet!</div>

-<div class="verse">The harlot's musk and rotten meat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Blow at me from the mart.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"No more, clear streams and fairy feet!</div>

-<div class="verse">But through my mouth the striving street</div>

-<div class="verse">Drains in brown spate the men who eat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And drink and curse and die;</div>

-<div class="verse">And out of me the whole night long</div>

-<div class="verse">Reel revellers&mdash;O God, their song!...</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">Are there no mortals clean and strong,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or do they pass me by?</div>

-<div class="verse">I little thought that I should leave</div>

-<div class="verse">For this the groves where turtles grieve</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Far closer to the sky.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Instead of every song-bird's note</div>

-<div class="verse">I know the scales a merchant's throat</div>

-<div class="verse">Can compass. I have learned by rote</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The tricks of Copt and Jew;</div>

-<div class="verse">Can tell if Lur or Afghan brawls,</div>

-<div class="verse">The Armenian way of selling shawls</div>

-<div class="verse">Softly, and how an Arab bawls</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To rouse the raider's crew,</div>

-<div class="verse">Lest ululating strings of slaves</div>

-<div class="verse">Should take the kennel for their graves....</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Raids! I have seen a few,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Or wars, occasion dubs them&mdash;waves</div>

-<div class="verse">Of Mongol sultans, Kurdish braves.</div>

-<div class="verse">They&mdash;Find me words! the Simûn <i>raves</i>&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">They worked ... 'tis called their will,</div>

-<div class="verse">Battered me in&mdash;behold the dint&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">With all their hearts that felt like flint,</div>

-<div class="verse">Besmeared the city with the tint</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of sunset on my hill.</div>

-<div class="verse">My leopards stalk my bucks at eve&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">I shivered as I heard them heave&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">At least they ate their kill.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"I followed that.... But men who weave</div>

-<div class="verse">Such flowing robes of make-believe,</div>

-<div class="verse">I think the flood was wept by Eve&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Some sportsman shot the dove&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">These puzzled me, for God is good</div>

-<div class="verse">And man His image&mdash;not of wood,</div>

-<div class="verse">Thank God!&mdash;At last I understood</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">All ... all except their love.</div>

-<div class="verse">I grew so hard that I could trace</div>

-<div class="verse">His hand's chief glory in their race.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Perhaps He wore a glove."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Then one without made haste to smite</div>

-<div class="verse">The malcontent. It opened. Night</div>

-<div class="verse">Stood on the threshold dressed in white,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And myriad-eyed and blind.</div>

-<div class="verse">The ostler murmured: "Some <i>Afrit</i></div>

-<div class="verse">Or bitter worm has entered it;</div>

-<div class="verse">Nor jamb nor lintel seems to fit.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I know its frame of mind."</div>

-<div class="verse">"Air stirs the dust upon the floor,"</div>

-<div class="verse">The landlord cried. "Fool! Shut that door</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Amoaning in the wind."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"My glade was deep, a lichened well</div>

-<div class="verse">Of ether, limpid as a bell</div>

-<div class="verse">Buoyed on the manifold ground-swell</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Whose distance changed attires</div>

-<div class="verse">As sun-stroked plush, a roundelay</div>

-<div class="verse">Of all red-blue and purple grey,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">And, at each rise and fall of day,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Snows dyed like altar fires</div>

-<div class="verse">Licked through those loud green sheaves of copse,</div>

-<div class="verse">Bent hyphens 'twixt the mountain-tops,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Mosques of my motley choirs.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"And I, who gave them bed and bower</div>

-<div class="verse">For nights enduring but an hour</div>

-<div class="verse">Mid blaring miles of trumpet-flower,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Leagues of liana-wreath,</div>

-<div class="verse">I saw the rocks through leaves and lings,</div>

-<div class="verse">Could blink the fangs and feel the wings,</div>

-<div class="verse">Thrill with the elemental things</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of life and love and death.</div>

-<div class="verse">The purity of air and brook</div>

-<div class="verse">And song helped me to overlook</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The rapine underneath.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"But you&mdash;no! one dream more: an elf,</div>

-<div class="verse">Askip on ochre mountain-shelf,</div>

-<div class="verse">Who once had seen a man himself.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I used his wand to gauge</div>

-<div class="verse">The sheen of moths and peacocks' whir,</div>

-<div class="verse">To plumb the jungle-aisles, to stir</div>

-<div class="verse">The drifts of frankincense and myrrh,</div>

-<div class="verse">And amorous lithe shapes that purr....</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">'Tis finished. Turn the page</div>

-<div class="verse">To where man cased his bones in fat.</div>

-<div class="verse">His mate moved like a tiger-cat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Until he built her cage.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"You, I have watched you all who sat</div>

-<div class="verse">Successive round the food-stained mat,</div>

-<div class="verse">And reckoned many who lived for that</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Alone; have seen the mark</div>

-<div class="verse">Of that last state the Thinking Beast</div>

-<div class="verse">Peep through the foliage of the feast,</div>

-<div class="verse">And crown its poet's flight with greased</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fingers that grope the dark;</div>

-<div class="verse">Have heard a cleanlier bosom catch</div>

-<div class="verse">Her breath, and fumble with my latch</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Irresolute. The lark</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"My inmates never feared to match</div>

-<div class="verse">Bespoke the end. I belched the batch,</div>

-<div class="verse">Rolling them down the street, a patch</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of dirt against the dawn.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then in its stead there came a saint,</div>

-<div class="verse">Inventor of a soul-complaint,</div>

-<div class="verse">Who gave men's faith a coat of paint</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Like mine, and made me yawn</div>

-<div class="verse">With furtive wenching. Here have sighed</div>

-<div class="verse">Exultant groom and weeping bride</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Led like a captive fawn.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"This way passed those who marry lean</div>

-<div class="verse">Girl-chattels ere their times of teen.</div>

-<div class="verse">I knew a like but milder scene:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A hawk, small birds that cower.</div>

-<div class="verse">How soon the chosen was brought back dead&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Poisoned, the <i>hakim</i> always said&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">The husband groaned beside the bed,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Arose, and kept the dower,</div>

-<div class="verse">But swept his conscience out with prayer.</div>

-<div class="verse">Man took the angels unaware</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">When he became a power.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"And what of woman? On my stair</div>

-<div class="verse">The merchants spread their gaudiest ware,</div>

-<div class="verse">For which fools bought a love affair</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That ended in a jerk.</div>

-<div class="verse">Enough! To round the <i>tamasha</i></div>

-<div class="verse">A bloated thing came by, the Shah;</div>

-<div class="verse">It grinned, and viziers fawned 'Ha! ha!'</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Curs, brainless as a Turk.</div>

-<div class="verse">And all the women in his train</div>

-<div class="verse">Beheld him once and ne'er again,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And called his love their work.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"You see, my friends, I tired of this</div>

-<div class="verse">Wild doubling in the chase of bliss.</div>

-<div class="verse">Pards miss their spring as men their kiss,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And yet the quarry dies.</div>

-<div class="verse">I learned the world's least mortal god,</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose epitaph is Ichabod,</div>

-<div class="verse">May sport till noon, but if he nod</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Shall never more arise.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then, caravan, you passed, and I</div>

-<div class="verse">Have solved my riddle with a cry:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The sad are never wise.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Your song was all that I had heard</div>

-<div class="verse">In dreams beyond the wildest bird,</div>

-<div class="verse">That rose above my yellow-furred</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Basses that bell and roar.</div>

-<div class="verse">It took the heart of me in tow</div>

-<div class="verse">To heights that I had longed to know,</div>

-<div class="verse">To the great deeps where lovers go</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And find&mdash;and want&mdash;no shore.</div>

-<div class="verse">In these alone is man fulfilled;</div>

-<div class="verse">And gleaming in the air I build</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My hope of him once more.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"For all the few that see truth whole,</div>

-<div class="verse">And take its endlessness for goal,</div>

-<div class="verse">And steer by stars as if no shoal</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Could mar their firmament,</div>

-<div class="verse">For all the few that sing and sail</div>

-<div class="verse">Knowing their quest of small avail,</div>

-<div class="verse">Thank God who gave them strength to fail</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In finding what He meant...."</div>

-<div class="verse">"Poets!" the landlord groaned, "and poor!</div>

-<div class="verse">This house is cursed." He banged the door</div>

-<div class="verse">Behind them as they went.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And distance placed soft hands upon their mouths.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X<br />

-THE SONG OF THE SELVES</h2>

-

-

-<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">'Twas in old Tehran City,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Hard by the old bazaar,</div>

-<div class="verse">I heard a restless ditty</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That pushed my door ajar;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A song nor great nor witty,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">It spoke of my own mind.</div>

-<div class="verse">I looked on Tehran City,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And knew I had been blind,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or else the streets were altered</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As by a peri's wand.</div>

-<div class="verse">"Who are you, friends?" I faltered.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"The Pilgrims of Beyond,"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They said. I kissed the tatters</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That wiser heads contemn.</div>

-<div class="verse">I saw the Thing-that-matters,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And took the road with them.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I seek. Bestow no pity</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On Failure's courtier. Say:</div>

-<div class="verse">"'Twas well to find the city,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But that was yesterday."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>THE PILGRIMS</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Athirst as the Hadramut,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Our spirits correspond</div>

-<div class="verse">With God by all the gamut</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of harmony, too fond</div>

-<div class="verse">Of Him for prayer that rifles</div>

-<div class="verse">His treasury for trifles.</div>

-<div class="verse">No load of blessing stifles</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And yet the empty-handed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Hold richer merchandise</div>

-<div class="verse">Than ever fable landed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">From Dreamland's argosies,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Since we, the symbol-merchants,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Are partners with Bulbul.</div>

-<div class="verse">The silversmith of her chants</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Knows how our chests are full.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In marts, where echoes answer</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And only they, we trade.</div>

-<div class="verse">But join our caravan, sir,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And count your fortune made.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Dawn brings us dazzling offers</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With fingers gemmed and pearled,</div>

-<div class="verse">And evening fills our coffers</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As we explain the world,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Green fields and seas that curtsey</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To us and mock Despair;</div>

-<div class="verse">For blossoms in the dirt see</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Their spirit in the air.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And Ecstasy our servant</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Demands no other wage</div>

-<div class="verse">But that we be observant</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To joy in pilgrimage.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>THE MERCHANTS</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We do not bid our master</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Declare His word His bond,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or make His payments faster&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As though He would abscond!</div>

-<div class="verse">We ask Him for too little</div>

-<div class="verse">To strain at jot or tittle.</div>

-<div class="verse">We know our lives are brittle,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>

-

-<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We come from everlasting</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Towards eternity,</div>

-<div class="verse">Ho! not in dirge and fasting</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But lapped in jollity.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Though sackcloth be our clothing</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We bear no ash but fire.</div>

-<div class="verse">We have no sickly loathing</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of youth and youth's desire.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We prize no consummation</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of one peculiar creed.</div>

-<div class="verse">We travel for a nation,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The one that feels our need.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our tongue conceals no message,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But leaves you free to find,</div>

-<div class="verse">And vaunts itself the presage</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of those that come behind.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>THE CAMELMEN</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Here is no patch of shade. A</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fierce wilderness and blonde</div>

-<div class="verse">Links Delhi to Hodeidah,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Tashkent to Trebizond.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">The cargo is our brother's,</div>

-<div class="verse">We march and moil for others,</div>

-<div class="verse">Until the desert smothers</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Hark how our camels grumble</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">At morn! Would you permit</div>

-<div class="verse">The stone on which you stumble</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To make you carry it?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And if at last your burden</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Be cheapened in a shop,</div>

-<div class="verse">Seraglio or Lur den,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Should lack of humour stop</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The game at its beginning?</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We lug the stuff of dreams.</div>

-<div class="verse">Earth does her best by spinning,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">She cannot help the seams;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But you can help to monger</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The broidery. She may</div>

-<div class="verse">Have made you richer, stronger,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To give her best away.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I own no musk or camphor,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I have no truck with care,</div>

-<div class="verse">Nor change the thing I am for</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The things men only wear.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>THE SOLDIERS</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">First cousin of a sieve is</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The uniform we donned.</div>

-<div class="verse">We slop along on <i>ghivehs</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In rags caparisonned.</div>

-<div class="verse">No Shah has ever paid us.</div>

-<div class="verse">All brigands mock and raid us,</div>

-<div class="verse">And misery has made us</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">What then! Would you be willing</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To quit the caravan,</div>

-<div class="verse">And fall again to drilling,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Pent in the walled <i>meidan</i>,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">When history flings open</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Blank scrolls for you to write</div>

-<div class="verse">Such victories as no pen</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Has ever brought to light?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">You shall not burn as Jengiz,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Nor rage like Timur Lang.</div>

-<div class="verse">Your foemen are <i>ferengis</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of whom no epic sang.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The housed that blame the tented,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or comfort those that think,</div>

-<div class="verse">The flocks that die contented</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With settling down to blink</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The sun we keep our eyes on,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That bow their heads too far</div>

-<div class="verse">To face their own horizon,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On these be war on war.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Cursed by the bonds you sever,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The bondsmen you release,</div>

-<div class="verse">Go, seek the Land of Fever</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And find the Land of Ease.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<h3>THE CARAVAN</h3>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Lift up your hearts, ye singers!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We lift them up in song.</div>

-<div class="verse">Behold, the sunset lingers.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">No less shall night be long.</div>

-<div class="verse">We meet her unaffrighted,</div>

-<div class="verse">Though never bourne be sighted.</div>

-<div class="verse">We <i>meant</i> to be benighted</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Still moving fleet and strong.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We smooth the stony places</div>

-<div class="verse">For those that else despond.</div>

-<div class="verse">We pass, and leave no traces</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Save this, a broken frond,</div>

-<div class="verse">And this, that hands once craven</div>

-<div class="verse">Take hardship for the haven</div>

-<div class="verse">Upon whose rocks is graven:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"The Pilgrims of Beyond."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI<br />

-THE STORY OF THE SUTLER</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And so the song was finished. Then they called</div>

-<div class="verse">To Kizzil Bash, the Sutler of Dilman,</div>

-<div class="verse">"Take up the tale, for you have wandered far</div>

-<div class="verse">Behind strange masters...." Once, he said, I served</div>

-<div class="verse">One of the Roumi lordlings, silver-faced,</div>

-<div class="verse">Who to forget some sorrow or lost love&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Such is their way&mdash;came with an embassage</div>

-<div class="verse">To cringe before the Caliph in Stamboul</div>

-<div class="verse">For something sordid, trade.... He mouthed our verse</div>

-<div class="verse">To please his guests, and I corrected him.</div>

-<div class="verse">The man was cypress-sad and lone, but he</div>

-<div class="verse">Could not be silent as the great should be,</div>

-<div class="verse">Because he neither knew his place nor me.</div>

-<div class="verse">The boatman marvelled at his lack of dignity.</div>

-<div class="verse">They knew the currents. He was bent on steering,</div>

-<div class="verse">And spoke of God in terms wellnigh endearing.</div>

-<div class="verse">I see him still, sharp beard, black velvet mantle, ear-ring.</div>

-<div class="verse">He dug with slaves for Greekling manuscript,</div>

-<div class="verse">Danced like a slave-girl when he found, and shipped</div>

-<div class="verse">Westward cracked heads and friezes we had chipped.</div>

-<div class="verse">I saw him kiss a statue, murmuring eager-lipped:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Fear was born when the woods were young.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Chance had gathered an heap of sods,</div>

-<div class="verse">Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Throned the dam of the elder gods.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Twilight, a rustled leaf,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Started the first belief</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">In some unearthly Chief</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Latent behind</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Cover of aspen shade.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Skirting the haunted glade</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Some one found speech, and prayed.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Was it the wind</div>

-<div class="verse">Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?</div>

-<div class="verse">Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.</div>

-<div class="verse">Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,</div>

-<div class="verse">And gods went whither none was fain to follow,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Because the earth was green</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And Afterwards was black.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Man, the child of a tale of rape,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Drew the seas with his hunting ships,</div>

-<div class="verse">Cut their prows to a giant's shape,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fitted names to their snarling lips:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Gods in his image born,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Lords of a drinking-horn</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Five fathoms deep;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Holding the one reward</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Carved by a dripping sword,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent4">Feasts, and above them stored</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Ceiling-high sleep.</div>

-<div class="verse">Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying,</div>

-<div class="verse">And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">How long&mdash;with over-restful hosts abed.</div>

-<div class="verse">The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking,</div>

-<div class="verse">Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And so the earth was red</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">While Afterwards was grey.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Jungles thinned, and the clearings merged</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Where the wandering clans drew breath.</div>

-<div class="verse">Druids rose and the people surged.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Then the blessing of Nazareth</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Fell on them mad and mild,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Boasting itself a child.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Smite it! And yet it smiled.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">There, as it kneeled,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Lowliness rose to might,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Deeming our days a night,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Bodily joy a plight</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Soon to be healed;</div>

-<div class="verse">Gave to one god all credit for creation,</div>

-<div class="verse">But, lest the Path should seem the Destination,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Strove to attune man's heartstrings to a rack,</div>

-<div class="verse">Until the soul was fortified to change hells,</div>

-<div class="verse">While saints and poets chanted songs of angels,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Confessing earth was black</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But Afterwards was gold.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Faith was raised to the power of millions,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Went as wine to a single head,</div>

-<div class="verse">Took its chiefs for the sun's postillions,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Claimed to speak in its founder's stead;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Till in the western skies</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Reason's epiphanies</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Beckoned the other-wise</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Men to rebirth.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Doubt, that makes spirits lithe,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Woke and began to writhe,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Burst through the osier withe,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Freed the old earth.</div>

-<div class="verse">Nature cried out again for recognition,</div>

-<div class="verse">Claiming that flesh is more than mere transition,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That mouths were made for sweeter things than prayer.</div>

-<div class="verse">Yea, she, that first revealed the superhuman,</div>

-<div class="verse">Out of the depths in us shall bring the new man</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Who knows that earth is fair,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And Afterwards&mdash;who knows!"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We knew his childish searching meant no harm,</div>

-<div class="verse">But his own people somehow took alarm;</div>

-<div class="verse">For when his heart was healed, and he returned</div>

-<div class="verse">With songs, 'tis said that he and they were burned.</div>

-<div class="verse">Only this one survived. I put it by</div>

-<div class="verse">Lest one who lived so much should wholly die.</div>

-<div class="verse">He tried to spend far more than every day,</div>

-<div class="verse">And never asked what he would have to pay.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">To him a pint of music was a potion</div>

-<div class="verse">That set him dabbling in some small emotion.</div>

-<div class="verse">Wherever he could drown he marked an ocean</div>

-<div class="verse">He got no pleasure but the pains he took</div>

-<div class="verse">To bring himself to death by one small book</div>

-<div class="verse">Filled with what he had heard, the babble of a brook.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII<br />

-THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They passed a field of purple <i>badinjan</i>.</div>

-<div class="verse">A peasant raised his head to hear the tune,</div>

-<div class="verse">And, seeking some excuse for holiday,</div>

-<div class="verse">He followed humming ballads, this the first:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It happened say a century ago,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Somewhere between Mazanderan and Fars,</div>

-<div class="verse">A Frank was in the picture&mdash;that I know&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Mud-walls and roses, cypresses and stars,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">White dust and shadows black.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It happened She was loved by more than One,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Though no one now recalls the name and rank</div>

-<div class="verse">Of even One, whose heart was like the stone</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That framed the water of the garden tank</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Long gone to utter wrack.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It happened that one night She had a mind</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To roam her garden. Youth was hidden there,</div>

-<div class="verse">It happened One was watching from behind</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A Judas-tree, though neither of the pair</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Heard the twigs sigh and crack.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It happened that next night She wandered out</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Once more, and Youth was hiding there again.</div>

-<div class="verse">And One sprang forth upon them with a shout,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And fanatics and <i>seyids</i> in his train</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Streamed in a wolfish pack.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It happened that the sun found something red</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Among the Judas-blossoms where Youth lay</div>

-<div class="verse">Upon his face; a crow was on his head,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And desert dogs began to sniff and bay</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">At something in his back.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It happened that none ever knew Her fate&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Except that She was never heard of more&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Save One, and two that through a secret gate&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Perhaps they knew&mdash;a struggling burden bore.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">I think it was a sack."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Some one applauded; then the humming drone</div>

-<div class="verse">Was stung to louder efforts, and went on:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"They staggered down the stiff black avenue,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Hiding the sack's convulsions from the moon,</div>

-<div class="verse">To drown its cries they feigned the shrill <i>iouiou</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of owls, then dropped it in the swift Karûn,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Paused, and admired the view.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"The ripples took her, trying not to leap,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But, copying the uneventful sky,</div>

-<div class="verse">Serenely burnished where the stream grows deep</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">They smoothened their staccato lullaby.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And so she fell asleep</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Where no sharp rock disturbs the river bed,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A moving peace, whose eddies turn half-fain</div>

-<div class="verse">Towards their youth's tumultuous watershed,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And slow blank scutcheons widen like a stain</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Portending Sound is dead.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"No herd or village fouls the shining tide,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Till ocean lays a suzerain's armistice</div>

-<div class="verse">On brawling tributaries. Like a bride</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Greeting her lord it laved her with a kiss,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And left her purified.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"But the sea-<i>Jinn</i>, who dwell and dress in mauve,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And hunt blind monsters down the corridors</div>

-<div class="verse">Between sunk vessels&mdash;fishers know the drove,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Their horns and conches and the quarry's roars</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">In autumn&mdash;hold that love</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Should meet with more than pardon. So the pack</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Spliced up a wand of all the spillikin spars</div>

-<div class="verse">Flagged with the purple fantasies of wrack,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Composed a spell not one of them could parse,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And tried it on the sack.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"'Twas filled with pearls! Each <i>Jinni</i> dipped his hand,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And scattered trails through labyrinths of ooze,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or sowed gems thick upon the golden sand,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Festooned a bed from Bahrein to Ormuz,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Muscat to Ras Naband....</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"<i>Hajji</i>, a deeper meaning than appears</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beneath the surface of my song may lurk</div>

-<div class="verse">Like <i>Jinn</i>. How oft the crown of gathered years,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The dazzling things for which men thank their work,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Are made by Woman's tears."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Tous shook his head and grunted, ceaselessly</div>

-<div class="verse">The caravan limped onward to the Gulf.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII<br />

-THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Serdar-i-Jang, the Wazir of the west,</div>

-<div class="verse">Of all mankind had served his country best</div>

-<div class="verse">By weeding it. The terror of his name</div>

-<div class="verse">Lapped up the barren Pusht-i-kuh like flame,</div>

-<div class="verse">Till the Shah smiled: "My other lords of war lose</div>

-<div class="verse">Battles, but he wrings love from my Baharlus."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He smote them hip and thigh. The man was brave.</div>

-<div class="verse">Having four wives, he needs must take for slave</div>

-<div class="verse">Whatever captive baggage crossed his path,</div>

-<div class="verse">And never feared love for its aftermath.</div>

-<div class="verse">Thus fared the Wazir while his locks were blue.</div>

-<div class="verse">The silver in them found him captive too.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The singing caravan in chorus flowed</div>

-<div class="verse">Past the clay porticoes of his abode.</div>

-<div class="verse">She came, he saw, was conquered&mdash;like a puppet</div>

-<div class="verse">Drawn to the window, to the street and up it,</div>

-<div class="verse">Forth to the desert, leaving in the lurch</div>

-<div class="verse">His pleasant wars and policies to search</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For what? He knew not. Haply for the truth</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose home is open eyes, not dreams or youth.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">But this he dimly knew, that something strange,</div>

-<div class="verse">Beauty, had come within his vision's range;</div>

-<div class="verse">And a new splendour, running through the world,</div>

-<div class="verse">Drummed at the postern of his senses, hurled</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Him forth, this warrior proud and taciturn,</div>

-<div class="verse">Footsore upon a pilgrimage to learn</div>

-<div class="verse">Humility.... These beggars, in whose wake</div>

-<div class="verse">He toiled, ne'er paused for him to overtake</div>

-<div class="verse">Their echoes. When at dusk he joined their ring</div>

-<div class="verse">None rose or bowed. All watched him. Could he sing?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And he could not, for never had he thrown</div>

-<div class="verse">His days away on verse! He sat alone,</div>

-<div class="verse">So that his silence stamped him with the badge</div>

-<div class="verse">Of hanger-on or menial of this <i>haj</i>.</div>

-<div class="verse">Thrust as he would with much unseemly din,</div>

-<div class="verse">He found no place beside the palanquin,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Till Seyid Rida, scholar of Nejaf,</div>

-<div class="verse">Took pity on him, saying: "You shall laugh</div>

-<div class="verse">At these black days when, having served your time,</div>

-<div class="verse">You share the sovereignty of Persian rhyme.</div>

-<div class="verse">Be patient, pray to Allah, O my son,</div>

-<div class="verse">For power of worship. It shall come anon...."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Seyid Rida spoke in vain. The Wazir's place</div>

-<div class="verse">So far behind the Queen, her perfect face</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">But half-divined, as Sight denied to Faith,</div>

-<div class="verse">A doubt lest love itself should be a wraith</div>

-<div class="verse">Dazzling but mocking him, these stirred his passion</div>

-<div class="verse">To sworn defiance, to his last Circassian</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And thoughts of many a woman taken by force,</div>

-<div class="verse">Restive and then submissive as a horse.</div>

-<div class="verse">And now.... He followed in the wake of vision</div>

-<div class="verse">Lofty and pure as Elburz snows. Derision</div>

-<div class="verse">Would follow him in turn!... He shook his fist</div>

-<div class="verse">Toward the feet his soul would fain have kissed:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Oh, I was born for women, women, women.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Through my still boyhood rang the first alarm;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And since that terror ever fresh invaders</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Have occupied and sacked me to their harm.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I am the cockpit where endemic fever</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Holds the low country in a broken lease</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">From waves that ruined dykes appear to welcome.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Only one great emotion spares me&mdash;Peace!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I have grown up for women, women, women;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And suffering has had her fill of me.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My ears still echo with receding laughter,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As shells retain the voices of the sea.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I am the gateway only, not the garden,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That opens from a crowded thoroughfare.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I stand ajar to every passing fancy,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And all have knocked, but none have rested there.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"And I shall die for women, women, women,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But not for love of them. Adventure calls</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or waits with old romance to disappoint me</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Behind the promise of surrendered walls.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I am the vessel of some mad explorer,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That sails to seek for treasure in strange lands</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Without a steersman in a crew of gallants,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And, finding fortune, ends with empty hands."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A deathly silence fell. Green-turbaned men</div>

-<div class="verse">Fell noiselessly to sharpening their knives</div>

-<div class="verse">On their bare hardened feet. Seyid Rida sighed:</div>

-<div class="verse">"Alas, your heart is set upon reward</div>

-<div class="verse">For gifts of self. You cannot understand</div>

-<div class="verse">Love loves for nothing, brother. Those who serve</div>

-<div class="verse">God the most purely cannot count that He</div>

-<div class="verse">Will love them in return...."</div>

-<div class="verse indent24">The Wazir scowled.</div>

-<div class="verse">But Dreamer-of-the-Age took him aside,</div>

-<div class="verse">"I would unfold a story like a carpet.</div>

-<div class="verse">The camel Tous told it to me last night:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"King Suleiman's wives were as jewels, his jewels as stones of the desert</div>

-<div class="verse">In number. His concubines herded as desert-gazelles in their grace,</div>

-<div class="verse">That answered his bidding as meekly as all his wild animal kingdom,</div>

-<div class="verse">The beasts and the birds and the fishes. Yet the world was as pitch on his face.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Now it chanced that the ruler of Saba had news by a merchant of peacocks</div>

-<div class="verse">From this king like a hawk-god of Egypt, whose beak was set deep in the gloom</div>

-<div class="verse">Of his grape-purple beard, and she said: 'We shall see how his vanities stead him</div>

-<div class="verse">When from under the arch of his eyebrows he sees my feet enter his room.'</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"For her feet were far whiter than manna. Her body was white as the cry</div>

-<div class="verse">Of a child when the chords of hosanna draw the beauty of holiness nigh.</div>

-<div class="verse">The droop of her eyelids would fan a revolt from Baghdad to Lake Tsana,</div>

-<div class="verse">Her fingers were veined alabaster. The sprites of her escort would sigh,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"As they bathed her with sun set in amber and cooled in the snow of a cloudlet,</div>

-<div class="verse">And taught her chief eunuch to clamber up moonbeams as fleet as a ghost:</div>

-<div class="verse">These, lavish of reed-pipe and tamburine, slaves of the Son of Daoud, let</div>

-<div class="verse">Her palanquin down into Zeila&mdash;gambouge and magenta, the coast!"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Ha!" to the rhymes.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Round the harbour a hoopoe was strutting, for Suleiman's Seal had appointed</div>

-<div class="verse">Him messenger-bird, and he thought: 'If I bring the good news of this beauty,</div>

-<div class="verse">This Sovereign of Silkiness, I shall harvest great thanks and promotion.'</div>

-<div class="verse">So he flew to the Presence and twittered a text on the pleasure of Duty.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"'Fulfiller of faint Superstition, whose hand rolls the eyeballs of Thunder,</div>

-<div class="verse">And lightens forked tongues on a mission of menace to bat or to eagle!</div>

-<div class="verse">There comes to your portal a vision whose light shall make Israel wonder.</div>

-<div class="verse">Immortal her beauty and mortal her glance that is soft as a seagull.'"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Hey!" to the rhymes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"But Suleiman, sated with women and governance, lifted his beak</div>

-<div class="verse">From his beard. Naught escaped the magician, not a thought, not a tone. Ah, he knew</div>

-<div class="verse">All! He said: 'I have measured your mind as my pity has measured my people.</div>

-<div class="verse">We shall speak of reward when she comes; I may live to regret it&mdash;and you!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"'Lo, I am the servant of God, whom I serve as you serve me, not asking</div>

-<div class="verse">For pay by each day or each act, but just for the general sum.</div>

-<div class="verse">The work of the world must be done without wage to be done to our credit.</div>

-<div class="verse">We shall profit in claiming our guerdon not by what we are but become.'</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"So the Queen came to Kuddus. Mashallah! Shall a picture be limned of her coming!</div>

-<div class="verse">Flushed dancers and lutists athrumming light-limbed as Daoud round the Ark!</div>

-<div class="verse">Crushed roadway and crowd-applause rumbled, loud music, hushed barbarous mumming!</div>

-<div class="verse">To the cry, 'On to Sion' above her, this lover rode straight at her mark!"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Ho!" to the rhymes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"She had but to flatter the wizard to win him. He said to the hoopoe:</div>

-<div class="verse">'I will haggle no more. You shall learn to your cost what the bargainer buys,</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose faith levies toll upon duty, whose trust will not serve me on trust,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or love for Love. On your head be it.' The hoopoe said: '<i>Cheshm</i>&mdash;on my eyes!'</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"All other birds fainted with envy, as Suleiman lifted a digit.</div>

-<div class="verse">Thereon was the Ring-of-most-Magic. Then he spat on the dust from his bed,</div>

-<div class="verse">And the miracle came! for the hoopoe went swaggering out of the presence</div>

-<div class="verse">(So he struts in his walking to-day) with a crown of pure gold on his head.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"But the Jews thus learnt avarice. Some one spread news of the bird-coronation</div>

-<div class="verse">To the ends of the kingdom. The tribes ran out as one man armed with lime,</div>

-<div class="verse">Bows, nets, slings&mdash;and slew the hoopoes for the sake of their crowns. There was profit</div>

-<div class="verse">In sport then; none other has liked them so well since King Suleiman's time.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"They divided the spoil till in Israel only our messenger-bird</div>

-<div class="verse">Survived with two fellows.... He fled to Suleiman's closet for <i>bast</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse">Sobbing, 'Spare us, O king! Make a sign with the ring that men sing of! We fare as</div>

-<div class="verse">Amalekites. If I have sinned, I am punished. We three are the last</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"'Of our race. In your grace turn your face to our case. We place hope in your favour!</div>

-<div class="verse">My brood is a Yahudi's food. Israel&mdash;who disputes it&mdash;insane</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">For gain. We are slain all day long by the strong sons of Cain. Let us waive our</div>

-<div class="verse">Gold bane for plain down, lest we drown in our own blood! Discrown us again!'"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Hi!" to the rhymes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"The King made reply. He was sadder than rain in the willows of Jordan.</div>

-<div class="verse">'We are God's passing thoughts. They alone that await their fulfilment are wise.</div>

-<div class="verse">You shall be for a warning, O hoopoe. I had given you more than gold-wages</div>

-<div class="verse">If you had believed we not only had ears, I and Allah, but eyes!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"'Yet giving is fraught with forgiveness. Now therefore the crown you did covet</div>

-<div class="verse">Is gone. You are healed of your pride; you shall live till the Angel of Death errs</div>

-<div class="verse">From Allah's command. By my Ring-of-most-Magic the gold is transmuted.</div>

-<div class="verse">Go forth! He has set for a sign on your brow a tiara of feathers.'</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"So the hoopoe went forth in the glory of plumes that he won in this wise</div>

-<div class="verse">And wears. Then the hunters, assembled from the uttermost quarters of Sham, should</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">Have shot, but did not, for they said: 'What a head! We will not waste an arrow</div>

-<div class="verse">On sport of this sort. We are sold! We were told it was gold and....'"</div>

-<div class="verse indent56">Tamam Shud</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And the Wazir shrieked "Halt!" at the rhymes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But as he slept that night the Dreamer prayed</div>

-<div class="verse">That understanding might bedew his head.</div>

-<div class="verse">And so it was. The fountain of the Dawn</div>

-<div class="verse">Rose in the whiteness of the month <i>Rajab</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse">Washing the desert stones, and made each body</div>

-<div class="verse">Shine as the sun-swift chariot of a soul.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">While the last swimmer in the sea of slumber,</div>

-<div class="verse">Out of the deep, its jungled bottom, its ghosts,</div>

-<div class="verse">Its weight and wonders, rises to the surface</div>

-<div class="verse">In final breaths of sleep, the Wazir stirred</div>

-<div class="verse">And flung out joyful arms. Not otherwise</div>

-<div class="verse">The groping diver in the Gulf of Pearls,</div>

-<div class="verse">Having achieved adventure, comes to light</div>

-<div class="verse">And grasps the painted gunwale&mdash;with his prize.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8">"For every hour and day</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Of youth that spelled delay</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">In finding you, I pray</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">To life for pardon,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent8">I that long since have faced</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">My task in patient haste:</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Out of my former waste</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">To make your garden.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8">"With these soiled hands I made</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">My Self (man's hardest trade).</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The sun was <i>you</i>: the shade</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">My toil, my seed did.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">I drove my strong soul through</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Years in the thought of you,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">For whom my garden grew,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">And grew unheeded;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8">"For you, an episode</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">That lay beside your road,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">For me, my long abode,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">My will's whole centre.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Lo now my task fulfilled,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Yet not the hope that thrilled</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The stubborn realm I tilled</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">For you to enter.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8">"Ah, must all sacrifice</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Be weighed with balance nice!</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To ask the gods our price</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Makes all creeds shoddy.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Then should I bargain now&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Troubling my worship&mdash;how</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">You will reward my vow</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Of soul and body?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8">"I have not striven in vain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Though all my poor domain</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Cries daily for your reign.</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">I hold its treasure,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">A source of splendour, known</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Haply to me alone,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">A boundless love&mdash;my own.</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Had you but leisure</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8">"To pause beside this spring</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">A moment, harkening</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">How through my silence sing</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The dreams that here rest,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">I yet might make you see</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Some of the You in Me.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">This song not I but we</div>

-<div class="verse indent10">Have written, dearest."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Long ropes of stillness joined the caravan</div>

-<div class="verse">Closer together; no man spoke a word,</div>

-<div class="verse">Till Dreamer-of-the-Age: "Friend, go up higher</div>

-<div class="verse">At the Queen's right hand." Seyid Rida smiled:</div>

-<div class="verse">"I knew you would outrun us." The Wazir</div>

-<div class="verse">Heard neither fame nor blame, and so was blest</div>

-<div class="verse">Because he sought praise only of the Queen.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV<br />

-THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">At Ispahan the notables were met</div>

-<div class="verse">In conclave. Seyid Rida, scholar scamp&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">As Dawlatshah records&mdash;perched in the porch:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Round the table sit the sages&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Different views and different ages&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Secretaries scribble pages,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Taking down each 'er' and 'hem,'</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Taking down each word they utter</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Like the solemn measured sputter</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of fat raindrops from a gutter.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">I speak last of them.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent3">"Outside in the summer weather</div>

-<div class="verse indent3">Birds are talking all together,</div>

-<div class="verse indent3">While a tiny pecked-out feather</div>

-<div class="verse indent5">Flutters past the pane.</div>

-<div class="verse indent3">Dare you own: The work before us</div>

-<div class="verse indent3">Seems at moments like their chorus,</div>

-<div class="verse indent3">Just a little more sonorous,</div>

-<div class="verse indent5">Similar in strain?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Have a care! The bird that chatters</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Is the only bird that matters,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Heedless of the hand that scatters</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Grains of sense or chaff</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Mid your Barmecides and Cleons.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">I have listened here for æons</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">To these rooster-flights and pæans.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">No one heard me laugh.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Parrot, jackdaw, jay, and pigeon,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Prose would be the whole religion</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of the Nephelococcygian</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">State to which you steer.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">If the earth remains a youngster</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">With some waywardness amongst her</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Virtues, I should thank the songster</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Whom you cannot hear.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Tits that swing upon a thistle,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Wrens and chats that pipe and whistle,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Join their notes to our epistle,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Where the bee-fraught lime</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Orchestrates the lark's espousal</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Not of causes but carousal:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Owl, we hear you charge the ouzel</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">With a waste of time!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Princeling, a fantastic prophet</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Tweaks your robe and bids you doff it,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent4">Offers you escape from Tophet</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">On the wings of words.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">All you have for this one counsel:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Sing and never mind the groundsel!</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Come, we too are birds."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out,</div>

-<div class="verse">And I have heard them on the Persian roads,</div>

-<div class="verse">In half-dead cities. History repeats</div>

-<div class="verse">Nothing except the rose. But Persians say</div>

-<div class="verse">This was the last they heard of government.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV<br />

-THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Alas! 'Twas time to go&mdash;"Conceal the wine,</div>

-<div class="verse">The purple and the yellow infidel!"&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Rice cooked in saffron, honey-cakes, and <i>mast</i></div>

-<div class="verse">With many-coloured <i>shirini</i> were all</div>

-<div class="verse">Packed up in paunches capon-lined....</div>

-<div class="verse indent32">The Queen</div>

-<div class="verse">Sailed through the city, mounted high on Tous,</div>

-<div class="verse">Full in the moonlight, purer than the moon,</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose beauty, being weighed with hers, the scale</div>

-<div class="verse">Sent up to heaven and left the Queen on earth....</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Followed quick tumbles to the lambent street,</div>

-<div class="verse">Graspings of shoes, and search for garments lost,</div>

-<div class="verse">With tunes that mounted all awry as flame</div>

-<div class="verse">Draught-blown, short breaths and straggling feet.</div>

-<div class="verse indent32">The Dreamer</div>

-<div class="verse">Reddened and drooped his head; for at the Gate</div>

-<div class="verse">Sat a portentous Sheikh, thrice great in girth,</div>

-<div class="verse">Ali-el-Kerbelaï, Known-of-Men,</div>

-<div class="verse">To whom&mdash;he slept all day&mdash;his nightly school</div>

-<div class="verse">Resorted in the porch. He saw, and shrugged</div>

-<div class="verse">His shoulders, rounded in glory like the hills</div>

-<div class="verse">That drift and clash about the Gulf of Pearls&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">Bahreinis tell the tale lest rival <i>dhows</i></div>

-<div class="verse">Should venture into trade&mdash;and thus held forth:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Gossips, I have watched fools wander through this gate</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In generations. Never have I seen</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Men so bewitched by one closed palanquin,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">So little fain to chatter with the great,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">So blind, or single-eyed, they did not see</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Ali-el-Kerbelaï, even me.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Poor souls! Dusk swamps our wriggling thoroughfares</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Like trenches; and I rub my hands to think</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">How I to-night in coolth shall sleep and drink,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">While sunrise takes these vagrants unawares.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Madmen set out each day to beard the sun,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And seventy years ago Your Slave was one.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"When all the world was young, that is when <i>I</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Was young, I promised Allah to be wise,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And started on the road of enterprise</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That leads towards the snow-capped hills of Why,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Passing my hand across my shaven brow</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Heavy with all the lower lore of How."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Ali-el-Kerbelaï sighed his soul</div>

-<div class="verse">Out of his nostrils pious and serene,</div>

-<div class="verse">For the swift curtain of the night had slid</div>

-<div class="verse">Along the rings of stillness, as he peered</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">Into the plain. The singing caravan</div>

-<div class="verse">Had dwindled slowly to a speck of white.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then said the sage: "Behold they go to nothing,</div>

-<div class="verse">These lovers, these far-eyed. To think they passed</div>

-<div class="verse">Within a foot of wisdom and my robe!</div>

-<div class="verse">Alas, they passed and knew not. 'Tis the risk</div>

-<div class="verse">Of all such noisy dreamers. Ah, my head</div>

-<div class="verse">Pities.... Well, God is great. And God made me.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Thus first I reached Mohammerah, whose sheikh</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In speechless gratitude besought a boon&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To make me eunuch in his <i>anderûn</i>&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For I had talked away his stomach-ache.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And of this epoch I need only say</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I had fresh dates for dinner every day.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"But I was young. I spurned the unmanly job,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For I loved conquest, and the world lay flat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Before me like a purple praying-mat,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And all young women made my heart <i>kebob</i>,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Until the sheikh conceived himself disgraced.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Then I took ship from Basra&mdash;in some haste.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"We put to sea, fair sirs, a foul-faced sea</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Puckered with viciousness and green with hate</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of all the sons of Adam; and black fate</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Conspired with her to take account of me,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For all the <i>Jinn</i> who lurk among the gales</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Came down to fecundate our bellied sails.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"They blew. They thrust my skull against the sky,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The jade-backed <i>Jinn</i> disguised as ocean-swell,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But I saw through them.... Down we went to hell,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Where Iblis tried to teach me blasphemy</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In vain. No devil's wile could make me speak.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Thus I learned self-control. (I was so weak.)</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"We drifted past bare cliff and jungle sedge,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Past spouting loose volcanoes known as whales,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And sirens that blew kisses with their tails,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Till we fell over the horizon's edge,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Fell sheer three thousand parasangs. And there</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I first discovered that the world is square.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"We were in China, sir. The Home of Yellows,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Soil, porcelain, manuscripts, men.... Here I spent</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Six weeks in stuffing to my heart's content</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The thought-scraps given to these whoreson fellows</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">By heaven. My zeal picked all tradition's locks,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And knowledge opened like a lacquered box</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Wrought with strange figures.... Now I learned by heart</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Eleven score ways of dodging every sin.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">So, having sucked the marrow from Pekin,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I planned with Allah that I should depart,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And having thus obtained a ruly wind</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I shone like lightning through the schools of Hind.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I shall say little of Hind. Its mouth is wide</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With sacred texts and precepts packed in lyrics</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For carriage, verse unversed in our empirics.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I grasped all Indian knowledge like a bride</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Without a dower, enjoyed and let her go,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Giving God thanks that only Persians <i>know</i>."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The singing caravan shrank in a clear</div>

-<div class="verse">Green sideless tunnel of the firmament.</div>

-<div class="verse">Ali-el-Kerbelaï paused and watched</div>

-<div class="verse">Intent, even as by torchlight men spear fish,</div>

-<div class="verse">While searching flame-reflections brushed and lit</div>

-<div class="verse">The deep brown-watered caverns of his eyes,</div>

-<div class="verse">Where dim shapes moved profoundly in the pool.</div>

-<div class="verse">His listeners watched the sage in ecstasy</div>

-<div class="verse">Poise, concentrate his massive thought on Nothing,</div>

-<div class="verse">Heard his <i>narghilé</i> bubble like a brain....</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"From Hind to Misr. At Cairo's El-Azhar,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The flower of Moslem scholarship, I sat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Among the Sunni bastards. As a cat</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Watches the sun through eyelids scarce ajar,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">From dawn till evening prayer I laboured hard,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lolling in ambush round the great courtyard</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"To pounce on wingèd words. Athwart the arcade</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Midday in golden bars came clanging down</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Upon the anvil of each turbaned crown,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And many minds took refuge in my shade.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I was divinely hard to understand,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Talking until my throat was dry as sand.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"So to the mosque well&mdash;into it they pushed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A dog who disagreed with me&mdash;and drew</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Relief what time the pigeons ceased to coo</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or rustle round its rainbow-juice. We hushed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Our flights of eloquence when my <i>roghan</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Sizzled complacent in the frying-pan.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Mashallah, what a life! Yet in this scene</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I found a fleck of rust upon my tongue.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Propelled by Fate and my own force of lung,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I flitted with two reverend <i>Maghrebín</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Whom I had favoured, having learned the trick</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of speaking their foul breed of Arabic.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Immortal spirits led us, yea the chief</div>

-<div class="verse indent2"><i>Afrit</i>, the crown of all the <i>Afarit</i>.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We crossed the great Sahara like a street.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My fame allows me licence to be brief.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Enough. Whatever any sceptic says,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I still maintain I spent a year at Fez.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Here was a sect that said one God was three.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I plied Moriscos who had tasted two</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Beliefs perforce, I even asked a Jew</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To make this strange <i>Tariqah</i> clear; but he&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">By this judge Christians&mdash;he could not explain,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Although his father had been burnt in Spain.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Ah, how I studied in that narrow city,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Whose walls are changeless as a Persian law,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">And full of loopholes. To the seers I saw</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Is due the gamut of my human pity.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We stirred the puddles of the human mind</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Till none could see the bottom but the blind.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Now Shaitan tempted me. I fell for once,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A venial sin.... I journeyed to Stamboul</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To plumb the errors of the <i>Greegi</i> school.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">'Twas there I read the Stagyrite, a dunce,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Frankish ruler of theology,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And father of a dunce, Alfarabi.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I laid him low and hurried home to indite</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A book, the fruit of all my Thought and Travel,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Entitled 'Contemplation of the Navel,'</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A mystic book. (But first I learned to write.)</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Such of our doctors as can read have read it.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But I was bent on even higher credit.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I sought a cave whence madmen hunt wild sheep,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And there for thirteen years I held my head,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Until the dupes decided I was dead.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Indeed I spent the better part in sleep,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lest I should be beguiled from abstract chatter</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">By lust for this world's striped and dazzling matter.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Night brought me counsel, and a pock-marked Kurd</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Or angels brought me food. Day spared my dreams</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">That tilled the solitude like slow white teams</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of oxen, till it blossomed, and I heard</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Roc's huge pinions scour the starry cobbles;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And so I rose above all human squabbles.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"For me the burning haze made sandhills dance,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Till blushing shadows covered their nude breasts.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The eternal heirs of leisure were my guests,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And feasted on my glory in advance.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Then on an eve among the eves.... The End!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My soul sat by me talking as a friend.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"I bleached my beard, and came to Ispahan.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">You know the rest. To Allah's will I bowed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In suffering the plaudits of the crowd,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For all must listen; those must preach who can.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I stirred the town with fingers raised to bless....</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And gauged the people by my emptiness."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The caravan was gone. Its song survived</div>

-<div class="verse">A little, faint, an echo, not at all.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then like a magic carpet warmth was drawn</div>

-<div class="verse">Back into heaven, and left behind a void</div>

-<div class="verse">Where thin-faced breezes, huddling from the hills,</div>

-<div class="verse">Sat down to breathe hard tales upon their hands.</div>

-<div class="verse">And suddenly earth looked her age. Like her</div>

-<div class="verse">The shapes round Ali-el-Kerbelaï shivered,</div>

-<div class="verse">Pulling their coloured <i>abbas</i> to their ears</div>

-<div class="verse">And drawing in their feet. At last one spoke:</div>

-<div class="verse">"O master, you to whom the world is known,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">What is your thought's conclusion, what the sum</div>

-<div class="verse">Of added knowledge in the tome of <span class="smcap">You</span>?"</div>

-<div class="verse">And Ali answered weighing out his words:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent3">"Sir, I have seen the East and West, great peace,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Great wars, indifferent fates that blessed or cursed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Their builders. I have touched the best and worst</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">In flesh and thought, have watched flames rise and cease,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Consoled high hopes, deep passions, men that die</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For things beneath the earth, behind the sky,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"For god or woman. I have counted change</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">For the Sarraf of Changelessness, have marked</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Kings, Wazirs, coursed by sons of dogs that barked</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And bit, the uninhabitable range</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Of power, where all that climb in others' shoes</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Are honoured and unperched like cockatoos.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Now having known mankind in hell and bliss</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Through thrice a generation, I have formed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">From all the problems I besieged or stormed</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">One firm conviction, only one! 'Tis this:</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The Faith, the Pomp, the Loves, the Lives of men</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Outshine the firefly and outcrest the wren."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He added as he rose: "But God is great."</div>

-<div class="verse">And bent, repassing through the city gate,</div>

-<div class="verse">Lest he should bump his venerable pate.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI<br />

-THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Beside the Sufis ran a whited wall.</div>

-<div class="verse">Two cypress-trees peeped over from the waist,</div>

-<div class="verse">Stiff, motionless as toys. Among their spires</div>

-<div class="verse">A lithe voice mounted and leaned down again:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Come, for to-night the hills are all white marble</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Under a sapphire dome,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Where bats scrawl riddles which the bulbuls garble</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">For owls to answer. Come.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The air is sick of moon-discoloured roses,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The plain stagnates like some</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Weird archipelago of garden-closes</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And dead, bleached waters. Come.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"O night of miracles! Come, let us wander</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Over this ghostly sea</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To that dark cypress-circled island yonder,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">In whose clear centre we</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Will lie and float in phosphorescent ether.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Thank heaven that night is cool</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">As day was scorching. Let us watch together</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The lovers in the pool.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Look in! Lie still! A jewelled ripple spangles</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The hand upon her hair;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">While, lying listless on her back, she dangles</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A finger in the air.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"How still he is. Your motionless perfection</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Absorbs him utterly.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Doubtless you seem to him his love's reflection</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Face downwards in the sky,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"Whence I am hanging, seeing only her face,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">As he sees only yours.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Lean down! And they shall meet us at the surface.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">O silent paramours</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"We bring to you, by stealth, while men are sleeping,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A gift. Let your domain</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Have it for ever in its steadfast keeping;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">We shall not come again.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"We bring our shadows: just the fleeting semblance</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of human love. O might</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Your waters hold them for us in remembrance</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of one short summer night!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"A wondrous night, when two reflections hovered,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Dreaming of love aloud</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Here by the pool, until the moon was covered</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">By an impending cloud;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"And then they lost each other. Where but lately</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The magic mirror shone,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">A wider shadow, cruelly, sedately,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Passes ... and we are gone."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The Dreamer stayed: "Who speaks of passing here?</div>

-<div class="verse">The river passes, passes to the sea,</div>

-<div class="verse">Drawing in rills the voices of the earth</div>

-<div class="verse">To make its voice that merges in the swell.</div>

-<div class="verse">The river passes and the boatman's chant</div>

-<div class="verse">Is swallowed up in distance and the night.</div>

-<div class="verse">Or is it, friend, the boats alone that pass?</div>

-<div class="verse">The river, as I sometimes think, remains.</div>

-<div class="verse">Even so it is with lovers and with love.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then sing us something wise where laughter lurks,</div>

-<div class="verse">As underneath the desert, from the hills</div>

-<div class="verse">Whence cometh help, the hidden water-course</div>

-<div class="verse">Chuckles. Upon this thread your garden hangs.</div>

-<div class="verse">Nay, never shake that cypress head! We need</div>

-<div class="verse">Not only sun but cloud and tears to build</div>

-<div class="verse">Laughter, the rainbow of the inner man."</div>

-<div class="verse">But the voice answered, or the cypress sighed:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"I am the brain of Hitherto.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">In darkness I revolve and flash.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Books are the fortune I ran through.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My painted pen-case, yellow hue</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And yellow sash</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Were famed from Yezd to Yezdikhast.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">I taught what space and learned what mud is.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">My metaphysics were my past.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Alas, I left my lust till last</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of all my studies.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"I kept my mind so clear and keen</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">By grinding guesswork into saws,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">You scarce could fit a meal between</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The triumphs of my thought-machine,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Its puissant jaws.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The process of my intellect,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Mazed by the clapping hands that fed it,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Rolled on. They, founding a new sect</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On premises that I had wrecked,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Gave me the credit.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"And so I used my fame to part</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Man from his planks to sink or swim;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I plumbed his shallows, drew the chart....</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Illusions broke the blacksmith's heart.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">I envied him</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Suddenly, and set out to moon</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">About this garden scholarwise.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">One silver laugh, two silken shoon,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To fill my empty <i>anderûn</i></div>

-<div class="verse indent4">With splendid lies</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"I ask of shadows, battering</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">My bars, and wonder why I ache.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">O You who made both cage and wing,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Let me redeem my toilsome spring</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">By one mistake."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In the parched road the Dreamer took his lute</div>

-<div class="verse">And tossed these chords across the battlement:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"The myrtles of Damascus,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The willows of Gilan,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Have sent the breeze to ask us</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">If aught but sceptics can</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Deny the spirit calling</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To flesh&mdash;we are the call&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">And save themselves from falling</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Behind a whited wall.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Most pure was Abu Bakr,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">And Allah speeds the plough</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">That furrows young wiseacre</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Across an open brow.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Most fair is self-possession&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Give me the open road&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">But Solomon in session</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Went mad and wrote an ode.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"All fields of thought are arid,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">No earthly soil is rich,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">By thirst of knowledge harried</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">And those ambitions which</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent6">The heart like Pharaoh's harden</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To let no impulse go.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">But every yard's a garden</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Through which we mystics flow.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"I conjure hawthorn blossom</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">From Bakhtiari vales&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">As when one looks across some</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Choked channel where the sails</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Of anchored vessels jostle&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">I tune their rhythmic sway</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">In hollows where the throstle</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Is only dumb by day.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Red routs of rhododendron,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">That slope to Trebizond,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Rapt round the garden's end run</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To mask the waste beyond.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">There facts are free to wonder</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Down pathways like the streak</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Of silver pavement under</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The palms of Basra creek.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"In charity of jasmin</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">My poor designs are clad,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">As nature cloaked the chasm in</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The ramparts of Baghdad,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Where passed the fabled Caliph</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">With Giafar by night</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">To mystify the bailiff</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">At Garden-of-Delight.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"The orchard-grave of Omar,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Neglected Nishapur,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Where sprays of petaled foam are,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Sighs through my garden-door</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">With boughs round whose gnarled stem men</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Had never thought to twine</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Green tendrils from rich Yemen,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The sunburnt Smyrniot vine.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Wild lilies, whose rich red owes</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Its undertone to brown,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">From Kurd-betented meadows</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Break out in every town.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Blind alleys' bursts of lilac,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Where russet warblers woo,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Are set to cover my lack</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Of vocal retinue.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"The myrtles of Damascus,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">The poppies of Shiraz,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Have sent the breeze to ask us</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">If they are dumb, because</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Wisdom and one that had her</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To wife still hug the fence,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Where we have left a ladder</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To rescue men from sense."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The cypress swayed. Hard by another voice</div>

-<div class="verse">Climbed the twin tree, and thus its theme began:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Young man, Shirín is out of date.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">We have to thank the West</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">That Attar's latest is too late</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">To waken Interest,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">And one of Love's great names, Majnûn,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Is now generic for a loon.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"Our crust is cooling, and the bent</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">For culture bears its fruit,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">As we that weed out sentiment</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Likewise outgrow the brute;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">While Providence matures a blend</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">That pure philosophers commend</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6">"In logic. Constancy declined</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">Because we pruned our morals.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Love practises the change of mind</div>

-<div class="verse indent8">That ethics preach in quarrels...."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">There cried the Dreamer: "Who are you that mock</div>

-<div class="verse">Exiles in search of that from which they came,</div>

-<div class="verse">Intent to know themselves and so the Lord</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose ways are as the number of men's souls?</div>

-<div class="verse">By these we compass our escape from Self,</div>

-<div class="verse">The mirage in the waste through which we pass</div>

-<div class="verse">Across the bridge Phantasmal to the Real;</div>

-<div class="verse">Until, forgetting Self, we see in All</div>

-<div class="verse">The Loved that leads us to the eternal beauty</div>

-<div class="verse">Shown in a thousand mirrors yet but one.</div>

-<div class="verse">These are the Sufi tenets. What of you?"</div>

-<div class="verse">From the first tree the quavering voice replied:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"It is my double, Peder Sag,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The summit of the civilized</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Above such heats as woman or flag.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">It is my double, Peder Sag,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Who bows the poet to the wag,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The hero to the undersized.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">It is my double, Peder Sag,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The summit of the civilized.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"His mission is to educate</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">By atrophy, the cure for spasm,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And so to serve the future state.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">His mission is to educate</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A world of fellowships that hate</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">One living thing&mdash;enthusiasm.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">His mission is to educate</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">By atrophy, the cure for spasm.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"He dresses us in faultless drab.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">His colour-scheme for you is tan,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And, level as a marble slab,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">He dresses us in faultless drab.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Him urchins call Abu Kilab:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The Father-of-the-Modern-Man.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">He dresses us in faultless drab.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">His colour-scheme for you is tan.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"My double did a deal for truth.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">He teaches balance to the Young,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And knows a better thing than youth.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">My double did a deal for truth,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent4">His emblem is the wisdom tooth,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A flowery and fruitless tongue.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">My double did a deal for truth.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">He teaches balance to the Young."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Serdar-i-Jang impatient pulled his beard</div>

-<div class="verse">And growling Tous his bridle: "Let him be</div>

-<div class="verse">The fool I was, and so mine enemy</div>

-<div class="verse">From whom I part in peace." Farid Bahadur</div>

-<div class="verse">Shrugged that: "Our wares are not for such as these."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Once more the Brain: "I might have come with you,</div>

-<div class="verse">Leaving my gloomy castle in the air,</div>

-<div class="verse">For, overgrown with tangles, in its flank</div>

-<div class="verse">Lies hid the thrice-veiled door of happiness;</div>

-<div class="verse">Only&mdash;my double has mislaid the key."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Seyid Rida laughed and answered: "We have found it."</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The Lover knocked: "'Tis I!"</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The Loved One made reply:</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">"There is no room for two</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Beyond the Gateway."</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">In solitude he learned</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The Secret; so returned</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Saying: "O Love, 'tis you."</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">And entered straightway.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A wicket opened gently of itself,</div>

-<div class="verse">And so a sceptic joined the caravan.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII<br />

-THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Oh, sliding down the desert from Shiraz</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The tailor-man from Meshed tore his hose:</div>

-<div class="verse">A crowning test, a broken man! "Ah, was</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">I born that fate might practise fancy-blows?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"The road is rougher than a magnate's mirth</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Toward the humble, long as a bad debt.</div>

-<div class="verse">I cannot dream of any woman worth</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">This cloth. To me 'twas dearer than a pet."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Then Dreamer-of-the-Age cried: "Bring me thread</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Strong as the bridge as they call Pul-i-Katûn!</div>

-<div class="verse">For Meshed's champion tailor-man is dead</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Unless his wounded pride be succoured soon."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Launched on the seaward slope the pilgrims went</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">On to the gulf, and heard, athwart the dim</div>

-<div class="verse">Night echoing, a sufferer's lament</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And Dreamer-of-the-Age consoling him:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The night fits down on the desert, brother;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">We are drawn there-through like a piece of thread.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The steepened sky and the vastness smother</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Uneasy sleep in her league-wide bed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">Rocked to and fro with a camel's burden</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">On broken tracks, that are thin as scars,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We near the Gulf. Have we seen our guerdon?"</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">"Yea, every night we have seen the stars."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The dust is thick, and our own feet raise it.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Our eyes were clear did our feet but rest.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We give our heart and no sign repays it.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">What need we ever a further test!</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">We drift along with the old dumb neighbour</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">In the old blind alley we call our goal,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Hope: all that comes of a soul's life-labour."</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">"It was the labour that made the soul."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"We stride ahead, but in every village</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A brother faints and a weakness falls.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The tribes that till and the tribes that pillage</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Are reconciled with the life that palls.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Oh, townsmen tread to a fixed thanksgiving,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">But what of us, if these pitying throngs</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Should ask the end of our harder living?"</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">"God knows the answer. They know our songs,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"The coloured patch on the background, Silence,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The gleaming thought that is Love's to wear</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Undimmed through space to a myriad-while hence.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Could the hands be worthy that knew not care</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">To weave Love's garb? Though we needs must suffer,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Shall we sing the worse that we sing in vain?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent2">Our songs shall rise as the road grows rougher.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">In the breathless hills, in the fevered plain,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2">"They mount as sparks from the night's oases,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And fall far short of the idol's feet.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">They are stored by God in his secret places,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The least-lit stars of his darkest street.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Yet ten worlds hence they shall dance, my brother,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">To travelling winds.... If our songs were worth</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">One gleam of light to the Way of Another,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">We bless the sorrow that gave them birth."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII<br />

-THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So to the journey's end. The Gulf was there</div>

-<div class="verse">Steaming and soundless, and the weary feet</div>

-<div class="verse">Were stayed at last from following the Queen.</div>

-<div class="verse">The great <i>dhow</i> nosed the creek; slow water lapped</div>

-<div class="verse">About her burnished; burnished in her sat</div>

-<div class="verse">Unmoving bronze, her oarsmen. Then they rose:</div>

-<div class="verse">"Hail, Bringers of the Queen!" "Hail, ship! you bear</div>

-<div class="verse">What cargo hence?" "We carry on your charge."</div>

-<div class="verse">"But leave us nothing&mdash;nothing in exchange?"</div>

-<div class="verse">"Only the ancient story of a slave.</div>

-<div class="verse">There lies a secret buried none too deep."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Thus the chief rower. This the far-off tale.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I dwelled beside the impulsive Rhone, a child that loved to be alone.</div>

-<div class="verse">The forest was my nursery. My happiness was all my own.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I knew by name each cloud that lowers the sunshine through in liquid showers.</div>

-<div class="verse">Deep in the tangled undergrowth I caught the singing of the flowers.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our minstrels sang of rape and arson, all the joys of private wars.</div>

-<div class="verse">The forest wall was calm and tall. My tutor laughed, and drank to Mars.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Bald, vulture-like upon its perch, our crag-born castle seemed to search</div>

-<div class="verse">The gorge for prey, its shade to still the bells a-twitter in the church</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Where, cheek by jowl with fearsome fowl and gargoyle, ghostly men, in foul</div>

-<div class="verse">Incense that tried to stifle me, recited magic formulæ.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">At home clanked metal psalm and spur; but, oh the woods ...! I tried to tame</div>

-<div class="verse">A wolf-cub that the gardener called Life. He knew. The preacher came.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I see him yet, his visage wet with hot emotion, tears, and sweat.</div>

-<div class="verse">Contorted in the market-place he shrieked that all must pay a debt</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To one Jehovah and His Son, by bursting eastward as the Hun</div>

-<div class="verse">Had scourged the West. In unison we all replied 'twere nobly done,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For he explained that heaven was gained more featly&mdash;wrenching Saint Jerome&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">From Palestine than Christendom. That night no peasant durst go home.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">His words were like a wind that fanned a grass-fire: God would lend His hand</div>

-<div class="verse">To purge away the infidel whose breath profaned the Holy Land.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He showered indulgences, and kissed the brows of those who would enlist</div>

-<div class="verse">To take a chance of martyrdom or give the devil's tail a twist.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He promised we should see the light, that cursèd Arabs could not fight,</div>

-<div class="verse">Counted them dead since we were "led by General Jesus," said the pope.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Moreover we must win and use Christ, His true Cross, the Widow's cruse,</div>

-<div class="verse">All talismans that found no scope for miracles among the Jews.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Upon the walls the veriest dolt and clown, arow like birds that moult,</div>

-<div class="verse">Chattered with one accord&mdash;or some small priestly prompting:&mdash;"Diex el volt."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">No wonder that our heartstrings glowed within us like a smelted lode</div>

-<div class="verse">Whence Kobolds welded Durandal; and like one man we ran or rode</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Forth. Were we not enchanted? This was first among God's certainties.</div>

-<div class="verse">Even our steeds were like Shabdíz, the pride of King Khusraw Parvíz.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We saw our path made plain, the hills removed by faith, whose foaming course</div>

-<div class="verse">Flooded the continents like flats. We saw the world made one&mdash;by force.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In ecstasy our spirits soared. With beatific face toward</div>

-<div class="verse">My cloudland all the crowd shed tears, and vowed to serve and save the Lord.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But cloudland, seeming to disdain such warmth, replied with slapping rain.</div>

-<div class="verse">Conjuring such black augury the monks recited formulæ.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Besides, lest women, priests and traders should tempt the appetite of raiders,</div>

-<div class="verse">The Church proclaimed the Truce of God. Not all our barons were crusaders.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Those who were frightened not to go sold all they had to make a show,</div>

-<div class="verse">Land, tool and ware to pay a fare. The panic made sly kings its heir.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So much was sold by young and old, by fond, ambitious, hot and cold,</div>

-<div class="verse">That steel took sudden silver wings, then flew beyond the reach of gold.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In such a gust my tender age availed not with the preaching sage,</div>

-<div class="verse">For I was born of fighting men; and one of them took me for page,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Though I was loth to go, and prayed for mercy and a little maid</div>

-<div class="verse">Whose hair was shining sunflower brown. I thought of all the games we played</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">All day with hay and idle mowers. She dubbed me knight in pixy bowers,</div>

-<div class="verse">Where in the hindering undergrowth I caught the singing of the flowers,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Ah me, how distant!... I was blest in my young lord who shared the test,</div>

-<div class="verse">Being sent upon this pilgrimage, his snow-white love still unpossessed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He, too, was paler than a ghost, as though already all were lost.</div>

-<div class="verse">She dreamed of empery for him. He taught me this to show the cost:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">My heart was mine.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Ambition kept it whole.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">I gained the world,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">And so I lost my soul.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Then you were mine,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">But only mine in part.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">You loved the world,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">And so I lost my heart.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Only my tutor lay abed, calling us savages, and read</div>

-<div class="verse">His pagan books. The fever would abate, he sneered, when we were bled.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He chilled me. His head was like a block of ice, so clear. He tried to shock</div>

-<div class="verse">Me with his whispered flings that saints and monarchs came of laughing-stock,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or boasted some loud organ, Reason, which doctors had confused with treason,</div>

-<div class="verse">Looked round lest walls should hear, then wept that he was one born out of season.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our preaching-man pronounced a ban upon him, cried good riddance: he</div>

-<div class="verse">Was like to lead young men astray because he knew geography,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">(And sciences, as medicine, reduce the value of a shrine).</div>

-<div class="verse">My tutor passed for riding gnomes through space upon a pack of tomes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But at the water-parting I waved to the castle green and dun,</div>

-<div class="verse">A tapestry where liquid sun&mdash;or tears&mdash;had made the colours run.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I looked my last on every stone and tree to whom my face was known.</div>

-<div class="verse">The warriors smiled and called me child. They had not understood the Rhone,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nor that I <i>loved</i> the birchwood's skin, the pansy's face, the sheep-dog's grin,</div>

-<div class="verse">That sleep with Nature in a field was sweet to me as mortal sin.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For love so fierce I stole: I gave my summer holidays to save</div>

-<div class="verse">Lambs from the butcher, built for them sanctuary at my wolf-cub's grave.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I stroked the landscape like a lute. No scentless words, no colours mute,</div>

-<div class="verse">Could paint its music. Henceforth I had only heaven for substitute.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Sling, crossbow, bludgeon, axe and spud, cilice and vials of sacred blood,</div>

-<div class="verse">On such equipment we relied. Our foes were misery and mud.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Each Norman keep, each Frankish hold, each corner of the Christian fold</div>

-<div class="verse">Sent forth its sheep to sound of bells. Our prophets might have had them tolled.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Prince, abbot, squire, felt the desire of bliss that swept stews, taverns, farms.</div>

-<div class="verse">Soft damosels ploughed through the mire with babe at breast and men-at-arms;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And, since this journey was the price of entrance into Paradise,</div>

-<div class="verse">The gaols belched out their criminals and beggars all alive with lice.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We took no food, for God is good; besides we heard that convents strewed</div>

-<div class="verse">Converted Hungary for us. We never dared mistrust His mood.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Heading the mass far up the pass, that led us straight to Calvary,</div>

-<div class="verse">The preaching-man upon an ass recited magic formulæ.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Soon we were joined by northern lords; no few among their folk had swords.</div>

-<div class="verse">(Walter the Pennyless his rout had gone before and died in hordes,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">While Gotschalk's dupes, with geese and goats upon their flags, had found the boats</div>

-<div class="verse">To pass beyond the Bosphorus, where Kilidj Arslan cut their throats.)</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our force could not await the Turk, but in its ardour got to work</div>

-<div class="verse">That was not mentioned in the breves. It murdered all the Jews in Treves.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I was sad a Christian lad should march with myrmidons so mad.</div>

-<div class="verse">They made our Holy War appear too near a Musulman Jehad.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We plodded on for many weeks through mazes where the Austrian ekes</div>

-<div class="verse">A bare existence on the slips of alp below the granite peaks,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And all those weeks did naught betide us palmers save that many died.</div>

-<div class="verse">Our gaol-birds eyed the preaching-man, and scholars spoke of vaticide;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But I was happy when our stout commander sent me on to scout.</div>

-<div class="verse">I cried for little Sunflower-tress, and made strange faces at the trout.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Because I was a fighting-man I trained myself to nettle-stings,</div>

-<div class="verse">And copied oaths and made up things my tutor would have tried to scan:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Briar and bramble,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Don't be so dense.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">You scratch and you scramble</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Like things without sense.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Why grudge me a ramble?</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">You can't want my hose,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">White-coated bramble,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Pink briar-rose.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Bramble and briar,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Leave me alone.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Cling to the friar,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Make him your own.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Kiss him, the liar</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Who brought us all here,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Gentle sweet-briar,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Bramble my dear.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Thus through the months of slapping rain we plunged into the Hungarian plain,</div>

-<div class="verse">And paid its mounted bowmen dear for wretched stocks of fruit and grain,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or shelter in a reed-built town. They asked for hostages. We gave</div>

-<div class="verse">Our leaders to these dirty-brown mongrels, who brought us to the Save</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">With loss. My tutor's Damocles perhaps had lived in times like these;</div>

-<div class="verse">For whoso straggled from the main body was never seen again.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Ere this my rhyme had spread, and swelled into a marching-song. I blushed</div>

-<div class="verse">To witness how the spearmen held their sides with laughter, as they yelled</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Bramble and briar." 'Twas the first faint mutiny. These men of Gaul</div>

-<div class="verse">Bantered the sterner pilgrims so I wondered why they came at all.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Yea, often now that I am old and hear how zealous scribes have told</div>

-<div class="verse">The zeal that made the first crusade, well&mdash;history is eaten cold.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My lord could think of nothing but the lady who had bidden him cut</div>

-<div class="verse">His way to her by such detours. Aye, this was true romance&mdash;the slut.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We called her secretly The Burr&mdash;whereof was plenty in our beds&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">For night by night he crooned of her, nor even named the Sepulchre:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">I waited, and the hours were loth to close.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">They scarcely stirred till evening leapt to sight</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Between the shadows that all substance throws</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">As bridges for its passage to the night.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">You never came. Life dozes at the touch</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Of those not wholly resolute to live,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Who let themselves mistrust her overmuch</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">To take the only thing she has to give.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Amid the rags there caracoled fop-penitents whose panders lolled</div>

-<div class="verse">With human baggage in the rear, and hound and hawk. So chaos rolled</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Adown the Danube rolling east. Beyond Semlin the pinewoods filled</div>

-<div class="verse">With Celt and Saxon, man and beast inspired to leave the west untilled.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The locust-swarms were better drilled than we, the owls were not so blind.</div>

-<div class="verse">At every stage we left behind poor simpletons that moaned and shrilled,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Thinking each swamp Gethsemane. It seemed that at their agony</div>

-<div class="verse">The doctors scoffed with cross aloft, reciting magic formulæ.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Alone the princes lightly pranced, as if the pilgrimage enhanced</div>

-<div class="verse">Their right to weigh upon the world thereafter. So the doom advanced</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To dervish cries and jester's japes. Hermit and boor and jackanapes,</div>

-<div class="verse">I and my ghost-pale master threw a trail of shadows, motley shapes,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Where Rhodopé's wine-purples mix snow with the moonlight. Oh, 'twas gall</div>

-<div class="verse">Amid the horror of it all that Bulgars thought us lunatics,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or worse; for ever at our flank a stream, that in my nostrils stank,</div>

-<div class="verse">Seethed; and amid the best of her the scum of Europe wenched and drank.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">At last we halted where Constantinople's grandeur puts to scorn</div>

-<div class="verse">The villaged west, and challenges the Orient on her Golden Horn.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Ah, brazen, were your heart as strong as looked your square-chinned ramparts.... Long</div>

-<div class="verse">We waited at the gates in dust knee-deep. The Emperor did not trust</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The help that he had craved. He swore he had not asked so many ... more</div>

-<div class="verse">Would ruin him.... He let the heat suck out our strength at every pore.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But we were told great noblemen, Godfrey of Bouillon in Ardennes,</div>

-<div class="verse">Robert of Flanders, "Sword and Lance of Christians," all the flower of France</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Were on our side, Hugh Vermandois, Stephen of Chartres and Troyes and Blois,</div>

-<div class="verse">Baldwin and Raymond of Toulouse. The preacher said we could not lose.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Moreover he had spoken with angel-reserves behind us, sith</div>

-<div class="verse">They sent assurance (Saracens we mocked, but had our own <i>Hadith</i>)</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">That we should root the heathen out, and blight as with a ten years' drought</div>

-<div class="verse">Their fields. Jehovah willed that we should leave no seed of theirs to sprout.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our mates streamed in from lands beyond the Adriatic, Bohemond</div>

-<div class="verse">With Tancred; strait Dalmatian bays, Epirus, Scodra, devious ways</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Bore them with boastful tales of sport and plunder, and a vague report</div>

-<div class="verse">That this was nothing to the spoil that beckoned from the Moslem court.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Henceforth impatient ups and downs possessed us. Asiatic towns</div>

-<div class="verse">Flamed to the general vision. We heard less perhaps of heavenly crowns</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Than flowers and peacocks made of gems, the Caliph's crusted diadems</div>

-<div class="verse">That crushed the head like Guthlac's bell, and trees with solid emerald stems.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I confess Christ counted less to us than tales of leash and gess,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or Hárún-el-Rashíd's largesse that sent the clock to Charlemagne.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We practised sums, and tried to train our cavalry in loss and gain.</div>

-<div class="verse">Upon the misty wizard-world rose like a star the money-brain.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Even monks planned theft of saintly scalps; stray hairs and chips of nail and chine,</div>

-<div class="verse">Divinely shielded through the Alps, would make the fortune of the Rhine.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I often tried to hide myself from this besetting spook of pelf.</div>

-<div class="verse">In olive-groves I called in vain to simple faun and acorn-elf.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I pictured kine that kissed their own reflections on the impulsive Rhone,</div>

-<div class="verse">A little maid with sunflower hair, a nest we found ... the birds had flown.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I think Alexius was wise to keep us out. Our hungry eyes</div>

-<div class="verse">Fixed on his capital. Why go farther when here were rich supplies?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The Pope that cursed our tastes had laid the hand of blessing on this raid.</div>

-<div class="verse">Blest chance indeed&mdash;as though a man should drink his fill and then be paid!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Each set to whet his falchion-pet that only friends had tasted yet.</div>

-<div class="verse">We dressed our hopes in purple silk, wallowed in dreamland's wine and milk.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Yet more than any Sultan's spoil fair women should repay our toil.</div>

-<div class="verse">Already some were filled with thoughts that our red cross was meant to foil.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The notion twinged us. We compared our prospects with the way we fared</div>

-<div class="verse">On these lean suburbs and the flats about Barbyses. We were snared!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The very Greeks, whose prayers had lured us into this adventure, lodged</div>

-<div class="verse">Their saviours in a baited trap. Lord, how these foxes turned and dodged.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">There lay our army like a log; our camp, our tenets, turned to bog.</div>

-<div class="verse">We sank. Disorder brought disease that stalked us spectral through the fog.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The Greeks we came to bolster up against their weakness filled our cup</div>

-<div class="verse">With turpitude; the Byzantine put Circe's poison in our wine.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our aspirations all became mean as our hosts; the inner flame</div>

-<div class="verse">Went out. From many a starting-point we found a common ground in shame;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For here no soul can keep its health, but cat-like honour creeps by stealth</div>

-<div class="verse">Down side streets where the children breathe an atmosphere of rotting wealth.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Between our fellow-churches rose the hate that heaven had meant for foes....</div>

-<div class="verse">The infidel might well have laughed. Perhaps he did. We came to blows.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I was sad that Christians had nothing in common, saving bad</div>

-<div class="verse">Blood, that our highest dizziest heads could all divide but none could add.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But when spring lit the Judas-trees our chieftains kissed the Emperor's knees.</div>

-<div class="verse">We crossed to Asia sick at heart. Alexius kept us well apart,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Shuffling us o'er the Bosphorus. The number and the rank of us</div>

-<div class="verse">Exceeded those who went to Troy for Helen the Adulterous.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">On the Bithynian plain our force drew up: an hundred thousand horse</div>

-<div class="verse">With foot and monks and womankind in crowds that none can call to mind.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Fear stuffed the empty space ahead with devils and the shapes of dread</div>

-<div class="verse">That decked our church. A ghastly rush of loneliness made every head</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Feel like a pinpoint. Discontent ran through the score of nations blent</div>

-<div class="verse">In cries. Their ribald spokesman forced a drunkard's way to Godfrey's tent:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">You that have led us through the many tests</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Of Hungary, King Caloman, and Thrace,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Who think of kingdoms as of palimpsests</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">And human nature as a carapace,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Go up and prosper in your lofty chase!</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">We cannot live on barren mountain-crests.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Our wildest dreams are prisoners that pace</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Here lies the stronghold that our zeal invests,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">This infidel alone we long to face.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">This hollow, where our constant fancy nests,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Is more to us than pedestal and dais.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Nay, we will go no farther in the race</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">For gain, respond no more to mean behests.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">We know our cause, and reverently embrace</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">It is our holy land, and we, the guests</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Of passion, brand all other hosts as base.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">The bees have led us to their treasure-chests,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">A foxglove-sceptre and an hyacinth-mace,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">The meadow's fleeting broidery and lace.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Their heaven like ours is nigh to vulgar jests.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">A blossom's goal and glory is to grace</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Prince, be content and choose your resting-place,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Ere we be all forgotten with our quests,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">And this thin earth go crumbling into space,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Thereat was scandal, and a priest exclaimed that man was half a beast.</div>

-<div class="verse">I could have told him that before. Man was the half I like the least.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To obviate a sinful fate the monks laid on us many weeks</div>

-<div class="verse">Of penance, wasting us the more with these inventions of the Greeks.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Some paid in cash, some chose the lash&mdash;their backs were pitiful to see&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">While Bishop Adhémar of Puy recited magic formulæ</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">That lurched us forward to our doom. We cleft the sultanate of Roum,</div>

-<div class="verse">Calling for bread. The peasants fled. We swept the country like a broom.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our armed migration choked the road. It ran ahead, a stream that flowed</div>

-<div class="verse">Uphill to glory, so it seemed; and so imagination strode&mdash;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">O Jack o' lantern!&mdash;into the unknown. The Virgin on a silver throne,</div>

-<div class="verse">Our leaders swore, went on before us. I saw nothing but the Rhone,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The impulsive Rhone that tumbles down, and breaks clean through the grey-walled town.</div>

-<div class="verse">I heard it rustle in its bed where others heard the Virgin's gown.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I blamed the foeman for my thirst, for sandstorm, flies, heat, scurvy&mdash;cursed</div>

-<div class="verse">Them. Piles of grievance fumed until the red fire kindled. Madness burst</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">All bounds, and capered in the glare that wrapped us round like Nessus' shirt.</div>

-<div class="verse">Each day 'twas there with yards to spare, and would not tear. How blue can hurt!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In my delirium I smelt a mirage, heard the swallows skim</div>

-<div class="verse">Above the reeds where angels knelt with envious eyes to watch me swim.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The preacher said Jehovah's cloud and pillar would go with us. Yea,</div>

-<div class="verse">The sky was on our heads alway. The sun rose up and cried aloud,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And stood immobilized at noon. We wondered if at Ajalon</div>

-<div class="verse">The Jews thanked Joshua for the boon of this divine phenomenon.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We came to Nice and formed a siege with tortoise, belfry, catapult,</div>

-<div class="verse">And curse that brought even less result. Each lordling quarrelled with his liege,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Layman with priest, until the place surrendered, and again we lurched</div>

-<div class="verse">Forward. I heard our name was made. I only saw how it was smirched.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for love's sweet sake</div>

-<div class="verse">That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I lay awake</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be full-grown,</div>

-<div class="verse">A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded barge</div>

-<div class="verse">Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain was large.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards meant</div>

-<div class="verse">To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they went.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of grace!</div>

-<div class="verse">The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I, polishing my master's helmet, also longed to overwhelm</div>

-<div class="verse">The miscreants, to hew in bits the devil and his earthly realm.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A boy's high spirits, weariness, a heart impulsive as the Rhone,</div>

-<div class="verse">The wish to get this business done, the thought of little Sunflower-tress&mdash;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A flower beside The Burr, and "Why, if knights sing rubbish, should not I?"&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">The preaching man's persistence, these stirred me to action by degrees.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We had our fill at Dorylæum. Our rogues were Paladins. We won,</div>

-<div class="verse">And weighed our booty by the ton. That night we chanted a Te Deum,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A myriad voices in the dark; they rose like one colossal lark</div>

-<div class="verse">Ere dawn. My soul flew up with them to see the new Jerusalem</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And spite my tutor. I was mad to be a fighting-man, would pad</div>

-<div class="verse">My arms like muscles. So my lord took me to foray. I was glad.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I had one thought: my hands were wet. That angered me: my mouth was dry.</div>

-<div class="verse">I had one fear: I might forget my master's silly battle-cry.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Belike 'twas well no foe would stand&mdash;our cavaliers were out of hand&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">So I was baulked. With scarce a blow we filed across the wasted land</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For leagues, till Baldwin turned aside, and out of Peradventure carved</div>

-<div class="verse">His slice, Edessa. We were plied to march on Antioch half-starved.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For seven months sheer courage toiled to take the town. Its ramparts foiled</div>

-<div class="verse">Our engines. Sulkiness sat down within us, and temptation coiled</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Tight round our bodies; every vice was lurking like a cockatrice.</div>

-<div class="verse">Ah, flesh can never quite repel the sinuous things which thoughts entice.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">You honey-coloured Syrian girls, whose voices turned our knights to thirls,</div>

-<div class="verse">I looked away and stopped my ears by thinking of the glossier merles</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">At home. The arm upheld by Hur had not sufficed him to deter</div>

-<div class="verse">The dissipation of our force, alas. My lord deceived The Burr.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">'Twas worse when treachery let us in. Blood, lechery, pillage, fire and din</div>

-<div class="verse">Burned an impression on my mind: the sexual ugliness of sin.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Cool Bohemond called Antioch his. Ere we had killed our mutineers,</div>

-<div class="verse">We the besiegers were besieged by Kurbugha and his Amírs.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Alternate famine and carouse brought plague; but doubtless God allows</div>

-<div class="verse">Expensive trials of faith that we might learn the magic formulæ.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We melted, melted; kites were fed upon us, dogs ran dripping red</div>

-<div class="verse">From piles of nameless carrion, the race that Europe might have bred.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Throughout our ranks desertion raged by daily sermons unassuaged.</div>

-<div class="verse">The preaching man was first in this "rope-dancing." Disillusion aged</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My youth by years. My master stayed. If he had erred he promptly paid.</div>

-<div class="verse">The pestilence ran after him. Despite the fervour I displayed</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He died of sores, this prince of tilt, though guarded by ten hallowed charms,</div>

-<div class="verse">This subject of all <i>trouvère</i>-lilt, lord in an hundred ladies' arms.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Oh, how I struggled to be brave when the Pope's legate, grey and grim,</div>

-<div class="verse">Said simply this beside the grave: "Christ died for you. You died for Him."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Only his jester seemed to care, and ceased awhile to swear and daff.</div>

-<div class="verse">"Who," he repeated in despair, "will pay me for his epitaph?"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Poor friend, this alien hungry land</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Has closed her lips upon her prey.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The tree is spoiled into her hand;</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">She sucks the brook's thin veins away.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">A sterner voice than bade you come</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">To reap the tears that exiles sow</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Has called you to her longer home,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">That neither bids nor lets you go.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Seven times you baulked her lawless laws,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">And foiled the customs of the year;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">But Death defends the tyrant's cause,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">And makes the silent court his lair.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The lease of life, that none can own,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Is written on her agent's roll;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">And from the desert and the sown</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">He takes a harsh and equal toll,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">High-handed, scorning code or text.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">No hope the debtor's gaol unlocks.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">A friend appeals? He is the next</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">To occupy the narrow box.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The witness cowers, pale with fear,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">When Death the stalker passes by;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">And only prays he may not hear</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">That ugly sound&mdash;a victim's cry.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">One weeps; his eyes are wet as long</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">As on Death's hand the blood is wet.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">He says: "The King can do no wrong!"</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">And craves permission to forget.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">How briefly to an echo clings</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">The memory of these solemn days,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The thought of those tremendous things</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">That Death implies but never says.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">An hour ago we laid you down.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">The tender, tardy autumn rain</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Is dried within the dusty town,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">And we are at our rounds again.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">With every round our spirits sank in bodies lean and members lank.</div>

-<div class="verse">I saw the soul of man, a cave, a wick that smouldered and smelled rank.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Men's fluid facts may wash the grime from pictures of a distant time,</div>

-<div class="verse">But I can paint the truth in one small touch: our poets ceased to rhyme.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Such was the army's hopelessness. I understood, who once had seen</div>

-<div class="verse">Our fading gardener rouse himself to kick and curse the wolf-cub, Life.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I would not let my feet desert, but oh the woods&mdash;the woods of home</div>

-<div class="verse">That bent and beckoned in the damp zephyr in vain! I could not stoop</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To play false in an enterprise however mad, if once begun.</div>

-<div class="verse">Besides another miracle was wrought in me. I was in love.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I was enamoured of dear Christ; His utter beauty struck me dumb,</div>

-<div class="verse">His face alone could compensate for scenes that almost made me long</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For blindness. Yea, to Him I turned from all this heartache, nightly kissed</div>

-<div class="verse">His hand with passion. I at least would not betray the children's Friend.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Haply His strength has always lain in contrast. I found strength to press</div>

-<div class="verse">Toward the mark. Not so the host: we could not kick it to its feet.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Then heaven inspired us to devise a pious fraud&mdash;The Holy Lance.</div>

-<div class="verse">We hid it in Saint Peter's crypt, and dug it up. The people wept</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">With rapture at this talisman, and sang the Psalm "Let God arise."</div>

-<div class="verse">Also our chiefs&mdash;they knew my zeal&mdash;bade me complete the heartening sign.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">White-plumed, white-horsed, with golden shield and halo, I contrived to appear</div>

-<div class="verse">On the horizon, waved my sword while Adhémar proclaimed Saint George.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our men responded with a shout. Through the five gates they tumbled out,</div>

-<div class="verse">An headlong torrent. In a trice the infidel was put to rout,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I joined in to hack and prod. Pure Tancred praised me with a nod.</div>

-<div class="verse">Ascetic Godfrey even spoke to me: "Lad, you belong to God."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I won my spurs. They <i>made</i> me proud. Before my sword the wizards bowed,</div>

-<div class="verse">Though me they washed. In vigil and fast I joined the perfect order, vowed</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To hold my manhood chaste, to gird on might with right and courtesy,</div>

-<div class="verse">To speak the truth, and so to be at variance with the common herd.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Such loftiness a man can feel once in a flash: strong arms, clean hands</div>

-<div class="verse">That forged us into iron bands to unify the world with steel.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But as I left the altar daft with the ambition I had quaffed&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">A word can kill a century&mdash;one of my perfect brothers laughed:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">I took the vow of virtue</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">As others take to vice.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">I could not break my heart of you.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Men call that sacrifice.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The priests applauded nature.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Poor devil, she was loth</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Enough. The love of God and you</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Has made me hate you both.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I was sad that Christians, clad in robes so dazzling, were not glad</div>

-<div class="verse">To keep them spotless from the world, and give the Virgin all they had.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Yet I was racked by continence of all we rightly rank as sense.</div>

-<div class="verse">I hungered for the Sunflower-tress that now my lips would never press.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I wrenched and wrestled to believe that God had sent us here to grieve</div>

-<div class="verse">Our bodies with this fruitlessness, that only fakirs could achieve</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">His purpose. Then in blind revolt my soul like an unbroken colt</div>

-<div class="verse">Ran round and round an empty field. The hedge was thick. I could not bolt,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Though one poor knight on stiffened knee revealed beneath his breath to me</div>

-<div class="verse">His thoughts on women while the monks recited magic formulæ.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I sought for solace in renown. Men watched me swagger through the town</div>

-<div class="verse">The youngest knight in Christendom. When women passed I tried to frown.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A year I suffered in this way before the wreck of our array</div>

-<div class="verse">Would undertake the final march. My soul was saved by movement. May</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Was with us, when my tutor closed his wintry Juvenal and posed</div>

-<div class="verse">Mid nightingales to quote and kiss the <i>Pervigilium Veneris</i>.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I drove his authors from my head, and read Augustin hard instead;</div>

-<div class="verse">But sap was mounting in my veins and western groves where finches wed.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To these no sound of sapphire seas, no stunted firs of Lebanon,</div>

-<div class="verse">Not Tyrian dyes nor Tripoli's loud yellows deafened. We ran on</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Through landmarks famed in Holy Writ, Emmaus, Bethlehem ... at last</div>

-<div class="verse">We saw the walls of Zion lit blood-red by sunset and the past.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The conquest of another world unfurled beneath our feet, the land</div>

-<div class="verse">Of miracle and mystery lay as a bauble in our hand.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Men flung their caps up, feigned a swoon. With prostrate lines of us the moon</div>

-<div class="verse">Drew silver circles round the site. A cock crowed&mdash;many hours too soon.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We thought to prise the gates ajar. My tutor wrote their private Lar</div>

-<div class="verse">Or else&mdash;with Tacitus&mdash;their folk designed them for eternal war.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The moat was wide; we feebly tried to stop its gape with pebbles, cried</div>

-<div class="verse">"Fall, Jericho!" The blessèd wall stood firm; but Christ was on our side.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The Church had saved Him from His wan repute and thrust Him in our van,</div>

-<div class="verse">Bronzed, scarred. Alas, the first crusade had made Him out a fighting man!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He taught the Turks to mock Giaours!... sent timely Genoese to build</div>

-<div class="verse">Wheeled wooden turrets. These we filled brimful. Jerusalem was ours.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We entered reverent, barefoot; slew three livelong nights and mornings through,</div>

-<div class="verse">Then paused to sing a thanksgiving. We massacred the morrow too.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I was glad a Christian lad could boast of some small suffering <i>ad</i></div>

-<div class="verse"><i>Majorem Dei gloriam</i>. I only longed to burn Baghdad.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nay, I can say I never hid to chamber as my fellows did.</div>

-<div class="verse">I felt my conscience clear as frost, and touched no woman&mdash;God forbid.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I set my contrite soul apart with mass, procession, penance, rites</div>

-<div class="verse">That took me out to see the sights, brushing ecstatic lanes athwart</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The quiddering mob with tears of joy&mdash;my tutor's phrase was οἱ πολλοὶ [Greek: hoi polloi]&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Though few were left. Some Greeks of ours confused Jerusalem with Troy.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But most the bestial German louts made even their hardest allies sick;</div>

-<div class="verse">They ran to mutilate the quick and sniff the dead with joyous snouts.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Shriven, forgiven, we embraced each stone that Christ had touched, and placed</div>

-<div class="verse">Such relics under treble guard. One note in our rejoicings jarred.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">It seemed some types of Jewish dog escaped the flaming synagogue,</div>

-<div class="verse">And their ingratitude was base. They joined to form a wailing-place.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I heard them as I roamed among blind alleys dark and overhung</div>

-<div class="verse">By one-eyed dens. With whining nose against the wall the pack gave tongue:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Behold Thy people, Lord, a race of mourners.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Through this Thy sacred dwelling-place they creep</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Like strangers. Hearken, Lord, in holes and corners</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">For Thy decree, most terrible and holy,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">That as the fathers sow the sons shall reap,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all Thy just affliction of the lowly,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all the glory that is now departed,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">For all the stones that Thou hast made an heap,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Yea, for the city of the broken-hearted,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all the wealth wherewith Thou hadst endowed her,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">For all our shepherds gone astray like sheep,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all Thy temple's jewels ground to powder,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Because our soul is chastened as with lashes,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Because Thine anger like a stormy deep</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Goes over us, in sackcloth and in ashes</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nobody gave them heed; indeed each man was thinking how to speed</div>

-<div class="verse">His interests, and if the prey would satisfy ambition or need.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To honest minds with zeal imbued the Pope's indulgence, their own merit</div>

-<div class="verse">Bestowed some licence to be lewd, and take&mdash;their preachers said "inherit."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Even I who was in love with Christ, I with the conscience clean and cold</div>

-<div class="verse">That hankered not for lands or gold, was wondering how to clinch my hold</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">On reputation, while our chiefs, before we could consolidate,</div>

-<div class="verse">Rode a great wallop round the State and split it into petty fiefs.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Their overlords revolted me. Alas, for our brief unity!</div>

-<div class="verse">Edessa snarled at Antioch, Jerusalem at Tripoli.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Poor Godfrey, who would not accept a crown where his Redeemer wore</div>

-<div class="verse">Thorns, nor be strong where Jesus wept! From the beginning weakness crept</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Into our councils. Worse, we watched the bulk of our brave lads disperse</div>

-<div class="verse">Well-pleased. At most we raised the ghost of needful power to hold their post.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Franks and Provincials, German brutes that bullied babes and prostitutes,</div>

-<div class="verse">Lombards and Flemings, made for home with clapping and the sound of flutes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">It flowed away, the unstable stuff, to whom a cause was but a noun.</div>

-<div class="verse">They stood to sea. Thank heaven 'twas rough! My place was here with my renown.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They vanished ... home ... to Sunflower-tress ... home, where a man may die obscure!</div>

-<div class="verse">Far off a carle of Albemarle trolled chanties like a Siren's lure.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">East, are you calling still,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Who tried your strength of will</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">For naught on brown Ulysses long ago?</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">We have an island too,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">And haul away from you</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">To cleaner kin that bend a stronger bow.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Your caravans string out</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">On many a golden route</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">The turbaned Magi's offerings; but we</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Steer forth on loner trails</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Through rough wind-scented vales</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">To England, the oasis of the sea.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Child Jesus chose you, East,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Not that He loved us least,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">But just because His Father had foreseen</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">The dear and only Son</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Might dwell too long upon</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Our swinging greys and many-coloured green.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So we were left alone. The spring broke out in buds of bickering.</div>

-<div class="verse">Each summer brought contentious fruit. Strife waxed with every waning king.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I waxed also, better known, resolved to reap what I had sown.</div>

-<div class="verse">My childless manhood fixed my heart. The Holy Land was all my own.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I grew in grace with man&mdash;I hoped with God; from Beersheba to Dan</div>

-<div class="verse">I went about my Father's work. Faith could not shirk what Faith began.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Sometimes qualms came. I looked askance on Bishop Daimbert's schemes to enhance</div>

-<div class="verse">His seat. The native Christians sighed they missed the Caliph's tolerance.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Not that had hurt me, but the void which love will make if unemployed.</div>

-<div class="verse">I spent my strength to keep him quiet, and free the thoughts that he decoyed,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Till woods and Rhone were out of range. I often wondered at the change</div>

-<div class="verse">In nature's child, in me. The formulæ were there. "God's ways are strange."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Yet in my struggle with the powers of darkness I recalled the showers</div>

-<div class="verse">Of light that fought the undergrowth to catch the singing of the flowers.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Time passed, and no one seemed to reck of Zenghi, the first Atabek,</div>

-<div class="verse">Though every year we failed to act the Saracens grew more compact.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In vain I urged that we might fall, so slender was our human wall,</div>

-<div class="verse">So numberless the foe beside the Templars and the Hospital.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The answer was that dyke and fosse were useless when we had the Cross,</div>

-<div class="verse">With other relics by the score, to guard against defeat or loss.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My prophecies of coming ills fell on deaf ears and weakly wills.</div>

-<div class="verse">I did my best. You know I did, who saw me peer beyond the hills</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Where Karak like a lighthouse loomed at waves of sand that never spumed,</div>

-<div class="verse">The tideless main, an ocean-plain bare, petrified. Its silence boomed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I saw in all that vastitude, the one, the drab, the many-hued,</div>

-<div class="verse">No sign of life, no moving speck; and yet I knew that trouble brewed.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I tortured every hour to find material things to prop behind&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Forgive me, God!&mdash;Your earthly realm. The need was great, for it was blind.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The mathematics of Abul Hassan, three hundred years at school</div>

-<div class="verse">In Arabic philosophy, showed that the West was still a fool.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nay, gently, call her still a babe. How should she know that I, the Great,</div>

-<div class="verse">Had learned from savages to prate of compass and of astrolabe.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our miracles were not so sure to heal as Rhazes' simplest cure.</div>

-<div class="verse">His friends the moon and stars obeyed the rules that Abul Wafa made.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My stolen lore raised me above my fellows. Everything but love</div>

-<div class="verse">Was mine, respect, authority. The jealous Churchmen dared not move.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our infant realm could not dispense with me, its shield and main defence.</div>

-<div class="verse">I knew the Damascene recipe for making steel, and made it cheap.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My mind was fertile in resorts. I spent the pilgrims' fees on forts,</div>

-<div class="verse">And settled, for their skill in trade, Venetian slavers at our ports.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Howbeit I trembled lest our main enthusiasm should be for gain.</div>

-<div class="verse">I stripped myself to work against the working of the money-brain.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I was glad I passed for mad and single-eyed as Galahad.</div>

-<div class="verse">I sacrificed in saving Christ the profit that I might have had.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nothing that I could do availed. My tongue grew bitter, girded, railed.</div>

-<div class="verse">My labour only builded Me, but not the kingdom. So I failed.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our Viscounts could but show their gums, while from Aleppo, Hama, Homs,</div>

-<div class="verse">The foe crept onward like the months, culling our conquests like ripe plums.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For all response in Chastel Blanc and towering Markab-of-the-Sea</div>

-<div class="verse">Some clerkly knight in red-crossed white recited magic formulæ;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Then darkly hinted science, hell and I were leagued, because their spell</div>

-<div class="verse">Would not or could not stave the blow that I foresaw. Edessa fell.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Curse our degenerate Poullains! The breed had need of spurs not reins.</div>

-<div class="verse">To stand an empty sack upright was easier than to warm their veins</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Save with amours. One night I knelt to pray; but on the battlement</div>

-<div class="verse">Hard by a lordling twanged a harp. I smelt the bastard's eastern scent.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He thought his leman lay behind my casement, where the jasmin twined</div>

-<div class="verse">And almost jingled.... Oh the woods at home and whitethroats calling blind!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Suppose you left that window and came down</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">To meet me. Do not turn away.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Also you need not frown.</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">I only say:</div>

-<div class="verse indent12 italic">"Suppose."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose&mdash;you are a woman of resource&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">The fastenings of your door undone.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">No! They are not.... Of course!</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">But, just for fun,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose that&mdash;safe among the trees below</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">The terraces&mdash;you chanced to find ...</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Impossible!... I know,</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">But never mind.</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose that&mdash;being there&mdash;an eager arm</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Drew you towards the little dell....</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Why redden? Where's the harm?</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">You might as well</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose....</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose that, bending over you, a man</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Breathed words of which you knew the gist.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Suppose it!... Yes, you can....</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">No, I insist....</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose!</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose you shut the window? Now? Pray do,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">And take a lonely night to learn</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">This tune shut in with you.</div>

-<div class="verse indent8 italic">Till I return,</div>

-<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose....</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Then I peeped out. Some breath divine had made his face, compared with mine,</div>

-<div class="verse">An angel's. Love with all its faults had set there our Creator's sign.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">That shook me. One of us was wrong. Which? He or I? His soul was vexed</div>

-<div class="verse">Neither by this world nor the next, but floated in a bubble of song.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">It haunted me, as he had said; it chimed and rhymed about my bed.</div>

-<div class="verse">It filled my head with Sunflower-tress; but she&mdash;I writhed&mdash;was old or dead.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Was all my suffering a waste? Had superstition wed me chaste</div>

-<div class="verse">To Its effect? Was this my Cause? My tutor in the dark grimaced.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I saw him snug at home, and how he would have chuckled at my vow!</div>

-<div class="verse">Well, who laughs last.... I pictured him a dotard or in hell by now.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I prayed for help all night; and, warned by lost Edessa, Baldwin made</div>

-<div class="verse">Great efforts to placate our God. The answer was a fresh crusade.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">This was an answer none could doubt. We heard a preacher more devout</div>

-<div class="verse">Than ours was quartering the west, and pulling true believers out.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He hight Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the home of light and miracles.</div>

-<div class="verse">The wives and mothers trembled so before his spirit's tentacles,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They hid their males&mdash;in vain. He swept the Emperor Conrad with him, kept</div>

-<div class="verse">The collar of his pale adept, emasculated Louis Sept.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He cured King's Evils, raised the dead, he cast out devils by the gross.</div>

-<div class="verse">'Twas said he promised us twelve legions of angels.... From the darkest regions</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Men flocked to Metz and Ratisbon. News came of more than half a million,</div>

-<div class="verse">Not counting those that rode apillion. Our battle was as good as won.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Such glorious news might well inflame our hopes. We waited. Nothing came,</div>

-<div class="verse">Not even light Turcopuli nor Conrad's Golden-footed Dame.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our Poullains first began to whine; the fainthearts said the fault was mine.</div>

-<div class="verse">Saint Bernard was the oracle of Europe, I of Palestine.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And nothing came ... no troops.... The Greek misled, starved, poisoned, murdered them,</div>

-<div class="verse">Betrayed them to the Turk, whose bleak deserts went over them. Week by week</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">We waited. Nothing. Cadmus saw them cut to bits, Attalia's maw</div>

-<div class="verse">Could not be sated with their ruck. King Louis' mind had just one flaw:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He would not hear of strategy, staked all on supernatural help.</div>

-<div class="verse">And nothing came, and nothing came. Our half-bred curs began to yelp</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"Good God, if truly God is good!" They kissed the Cross. Gems hid the wood.</div>

-<div class="verse">Had He forgotten? Was He deaf? Could such things be? Who understood?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Not I, though I had kept my word to save the Lamb by fire and sword.</div>

-<div class="verse">And after twelve long lustra spent in service this was my reward.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Louis and Conrad struggled through one day with some small retinue.</div>

-<div class="verse">I watched. Almost I could foretell what they and Providence would do.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I remember, as we fared, a Sufi&mdash;so the sect is named&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Sat by the road as though he cared no jot for us, while he declaimed:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Her home is in the heart of spaciousness,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">In the mid-city of ideals. The site</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Is harmony, the walls are made of light.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">There with the mother-thoughts she stands to bless</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">The godlike sons sent forth with her caress</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">To make new worlds. I see them all unite</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Into the whole that our most starry flight</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Of worship knew far off, and strove to express.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">What can we do for her? We run to ask</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">As restless children for a grown-up task,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">While wisdom in the porch, their kind old host,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">Smiles at nurse nature, and replies: The most,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">The least that we can do for Beauty is</div>

-<div class="verse indent2 italic">To love for love's sake and serve God for His.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But Conrad drove his lance in jest right through the ragamuffin's chest,</div>

-<div class="verse">Because his creed was not as ours; and on we rode. I lost my zest.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To take Damascus was our plan, relying on a talisman.</div>

-<div class="verse">I knew that this would not suffice, for I was still a fighting man.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">It ended in repulse and shame. Saint Bernard proved we were to blame</div>

-<div class="verse">For want of faith. Ah, some of us had had too much. We said the same</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Of him. At our return thick mobs of women filled the church with bobs</div>

-<div class="verse">And bows, poor puppets, trying hard to sing between their stifled sobs:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">God, whose Son has fathomed sorrow,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">Give a mother strength to say:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4 italic">Mine has faced and found To-morrow.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6 italic">I will try to face To-day.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They turned to me. They thought me wise because I had been led by lies</div>

-<div class="verse">To blind myself to them; and now I saw things through a woman's eyes,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I went out. Not yet the end. Since innocence alone could save,</div>

-<div class="verse">Saints hit on infant infantry, and fifty thousand found the grave.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My gorge rose, yet I stopped my ears. I had no hope, but I was tarred</div>

-<div class="verse">With fame too much to show my fears. My duty lay in dying hard.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Oh irony! That fame increased the more its robes were patched and pieced.</div>

-<div class="verse">My whole ambition was fulfilled when power and confidence had ceased.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The women kissed my feet, my horse; they clung to me like my remorse.</div>

-<div class="verse">I that set out to make the world had made myself believe by force.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nay, I that knew we were reprieved at best, had I in truth believed?</div>

-<div class="verse">My youth came back. I seemed to meet my tutor's sneer in every street.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Fate cursed us with three minor kings, a leper then. Against these Things</div>

-<div class="verse">Salah-ad-Din combined the entire orient. I wished our fate had wings</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Instead of feet to end our dumb, keen, futile questionings, to numb</div>

-<div class="verse">The brain that binds us with the chain of kingdom go and kingdom come.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">One of our knights for plunder's sake undid us, roused the foe who brake</div>

-<div class="verse">In through the pass of Banias, cutting our lands in two like cake.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The hour was here, but not the man. That murderer Guy de Lusignan</div>

-<div class="verse">Was sent to head our fight for life. The craven took for talisman</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Me</span> and my hundred years, alas, a relic of the man I was.</div>

-<div class="verse">I toiled to still our private feuds. We marched upon Tiberias,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For none would listen when I urged our leaders to await attack.</div>

-<div class="verse">We marched across the waterless inferno. Summer burnt us black.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The Moslems scorched us with Greek fire. As rain upon a funeral pyre</div>

-<div class="verse">Their arrows hissed in sheets upon the smoking scrub. "Go on!" "Retire!"</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Our rabble cried, starting aside like broken bows; they tried to hide,</div>

-<div class="verse">Split, fled for refuge to a hill, did nothing while the Templars died.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">When all was lost I cut my way out through the thicket of the fray,</div>

-<div class="verse">And galloped for Jerusalem to adjure Guy's Queen to stand at bay.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">In this last desperate passage each proud noble still opposed his friend.</div>

-<div class="verse">A little while and we were penned, and yet a little while a breach</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Was made. Jehovah's chosen seat was tottering, but no Paraclete</div>

-<div class="verse">Came down to comfort us. I made some sallies. Then the Queen would treat.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Perhaps in our appeal for ruth my wording stumbled on the truth,</div>

-<div class="verse">"One God that went by many names," or else I knew Him in my youth,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or else that Sufi haunted me with something that I could not see,</div>

-<div class="verse">Something that only had not been because we would not let it be.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And when the foe marched in, I own that I was thinking of the Rhone</div>

-<div class="verse">Long, long ago, and wondering&mdash;a child once more&mdash;if it had grown.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Yet there remained the sharpest cup to drain: the moan of us went up,</div>

-<div class="verse">When from the topmost dome was hurled the Sign that should have ruled the world.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Down, down it rumbled with our grand designs. All we had built or planned,</div>

-<div class="verse">Toiled, bled for, crumbled at a touch, was ruined like a house of sand.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">So soon we pass. The wind knows why. The efforts of a century,</div>

-<div class="verse">Three generations' handiwork failed in the twinkling of an eye.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And I was sad to think that shadows occupy us all. I had</div>

-<div class="verse">No hope of earth. What boots a toy that thinks its maker raving mad?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My soul had passed through every phase and, counting forty thousand days,</div>

-<div class="verse">Was farther off than at the start from comprehending heaven's ways</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Or bowing to them. I came nearest when I pressed my childish ear</div>

-<div class="verse">Earthward through briar and bramble bowers to catch the singing of the flowers.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The last remains of faith were shaken when I, the oracle, was taken.</div>

-<div class="verse">My pride was made to sleep in chains. I prayed that I might never waken,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">But woke. They gave me to a <i>rais</i> who wanted cattle, not advice.</div>

-<div class="verse">He flogged me down to Damietta. I was old and fetched no price.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Nathless my battling heart was brave enough to work me till I dropped.</div>

-<div class="verse">I passed for twopence to a Copt who sold me as a galley-slave</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">To Muscat. In the rhythmic stroke, old, undefeated, gnarled as oak</div>

-<div class="verse">I creaked and strained against my fate, until that Sufi-something broke.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">'Twas not my heart. An inner morn put the dark age in me to scorn,</div>

-<div class="verse">And in the light I found myself, a child at play with worlds unborn,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For all that I had thought and read, and fought and watched the world be led</div>

-<div class="verse">By any who contrived to cut a knot with that blunt tool, the head.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I laughed to think how sparrows might look down upon our highest flight,</div>

-<div class="verse">While each succeeding age would have its oracle or stagyrite,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Would trace the good we never did, the evil that we never saw,</div>

-<div class="verse">And out of our blind pyramid extract a stepping-stone to Law.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Here, where ambition had to cease in servitude, I tasted peace,</div>

-<div class="verse">Free of illusion stretched and yawned. A fool would clamour for release.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I make the rowers' bench a throne to think, and thought implies Alone,</div>

-<div class="verse">Of changing woods and endless streams. My happiness is all my own.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And often, when my mates deplore a brother who shall row no more,</div>

-<div class="verse">I talk about my wolf-cub, Life. They think I speak in metaphor.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">They gather round me all agog, they think a chronicle and log</div>

-<div class="verse">Of Progress lies in withered hands. Their cry is for an epilogue.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Has aught been drafted yet? A blot, an echo void and polyglot.</div>

-<div class="verse">Each century is written off as preface. Yes, most true.... Of what?</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">My gathered weight had held me bound to find for every fog a ground,</div>

-<div class="verse">For every riddle a reply, an end to Being that goes round.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Now I can say, I do not know if there will be a book at all,</div>

-<div class="verse">Or if the deepest chapters go beyond some writing on the wall,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Though wiser worlds will yet embark, sworn to eclipse our sorry trades,</div>

-<div class="verse">Succeed, and leave their little mark: a dynasty of thought that fades,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Fresh undergrowths of formulæ. Through these no <i>human</i> eye can see</div>

-<div class="verse">The open glade&mdash;the <i>last</i> crusade, in which Jerusalem might be</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The symbol of all peopled space, and Time an emblem of the day</div>

-<div class="verse">On which the nations march as one to liberate and not to slay.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">A story has no finish when it leads to nowhere out of ken?</div>

-<div class="verse">O friend, the lack of knowledge brings wisdom within the reach of men;</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">For whether hope can ever fit the future matters not a whit.</div>

-<div class="verse">My duty is to tug my oar&mdash;so long as I am chained to it.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX<br />

-FUSION</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">It was fulfilled. The giant <i>dhow</i> bestirred</div>

-<div class="verse">Herself, burst from her slender moorings, ran</div>

-<div class="verse">Exulting on her course beyond the green</div>

-<div class="verse">Thin shallows to the deeper violet</div>

-<div class="verse">Of that great gem wherein the continents</div>

-<div class="verse">Are flaws. With creaking oars and fluttering sails</div>

-<div class="verse">The wingèd ghost swept outward. On the prow</div>

-<div class="verse">Unveiled the Queen stood whiter than the sails,</div>

-<div class="verse">And save the revelation made no sign;</div>

-<div class="verse">And all the sound of singing was brought low.</div>

-<div class="verse">Then, as the vision vanished in the hushed</div>

-<div class="verse">Twilight that painted out the caravan,</div>

-<div class="verse">Leaving the pilgrims but a <i>burnûs</i>-blur</div>

-<div class="verse">On the drab canvas of the shore, a wail</div>

-<div class="verse">Rose, and to them the Dreamer's last reply:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The aimless spindrift mingles with the scats</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Where suddenly the desert is the beach.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">A low wind whimpers up and down the flats</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Seeking some obstacle to lend it speech.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The sky bleeds pale as from a mortal wound,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Darkening the waters. To a treble E</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Gulls stiffly wheel their nomad escort round</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">A white sail dwindling in the impassive sea.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"A last beam smites it with a benison.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The lantern twinkles fainter at its mast.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">It bears the purpose in me that is gone,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The only thing that cannot be, the past.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Let there be night. Shall evensong complain?</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">My love was utter. Now I seek no sign.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Mine eyes have seen, and shall not see again.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Out of the deep shall call no voice of mine.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Yet I, whose happiness is hidden from view,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Have climbed the hill and touched eternity,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And Pisgah is a memory&mdash;of you,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">A white sail sinking in the summer sea."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">The ship drove spaceward to the skyline's crater,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The last of day flared vibrant as a cry,</div>

-<div class="verse">And in the Dreamer Emptiness loomed greater</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Than the unrifted pumice of the sky.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">He turned to see the friends whose hope had ended</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Like his beside the gulf. He was alone.</div>

-<div class="verse">The singers and the glory that had blended</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">With meaner notes and lowly, all were gone</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Into thin air. But, patient of his tether,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Enduring as the dream he would not break,</div>

-<div class="verse">Only old Tous remained. As back together</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">They fared, once more it seemed the camel spake:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Lo, these the fleeting and the true,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The keen to sacrifice and slow,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The plumed, the crawling, all were You</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">That started hither long ago.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">For man is many when begun,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">But Love can weave his ends to one.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The new, the ancient, song and prose,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The lower road, the higher aim,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The clean, the draggled, dust and snows</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Were you the striving, you the same.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Pride and endeavour, love and loss,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The pattern is the threads that cross.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Tilth, waste and water, sand and sap,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Tare, thorn and thistle, wine and oil,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Run through <i>your</i> Nature like a map,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Are <span class="smcap">You</span>. The ores that vein the soil</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of time and substance manifold</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Await the hour that makes them gold,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"That found the force of you dispersed</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">On all adventure save a quest,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And part perhaps was on the worst.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">It sent you all upon the best,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Wherein the journey is the goal.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Now leaving you they leave you whole.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The rabble melts, but more remains:</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The golden opportunity</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">By which the choir in us attains</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Not unison but unity.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">We feel the sunbeam, not the motes.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The Voice is made of many notes.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Slave, merchant, scholar, fighting-man,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The gambling, stumbling, praying kith</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">We called the Singing Caravan,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Have made their song at least no myth</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Not dawn to which yon skylark soared</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">But earth is his and your reward.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"The story ends, but not the book.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Sufi, the Queen that you ensued</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Led and shall lead you still to look</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">On peace&mdash;it is not solitude.</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Through her your warring kingdoms met,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And here is room for no regret."</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">So Dreamer-of-the-Age returned</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">With comfort, all his being fused</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">At last, and thus at night he mused</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Beside the fire that in him burned:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Heirs of the beauty yet to be,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Hail, from however far ahead</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Or out of sight I hear you tread</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">The dust that made this tale and me.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Each day shall raise me to rejoice</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">That lovers such as we must bear</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The unbroken chain of life and share</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Its thanksgiving. Perhaps my voice</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Shall be the servant of your mind,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Your linkman waiting in the arch</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Of phantom city-gates to march</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">With you by secret ways. The wind</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Shall tell me of you, he and I</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Be keenly with you, when you go</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Forth in my footsteps and the glow</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Of movement, steadfast to deny</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Only the frailer self. My grief</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Shall answer your unspoken word</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Through blithe interpreters, a bird</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Waking, the sounds of rill and leaf.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"By many a caravanserai</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">I shall not fail to watch you come,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">You of some far millennium,</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">Who, listening to the bird, will say:</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"'I seem to know that tune of his;</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">He sings what all can understand.'</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">In the clear water dip your hand:</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">'His deepest note was only this.'</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"You shall be glad of me, the shade,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Sighing 'O friend.' And I shall keep</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">The benediction of your sleep;</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And, when the woods of darkness fade,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"Shall waken with you, I that had</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Love to the full, and praised my lot,</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Trusting in truth to be forgot</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">For worthier verse. Ah, make me glad,</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse indent4">"You that come after me, and call</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">From summits that outstrip my hopes.</div>

-<div class="verse indent6">Yet I shall linger on the slopes</div>

-<div class="verse indent4">And dwell with those who gave their all."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX<br />

-LONG LEAVE</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I bow my head, O brother, brother, brother,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">But may not grudge you that were All to me.</div>

-<div class="verse">Should any <i>one</i> lament when this our Mother</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Mourns for so many sons on land and sea.</div>

-<div class="verse">God of the love that makes two lives as one</div>

-<div class="verse">Give also strength to see that England's will be done.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Let it be done, yea, down to the last tittle,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Up to the fullness of all sacrifice.</div>

-<div class="verse">Our dead feared this alone&mdash;to give too little.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Then shall the living murmur at the price?</div>

-<div class="verse">The hands withdrawn from ours to grasp the plough</div>

-<div class="verse">Would suffer only if the furrow faltered now.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">Know, fellow-mourners&mdash;be our cross too grievous&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">That One who sealed our symbol with His blood</div>

-<div class="verse">Vouchsafed the vision that shall never leave us,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Those humble crosses in the Flanders mud;</div>

-<div class="verse">And think there rests all-hallowed in each grave</div>

-<div class="verse">A life given freely for the world He died to save.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">And, ages hence, dim tramping generations</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Who never knew and cannot guess our pain&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>

-<div class="verse">Though history count nothing less than nations,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">And fame forget where grass has grown again&mdash;</div>

-<div class="verse">Shall yet remember that the world is free.</div>

-<div class="verse">It is enough. For this is immortality.</div>

-</div><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">I raise my head, O brother, brother, brother.</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The organ sobs for triumph to my heart.</div>

-<div class="verse">What! Who will think that ransomed earth can smother</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">Her own great soul, of which you are a part!</div>

-<div class="verse">The requiem music dies as if it <i>knew</i></div>

-<div class="verse">The inviolate peace where 'tis already well with you.</div>

-</div></div></div>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></span></p>

-

-

-

-<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2>

-

-<div class="poetry-container">

-<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

-<div class="verse">"It's not as easy as you think,"</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The nettled poet sighed.</div>

-<div class="verse">"It's not as good as I could wish,"</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The publisher replied.</div>

-<div class="verse">"It might," the kindly critic wrote,</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">"Have easily been <i>worse</i>."</div>

-<div class="verse">"We will not read it anyhow,"</div>

-<div class="verse indent2">The public said, "it's verse."</div>

-</div></div></div>

-

-

-<p class="p4 center">PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS<br />

-WEST NORWOOD, LONDON</p>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div><div class="chap">

-<div class="transnote">

-<h2>Transcriber's Note</h2>

-<p>All unusual, archaic and inconsistent spellings and usage have been

-maintained as in the original text. Here are some notes:</p>

-

-<p>The Greek word in the <span class="italic">In Memoriam</span>&mdash;πολύμητις&mdash;would be transliterated "polymêtis", and the Greek phrase

-which appears in <span class="italic">The History of the Adventurer</span>&mdash;οἱ πολλοὶ&mdash; would be transliterated "hoi polloi."</p>

-

-<p>I added the entries for "In Memoriam" and "Acknowledgements" to the

-Table of Contents.</p>

-<p class="covernote">The cover was created by Linda Hamilton at pgdp.net, and is in the public domain.</p>

-<hr class="chap" />

-</div></div>

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-<pre>

-

-

-

-

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+/* Poetry */
+.poetry-container {
+    text-align: center; }
+.poem {
+    margin-left:5%;
+    margin-right:5%;
+    text-align: left;
+    display: inline-block;
+}
+@media handheld
+{
+.poem {
+    margin-left: 1.5em;
+    text-align: left;
+    display: block;
+}
+}
+
+.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}
+
+div.verse      {padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+
+div.indent10     {margin-left: 5em;}
+div.indent12     {margin-left: 6em;}
+div.indent14     {margin-left: 7em;}
+div.indent2     {margin-left: 1em;}
+div.indent20     {margin-left: 10em;}
+div.indent22     {margin-left: 11em;}
+div.indent24     {margin-left: 12em;}
+div.indent3     {margin-left: 1.5em;}
+div.indent32     {margin-left: 16em;}
+div.indent4     {margin-left: 2em;}
+div.indent5     {margin-left: 2.5em;}
+div.indent6     {margin-left: 3em;}
+div.indent56     {margin-left: 28em;}
+div.indent8     {margin-left: 4em;}
+
+/* Transcriber's notes */
+.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
+    color: black;
+     font-size:smaller;
+     padding:0.5em;
+     margin-bottom:5em;
+     font-family:sans-serif, serif; }
+.correction { text-decoration: none;
+     border-bottom: thin dotted gray;}
+.covernote { display: none;}
+@media handheld
+{
+.covernote { display: inline; }
+}
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49385 ***</div>
+
+<div class="chap">
+<p class="ph2">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</p>
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<ul id="advert">
+<li class="italic">FICTION</li>
+<li class="detailpad">THE GATES</li>
+<li class="detailpad">JOHN STUART</li>
+<li class="subt">VERSE</li>
+<li class="detailpad">SONGS AND SATIRES</li>
+<li class="subt">THEATRE</li>
+<li class="detailpad">LES PARIAHS</li>
+<li class="detailpad">THE CAP AND BELLS</li>
+<li class="detailpad">PEOPLE LIKE OURSELVES</li>
+<li class="detailpad">CLASS</li>
+<li class="subt">THEATRE IN VERSE</li>
+<li class="detailpad">FOOLERY</li>
+<li class="detailpad">DUSK</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="chap">
+<p class="ph1">THE SINGING CARAVAN</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div>
+<div class="chap">
+
+<p class="ph2 italic">RECENT POETRY</p>
+
+<table id="recent"  summary="Recent poetry.">
+
+<tr><td class="ttop">THE HEART OF PEACE</td><td /></tr>
+<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Laurence Housman</span>.</td>
+<td class="tdr">5s. net</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="ttop">ESCAPE AND FANTASY</td><td /></tr>
+<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">George Rostrevor</span>.</td>
+<td class="tdr">3s. 6d. net</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="ttop">THE SAILING SHIPS</td><td /></tr>
+<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Enid Bagnold</span>.</td>
+<td class="tdr">5s. net</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="ttop">COUNTER-ATTACK</td><td /></tr>
+<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Siegfried Sassoon</span>.</td>
+<td class="tdr">2s. 6d. net</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td class="ttop">POEMS</td><td /></tr>
+<tr><td class="tleft1">By <span class="smcap">Geoffrey Dearmer</span>.</td>
+<td class="tdr">2s. 6d. net</td></tr>
+
+</table>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+
+<h1><a name="THE_SINGING_CARAVAN" id="THE_SINGING_CARAVAN"></a>THE SINGING
+CARAVAN</h1>
+
+<p class="center">A SUFI TALE</p>
+
+<p class="center p2">BY</p>
+
+<p class="center">ROBERT VANSITTART</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Each man is many as a caravan;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">His straggling selves collect in tales like these.</div>
+<div class="verse">Only the love of one can make him one.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Who takes the Sufi Way&mdash;the Way of Peace?</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />
+GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br />
+1919</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Printed in Great Britain</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div>
+<div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="IN_MEMORIAM" id="IN_MEMORIAM"></a><i>IN MEMORIAM</i></h2>
+<p class="ph1">MY BROTHER ARNOLD</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">2nd Lieutenant, 11th Hussars</span><br />
+KILLED IN ACTION NEAR YPRES<br />
+MAY 1915</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse italic">In twenty years of lands and seas and cities</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">I had small joy and sought for it the more,</div>
+<div class="verse italic">Thinking: "If ever I am <span class="correction" title="Greek: polymêtis">πολύμητις</span>,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">'Tis yours to draw upon the hard-won store."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse italic">I had some bouts from Samarkand to Paris,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">And took some falls 'twixt Sweden and Sudan.</div>
+<div class="verse italic">If I was slow and patient learning parries,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">I hoped to teach you when you were a man.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse italic">I cannot fall to whining round the threshold</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Where Death awaited you. I lack the skill</div>
+<div class="verse italic">Of hands for ever working out a fresh hold</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">On life. In mystic ways I serve you still.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse italic">The age of miracles is not yet ended.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">As on the humble feast of Galilee</div>
+<div class="verse italic">Surely a touch of heaven has descended</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">On the cheap earthen vessel, even on me,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse italic">Whose weak content&mdash;the soul I travail under&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Unstable as water, to myself untrue,</div>
+<div class="verse italic">God's mercy makes an everlasting wonder,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Stronger than life or death, my love of you.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="acknowledgements" id="acknowledgements"></a></h2>
+
+<p>I am indebted to Mr. Arthur Humphreys, Mr. John Murray, and the
+Editor of the <i>Spectator</i> for kind permission to reproduce a few of
+the shorter poems in this tale of Persian mystics. I have included
+them, firstly, because I wished otherwise new work, being a memorial,
+to include such fragments of the past as might be worth preserving;
+secondly, because decreasing leisure inspires a diffidence in the
+future that may justify me in asking a reader or a friend to judge or
+remember me only by "Foolery" and "The Singing Caravan."</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+R. V.
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2>
+
+<table id="toc" summary="Table of Contents">
+<tr><th>&nbsp;</th><th>&nbsp;</th><th class="tdr">PAGE</th></tr>
+
+<tr><td /><td><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM"><span class="correction" title="Added by transcriber">IN MEMORIAM</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_vi">vi</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td /><td><a href="#acknowledgements"><span class="correction" title="Added by transcriber">ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS</span></a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_viii">viii</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td /><td><a href="#PRELUDE">PRELUDE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#I">I.</a></td><td><a href="#I">THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#II">II.</a></td><td><a href="#II">THE JOY OF THE WORDS</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#III">III.</a></td><td><a href="#III">THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td><a href="#IV">THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#V">V.</a></td><td><a href="#V">THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td><a href="#VI">THE BOASTING OF YOUTH</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td><a href="#VII">THE HEART OF THE SLAVE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td><a href="#VIII">THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td><a href="#IX">THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#X">X.</a></td><td><a href="#X">THE SONG OF THE SELVES</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XI">XI.</a></td><td><a href="#XI">THE STORY OF THE SUTLER</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XII">XII.</a></td><td><a href="#XII">THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XIII">XIII.</a></td><td><a href="#XIII">THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XIV">XIV.</a></td><td><a href="#XIV">THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XV">XV.</a></td><td><a href="#XV">THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XVI">XVI.</a></td><td><a href="#XVI">THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XVII">XVII.</a></td><td><a href="#XVII">THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td><a href="#XVIII">THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XIX">XIX.</a></td><td><a href="#XIX">FUSION</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="chapnum"><a href="#XX">XX.</a></td><td><a href="#XX">LONG LEAVE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td /><td><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+
+</table>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="PRELUDE" id="PRELUDE"></a>PRELUDE</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The sun smote Elburz like a gong.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Slow down the mountain's molten face</div>
+<div class="verse">Zigzagged the caravan of song.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Time was its slave and went its pace.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">It bore a white Transcaspian Queen</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Whose barque had touched at Enzelí.</div>
+<div class="verse">Splendid in jewelled palanquin</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">She cleft Iran from sea to sea,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Bound for the Persian Gulf of Pearls,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Where demons sail for drifting isles</div>
+<div class="verse">With bodyguards of dancing girls</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And four tamed winds for music, smiles</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For passports. Thus the caravan,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Singing from chief to <i>charvadar</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse">Reached the great gate of screened Tehran.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The burrows of the dim bazaar</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Swarmed thick to see the vision pass</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On broidered camels like a fleet</div>
+<div class="verse">Of swaying silence. One there was</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Who joined the strangers in the street.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They called him Dreamer-of-the-Age,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The least of Allah's <i>Muslimeen</i></div>
+<div class="verse">Who knew the joys of pilgrimage</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And wore the sign of sacred green,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A poet, poor and wistful-eyed.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Him all the beauty and the song</div>
+<div class="verse">Drew by swift magic to her side,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And in a trance he went along</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Past friends who questioned of his goal:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"The Brazen Cliffs? The Realms of Musk?</div>
+<div class="verse">Goes he to Mecca for his soul?..."</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The town-light dwindled in the dusk</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Behind. Ahead Misr? El Katíf?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The moon far up a brine-green sky</div>
+<div class="verse">Made Demavend a huge pale reef</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Set in an ocean long gone dry.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Bleached mosques like dwarf cave-stalagmites,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Smooth silver-bouldered <i>biyaban</i></div>
+<div class="verse">And sevenfold velvet of white nights</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Vied with the singing caravan</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To make her pathway plain.</div>
+<div class="verse indent22">Then one</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beside the poet murmured low:</div>
+<div class="verse">"I plod behind, sun after sun,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">O master, whither do we go?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Are we for some palmed port of Fars,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or tombed Kerbela, or Baghdad</div>
+<div class="verse">The Town-of-Knowledge-of-the-Stars?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Is worship wise or are we mad?"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Answered the poet: "Do we ask</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Allah to buy each Friday's throng?</div>
+<div class="verse">None to whom worship is a task</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Should join the caravan of song.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"With heart and eyes unquestioning, friend,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We follow love from sea to sea,</div>
+<div class="verse">And Love and Prayer have common end:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">'May God be merciful to me!'"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So fared they, camped from noon to even,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Till dawn, quick-groping through the gloom,</div>
+<div class="verse">Pounced on gilt planets low in heaven.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Thus they beheld the domes of Kum.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And onward nightly. Though the dust</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Swirled in dread shapes of desert <i>Jinn</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse">Ever the footsore poet's trust</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Soared to the jewelled palanquin,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Parched, but still singing: "God, being great,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lent me a star from sea to sea,</div>
+<div class="verse">The drop in his hand-hollow, Fate.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">He holds it high, and signs to me</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Although She&mdash;She may not ..."</div>
+<div class="verse indent24">"For thirst</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My songs and dreams like mirage fail.</div>
+<div class="verse">Yea, mad "&mdash;his fellow pilgrim cursed&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"I was. The Queen lifts not her veil."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Put no conditions to her glance,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">O happy desert, where the guide</div>
+<div class="verse">Is Love's own self, Life's only chance ..."</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">He saw not where the other died,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But pressed on strongly, loth to halt</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">At Persia's pride, Rose-Ispahan,</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose hawks are bathed in pure cobalt.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To meet the singing caravan</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Came henna-bearded prince and sage</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With henna-fingered <i>houris</i>, who</div>
+<div class="verse">Strove to retard the pilgrimage,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Saying: "Our streets are fair and you</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"A poet. Sing of us instead.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">God may be good, but life is short.</div>
+<div class="verse">Yon are the mountains of the dead.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Here are clean robes to wear at court."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He said: "I seek a bliss beyond</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The range of your <i>muezzin</i>-call.</div>
+<div class="verse">Do birds cease song till heaven respond?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The road is naught. The Hope is all."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"You know not this Transcaspian Queen,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or what the journey's end may be.</div>
+<div class="verse">Fool among Allah's <i>Muslimeen</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">You chase a myth from sea to sea."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Because I bargain not nor guess</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">If Waste or Garden wait for me,</div>
+<div class="verse">Love gives me inner loveliness.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I hold to her from sea to sea."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So he was gone, nor seemed to care</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For beckoning shade, or boasting brook,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or human alabaster-ware</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Flaunted before him in the <i>suk</i>,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nor paused at sunburnt far Shiraz,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The home of sinful yellow wine,</div>
+<div class="verse">Where morning mists, like violet gauze,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Deck the bare hills, and blossoms twine</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In seething coloured foam around</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The lighthouse minarets.</div>
+<div class="verse indent22">And sheer&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">A thin cascade bereft of sound&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The track falls down to dank Bushír.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The caravan slipped to the plain.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Its song rose through the rising damp,</div>
+<div class="verse">Till, through the grey stockade of rain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Gulf of Pearls shone like a lamp.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Here waiting rode a giant <i>dhow</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Each hand a captive <i>Roumi</i> lord,</div>
+<div class="verse">Who rose despite his chains to bow</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As straight her beauty went aboard,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Sailed. For the Tableland of Rhyme?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Crystal Archipelago?</div>
+<div class="verse">Who knows! This happened on a time</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Among the times of long ago.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He only, Dreamer-of-the-Age,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Was left alone upon the sands,</div>
+<div class="verse">The goal of his long pilgrimage,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The soil of all the promised lands,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Watching the <i>dhow</i> cut like a sword</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The leaden waves. Yet, ere she sailed,</div>
+<div class="verse">God poured on broken eyes reward</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Out of Heaven's heart.</div>
+<div class="verse indent20">The Queen unveiled.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">There for a space fulfilment shone,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">While worship had his soul for priest</div>
+<div class="verse">And altar. Then the light was gone,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And on the sea the singing ceased.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And is this all my story? Yes,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Save that the <i>Sufi's</i> dream is true.</div>
+<div class="verse">Dearest, in its deep lowliness</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">This tale is told of me and you.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">O love of mine, while I have breath,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Whatever my last fate shall be,</div>
+<div class="verse">I seek you, you alone, till death</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With all my life&mdash;from sea to sea.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And God be merciful to me.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br />
+THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The pilgrims from the north</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beat on the southern gate</div>
+<div class="verse">All eager to set forth,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In little mood to wait</div>
+<div class="verse">While watchman Abdelal</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Expounded the Koran</div>
+<div class="verse">To that wise seneschal,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">His mate, Ghaffír Sultan.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">At length Ghaffír: "Enough!"</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Even watchmen's heads may nod.</div>
+<div class="verse">"Asräil is not rough</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">If we have faith in God."</div>
+<div class="verse">His fellow tapped the book:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The <i>Darawish</i> discuss</div>
+<div class="verse">The point you overlook:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Has Allah faith in us?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Know, then, that Allah, fresh</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And splendid as a boy</div>
+<div class="verse">Who thinks no ill of flesh,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Had one desire: a toy.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">And so he took for site</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To build his perfect plan</div>
+<div class="verse">The Earth, where His delight</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Was manufactured: Man.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Ah, had we ever seen</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The draft, our Maker's spit,</div>
+<div class="verse">I think we must have been</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Drawn to live up to it.</div>
+<div class="verse">God was so pure and kind</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">He showed Shaitan the lease</div>
+<div class="verse">Of earth that He had signed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For us, His masterpiece.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The pilgrims cried: "You flout</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Our calm. Beware. It flags.</div>
+<div class="verse">Unbar and let us out,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Sons of a thousand rags."</div>
+<div class="verse">And Abdelal said: "Hark!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Methought I heard a din."</div>
+<div class="verse">Said Ghaffír: "After dark</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I let no devils in.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Proceed." He sucked his pipe:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">God in His happiest mood</div>
+<div class="verse">Laid down our prototype,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And saw that man was good.</div>
+<div class="verse">Aglow with generous pride:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"Shaitan the son of Jann,</div>
+<div class="verse">This is my crown," He cried.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"Bow down and worship man."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Said Evil with a smirk&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">He was too sly to hiss&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">"I cannot praise your work.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I could have bettered this."</div>
+<div class="verse">God said: "I could have sown</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The soil my puppet delves,</div>
+<div class="verse">Yet rather gave my own</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Power to perfect themselves."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Still the fiend stiffened. "I</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Bow not." Our prophet saith</div>
+<div class="verse">That he would not comply</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Because he had no faith</div>
+<div class="verse">In us. He only saw</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The worst of Allah's toy,</div>
+<div class="verse">The springs, some surface flaw,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The strengthening alloy.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Said God: "The faults are mine.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I gave him hope and doubt,</div>
+<div class="verse">The mind that my design</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Shall have to work Me out.</div>
+<div class="verse">What though he fall! Is love</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">So faint that I should grieve?</div>
+<div class="verse">How else, friend, should I prove</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To him that I believe?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"And how else should he rise?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lo, I, that made the night,</div>
+<div class="verse">Have given his conscience eyes</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Therein to find the Right.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">I have stretched out his hand,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Oh, not to grasp but feel,</div>
+<div class="verse">Have taught his aims to land,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But tipped the aims with steel;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Have given him iron resolve</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And one great master-key,</div>
+<div class="verse">Courage, to bid revolve</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The hinge of destiny,</div>
+<div class="verse">And beams from heaven to build</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The road to Otherwise,</div>
+<div class="verse">With broken gloom to gild</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The causeway of his sighs</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Whereby I watch him come</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">At last to judge of Me,</div>
+<div class="verse">Beyond the thunder's drum,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The cymbals of the sea.</div>
+<div class="verse">Aye, Shaitan, plumb the Space</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And Time that planets buoy,</div>
+<div class="verse">And you shall know the place</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Appointed for my toy.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I could not give him rest,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And see him satiate</div>
+<div class="verse">At once, or make the zest</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of life an opiate.</div>
+<div class="verse">I might have been his lord,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I had not been his friend</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">To sheathe his spirit's sword</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And start him at the end.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I would not make him old,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That he might see his port</div>
+<div class="verse">Fling its nocturne of gold</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And cheerfulness athwart</div>
+<div class="verse">The dusk. I planned the wave,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And wealth of wind and star.</div>
+<div class="verse">Could one be gay and brave</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Who never saw afar</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"The cause that he outlives</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Only because he fought,</div>
+<div class="verse">The peaks to which he strives,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The ranges of his thought,</div>
+<div class="verse">Until the dawn to be</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Relieve his watchfires dim,</div>
+<div class="verse">Not by his faith in Me</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But by my faith in him!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I also have my dreams,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And through my darkest cloud</div>
+<div class="verse">His climbing phalanx gleams</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To my salute, and, proud</div>
+<div class="verse">Of him even in defeat,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My light upon his brow,</div>
+<div class="verse">My roughness at his feet,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I triumph. Shaitan, bow!"</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But Shaitan like an ass</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Jibbed and would not give ear.</div>
+<div class="verse">Just so it came to pass,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Declares our Book, Ghaffír.</div>
+<div class="verse">We know that in the heat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of disputation&mdash;well,</div>
+<div class="verse">Allah shot out his feet,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And Shaitan went to hell.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Thus Abdelal. The gate</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Shook to the pilgrims' cry:</div>
+<div class="verse">"When will you cease to prate,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beards of calamity!"</div>
+<div class="verse">The poet: "Allah's bliss</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fall on his watchmen! Thus</div>
+<div class="verse">Our journey's password is</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That God has faith in us."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br />
+THE JOY OF THE WORDS</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The Sufis trembled: "Open, open wide,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Dismiss us to illuminate the East."</div>
+<div class="verse">Old Ghaffír fumbled the reluctant bolts,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lifting his hands and eyes as for a feast.</div>
+<div class="verse">And this was their viaticum. His words</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Were mingled with their eagerness like yeast:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Go forth, poor words!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">If truly you are free,</div>
+<div class="verse">Simple, direct, you shall be winged like birds,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Voiced like the sea.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Walk humbly clad!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Be sure those words are lame</div>
+<div class="verse">That ride a-clatter, or that deck and pad</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A puny frame.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">As in your dress,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">So in your speech be plain!</div>
+<div class="verse">Be not deceived; the Mighty Meaningless</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Are loud in vain.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Be not puffed up,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Nor drunk with your own sound!</div>
+<div class="verse">Shall men drink deeply when an empty cup</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Is handed round?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Shout not at heaven!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Say what I bade you say.</div>
+<div class="verse">Simplicity is beauty dwelling even</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In yea or nay.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Be this your goal.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beauty within man's reach</div>
+<div class="verse">Is poetry. You cannot touch man's soul</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Save with man's speech.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Therefore go straight.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">You shall not turn aside</div>
+<div class="verse">To vain display; for yonder lies the gate</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Where gods abide</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Your coming. Go!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The way was never hard.</div>
+<div class="verse">What would you more than common flowers or snow?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For your reward,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Be understood,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And thus shall you be sung.</div>
+<div class="verse">Aye, you who think to show us any good,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Speak in our tongue.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br />
+THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The watchman finished, as the southern gate</div>
+<div class="verse">Clanged, and the breathless city lay behind.</div>
+<div class="verse">The Dreamer's shadows shrank against the wall,</div>
+<div class="verse">As though the desert called and none replied,</div>
+<div class="verse">Till the young pilot, standing out to night,</div>
+<div class="verse">Swung clear these lines to sound the depths of her:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Blue Persian night,</div>
+<div class="verse">Soft, voiceless as the summer sea!</div>
+<div class="verse">Flooding the bouldered desert sand, submerge</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">This cypressed isle</div>
+<div class="verse">And Demavend's snow-spire&mdash;a sunken rock</div>
+<div class="verse">On your hushed floor, where I the diver stand</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Beyond the reach of day.</div>
+<div class="verse">And though, up through your overwhelming peace,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">I see your surface, heaven,</div>
+<div class="verse">I would not rise there, being drowned in you,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Blue Persian night.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Blue Persian night,</div>
+<div class="verse">O consolation of the East!</div>
+<div class="verse">In your clear breathless oceanic sheen</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">My heart's an isle,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">From whose innumerable caves and coigns&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">When dusk awakes the city of my mind&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Exploring boats set forth,</div>
+<div class="verse">Bound for the harbour-lights of God knows where,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Full, full of God knows what;</div>
+<div class="verse">It must be love of Him, or Her, or You,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Blue Persian night."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Her signal answered; for a slender wand</div>
+<div class="verse">Of moonbeam touched the Dreamer on the mouth.</div>
+<div class="verse">The caravan looked upward with a shout</div>
+<div class="verse">And set its camels rolling to the south,</div>
+<div class="verse">Murmuring: "Blue Persian night, none ever saw</div>
+<div class="verse">You through your own sheer purity before us.</div>
+<div class="verse">Rise up our songs as bubbles from the sand ..."</div>
+<div class="verse">Somewhere among the camels rose this chorus:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent14">Dong! Dong!</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Lurching along</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Out of the dusk</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Into the night.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Noiseless and lusty,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Dreamy and dusty,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Looms the long caravan-line into sight.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent14">Dong! Dong!</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Never a song,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Never a footfall</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">A breath or a sigh.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent8">Ghostly and stolid,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Stately and squalid,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Creeps the monotonous caravan by.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent14">Dong! Dong!</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Fugitive throng.</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Out of the dark</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Into the night,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Silent and lonely,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Gone!... the bells only</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Tells us a caravan once was in sight.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br />
+THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Moussa, the son of the Crypto-Jew,</div>
+<div class="verse">Had eaten his fill of yellow stew</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And a bit besides (as a business man</div>
+<div class="verse">He was far too quick for the caravan,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Who loved him not, though it feared his guile).</div>
+<div class="verse">Moussa then: "I shall walk awhile</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"To ease my soul of its heavy load."</div>
+<div class="verse">His pious friends: "May you find a road,"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And winked. "His soul has begun to feel</div>
+<div class="verse">There's nothing left but a march to steal."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But one from the village, decoying quail</div>
+<div class="verse">For the governor's pot, came back with a tale</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Of a lean arm shaken against the sky</div>
+<div class="verse">Like a stunted thorn, and this piteous cry:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"As sound within an ice-bound desert mewed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Drags out existence at the very core</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of isolation, as breakers slip ashore</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In vainly eternal whispers to the nude</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Reef-coral, where no human feet intrude</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Upon the purity of stillness; or</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As, far from life, unmated eagles soar</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Above the hilltops' breathless solitude,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"So moves my love, like these a thing apart,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fierce, in the ruined temple of my heart,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Shy as a shooting star that peers new-risen</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Mid strangers. Even so. Pent in the prison</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of space my soul, a lonely planet, wheels ...</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Men call the sum of loneliness 'Ideals.'"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">This is the plaint that the cross-road heard</div>
+<div class="verse">Where it strikes from Kashan to Burujird.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The townsmen, met by the sun-dried stream,</div>
+<div class="verse">Caught a voice high up like an angel's scream</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or a teaspoon tapping the bowl of heaven,</div>
+<div class="verse">And they cried: "<i>Ajab!</i> May we be forgiven,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"But it sounds a soul of the rarer sort</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose wings are set for no earthly port."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And the answer came, as they cried: "Who's that?"</div>
+<div class="verse">"One that sells short weight in mutton fat."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V<br />
+THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Light was not. All was still. The caravan</div>
+<div class="verse">Had ceased its song and motion by the bed</div>
+<div class="verse">Wherein the hill-stream tosses sleeplessly,</div>
+<div class="verse">The only sound, save one staccato note</div>
+<div class="verse">Interminably piped by tiny owls.</div>
+<div class="verse">The camp lay balmed in slumber, as the dead</div>
+<div class="verse">Are straitened in white trappings. Then a voice,</div>
+<div class="verse">Deeper than any dead black mountain pool</div>
+<div class="verse">Or blacker well where devils cool by day,</div>
+<div class="verse">Seemed to commune with Dreamer-of-the-Age,</div>
+<div class="verse">Who, peering through the cloak about his head,</div>
+<div class="verse">Challenged: "Who speaks?" The voice replied: "A friend</div>
+<div class="verse">Unknown to you." ... It was old Peacock Tous,</div>
+<div class="verse">The great grey camel with the crimson tail</div>
+<div class="verse">On whom the queen was wont to ride. He said:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Sheikh, I was born among the Bakhtiari,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The shelter of their hawthorn vales was mine;</div>
+<div class="verse">For me, unbroken to the loads men carry,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The breeze that crowns their uplands glowed as wine</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">To drink. I, Tous, the Peacock, whom men call so</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Because I ever moved as one above</div>
+<div class="verse">The common herd, was mad and merry. Also</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I knew not yet the prickled herb of Love.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Spring tricked the desert out with flowered patterns</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For me to tread like flowered carpets wrought</div>
+<div class="verse">In patience by my master's painted slatterns&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">He said that only Persian <i>women</i> fought.</div>
+<div class="verse">Ah, youth is free and silken-haired and leggy!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">No camel knows why Allah makes it end,</div>
+<div class="verse">But He is wiser. Me the tribe's Il-Beggi</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Spied out and sent as tribute to a friend,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"A dweller in black tents, a nomad chieftain</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of Khamseh Arabs or unruled Kashgai,</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose cattle-raids and rapines past belief stain</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The furthest page of camel-history.</div>
+<div class="verse">And shamefully the ragged sutlers thwacked us,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Until I learned, as to this manner born,</div>
+<div class="verse">That pride must find a mother in the cactus</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And hope the milk of kindness in the thorn.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"O Sheikh, I found. A milk-white <i>nakeh</i> followed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The drove of males, and I would lag behind</div>
+<div class="verse">With her, no matter how the drivers holloa'ed&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Man never doubts that all but he are blind.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">At nightfall, when our champing echoed surly</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beyond the cheerful circle of the fire,</div>
+<div class="verse">Something within me whispered, and thus early</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I bore the burden of the world's desire.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"But I was saddled with the will of Allah,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Since one there was more fleet of foot than I,</div>
+<div class="verse">The chosen of the chief of the Mehallah,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Whose nostrils quivered as he passed me by.</div>
+<div class="verse">To her, beside his paces and his frothing,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My steadfastness was common as the air,</div>
+<div class="verse">My passion and my patience were as nothing,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Because fate chose to make my rival fair.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I suffered and was silent&mdash;some said lazy&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Until the seasons drove us to the plain.</div>
+<div class="verse">The nomads sold me then to a Shirazi.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I never met my happiness again,</div>
+<div class="verse">But trod the same old measure back and forward,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And passed a friend as seldom as a tree.</div>
+<div class="verse">Oh, heaviness of ever going shoreward,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of bringing all fruition to the sea!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"For I have fared from sea to sea like you, sirs,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And with your like, not once but many times.</div>
+<div class="verse">Your path acclaims me eldest of its users,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">It tells my step as I foresee your rhymes.</div>
+<div class="verse">I know by heart a heartache's thousandth chapter</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As you have read the preface of delight.</div>
+<div class="verse">The silence you shall enter, I have mapped her.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">O singing caravan, I was To-night</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Long ere you dreamed. I dreaming of my lady</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Became the cargo-bearer we call Self.</div>
+<div class="verse">Two hundredweight of flesh that spouted Sa'di,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A restless bag of bones intent on pelf,</div>
+<div class="verse">Have straddled me in turn.... Hashish and spices,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Wheat, poisons, satins, brass, and graven stone,</div>
+<div class="verse">I, Tous, have borne all human needs and vices</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As solemnly as had they been my own.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Moon-faced sultanas blue with kohl a-pillion,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Grey ambergris, pink damask-roses' oil,</div>
+<div class="verse">Deep murex purple, beards or lips vermilion</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As Abu Musa's flaming scarlet soil</div>
+<div class="verse">I have borne&mdash;and dung and lacquer. I have flooded</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Bazaars with poppy-seed and filigree.</div>
+<div class="verse">Men little guess the stuff that I have studied,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or what their vaunted traffic seems to me.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I am hardened to all wonderments and stories&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My ears have borne the hardest of my task&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">I have carried pearls from Lingah up to Tauris,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And Russian Jews from Lenkoran to Jask.</div>
+<div class="verse">I have watched fat vessels crammed by sweating coolies</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With all the rubbish that the rich devise,</div>
+<div class="verse">And often I have wondered who the fool is</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That takes it all, and whom the fool supplies.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Yet ran my thoughts on her, though cedar rafters</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Were laid on me, or mottled silk and plush,</div>
+<div class="verse">Although the tinkling scales of varied laughters</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Rode me from Bandar Abbas to Barfrush,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or broken hearts from Astara to Gwetter.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">All ironies have made their moving house</div>
+<div class="verse">Of me. I smile to think how many a letter</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Has passed from loved to lover thanks to Tous</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"The loveless. Think you men alone are lonely,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My masters? I have also worshipped one,</div>
+<div class="verse">Have built my days of faith and service only,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And while I worshipped all my life was gone.</div>
+<div class="verse">I spent the funds of life in growing older,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In heaping fuel on a smothered fire.</div>
+<div class="verse">See how my tale is rounded! On my shoulder</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I bear the burden of <i>your</i> world's desire.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Yet keep that inner smile; and never show it</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Though the Account be nothing&mdash;shorn of her.</div>
+<div class="verse">Be wise, O Sheikh. Pray God to be a poet</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lest life should make you a philosopher,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or lest the dreams of which you had the making</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Should prove to be such stuff as still I trail,</div>
+<div class="verse">And bring your heart, my withers, nigh to breaking</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">When at the last the Bearer eyes the Bale,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"As you shall penetrate this day or morrow</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The miracle of willing servitude,</div>
+<div class="verse">And yet believe therein. It is the sorrow</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And not the love that asks to be subdued;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">It is the mirage not the truth that trammels</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The travelling feet. Ah, if men only knew</div>
+<div class="verse">How their brief frenzies move the mirth of camels,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Our rests were longer and our journeys few.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Old Tous is up. The camp is struck and ready</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For fresh emprise. Dawn sifts the clay-blue sky</div>
+<div class="verse">For gold. Now see how dominant and steady</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I prose along that have no mind to fly.</div>
+<div class="verse">This is my lesson: over sand or shingle,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Blow hot, blow cold, by mountain, plain and khor,</div>
+<div class="verse">Coming and going, I must set a-jingle</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My own deep bell.... And you must ask for more!"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He ceased. White on the mirror of the air</div>
+<div class="verse">His breath made patterns. In a ruined farm</div>
+<div class="verse">Red cocks blared out and shouted down the owls.</div>
+<div class="verse">The drivers rubbed their eyes. Another day</div>
+<div class="verse">Among the days was starting on its march....</div>
+<div class="verse">Above the pilgrims fallen to their prayers</div>
+<div class="verse">Old Tous stood upright, blinking at the sun.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI<br />
+THE BOASTING OF YOUTH</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The soldier-lad from Kerman,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The sailor-lad from Jask</div>
+<div class="verse">Knew naught that should deter man</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">From finishing the cask.</div>
+<div class="verse">"Wine sets the Faithful jibbing</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Like mules before an inn,</div>
+<div class="verse">But we sit bravely bibbing,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And hold our own with sin."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Said the stout-hearted wonder</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of Jask: "Wine frights not me.</div>
+<div class="verse">I fear no foe but thunder</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And winds that sting the sea."</div>
+<div class="verse">"And I," said he of Kerman,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"Fear nothing but the night,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or some imperious <i>firman</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That bids the Faithful fight."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"They say some lads fear ladies</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And truckle to them." "Who</div>
+<div class="verse">Could be so weak? The <i>Cadis</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Rise up for me and you."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">"But doctors, nay and princes,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Have troubles of their own,</div>
+<div class="verse">Save those whom fire convinces....</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I leave the stuff alone."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"And I...." Then both bethought them</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That, howso strong and wise,</div>
+<div class="verse">Their principles had caught them</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On this mad enterprise.</div>
+<div class="verse">"'Tis time to act with daring,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And rest," said he of Jask,</div>
+<div class="verse">And swore a mighty swearing,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">(And drained another flask).</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"If I go on, attendant</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Upon this woman's way,</div>
+<div class="verse">May I become dependant</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On your arrears of pay!"</div>
+<div class="verse">"If I," said Captain Kerman,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"Should knuckle to my mate,</div>
+<div class="verse">May I become a merman</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And live on maggot-bait!"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Then since we have discovered</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That women need our strength"&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">(The tavern-houris hovered)</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"To hold them at arm's length,</div>
+<div class="verse">Sit down in this rest-house, and</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Tell me a tale among</div>
+<div class="verse">The tales, one in your thousand!"</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">This was the story sung:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I threw my love about you like fine raiment;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">I let you kill my pride.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">You passed me by, but smiled at me in payment,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And I was satisfied.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I made my mind a plaything for your leisure,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Content to be ignored.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Body and soul I waited on your pleasure,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Waited&mdash;without reward.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I have no faint repinings that we met, dear,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Or that I left you cold.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I rub my hands. You will be colder yet, dear,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Some day when you are old."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Forbidden wine is mellow.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The sun has set. Of whom</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Sing you this song, Brave Fellow?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Night is the ante-room</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Breeze-sprinkled to keep cooler</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The feasting-halls behind."</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">"She might have been my ruler</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">But for my <i>Strength of Mind</i>."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"That was the tune to whistle!</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">How have I longed to learn</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The deeds of men of gristle</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Like mine!..." "Tell me in turn</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Some of your lore of women,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Whose wiles are deep as <i>bhang</i>.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent4">Your strength shall teach to swim men</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who fall in love...." He sang:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"You came to me, and well you chose your quarry.</div>
+<div class="verse">You told your tale, and well you played your rôle.</div>
+<div class="verse">You spoke of suffering, and I was sorry</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With all my heart, with all my soul.</div>
+<div class="verse">'Out of the deep,' you said. I thought to save you,</div>
+<div class="verse">And stunned myself upon the covered shoal.</div>
+<div class="verse">Yet, poor deceptive shallows, I forgave you</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With all my heart, with all my soul.</div>
+<div class="verse">You sought whatever evil had not sought you.</div>
+<div class="verse">In vain I strove to make your nature whole.</div>
+<div class="verse">I did not know the market that had bought you</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With all your heart, with all your soul.</div>
+<div class="verse">If man had one pure impulse you would smudge it.</div>
+<div class="verse">You had one gift, my pity, which you stole.</div>
+<div class="verse">Now I will only tell you that I grudge it</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With all my heart, with all my soul."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Of whom this song, Brave Fellow?</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The stars in heaven's black soil</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fold up their petalled yellow</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">That pays the angels' toil."</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The lamp had burned its wick dim,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The pair had drunk their fill....</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"I might have been her victim</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">But for my <i>Strength of Will</i>."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">Then one said to the other:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">"Such strength as yours and mine</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">Must put its foot down, brother,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And stay here&mdash;pass the wine&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Till, for the world's salvation,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Shall radiate from this den</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Great Confederation</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of Independent Men."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">The last sour mule was saddled,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">On went the caravan.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">These twain turned on the raddled</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Handmaidens of the <i>han</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Blinked, cast them forth with loathing</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Because the queen was fair,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And lest their lack of clothing</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Should lay man's weakness bare.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">White as a cloud in summer,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Slender as sun-shot rain&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Earth knows what moods become her&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The queen passed....</div>
+<div class="verse indent22">In her train</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Great Confederation</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Trod with such wealth of <i>Will</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That, in its trepidation,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">It never paid its bill.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII<br />
+THE HEART OF THE SLAVE</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But as they fared slave Obeidullah failed.</div>
+<div class="verse">Devouring fever shook him like a rat,</div>
+<div class="verse">And ere they reached Kashan his course was run.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then freedom came towards him, and he spoke:</div>
+<div class="verse">"Here is an eye of water, mulberry-trees,</div>
+<div class="verse">A rest-house, and to me a stranger thing,</div>
+<div class="verse">Rest. Caravan be strong, fare on with blessings</div>
+<div class="verse">Whence you must forge your happiness&mdash;but I,</div>
+<div class="verse">Possessed of peace, shall never see the end.</div>
+<div class="verse">The heart within me has been fire so long</div>
+<div class="verse">That now my body is smoke. I watch it drift</div>
+<div class="verse">Life leaves me gently as a mistress goes</div>
+<div class="verse">Before her time to meet the uncoloured days,</div>
+<div class="verse">Saying: 'I have lived. Plead not. 'Twill be in vain.</div>
+<div class="verse">You were the end of summer. I have passed</div>
+<div class="verse">Out of the garden with fresh scents and dews</div>
+<div class="verse">Upon me, out ere sunset with cool hands,</div>
+<div class="verse">The supple tread of youth and glorying limbs</div>
+<div class="verse">Firm as resolve, unblemished as my pride;</div>
+<div class="verse">Passed ere a leaf be fallen, or losing fights</div>
+<div class="verse">Begin, that smirch the memory of love....'</div>
+<div class="verse">Sweet is the shade, and death's cool lips are welcome</div>
+<div class="verse">After the burning kisses of the sun,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">The strained embraces of my owner, Toil.</div>
+<div class="verse">I shall remember her with gratitude</div>
+<div class="verse">But no regret, as I lie here. The dawn</div>
+<div class="verse">Biting the desert-edge shall not disturb me,</div>
+<div class="verse">Nor green oases zigzagged through the heat</div>
+<div class="verse">Like stepping-stones. The many-coloured hills,</div>
+<div class="verse">Heaven's mutable emotions, these are past.</div>
+<div class="verse">Beyond them I shall find security</div>
+<div class="verse">Of tenure in the outstretched hands of God."</div>
+<div class="verse">Thereat his fellows made lament, and urged:</div>
+<div class="verse">"Sleep on and take your rest, but not for ever.</div>
+<div class="verse">Time adds to strength, and you shall rise with us</div>
+<div class="verse">Who wait. Already we foresee the coast.</div>
+<div class="verse">A little while...." Slave Obeidullah raised</div>
+<div class="verse">Himself and looked ahead with shining eyes:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The moon is faint. A dust-cloud swirls.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Therein I see dim marching hosts:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Strange embassies and dancing girls,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Spice-caravans and pilgrims. Ghosts</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Rise thick from this else fruitless plain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A waste that every season chars.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Yet teeming centuries lie slain</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And trodden in the road to Fars.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The still, white, creeping road slips on,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Marked by the bones of man and beast.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">What comeliness and might have gone</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">To pad the highway of the East!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">Long dynasties of fallen rose,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The glories of a thousand wars,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A million lovers' hearts compose</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The dust upon the road to Fars.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"No tears have ever served to hold</div>
+<div class="verse indent3">This shifting velvet, fathom-deep,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Though vain and ceaseless winds have rolled</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Its pile wherein the ages sleep.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Between your fingers you may sift</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Kings, poets, priests and <i>charvadars</i>.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Heaven knows how many make a drift</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of dust upon the road to Fars.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The wraiths subside. And, One with All,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Soon, in the brevity of length,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Our lives shall hear the voiceless call</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">That builds this earth of love and strength.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Eternal, breathless, we shall wait,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Till, last of all the Avatars,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">God finds us in his first estate:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The dust upon the road to Fars."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So still he lay, so still the pilgrims deemed</div>
+<div class="verse">He was no longer there. The deepening shade</div>
+<div class="verse">Covered him softly. With his latest breath</div>
+<div class="verse">Slave Obeidullah looked upon the Queen:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"You whom I loved so steadfastly,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">If all the blest should ask to see</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent4">The cause for which my spirit came</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Among them with so little claim</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To peace, this book should speak for me.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I strove and only asked in fee</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Hope of your immortality</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Not mine&mdash;I had no other aim</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">You whom I loved.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The Judge will bend to hear my plea,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And take my songs upon his knee.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Perhaps His hand will make the lame</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Worthy to worship you, the same</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As here they vainly tried to be,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">You whom I loved."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Then, turned towards her, Obeidullah slept.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII<br />
+THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Among the fruit-trees still he slumbers. All</div>
+<div class="verse">Mourned for their brother with one heavy heart.</div>
+<div class="verse">Even Tous drooped, swaying weakly in his stride;</div>
+<div class="verse">Until Farid Bahadur, cheapjack, spoke,</div>
+<div class="verse">One bootlessly afoot whose years had brought</div>
+<div class="verse">For profit this, to see existence clear</div>
+<div class="verse">And empty as a solid ball of glass.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Erstwhile, he said, my peddling carried me</div>
+<div class="verse">Clean through two empires like a paper hoop,</div>
+<div class="verse">Setting me down upon the olive slopes</div>
+<div class="verse">Where Smyrna nestles back to mother earth,</div>
+<div class="verse">And so lures in the ocean. I filled my pack</div>
+<div class="verse">With kerchiefs, beads, dross, chaffering with a Greek,</div>
+<div class="verse">Although he vowed a much-loved partner's death</div>
+<div class="verse">Left him no heart for it. He blew his nose,</div>
+<div class="verse">Asking strange prices as a man distraught.</div>
+<div class="verse">I had no heart to bargain while he crooned:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Our loves were woven of one splendid thread,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But not our lives, though we had been, we twain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of him who brought his brother from the dead.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">Ah, would our God were like his gods that said:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And let the younger Castor live again</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The space that Pollux lay with Death instead.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Not for a part of time but for God's whole</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"They say the Olympian grace was not content</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With housing Death, but giving Love the key.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">It set the troths that guided you and me</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Among the jewels of the firmament;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And there they dwell for ever and assent</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To each propitious ploughing of the sea.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The coasting-pilots of Infinity</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">All day; but every night an Argonaut</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beyond the limitations of his sphere</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Into the vacant place beside a star."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So crooned he desolate in his dim shop,</div>
+<div class="verse">Till I became all ears and had no eyes.</div>
+<div class="verse">The fellow cheated me of three <i>dinars</i>.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX<br />
+THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed</div>
+<div class="verse">The caravan. Its courage failed</div>
+<div class="verse">A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The sun, that overhead</div>
+<div class="verse">From fields The Plough had turned to grain,</div>
+<div class="verse">Star-honey laden on The Wain</div>
+<div class="verse">And spices from the wind-domain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Was baking angel-bread.</div>
+<div class="verse">(Astronomers in Baghdad say</div>
+<div class="verse">That Allah gave the Milky Way</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To feed his guests, the dead.)</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Even as the dead the pilgrims lay</div>
+<div class="verse">Until the sun received his pay&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Man counts in gold, but he in grey&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Then, whining as one daft,</div>
+<div class="verse">A voice crept to each sleeper's ear,</div>
+<div class="verse">And one by one sat up to hear</div>
+<div class="verse">It soughing like a Seistan mere</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Where nothing ever laughed.</div>
+<div class="verse">A blur at elbow on the floor</div>
+<div class="verse">Cried: "Sleep! 'Tis but the tavern door</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Amoaning in the draught."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Ay," said the master of the inn,</div>
+<div class="verse">"A black-faced gaper that lets in</div>
+<div class="verse">The dark, my creditors, and kin!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Last month it strained my wrist, did</div>
+<div class="verse">The lout, so hard it slams. This week</div>
+<div class="verse">Claims it for fuel. See the leak</div>
+<div class="verse">Of air it springs! Its hinges creak,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Its wood is warped and twisted.</div>
+<div class="verse">'Tis heavy-hearted as a man,</div>
+<div class="verse">Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...."</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The wheezing voice persisted.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Earth bare me in Mazanderan,</div>
+<div class="verse">Where, breaking her dead level plan,</div>
+<div class="verse">Steep foliage opens like a fan</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To hide her virgin blush;</div>
+<div class="verse">And singing, caravan, like you</div>
+<div class="verse">Brooks dance towards the Caspian blue</div>
+<div class="verse">Past coolth wherein mauve turtles coo</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To panthers in the rush,</div>
+<div class="verse">That turn hill-pools to amethyst.</div>
+<div class="verse">Here bucks drink deep and tigers tryst</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Neck-deep in grasses lush.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"And there the stainless peaks are kissed</div>
+<div class="verse">By heaven whose crowning mercy, mist,</div>
+<div class="verse">With cloud-lands white as Allah's fist</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Anoints their heads with rain.</div>
+<div class="verse">We never dreamed, where nature pours,</div>
+<div class="verse">That life could run as thin as yours&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">A waif thirst-stricken to all fours&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or verdure, but a vein</div>
+<div class="verse">In sandscapes wincing from the sun</div>
+<div class="verse">That burns your flesh and visions dun,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Crawl throbbing through the plain.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I grew. My shadow weighed a ton;</div>
+<div class="verse">I held a countless garrison;</div>
+<div class="verse">My boughs were roads for apes to run</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Around the white owl's niche.</div>
+<div class="verse">The hum of bees, the blue jay's scream....</div>
+<div class="verse">The forest came to love and teem</div>
+<div class="verse">In me beside the vivid stream</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Shot through with speckled fish;</div>
+<div class="verse">Till, weary of my sheltered glen,</div>
+<div class="verse">I craved a human denizen</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fate granted me my wish.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Yea, I had longed (if slope and fen</div>
+<div class="verse">Can love like this, the love of men</div>
+<div class="verse">Must live above our nature's ken)</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To see and shade the room,</div>
+<div class="verse">To shield far-leaning the abode,</div>
+<div class="verse">Wherein the souls of lovers glowed</div>
+<div class="verse">To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And man became my doom.</div>
+<div class="verse">He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,</div>
+<div class="verse">And took the heart of me to make</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A tavern-door at Kum."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or searched the crannies for a ghost.</div>
+<div class="verse">"Ah, heed it not," implored the host;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"This hell-burnt father's son</div>
+<div class="verse">Moans ever like a soul oppressed,</div>
+<div class="verse">And takes the fancy of a guest,</div>
+<div class="verse">And makes my house no house of rest:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I would its voice were gone.</div>
+<div class="verse">Yet be indulgent, sirs! 'Tis old.</div>
+<div class="verse">Next week it shall be burnt or sold.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A new&mdash;" The voice went on:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Here have I stood while life unrolled</div>
+<div class="verse">But not the tale my breezes told.</div>
+<div class="verse">Moonlight alone conceals the cold</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Drab city's lack of heart.</div>
+<div class="verse">Here have I watched an hundred years</div>
+<div class="verse">Bespatter me with blood and tears,</div>
+<div class="verse">Yet leave man ever in arrears</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of where my monkeys start.</div>
+<div class="verse">No more, dog-rose and meadow-sweet!</div>
+<div class="verse">The harlot's musk and rotten meat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Blow at me from the mart.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"No more, clear streams and fairy feet!</div>
+<div class="verse">But through my mouth the striving street</div>
+<div class="verse">Drains in brown spate the men who eat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And drink and curse and die;</div>
+<div class="verse">And out of me the whole night long</div>
+<div class="verse">Reel revellers&mdash;O God, their song!...</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">Are there no mortals clean and strong,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or do they pass me by?</div>
+<div class="verse">I little thought that I should leave</div>
+<div class="verse">For this the groves where turtles grieve</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Far closer to the sky.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Instead of every song-bird's note</div>
+<div class="verse">I know the scales a merchant's throat</div>
+<div class="verse">Can compass. I have learned by rote</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The tricks of Copt and Jew;</div>
+<div class="verse">Can tell if Lur or Afghan brawls,</div>
+<div class="verse">The Armenian way of selling shawls</div>
+<div class="verse">Softly, and how an Arab bawls</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To rouse the raider's crew,</div>
+<div class="verse">Lest ululating strings of slaves</div>
+<div class="verse">Should take the kennel for their graves....</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Raids! I have seen a few,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Or wars, occasion dubs them&mdash;waves</div>
+<div class="verse">Of Mongol sultans, Kurdish braves.</div>
+<div class="verse">They&mdash;Find me words! the Simûn <i>raves</i>&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">They worked ... 'tis called their will,</div>
+<div class="verse">Battered me in&mdash;behold the dint&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">With all their hearts that felt like flint,</div>
+<div class="verse">Besmeared the city with the tint</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of sunset on my hill.</div>
+<div class="verse">My leopards stalk my bucks at eve&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">I shivered as I heard them heave&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">At least they ate their kill.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"I followed that.... But men who weave</div>
+<div class="verse">Such flowing robes of make-believe,</div>
+<div class="verse">I think the flood was wept by Eve&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Some sportsman shot the dove&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">These puzzled me, for God is good</div>
+<div class="verse">And man His image&mdash;not of wood,</div>
+<div class="verse">Thank God!&mdash;At last I understood</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">All ... all except their love.</div>
+<div class="verse">I grew so hard that I could trace</div>
+<div class="verse">His hand's chief glory in their race.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Perhaps He wore a glove."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Then one without made haste to smite</div>
+<div class="verse">The malcontent. It opened. Night</div>
+<div class="verse">Stood on the threshold dressed in white,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And myriad-eyed and blind.</div>
+<div class="verse">The ostler murmured: "Some <i>Afrit</i></div>
+<div class="verse">Or bitter worm has entered it;</div>
+<div class="verse">Nor jamb nor lintel seems to fit.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I know its frame of mind."</div>
+<div class="verse">"Air stirs the dust upon the floor,"</div>
+<div class="verse">The landlord cried. "Fool! Shut that door</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Amoaning in the wind."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"My glade was deep, a lichened well</div>
+<div class="verse">Of ether, limpid as a bell</div>
+<div class="verse">Buoyed on the manifold ground-swell</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Whose distance changed attires</div>
+<div class="verse">As sun-stroked plush, a roundelay</div>
+<div class="verse">Of all red-blue and purple grey,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">And, at each rise and fall of day,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Snows dyed like altar fires</div>
+<div class="verse">Licked through those loud green sheaves of copse,</div>
+<div class="verse">Bent hyphens 'twixt the mountain-tops,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Mosques of my motley choirs.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"And I, who gave them bed and bower</div>
+<div class="verse">For nights enduring but an hour</div>
+<div class="verse">Mid blaring miles of trumpet-flower,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Leagues of liana-wreath,</div>
+<div class="verse">I saw the rocks through leaves and lings,</div>
+<div class="verse">Could blink the fangs and feel the wings,</div>
+<div class="verse">Thrill with the elemental things</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of life and love and death.</div>
+<div class="verse">The purity of air and brook</div>
+<div class="verse">And song helped me to overlook</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The rapine underneath.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"But you&mdash;no! one dream more: an elf,</div>
+<div class="verse">Askip on ochre mountain-shelf,</div>
+<div class="verse">Who once had seen a man himself.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I used his wand to gauge</div>
+<div class="verse">The sheen of moths and peacocks' whir,</div>
+<div class="verse">To plumb the jungle-aisles, to stir</div>
+<div class="verse">The drifts of frankincense and myrrh,</div>
+<div class="verse">And amorous lithe shapes that purr....</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">'Tis finished. Turn the page</div>
+<div class="verse">To where man cased his bones in fat.</div>
+<div class="verse">His mate moved like a tiger-cat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Until he built her cage.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"You, I have watched you all who sat</div>
+<div class="verse">Successive round the food-stained mat,</div>
+<div class="verse">And reckoned many who lived for that</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Alone; have seen the mark</div>
+<div class="verse">Of that last state the Thinking Beast</div>
+<div class="verse">Peep through the foliage of the feast,</div>
+<div class="verse">And crown its poet's flight with greased</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fingers that grope the dark;</div>
+<div class="verse">Have heard a cleanlier bosom catch</div>
+<div class="verse">Her breath, and fumble with my latch</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Irresolute. The lark</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"My inmates never feared to match</div>
+<div class="verse">Bespoke the end. I belched the batch,</div>
+<div class="verse">Rolling them down the street, a patch</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of dirt against the dawn.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then in its stead there came a saint,</div>
+<div class="verse">Inventor of a soul-complaint,</div>
+<div class="verse">Who gave men's faith a coat of paint</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Like mine, and made me yawn</div>
+<div class="verse">With furtive wenching. Here have sighed</div>
+<div class="verse">Exultant groom and weeping bride</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Led like a captive fawn.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"This way passed those who marry lean</div>
+<div class="verse">Girl-chattels ere their times of teen.</div>
+<div class="verse">I knew a like but milder scene:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A hawk, small birds that cower.</div>
+<div class="verse">How soon the chosen was brought back dead&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Poisoned, the <i>hakim</i> always said&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">The husband groaned beside the bed,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Arose, and kept the dower,</div>
+<div class="verse">But swept his conscience out with prayer.</div>
+<div class="verse">Man took the angels unaware</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">When he became a power.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"And what of woman? On my stair</div>
+<div class="verse">The merchants spread their gaudiest ware,</div>
+<div class="verse">For which fools bought a love affair</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That ended in a jerk.</div>
+<div class="verse">Enough! To round the <i>tamasha</i></div>
+<div class="verse">A bloated thing came by, the Shah;</div>
+<div class="verse">It grinned, and viziers fawned 'Ha! ha!'</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Curs, brainless as a Turk.</div>
+<div class="verse">And all the women in his train</div>
+<div class="verse">Beheld him once and ne'er again,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And called his love their work.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"You see, my friends, I tired of this</div>
+<div class="verse">Wild doubling in the chase of bliss.</div>
+<div class="verse">Pards miss their spring as men their kiss,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And yet the quarry dies.</div>
+<div class="verse">I learned the world's least mortal god,</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose epitaph is Ichabod,</div>
+<div class="verse">May sport till noon, but if he nod</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Shall never more arise.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then, caravan, you passed, and I</div>
+<div class="verse">Have solved my riddle with a cry:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The sad are never wise.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Your song was all that I had heard</div>
+<div class="verse">In dreams beyond the wildest bird,</div>
+<div class="verse">That rose above my yellow-furred</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Basses that bell and roar.</div>
+<div class="verse">It took the heart of me in tow</div>
+<div class="verse">To heights that I had longed to know,</div>
+<div class="verse">To the great deeps where lovers go</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And find&mdash;and want&mdash;no shore.</div>
+<div class="verse">In these alone is man fulfilled;</div>
+<div class="verse">And gleaming in the air I build</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My hope of him once more.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"For all the few that see truth whole,</div>
+<div class="verse">And take its endlessness for goal,</div>
+<div class="verse">And steer by stars as if no shoal</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Could mar their firmament,</div>
+<div class="verse">For all the few that sing and sail</div>
+<div class="verse">Knowing their quest of small avail,</div>
+<div class="verse">Thank God who gave them strength to fail</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In finding what He meant...."</div>
+<div class="verse">"Poets!" the landlord groaned, "and poor!</div>
+<div class="verse">This house is cursed." He banged the door</div>
+<div class="verse">Behind them as they went.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And distance placed soft hands upon their mouths.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X<br />
+THE SONG OF THE SELVES</h2>
+
+
+<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">'Twas in old Tehran City,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Hard by the old bazaar,</div>
+<div class="verse">I heard a restless ditty</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That pushed my door ajar;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A song nor great nor witty,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">It spoke of my own mind.</div>
+<div class="verse">I looked on Tehran City,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And knew I had been blind,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or else the streets were altered</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As by a peri's wand.</div>
+<div class="verse">"Who are you, friends?" I faltered.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"The Pilgrims of Beyond,"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They said. I kissed the tatters</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That wiser heads contemn.</div>
+<div class="verse">I saw the Thing-that-matters,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And took the road with them.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I seek. Bestow no pity</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On Failure's courtier. Say:</div>
+<div class="verse">"'Twas well to find the city,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But that was yesterday."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>THE PILGRIMS</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Athirst as the Hadramut,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Our spirits correspond</div>
+<div class="verse">With God by all the gamut</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of harmony, too fond</div>
+<div class="verse">Of Him for prayer that rifles</div>
+<div class="verse">His treasury for trifles.</div>
+<div class="verse">No load of blessing stifles</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And yet the empty-handed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Hold richer merchandise</div>
+<div class="verse">Than ever fable landed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">From Dreamland's argosies,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Since we, the symbol-merchants,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Are partners with Bulbul.</div>
+<div class="verse">The silversmith of her chants</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Knows how our chests are full.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In marts, where echoes answer</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And only they, we trade.</div>
+<div class="verse">But join our caravan, sir,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And count your fortune made.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Dawn brings us dazzling offers</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With fingers gemmed and pearled,</div>
+<div class="verse">And evening fills our coffers</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As we explain the world,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Green fields and seas that curtsey</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To us and mock Despair;</div>
+<div class="verse">For blossoms in the dirt see</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Their spirit in the air.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And Ecstasy our servant</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Demands no other wage</div>
+<div class="verse">But that we be observant</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To joy in pilgrimage.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>THE MERCHANTS</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We do not bid our master</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Declare His word His bond,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or make His payments faster&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As though He would abscond!</div>
+<div class="verse">We ask Him for too little</div>
+<div class="verse">To strain at jot or tittle.</div>
+<div class="verse">We know our lives are brittle,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We come from everlasting</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Towards eternity,</div>
+<div class="verse">Ho! not in dirge and fasting</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But lapped in jollity.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Though sackcloth be our clothing</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We bear no ash but fire.</div>
+<div class="verse">We have no sickly loathing</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of youth and youth's desire.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We prize no consummation</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of one peculiar creed.</div>
+<div class="verse">We travel for a nation,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The one that feels our need.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our tongue conceals no message,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But leaves you free to find,</div>
+<div class="verse">And vaunts itself the presage</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of those that come behind.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>THE CAMELMEN</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Here is no patch of shade. A</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fierce wilderness and blonde</div>
+<div class="verse">Links Delhi to Hodeidah,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Tashkent to Trebizond.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">The cargo is our brother's,</div>
+<div class="verse">We march and moil for others,</div>
+<div class="verse">Until the desert smothers</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Hark how our camels grumble</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">At morn! Would you permit</div>
+<div class="verse">The stone on which you stumble</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To make you carry it?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And if at last your burden</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Be cheapened in a shop,</div>
+<div class="verse">Seraglio or Lur den,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Should lack of humour stop</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The game at its beginning?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We lug the stuff of dreams.</div>
+<div class="verse">Earth does her best by spinning,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">She cannot help the seams;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But you can help to monger</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The broidery. She may</div>
+<div class="verse">Have made you richer, stronger,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To give her best away.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I own no musk or camphor,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I have no truck with care,</div>
+<div class="verse">Nor change the thing I am for</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The things men only wear.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>THE SOLDIERS</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">First cousin of a sieve is</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The uniform we donned.</div>
+<div class="verse">We slop along on <i>ghivehs</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In rags caparisonned.</div>
+<div class="verse">No Shah has ever paid us.</div>
+<div class="verse">All brigands mock and raid us,</div>
+<div class="verse">And misery has made us</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Pilgrims of Beyond.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">What then! Would you be willing</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To quit the caravan,</div>
+<div class="verse">And fall again to drilling,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Pent in the walled <i>meidan</i>,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">When history flings open</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Blank scrolls for you to write</div>
+<div class="verse">Such victories as no pen</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Has ever brought to light?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">You shall not burn as Jengiz,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Nor rage like Timur Lang.</div>
+<div class="verse">Your foemen are <i>ferengis</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of whom no epic sang.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The housed that blame the tented,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or comfort those that think,</div>
+<div class="verse">The flocks that die contented</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With settling down to blink</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The sun we keep our eyes on,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That bow their heads too far</div>
+<div class="verse">To face their own horizon,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On these be war on war.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Cursed by the bonds you sever,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The bondsmen you release,</div>
+<div class="verse">Go, seek the Land of Fever</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And find the Land of Ease.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<h3>THE CARAVAN</h3>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Lift up your hearts, ye singers!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We lift them up in song.</div>
+<div class="verse">Behold, the sunset lingers.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">No less shall night be long.</div>
+<div class="verse">We meet her unaffrighted,</div>
+<div class="verse">Though never bourne be sighted.</div>
+<div class="verse">We <i>meant</i> to be benighted</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Still moving fleet and strong.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We smooth the stony places</div>
+<div class="verse">For those that else despond.</div>
+<div class="verse">We pass, and leave no traces</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Save this, a broken frond,</div>
+<div class="verse">And this, that hands once craven</div>
+<div class="verse">Take hardship for the haven</div>
+<div class="verse">Upon whose rocks is graven:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"The Pilgrims of Beyond."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI<br />
+THE STORY OF THE SUTLER</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And so the song was finished. Then they called</div>
+<div class="verse">To Kizzil Bash, the Sutler of Dilman,</div>
+<div class="verse">"Take up the tale, for you have wandered far</div>
+<div class="verse">Behind strange masters...." Once, he said, I served</div>
+<div class="verse">One of the Roumi lordlings, silver-faced,</div>
+<div class="verse">Who to forget some sorrow or lost love&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Such is their way&mdash;came with an embassage</div>
+<div class="verse">To cringe before the Caliph in Stamboul</div>
+<div class="verse">For something sordid, trade.... He mouthed our verse</div>
+<div class="verse">To please his guests, and I corrected him.</div>
+<div class="verse">The man was cypress-sad and lone, but he</div>
+<div class="verse">Could not be silent as the great should be,</div>
+<div class="verse">Because he neither knew his place nor me.</div>
+<div class="verse">The boatman marvelled at his lack of dignity.</div>
+<div class="verse">They knew the currents. He was bent on steering,</div>
+<div class="verse">And spoke of God in terms wellnigh endearing.</div>
+<div class="verse">I see him still, sharp beard, black velvet mantle, ear-ring.</div>
+<div class="verse">He dug with slaves for Greekling manuscript,</div>
+<div class="verse">Danced like a slave-girl when he found, and shipped</div>
+<div class="verse">Westward cracked heads and friezes we had chipped.</div>
+<div class="verse">I saw him kiss a statue, murmuring eager-lipped:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Fear was born when the woods were young.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Chance had gathered an heap of sods,</div>
+<div class="verse">Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Throned the dam of the elder gods.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Twilight, a rustled leaf,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Started the first belief</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">In some unearthly Chief</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Latent behind</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Cover of aspen shade.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Skirting the haunted glade</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Some one found speech, and prayed.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Was it the wind</div>
+<div class="verse">Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?</div>
+<div class="verse">Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.</div>
+<div class="verse">Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,</div>
+<div class="verse">And gods went whither none was fain to follow,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Because the earth was green</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And Afterwards was black.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Man, the child of a tale of rape,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Drew the seas with his hunting ships,</div>
+<div class="verse">Cut their prows to a giant's shape,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fitted names to their snarling lips:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Gods in his image born,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Lords of a drinking-horn</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Five fathoms deep;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Holding the one reward</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Carved by a dripping sword,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent4">Feasts, and above them stored</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Ceiling-high sleep.</div>
+<div class="verse">Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying,</div>
+<div class="verse">And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">How long&mdash;with over-restful hosts abed.</div>
+<div class="verse">The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking,</div>
+<div class="verse">Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And so the earth was red</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">While Afterwards was grey.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Jungles thinned, and the clearings merged</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Where the wandering clans drew breath.</div>
+<div class="verse">Druids rose and the people surged.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Then the blessing of Nazareth</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Fell on them mad and mild,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Boasting itself a child.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Smite it! And yet it smiled.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">There, as it kneeled,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Lowliness rose to might,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Deeming our days a night,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Bodily joy a plight</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Soon to be healed;</div>
+<div class="verse">Gave to one god all credit for creation,</div>
+<div class="verse">But, lest the Path should seem the Destination,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Strove to attune man's heartstrings to a rack,</div>
+<div class="verse">Until the soul was fortified to change hells,</div>
+<div class="verse">While saints and poets chanted songs of angels,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Confessing earth was black</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But Afterwards was gold.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Faith was raised to the power of millions,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Went as wine to a single head,</div>
+<div class="verse">Took its chiefs for the sun's postillions,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Claimed to speak in its founder's stead;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Till in the western skies</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Reason's epiphanies</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Beckoned the other-wise</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Men to rebirth.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Doubt, that makes spirits lithe,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Woke and began to writhe,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Burst through the osier withe,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Freed the old earth.</div>
+<div class="verse">Nature cried out again for recognition,</div>
+<div class="verse">Claiming that flesh is more than mere transition,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That mouths were made for sweeter things than prayer.</div>
+<div class="verse">Yea, she, that first revealed the superhuman,</div>
+<div class="verse">Out of the depths in us shall bring the new man</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Who knows that earth is fair,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And Afterwards&mdash;who knows!"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We knew his childish searching meant no harm,</div>
+<div class="verse">But his own people somehow took alarm;</div>
+<div class="verse">For when his heart was healed, and he returned</div>
+<div class="verse">With songs, 'tis said that he and they were burned.</div>
+<div class="verse">Only this one survived. I put it by</div>
+<div class="verse">Lest one who lived so much should wholly die.</div>
+<div class="verse">He tried to spend far more than every day,</div>
+<div class="verse">And never asked what he would have to pay.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">To him a pint of music was a potion</div>
+<div class="verse">That set him dabbling in some small emotion.</div>
+<div class="verse">Wherever he could drown he marked an ocean</div>
+<div class="verse">He got no pleasure but the pains he took</div>
+<div class="verse">To bring himself to death by one small book</div>
+<div class="verse">Filled with what he had heard, the babble of a brook.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII<br />
+THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They passed a field of purple <i>badinjan</i>.</div>
+<div class="verse">A peasant raised his head to hear the tune,</div>
+<div class="verse">And, seeking some excuse for holiday,</div>
+<div class="verse">He followed humming ballads, this the first:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It happened say a century ago,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Somewhere between Mazanderan and Fars,</div>
+<div class="verse">A Frank was in the picture&mdash;that I know&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Mud-walls and roses, cypresses and stars,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">White dust and shadows black.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It happened She was loved by more than One,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Though no one now recalls the name and rank</div>
+<div class="verse">Of even One, whose heart was like the stone</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That framed the water of the garden tank</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Long gone to utter wrack.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It happened that one night She had a mind</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To roam her garden. Youth was hidden there,</div>
+<div class="verse">It happened One was watching from behind</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A Judas-tree, though neither of the pair</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Heard the twigs sigh and crack.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It happened that next night She wandered out</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Once more, and Youth was hiding there again.</div>
+<div class="verse">And One sprang forth upon them with a shout,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And fanatics and <i>seyids</i> in his train</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Streamed in a wolfish pack.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It happened that the sun found something red</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Among the Judas-blossoms where Youth lay</div>
+<div class="verse">Upon his face; a crow was on his head,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And desert dogs began to sniff and bay</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">At something in his back.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It happened that none ever knew Her fate&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Except that She was never heard of more&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Save One, and two that through a secret gate&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Perhaps they knew&mdash;a struggling burden bore.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">I think it was a sack."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Some one applauded; then the humming drone</div>
+<div class="verse">Was stung to louder efforts, and went on:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"They staggered down the stiff black avenue,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Hiding the sack's convulsions from the moon,</div>
+<div class="verse">To drown its cries they feigned the shrill <i>iouiou</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of owls, then dropped it in the swift Karûn,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Paused, and admired the view.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"The ripples took her, trying not to leap,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But, copying the uneventful sky,</div>
+<div class="verse">Serenely burnished where the stream grows deep</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">They smoothened their staccato lullaby.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And so she fell asleep</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Where no sharp rock disturbs the river bed,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A moving peace, whose eddies turn half-fain</div>
+<div class="verse">Towards their youth's tumultuous watershed,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And slow blank scutcheons widen like a stain</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Portending Sound is dead.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"No herd or village fouls the shining tide,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Till ocean lays a suzerain's armistice</div>
+<div class="verse">On brawling tributaries. Like a bride</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Greeting her lord it laved her with a kiss,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And left her purified.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"But the sea-<i>Jinn</i>, who dwell and dress in mauve,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And hunt blind monsters down the corridors</div>
+<div class="verse">Between sunk vessels&mdash;fishers know the drove,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Their horns and conches and the quarry's roars</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">In autumn&mdash;hold that love</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Should meet with more than pardon. So the pack</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Spliced up a wand of all the spillikin spars</div>
+<div class="verse">Flagged with the purple fantasies of wrack,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Composed a spell not one of them could parse,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And tried it on the sack.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"'Twas filled with pearls! Each <i>Jinni</i> dipped his hand,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And scattered trails through labyrinths of ooze,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or sowed gems thick upon the golden sand,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Festooned a bed from Bahrein to Ormuz,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Muscat to Ras Naband....</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"<i>Hajji</i>, a deeper meaning than appears</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beneath the surface of my song may lurk</div>
+<div class="verse">Like <i>Jinn</i>. How oft the crown of gathered years,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The dazzling things for which men thank their work,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Are made by Woman's tears."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Tous shook his head and grunted, ceaselessly</div>
+<div class="verse">The caravan limped onward to the Gulf.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII<br />
+THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Serdar-i-Jang, the Wazir of the west,</div>
+<div class="verse">Of all mankind had served his country best</div>
+<div class="verse">By weeding it. The terror of his name</div>
+<div class="verse">Lapped up the barren Pusht-i-kuh like flame,</div>
+<div class="verse">Till the Shah smiled: "My other lords of war lose</div>
+<div class="verse">Battles, but he wrings love from my Baharlus."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He smote them hip and thigh. The man was brave.</div>
+<div class="verse">Having four wives, he needs must take for slave</div>
+<div class="verse">Whatever captive baggage crossed his path,</div>
+<div class="verse">And never feared love for its aftermath.</div>
+<div class="verse">Thus fared the Wazir while his locks were blue.</div>
+<div class="verse">The silver in them found him captive too.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The singing caravan in chorus flowed</div>
+<div class="verse">Past the clay porticoes of his abode.</div>
+<div class="verse">She came, he saw, was conquered&mdash;like a puppet</div>
+<div class="verse">Drawn to the window, to the street and up it,</div>
+<div class="verse">Forth to the desert, leaving in the lurch</div>
+<div class="verse">His pleasant wars and policies to search</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For what? He knew not. Haply for the truth</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose home is open eyes, not dreams or youth.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">But this he dimly knew, that something strange,</div>
+<div class="verse">Beauty, had come within his vision's range;</div>
+<div class="verse">And a new splendour, running through the world,</div>
+<div class="verse">Drummed at the postern of his senses, hurled</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Him forth, this warrior proud and taciturn,</div>
+<div class="verse">Footsore upon a pilgrimage to learn</div>
+<div class="verse">Humility.... These beggars, in whose wake</div>
+<div class="verse">He toiled, ne'er paused for him to overtake</div>
+<div class="verse">Their echoes. When at dusk he joined their ring</div>
+<div class="verse">None rose or bowed. All watched him. Could he sing?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And he could not, for never had he thrown</div>
+<div class="verse">His days away on verse! He sat alone,</div>
+<div class="verse">So that his silence stamped him with the badge</div>
+<div class="verse">Of hanger-on or menial of this <i>haj</i>.</div>
+<div class="verse">Thrust as he would with much unseemly din,</div>
+<div class="verse">He found no place beside the palanquin,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Till Seyid Rida, scholar of Nejaf,</div>
+<div class="verse">Took pity on him, saying: "You shall laugh</div>
+<div class="verse">At these black days when, having served your time,</div>
+<div class="verse">You share the sovereignty of Persian rhyme.</div>
+<div class="verse">Be patient, pray to Allah, O my son,</div>
+<div class="verse">For power of worship. It shall come anon...."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Seyid Rida spoke in vain. The Wazir's place</div>
+<div class="verse">So far behind the Queen, her perfect face</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">But half-divined, as Sight denied to Faith,</div>
+<div class="verse">A doubt lest love itself should be a wraith</div>
+<div class="verse">Dazzling but mocking him, these stirred his passion</div>
+<div class="verse">To sworn defiance, to his last Circassian</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And thoughts of many a woman taken by force,</div>
+<div class="verse">Restive and then submissive as a horse.</div>
+<div class="verse">And now.... He followed in the wake of vision</div>
+<div class="verse">Lofty and pure as Elburz snows. Derision</div>
+<div class="verse">Would follow him in turn!... He shook his fist</div>
+<div class="verse">Toward the feet his soul would fain have kissed:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Oh, I was born for women, women, women.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Through my still boyhood rang the first alarm;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And since that terror ever fresh invaders</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Have occupied and sacked me to their harm.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I am the cockpit where endemic fever</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Holds the low country in a broken lease</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">From waves that ruined dykes appear to welcome.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Only one great emotion spares me&mdash;Peace!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I have grown up for women, women, women;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And suffering has had her fill of me.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My ears still echo with receding laughter,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As shells retain the voices of the sea.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I am the gateway only, not the garden,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That opens from a crowded thoroughfare.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I stand ajar to every passing fancy,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And all have knocked, but none have rested there.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"And I shall die for women, women, women,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But not for love of them. Adventure calls</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or waits with old romance to disappoint me</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Behind the promise of surrendered walls.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I am the vessel of some mad explorer,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That sails to seek for treasure in strange lands</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Without a steersman in a crew of gallants,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And, finding fortune, ends with empty hands."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A deathly silence fell. Green-turbaned men</div>
+<div class="verse">Fell noiselessly to sharpening their knives</div>
+<div class="verse">On their bare hardened feet. Seyid Rida sighed:</div>
+<div class="verse">"Alas, your heart is set upon reward</div>
+<div class="verse">For gifts of self. You cannot understand</div>
+<div class="verse">Love loves for nothing, brother. Those who serve</div>
+<div class="verse">God the most purely cannot count that He</div>
+<div class="verse">Will love them in return...."</div>
+<div class="verse indent24">The Wazir scowled.</div>
+<div class="verse">But Dreamer-of-the-Age took him aside,</div>
+<div class="verse">"I would unfold a story like a carpet.</div>
+<div class="verse">The camel Tous told it to me last night:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"King Suleiman's wives were as jewels, his jewels as stones of the desert</div>
+<div class="verse">In number. His concubines herded as desert-gazelles in their grace,</div>
+<div class="verse">That answered his bidding as meekly as all his wild animal kingdom,</div>
+<div class="verse">The beasts and the birds and the fishes. Yet the world was as pitch on his face.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Now it chanced that the ruler of Saba had news by a merchant of peacocks</div>
+<div class="verse">From this king like a hawk-god of Egypt, whose beak was set deep in the gloom</div>
+<div class="verse">Of his grape-purple beard, and she said: 'We shall see how his vanities stead him</div>
+<div class="verse">When from under the arch of his eyebrows he sees my feet enter his room.'</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"For her feet were far whiter than manna. Her body was white as the cry</div>
+<div class="verse">Of a child when the chords of hosanna draw the beauty of holiness nigh.</div>
+<div class="verse">The droop of her eyelids would fan a revolt from Baghdad to Lake Tsana,</div>
+<div class="verse">Her fingers were veined alabaster. The sprites of her escort would sigh,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"As they bathed her with sun set in amber and cooled in the snow of a cloudlet,</div>
+<div class="verse">And taught her chief eunuch to clamber up moonbeams as fleet as a ghost:</div>
+<div class="verse">These, lavish of reed-pipe and tamburine, slaves of the Son of Daoud, let</div>
+<div class="verse">Her palanquin down into Zeila&mdash;gambouge and magenta, the coast!"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Ha!" to the rhymes.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Round the harbour a hoopoe was strutting, for Suleiman's Seal had appointed</div>
+<div class="verse">Him messenger-bird, and he thought: 'If I bring the good news of this beauty,</div>
+<div class="verse">This Sovereign of Silkiness, I shall harvest great thanks and promotion.'</div>
+<div class="verse">So he flew to the Presence and twittered a text on the pleasure of Duty.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"'Fulfiller of faint Superstition, whose hand rolls the eyeballs of Thunder,</div>
+<div class="verse">And lightens forked tongues on a mission of menace to bat or to eagle!</div>
+<div class="verse">There comes to your portal a vision whose light shall make Israel wonder.</div>
+<div class="verse">Immortal her beauty and mortal her glance that is soft as a seagull.'"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Hey!" to the rhymes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"But Suleiman, sated with women and governance, lifted his beak</div>
+<div class="verse">From his beard. Naught escaped the magician, not a thought, not a tone. Ah, he knew</div>
+<div class="verse">All! He said: 'I have measured your mind as my pity has measured my people.</div>
+<div class="verse">We shall speak of reward when she comes; I may live to regret it&mdash;and you!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"'Lo, I am the servant of God, whom I serve as you serve me, not asking</div>
+<div class="verse">For pay by each day or each act, but just for the general sum.</div>
+<div class="verse">The work of the world must be done without wage to be done to our credit.</div>
+<div class="verse">We shall profit in claiming our guerdon not by what we are but become.'</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"So the Queen came to Kuddus. Mashallah! Shall a picture be limned of her coming!</div>
+<div class="verse">Flushed dancers and lutists athrumming light-limbed as Daoud round the Ark!</div>
+<div class="verse">Crushed roadway and crowd-applause rumbled, loud music, hushed barbarous mumming!</div>
+<div class="verse">To the cry, 'On to Sion' above her, this lover rode straight at her mark!"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Ho!" to the rhymes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"She had but to flatter the wizard to win him. He said to the hoopoe:</div>
+<div class="verse">'I will haggle no more. You shall learn to your cost what the bargainer buys,</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose faith levies toll upon duty, whose trust will not serve me on trust,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or love for Love. On your head be it.' The hoopoe said: '<i>Cheshm</i>&mdash;on my eyes!'</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"All other birds fainted with envy, as Suleiman lifted a digit.</div>
+<div class="verse">Thereon was the Ring-of-most-Magic. Then he spat on the dust from his bed,</div>
+<div class="verse">And the miracle came! for the hoopoe went swaggering out of the presence</div>
+<div class="verse">(So he struts in his walking to-day) with a crown of pure gold on his head.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"But the Jews thus learnt avarice. Some one spread news of the bird-coronation</div>
+<div class="verse">To the ends of the kingdom. The tribes ran out as one man armed with lime,</div>
+<div class="verse">Bows, nets, slings&mdash;and slew the hoopoes for the sake of their crowns. There was profit</div>
+<div class="verse">In sport then; none other has liked them so well since King Suleiman's time.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"They divided the spoil till in Israel only our messenger-bird</div>
+<div class="verse">Survived with two fellows.... He fled to Suleiman's closet for <i>bast</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse">Sobbing, 'Spare us, O king! Make a sign with the ring that men sing of! We fare as</div>
+<div class="verse">Amalekites. If I have sinned, I am punished. We three are the last</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"'Of our race. In your grace turn your face to our case. We place hope in your favour!</div>
+<div class="verse">My brood is a Yahudi's food. Israel&mdash;who disputes it&mdash;insane</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">For gain. We are slain all day long by the strong sons of Cain. Let us waive our</div>
+<div class="verse">Gold bane for plain down, lest we drown in our own blood! Discrown us again!'"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And the Wazir cried, "Hi!" to the rhymes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"The King made reply. He was sadder than rain in the willows of Jordan.</div>
+<div class="verse">'We are God's passing thoughts. They alone that await their fulfilment are wise.</div>
+<div class="verse">You shall be for a warning, O hoopoe. I had given you more than gold-wages</div>
+<div class="verse">If you had believed we not only had ears, I and Allah, but eyes!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"'Yet giving is fraught with forgiveness. Now therefore the crown you did covet</div>
+<div class="verse">Is gone. You are healed of your pride; you shall live till the Angel of Death errs</div>
+<div class="verse">From Allah's command. By my Ring-of-most-Magic the gold is transmuted.</div>
+<div class="verse">Go forth! He has set for a sign on your brow a tiara of feathers.'</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"So the hoopoe went forth in the glory of plumes that he won in this wise</div>
+<div class="verse">And wears. Then the hunters, assembled from the uttermost quarters of Sham, should</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">Have shot, but did not, for they said: 'What a head! We will not waste an arrow</div>
+<div class="verse">On sport of this sort. We are sold! We were told it was gold and....'"</div>
+<div class="verse indent56">Tamam Shud</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And the Wazir shrieked "Halt!" at the rhymes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But as he slept that night the Dreamer prayed</div>
+<div class="verse">That understanding might bedew his head.</div>
+<div class="verse">And so it was. The fountain of the Dawn</div>
+<div class="verse">Rose in the whiteness of the month <i>Rajab</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse">Washing the desert stones, and made each body</div>
+<div class="verse">Shine as the sun-swift chariot of a soul.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">While the last swimmer in the sea of slumber,</div>
+<div class="verse">Out of the deep, its jungled bottom, its ghosts,</div>
+<div class="verse">Its weight and wonders, rises to the surface</div>
+<div class="verse">In final breaths of sleep, the Wazir stirred</div>
+<div class="verse">And flung out joyful arms. Not otherwise</div>
+<div class="verse">The groping diver in the Gulf of Pearls,</div>
+<div class="verse">Having achieved adventure, comes to light</div>
+<div class="verse">And grasps the painted gunwale&mdash;with his prize.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8">"For every hour and day</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Of youth that spelled delay</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">In finding you, I pray</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">To life for pardon,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent8">I that long since have faced</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">My task in patient haste:</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Out of my former waste</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">To make your garden.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8">"With these soiled hands I made</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">My Self (man's hardest trade).</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The sun was <i>you</i>: the shade</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">My toil, my seed did.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">I drove my strong soul through</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Years in the thought of you,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">For whom my garden grew,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">And grew unheeded;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8">"For you, an episode</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">That lay beside your road,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">For me, my long abode,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">My will's whole centre.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Lo now my task fulfilled,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Yet not the hope that thrilled</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The stubborn realm I tilled</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">For you to enter.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8">"Ah, must all sacrifice</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Be weighed with balance nice!</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To ask the gods our price</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Makes all creeds shoddy.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Then should I bargain now&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Troubling my worship&mdash;how</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">You will reward my vow</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Of soul and body?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8">"I have not striven in vain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Though all my poor domain</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Cries daily for your reign.</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">I hold its treasure,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">A source of splendour, known</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Haply to me alone,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">A boundless love&mdash;my own.</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Had you but leisure</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8">"To pause beside this spring</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">A moment, harkening</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">How through my silence sing</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The dreams that here rest,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">I yet might make you see</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Some of the You in Me.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">This song not I but we</div>
+<div class="verse indent10">Have written, dearest."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Long ropes of stillness joined the caravan</div>
+<div class="verse">Closer together; no man spoke a word,</div>
+<div class="verse">Till Dreamer-of-the-Age: "Friend, go up higher</div>
+<div class="verse">At the Queen's right hand." Seyid Rida smiled:</div>
+<div class="verse">"I knew you would outrun us." The Wazir</div>
+<div class="verse">Heard neither fame nor blame, and so was blest</div>
+<div class="verse">Because he sought praise only of the Queen.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV<br />
+THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">At Ispahan the notables were met</div>
+<div class="verse">In conclave. Seyid Rida, scholar scamp&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">As Dawlatshah records&mdash;perched in the porch:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Round the table sit the sages&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Different views and different ages&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Secretaries scribble pages,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Taking down each 'er' and 'hem,'</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Taking down each word they utter</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Like the solemn measured sputter</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of fat raindrops from a gutter.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">I speak last of them.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent3">"Outside in the summer weather</div>
+<div class="verse indent3">Birds are talking all together,</div>
+<div class="verse indent3">While a tiny pecked-out feather</div>
+<div class="verse indent5">Flutters past the pane.</div>
+<div class="verse indent3">Dare you own: The work before us</div>
+<div class="verse indent3">Seems at moments like their chorus,</div>
+<div class="verse indent3">Just a little more sonorous,</div>
+<div class="verse indent5">Similar in strain?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Have a care! The bird that chatters</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Is the only bird that matters,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Heedless of the hand that scatters</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Grains of sense or chaff</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Mid your Barmecides and Cleons.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">I have listened here for æons</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">To these rooster-flights and pæans.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">No one heard me laugh.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Parrot, jackdaw, jay, and pigeon,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Prose would be the whole religion</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of the Nephelococcygian</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">State to which you steer.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">If the earth remains a youngster</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">With some waywardness amongst her</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Virtues, I should thank the songster</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Whom you cannot hear.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Tits that swing upon a thistle,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Wrens and chats that pipe and whistle,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Join their notes to our epistle,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Where the bee-fraught lime</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Orchestrates the lark's espousal</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Not of causes but carousal:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Owl, we hear you charge the ouzel</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">With a waste of time!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Princeling, a fantastic prophet</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Tweaks your robe and bids you doff it,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent4">Offers you escape from Tophet</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">On the wings of words.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">All you have for this one counsel:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Sing and never mind the groundsel!</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Come, we too are birds."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out,</div>
+<div class="verse">And I have heard them on the Persian roads,</div>
+<div class="verse">In half-dead cities. History repeats</div>
+<div class="verse">Nothing except the rose. But Persians say</div>
+<div class="verse">This was the last they heard of government.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV<br />
+THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Alas! 'Twas time to go&mdash;"Conceal the wine,</div>
+<div class="verse">The purple and the yellow infidel!"&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Rice cooked in saffron, honey-cakes, and <i>mast</i></div>
+<div class="verse">With many-coloured <i>shirini</i> were all</div>
+<div class="verse">Packed up in paunches capon-lined....</div>
+<div class="verse indent32">The Queen</div>
+<div class="verse">Sailed through the city, mounted high on Tous,</div>
+<div class="verse">Full in the moonlight, purer than the moon,</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose beauty, being weighed with hers, the scale</div>
+<div class="verse">Sent up to heaven and left the Queen on earth....</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Followed quick tumbles to the lambent street,</div>
+<div class="verse">Graspings of shoes, and search for garments lost,</div>
+<div class="verse">With tunes that mounted all awry as flame</div>
+<div class="verse">Draught-blown, short breaths and straggling feet.</div>
+<div class="verse indent32">The Dreamer</div>
+<div class="verse">Reddened and drooped his head; for at the Gate</div>
+<div class="verse">Sat a portentous Sheikh, thrice great in girth,</div>
+<div class="verse">Ali-el-Kerbelaï, Known-of-Men,</div>
+<div class="verse">To whom&mdash;he slept all day&mdash;his nightly school</div>
+<div class="verse">Resorted in the porch. He saw, and shrugged</div>
+<div class="verse">His shoulders, rounded in glory like the hills</div>
+<div class="verse">That drift and clash about the Gulf of Pearls&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">Bahreinis tell the tale lest rival <i>dhows</i></div>
+<div class="verse">Should venture into trade&mdash;and thus held forth:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Gossips, I have watched fools wander through this gate</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In generations. Never have I seen</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Men so bewitched by one closed palanquin,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">So little fain to chatter with the great,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">So blind, or single-eyed, they did not see</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Ali-el-Kerbelaï, even me.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Poor souls! Dusk swamps our wriggling thoroughfares</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Like trenches; and I rub my hands to think</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">How I to-night in coolth shall sleep and drink,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">While sunrise takes these vagrants unawares.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Madmen set out each day to beard the sun,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And seventy years ago Your Slave was one.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"When all the world was young, that is when <i>I</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Was young, I promised Allah to be wise,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And started on the road of enterprise</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That leads towards the snow-capped hills of Why,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Passing my hand across my shaven brow</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Heavy with all the lower lore of How."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Ali-el-Kerbelaï sighed his soul</div>
+<div class="verse">Out of his nostrils pious and serene,</div>
+<div class="verse">For the swift curtain of the night had slid</div>
+<div class="verse">Along the rings of stillness, as he peered</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">Into the plain. The singing caravan</div>
+<div class="verse">Had dwindled slowly to a speck of white.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then said the sage: "Behold they go to nothing,</div>
+<div class="verse">These lovers, these far-eyed. To think they passed</div>
+<div class="verse">Within a foot of wisdom and my robe!</div>
+<div class="verse">Alas, they passed and knew not. 'Tis the risk</div>
+<div class="verse">Of all such noisy dreamers. Ah, my head</div>
+<div class="verse">Pities.... Well, God is great. And God made me.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Thus first I reached Mohammerah, whose sheikh</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In speechless gratitude besought a boon&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To make me eunuch in his <i>anderûn</i>&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For I had talked away his stomach-ache.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And of this epoch I need only say</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I had fresh dates for dinner every day.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"But I was young. I spurned the unmanly job,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For I loved conquest, and the world lay flat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Before me like a purple praying-mat,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And all young women made my heart <i>kebob</i>,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Until the sheikh conceived himself disgraced.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Then I took ship from Basra&mdash;in some haste.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"We put to sea, fair sirs, a foul-faced sea</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Puckered with viciousness and green with hate</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of all the sons of Adam; and black fate</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Conspired with her to take account of me,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For all the <i>Jinn</i> who lurk among the gales</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Came down to fecundate our bellied sails.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"They blew. They thrust my skull against the sky,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The jade-backed <i>Jinn</i> disguised as ocean-swell,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But I saw through them.... Down we went to hell,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Where Iblis tried to teach me blasphemy</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In vain. No devil's wile could make me speak.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Thus I learned self-control. (I was so weak.)</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"We drifted past bare cliff and jungle sedge,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Past spouting loose volcanoes known as whales,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And sirens that blew kisses with their tails,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Till we fell over the horizon's edge,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Fell sheer three thousand parasangs. And there</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I first discovered that the world is square.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"We were in China, sir. The Home of Yellows,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Soil, porcelain, manuscripts, men.... Here I spent</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Six weeks in stuffing to my heart's content</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The thought-scraps given to these whoreson fellows</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">By heaven. My zeal picked all tradition's locks,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And knowledge opened like a lacquered box</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Wrought with strange figures.... Now I learned by heart</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Eleven score ways of dodging every sin.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">So, having sucked the marrow from Pekin,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I planned with Allah that I should depart,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And having thus obtained a ruly wind</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I shone like lightning through the schools of Hind.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I shall say little of Hind. Its mouth is wide</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With sacred texts and precepts packed in lyrics</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For carriage, verse unversed in our empirics.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I grasped all Indian knowledge like a bride</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Without a dower, enjoyed and let her go,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Giving God thanks that only Persians <i>know</i>."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The singing caravan shrank in a clear</div>
+<div class="verse">Green sideless tunnel of the firmament.</div>
+<div class="verse">Ali-el-Kerbelaï paused and watched</div>
+<div class="verse">Intent, even as by torchlight men spear fish,</div>
+<div class="verse">While searching flame-reflections brushed and lit</div>
+<div class="verse">The deep brown-watered caverns of his eyes,</div>
+<div class="verse">Where dim shapes moved profoundly in the pool.</div>
+<div class="verse">His listeners watched the sage in ecstasy</div>
+<div class="verse">Poise, concentrate his massive thought on Nothing,</div>
+<div class="verse">Heard his <i>narghilé</i> bubble like a brain....</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"From Hind to Misr. At Cairo's El-Azhar,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The flower of Moslem scholarship, I sat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Among the Sunni bastards. As a cat</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Watches the sun through eyelids scarce ajar,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">From dawn till evening prayer I laboured hard,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lolling in ambush round the great courtyard</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"To pounce on wingèd words. Athwart the arcade</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Midday in golden bars came clanging down</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Upon the anvil of each turbaned crown,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And many minds took refuge in my shade.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I was divinely hard to understand,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Talking until my throat was dry as sand.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"So to the mosque well&mdash;into it they pushed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A dog who disagreed with me&mdash;and drew</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Relief what time the pigeons ceased to coo</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or rustle round its rainbow-juice. We hushed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Our flights of eloquence when my <i>roghan</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Sizzled complacent in the frying-pan.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Mashallah, what a life! Yet in this scene</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I found a fleck of rust upon my tongue.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Propelled by Fate and my own force of lung,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I flitted with two reverend <i>Maghrebín</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Whom I had favoured, having learned the trick</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of speaking their foul breed of Arabic.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Immortal spirits led us, yea the chief</div>
+<div class="verse indent2"><i>Afrit</i>, the crown of all the <i>Afarit</i>.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We crossed the great Sahara like a street.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My fame allows me licence to be brief.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Enough. Whatever any sceptic says,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I still maintain I spent a year at Fez.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Here was a sect that said one God was three.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I plied Moriscos who had tasted two</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Beliefs perforce, I even asked a Jew</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To make this strange <i>Tariqah</i> clear; but he&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">By this judge Christians&mdash;he could not explain,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Although his father had been burnt in Spain.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Ah, how I studied in that narrow city,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Whose walls are changeless as a Persian law,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">And full of loopholes. To the seers I saw</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Is due the gamut of my human pity.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We stirred the puddles of the human mind</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Till none could see the bottom but the blind.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Now Shaitan tempted me. I fell for once,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A venial sin.... I journeyed to Stamboul</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To plumb the errors of the <i>Greegi</i> school.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">'Twas there I read the Stagyrite, a dunce,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Frankish ruler of theology,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And father of a dunce, Alfarabi.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I laid him low and hurried home to indite</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A book, the fruit of all my Thought and Travel,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Entitled 'Contemplation of the Navel,'</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A mystic book. (But first I learned to write.)</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Such of our doctors as can read have read it.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But I was bent on even higher credit.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I sought a cave whence madmen hunt wild sheep,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And there for thirteen years I held my head,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Until the dupes decided I was dead.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Indeed I spent the better part in sleep,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lest I should be beguiled from abstract chatter</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">By lust for this world's striped and dazzling matter.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Night brought me counsel, and a pock-marked Kurd</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Or angels brought me food. Day spared my dreams</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">That tilled the solitude like slow white teams</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of oxen, till it blossomed, and I heard</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Roc's huge pinions scour the starry cobbles;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And so I rose above all human squabbles.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"For me the burning haze made sandhills dance,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Till blushing shadows covered their nude breasts.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The eternal heirs of leisure were my guests,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And feasted on my glory in advance.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Then on an eve among the eves.... The End!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My soul sat by me talking as a friend.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"I bleached my beard, and came to Ispahan.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">You know the rest. To Allah's will I bowed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In suffering the plaudits of the crowd,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For all must listen; those must preach who can.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I stirred the town with fingers raised to bless....</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And gauged the people by my emptiness."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The caravan was gone. Its song survived</div>
+<div class="verse">A little, faint, an echo, not at all.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then like a magic carpet warmth was drawn</div>
+<div class="verse">Back into heaven, and left behind a void</div>
+<div class="verse">Where thin-faced breezes, huddling from the hills,</div>
+<div class="verse">Sat down to breathe hard tales upon their hands.</div>
+<div class="verse">And suddenly earth looked her age. Like her</div>
+<div class="verse">The shapes round Ali-el-Kerbelaï shivered,</div>
+<div class="verse">Pulling their coloured <i>abbas</i> to their ears</div>
+<div class="verse">And drawing in their feet. At last one spoke:</div>
+<div class="verse">"O master, you to whom the world is known,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">What is your thought's conclusion, what the sum</div>
+<div class="verse">Of added knowledge in the tome of <span class="smcap">You</span>?"</div>
+<div class="verse">And Ali answered weighing out his words:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent3">"Sir, I have seen the East and West, great peace,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Great wars, indifferent fates that blessed or cursed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Their builders. I have touched the best and worst</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">In flesh and thought, have watched flames rise and cease,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Consoled high hopes, deep passions, men that die</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For things beneath the earth, behind the sky,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"For god or woman. I have counted change</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">For the Sarraf of Changelessness, have marked</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Kings, Wazirs, coursed by sons of dogs that barked</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And bit, the uninhabitable range</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Of power, where all that climb in others' shoes</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Are honoured and unperched like cockatoos.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Now having known mankind in hell and bliss</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Through thrice a generation, I have formed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">From all the problems I besieged or stormed</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">One firm conviction, only one! 'Tis this:</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The Faith, the Pomp, the Loves, the Lives of men</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Outshine the firefly and outcrest the wren."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He added as he rose: "But God is great."</div>
+<div class="verse">And bent, repassing through the city gate,</div>
+<div class="verse">Lest he should bump his venerable pate.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI<br />
+THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Beside the Sufis ran a whited wall.</div>
+<div class="verse">Two cypress-trees peeped over from the waist,</div>
+<div class="verse">Stiff, motionless as toys. Among their spires</div>
+<div class="verse">A lithe voice mounted and leaned down again:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Come, for to-night the hills are all white marble</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Under a sapphire dome,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Where bats scrawl riddles which the bulbuls garble</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">For owls to answer. Come.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The air is sick of moon-discoloured roses,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The plain stagnates like some</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Weird archipelago of garden-closes</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And dead, bleached waters. Come.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"O night of miracles! Come, let us wander</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Over this ghostly sea</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To that dark cypress-circled island yonder,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">In whose clear centre we</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Will lie and float in phosphorescent ether.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Thank heaven that night is cool</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As day was scorching. Let us watch together</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The lovers in the pool.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Look in! Lie still! A jewelled ripple spangles</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The hand upon her hair;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">While, lying listless on her back, she dangles</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A finger in the air.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"How still he is. Your motionless perfection</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Absorbs him utterly.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Doubtless you seem to him his love's reflection</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Face downwards in the sky,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"Whence I am hanging, seeing only her face,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">As he sees only yours.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Lean down! And they shall meet us at the surface.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">O silent paramours</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"We bring to you, by stealth, while men are sleeping,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A gift. Let your domain</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Have it for ever in its steadfast keeping;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">We shall not come again.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"We bring our shadows: just the fleeting semblance</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of human love. O might</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Your waters hold them for us in remembrance</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of one short summer night!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"A wondrous night, when two reflections hovered,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Dreaming of love aloud</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Here by the pool, until the moon was covered</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">By an impending cloud;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"And then they lost each other. Where but lately</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The magic mirror shone,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A wider shadow, cruelly, sedately,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Passes ... and we are gone."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The Dreamer stayed: "Who speaks of passing here?</div>
+<div class="verse">The river passes, passes to the sea,</div>
+<div class="verse">Drawing in rills the voices of the earth</div>
+<div class="verse">To make its voice that merges in the swell.</div>
+<div class="verse">The river passes and the boatman's chant</div>
+<div class="verse">Is swallowed up in distance and the night.</div>
+<div class="verse">Or is it, friend, the boats alone that pass?</div>
+<div class="verse">The river, as I sometimes think, remains.</div>
+<div class="verse">Even so it is with lovers and with love.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then sing us something wise where laughter lurks,</div>
+<div class="verse">As underneath the desert, from the hills</div>
+<div class="verse">Whence cometh help, the hidden water-course</div>
+<div class="verse">Chuckles. Upon this thread your garden hangs.</div>
+<div class="verse">Nay, never shake that cypress head! We need</div>
+<div class="verse">Not only sun but cloud and tears to build</div>
+<div class="verse">Laughter, the rainbow of the inner man."</div>
+<div class="verse">But the voice answered, or the cypress sighed:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"I am the brain of Hitherto.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">In darkness I revolve and flash.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Books are the fortune I ran through.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My painted pen-case, yellow hue</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And yellow sash</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Were famed from Yezd to Yezdikhast.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">I taught what space and learned what mud is.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">My metaphysics were my past.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Alas, I left my lust till last</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of all my studies.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"I kept my mind so clear and keen</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">By grinding guesswork into saws,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">You scarce could fit a meal between</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The triumphs of my thought-machine,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Its puissant jaws.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The process of my intellect,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Mazed by the clapping hands that fed it,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Rolled on. They, founding a new sect</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On premises that I had wrecked,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Gave me the credit.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"And so I used my fame to part</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Man from his planks to sink or swim;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I plumbed his shallows, drew the chart....</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Illusions broke the blacksmith's heart.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">I envied him</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Suddenly, and set out to moon</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">About this garden scholarwise.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">One silver laugh, two silken shoon,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To fill my empty <i>anderûn</i></div>
+<div class="verse indent4">With splendid lies</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"I ask of shadows, battering</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">My bars, and wonder why I ache.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">O You who made both cage and wing,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Let me redeem my toilsome spring</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">By one mistake."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In the parched road the Dreamer took his lute</div>
+<div class="verse">And tossed these chords across the battlement:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"The myrtles of Damascus,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The willows of Gilan,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Have sent the breeze to ask us</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">If aught but sceptics can</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Deny the spirit calling</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To flesh&mdash;we are the call&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">And save themselves from falling</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Behind a whited wall.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Most pure was Abu Bakr,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">And Allah speeds the plough</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">That furrows young wiseacre</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Across an open brow.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Most fair is self-possession&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Give me the open road&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">But Solomon in session</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Went mad and wrote an ode.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"All fields of thought are arid,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">No earthly soil is rich,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">By thirst of knowledge harried</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">And those ambitions which</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent6">The heart like Pharaoh's harden</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To let no impulse go.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">But every yard's a garden</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Through which we mystics flow.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"I conjure hawthorn blossom</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">From Bakhtiari vales&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">As when one looks across some</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Choked channel where the sails</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Of anchored vessels jostle&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">I tune their rhythmic sway</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">In hollows where the throstle</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Is only dumb by day.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Red routs of rhododendron,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">That slope to Trebizond,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Rapt round the garden's end run</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To mask the waste beyond.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">There facts are free to wonder</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Down pathways like the streak</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Of silver pavement under</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The palms of Basra creek.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"In charity of jasmin</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">My poor designs are clad,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">As nature cloaked the chasm in</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The ramparts of Baghdad,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Where passed the fabled Caliph</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">With Giafar by night</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">To mystify the bailiff</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">At Garden-of-Delight.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"The orchard-grave of Omar,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Neglected Nishapur,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Where sprays of petaled foam are,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Sighs through my garden-door</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">With boughs round whose gnarled stem men</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Had never thought to twine</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Green tendrils from rich Yemen,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The sunburnt Smyrniot vine.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Wild lilies, whose rich red owes</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Its undertone to brown,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">From Kurd-betented meadows</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Break out in every town.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Blind alleys' bursts of lilac,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Where russet warblers woo,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Are set to cover my lack</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Of vocal retinue.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"The myrtles of Damascus,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">The poppies of Shiraz,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Have sent the breeze to ask us</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">If they are dumb, because</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Wisdom and one that had her</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To wife still hug the fence,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Where we have left a ladder</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To rescue men from sense."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The cypress swayed. Hard by another voice</div>
+<div class="verse">Climbed the twin tree, and thus its theme began:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Young man, Shirín is out of date.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">We have to thank the West</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">That Attar's latest is too late</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">To waken Interest,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">And one of Love's great names, Majnûn,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Is now generic for a loon.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"Our crust is cooling, and the bent</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">For culture bears its fruit,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">As we that weed out sentiment</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Likewise outgrow the brute;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">While Providence matures a blend</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">That pure philosophers commend</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6">"In logic. Constancy declined</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">Because we pruned our morals.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Love practises the change of mind</div>
+<div class="verse indent8">That ethics preach in quarrels...."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">There cried the Dreamer: "Who are you that mock</div>
+<div class="verse">Exiles in search of that from which they came,</div>
+<div class="verse">Intent to know themselves and so the Lord</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose ways are as the number of men's souls?</div>
+<div class="verse">By these we compass our escape from Self,</div>
+<div class="verse">The mirage in the waste through which we pass</div>
+<div class="verse">Across the bridge Phantasmal to the Real;</div>
+<div class="verse">Until, forgetting Self, we see in All</div>
+<div class="verse">The Loved that leads us to the eternal beauty</div>
+<div class="verse">Shown in a thousand mirrors yet but one.</div>
+<div class="verse">These are the Sufi tenets. What of you?"</div>
+<div class="verse">From the first tree the quavering voice replied:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"It is my double, Peder Sag,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The summit of the civilized</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Above such heats as woman or flag.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">It is my double, Peder Sag,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Who bows the poet to the wag,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The hero to the undersized.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">It is my double, Peder Sag,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The summit of the civilized.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"His mission is to educate</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">By atrophy, the cure for spasm,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And so to serve the future state.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">His mission is to educate</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A world of fellowships that hate</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">One living thing&mdash;enthusiasm.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">His mission is to educate</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">By atrophy, the cure for spasm.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"He dresses us in faultless drab.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">His colour-scheme for you is tan,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And, level as a marble slab,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">He dresses us in faultless drab.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Him urchins call Abu Kilab:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The Father-of-the-Modern-Man.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">He dresses us in faultless drab.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">His colour-scheme for you is tan.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"My double did a deal for truth.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">He teaches balance to the Young,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And knows a better thing than youth.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">My double did a deal for truth,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent4">His emblem is the wisdom tooth,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A flowery and fruitless tongue.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">My double did a deal for truth.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">He teaches balance to the Young."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Serdar-i-Jang impatient pulled his beard</div>
+<div class="verse">And growling Tous his bridle: "Let him be</div>
+<div class="verse">The fool I was, and so mine enemy</div>
+<div class="verse">From whom I part in peace." Farid Bahadur</div>
+<div class="verse">Shrugged that: "Our wares are not for such as these."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Once more the Brain: "I might have come with you,</div>
+<div class="verse">Leaving my gloomy castle in the air,</div>
+<div class="verse">For, overgrown with tangles, in its flank</div>
+<div class="verse">Lies hid the thrice-veiled door of happiness;</div>
+<div class="verse">Only&mdash;my double has mislaid the key."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Seyid Rida laughed and answered: "We have found it."</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The Lover knocked: "'Tis I!"</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The Loved One made reply:</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">"There is no room for two</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Beyond the Gateway."</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">In solitude he learned</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The Secret; so returned</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Saying: "O Love, 'tis you."</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">And entered straightway.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A wicket opened gently of itself,</div>
+<div class="verse">And so a sceptic joined the caravan.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII<br />
+THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Oh, sliding down the desert from Shiraz</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The tailor-man from Meshed tore his hose:</div>
+<div class="verse">A crowning test, a broken man! "Ah, was</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">I born that fate might practise fancy-blows?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"The road is rougher than a magnate's mirth</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Toward the humble, long as a bad debt.</div>
+<div class="verse">I cannot dream of any woman worth</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">This cloth. To me 'twas dearer than a pet."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Then Dreamer-of-the-Age cried: "Bring me thread</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Strong as the bridge as they call Pul-i-Katûn!</div>
+<div class="verse">For Meshed's champion tailor-man is dead</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Unless his wounded pride be succoured soon."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Launched on the seaward slope the pilgrims went</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">On to the gulf, and heard, athwart the dim</div>
+<div class="verse">Night echoing, a sufferer's lament</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And Dreamer-of-the-Age consoling him:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The night fits down on the desert, brother;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">We are drawn there-through like a piece of thread.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The steepened sky and the vastness smother</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Uneasy sleep in her league-wide bed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">Rocked to and fro with a camel's burden</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">On broken tracks, that are thin as scars,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We near the Gulf. Have we seen our guerdon?"</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">"Yea, every night we have seen the stars."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The dust is thick, and our own feet raise it.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Our eyes were clear did our feet but rest.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We give our heart and no sign repays it.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">What need we ever a further test!</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">We drift along with the old dumb neighbour</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">In the old blind alley we call our goal,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Hope: all that comes of a soul's life-labour."</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">"It was the labour that made the soul."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"We stride ahead, but in every village</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A brother faints and a weakness falls.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The tribes that till and the tribes that pillage</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Are reconciled with the life that palls.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Oh, townsmen tread to a fixed thanksgiving,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">But what of us, if these pitying throngs</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Should ask the end of our harder living?"</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">"God knows the answer. They know our songs,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"The coloured patch on the background, Silence,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The gleaming thought that is Love's to wear</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Undimmed through space to a myriad-while hence.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Could the hands be worthy that knew not care</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">To weave Love's garb? Though we needs must suffer,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Shall we sing the worse that we sing in vain?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent2">Our songs shall rise as the road grows rougher.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">In the breathless hills, in the fevered plain,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2">"They mount as sparks from the night's oases,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And fall far short of the idol's feet.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">They are stored by God in his secret places,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The least-lit stars of his darkest street.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Yet ten worlds hence they shall dance, my brother,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">To travelling winds.... If our songs were worth</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">One gleam of light to the Way of Another,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">We bless the sorrow that gave them birth."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII<br />
+THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So to the journey's end. The Gulf was there</div>
+<div class="verse">Steaming and soundless, and the weary feet</div>
+<div class="verse">Were stayed at last from following the Queen.</div>
+<div class="verse">The great <i>dhow</i> nosed the creek; slow water lapped</div>
+<div class="verse">About her burnished; burnished in her sat</div>
+<div class="verse">Unmoving bronze, her oarsmen. Then they rose:</div>
+<div class="verse">"Hail, Bringers of the Queen!" "Hail, ship! you bear</div>
+<div class="verse">What cargo hence?" "We carry on your charge."</div>
+<div class="verse">"But leave us nothing&mdash;nothing in exchange?"</div>
+<div class="verse">"Only the ancient story of a slave.</div>
+<div class="verse">There lies a secret buried none too deep."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Thus the chief rower. This the far-off tale.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I dwelled beside the impulsive Rhone, a child that loved to be alone.</div>
+<div class="verse">The forest was my nursery. My happiness was all my own.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I knew by name each cloud that lowers the sunshine through in liquid showers.</div>
+<div class="verse">Deep in the tangled undergrowth I caught the singing of the flowers.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our minstrels sang of rape and arson, all the joys of private wars.</div>
+<div class="verse">The forest wall was calm and tall. My tutor laughed, and drank to Mars.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Bald, vulture-like upon its perch, our crag-born castle seemed to search</div>
+<div class="verse">The gorge for prey, its shade to still the bells a-twitter in the church</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Where, cheek by jowl with fearsome fowl and gargoyle, ghostly men, in foul</div>
+<div class="verse">Incense that tried to stifle me, recited magic formulæ.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">At home clanked metal psalm and spur; but, oh the woods ...! I tried to tame</div>
+<div class="verse">A wolf-cub that the gardener called Life. He knew. The preacher came.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I see him yet, his visage wet with hot emotion, tears, and sweat.</div>
+<div class="verse">Contorted in the market-place he shrieked that all must pay a debt</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To one Jehovah and His Son, by bursting eastward as the Hun</div>
+<div class="verse">Had scourged the West. In unison we all replied 'twere nobly done,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For he explained that heaven was gained more featly&mdash;wrenching Saint Jerome&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">From Palestine than Christendom. That night no peasant durst go home.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">His words were like a wind that fanned a grass-fire: God would lend His hand</div>
+<div class="verse">To purge away the infidel whose breath profaned the Holy Land.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He showered indulgences, and kissed the brows of those who would enlist</div>
+<div class="verse">To take a chance of martyrdom or give the devil's tail a twist.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He promised we should see the light, that cursèd Arabs could not fight,</div>
+<div class="verse">Counted them dead since we were "led by General Jesus," said the pope.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Moreover we must win and use Christ, His true Cross, the Widow's cruse,</div>
+<div class="verse">All talismans that found no scope for miracles among the Jews.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Upon the walls the veriest dolt and clown, arow like birds that moult,</div>
+<div class="verse">Chattered with one accord&mdash;or some small priestly prompting:&mdash;"Diex el volt."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">No wonder that our heartstrings glowed within us like a smelted lode</div>
+<div class="verse">Whence Kobolds welded Durandal; and like one man we ran or rode</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Forth. Were we not enchanted? This was first among God's certainties.</div>
+<div class="verse">Even our steeds were like Shabdíz, the pride of King Khusraw Parvíz.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We saw our path made plain, the hills removed by faith, whose foaming course</div>
+<div class="verse">Flooded the continents like flats. We saw the world made one&mdash;by force.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In ecstasy our spirits soared. With beatific face toward</div>
+<div class="verse">My cloudland all the crowd shed tears, and vowed to serve and save the Lord.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But cloudland, seeming to disdain such warmth, replied with slapping rain.</div>
+<div class="verse">Conjuring such black augury the monks recited formulæ.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Besides, lest women, priests and traders should tempt the appetite of raiders,</div>
+<div class="verse">The Church proclaimed the Truce of God. Not all our barons were crusaders.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Those who were frightened not to go sold all they had to make a show,</div>
+<div class="verse">Land, tool and ware to pay a fare. The panic made sly kings its heir.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So much was sold by young and old, by fond, ambitious, hot and cold,</div>
+<div class="verse">That steel took sudden silver wings, then flew beyond the reach of gold.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In such a gust my tender age availed not with the preaching sage,</div>
+<div class="verse">For I was born of fighting men; and one of them took me for page,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Though I was loth to go, and prayed for mercy and a little maid</div>
+<div class="verse">Whose hair was shining sunflower brown. I thought of all the games we played</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">All day with hay and idle mowers. She dubbed me knight in pixy bowers,</div>
+<div class="verse">Where in the hindering undergrowth I caught the singing of the flowers,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Ah me, how distant!... I was blest in my young lord who shared the test,</div>
+<div class="verse">Being sent upon this pilgrimage, his snow-white love still unpossessed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He, too, was paler than a ghost, as though already all were lost.</div>
+<div class="verse">She dreamed of empery for him. He taught me this to show the cost:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">My heart was mine.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Ambition kept it whole.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">I gained the world,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">And so I lost my soul.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Then you were mine,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">But only mine in part.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">You loved the world,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">And so I lost my heart.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Only my tutor lay abed, calling us savages, and read</div>
+<div class="verse">His pagan books. The fever would abate, he sneered, when we were bled.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He chilled me. His head was like a block of ice, so clear. He tried to shock</div>
+<div class="verse">Me with his whispered flings that saints and monarchs came of laughing-stock,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or boasted some loud organ, Reason, which doctors had confused with treason,</div>
+<div class="verse">Looked round lest walls should hear, then wept that he was one born out of season.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our preaching-man pronounced a ban upon him, cried good riddance: he</div>
+<div class="verse">Was like to lead young men astray because he knew geography,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">(And sciences, as medicine, reduce the value of a shrine).</div>
+<div class="verse">My tutor passed for riding gnomes through space upon a pack of tomes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But at the water-parting I waved to the castle green and dun,</div>
+<div class="verse">A tapestry where liquid sun&mdash;or tears&mdash;had made the colours run.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I looked my last on every stone and tree to whom my face was known.</div>
+<div class="verse">The warriors smiled and called me child. They had not understood the Rhone,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nor that I <i>loved</i> the birchwood's skin, the pansy's face, the sheep-dog's grin,</div>
+<div class="verse">That sleep with Nature in a field was sweet to me as mortal sin.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For love so fierce I stole: I gave my summer holidays to save</div>
+<div class="verse">Lambs from the butcher, built for them sanctuary at my wolf-cub's grave.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I stroked the landscape like a lute. No scentless words, no colours mute,</div>
+<div class="verse">Could paint its music. Henceforth I had only heaven for substitute.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Sling, crossbow, bludgeon, axe and spud, cilice and vials of sacred blood,</div>
+<div class="verse">On such equipment we relied. Our foes were misery and mud.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Each Norman keep, each Frankish hold, each corner of the Christian fold</div>
+<div class="verse">Sent forth its sheep to sound of bells. Our prophets might have had them tolled.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Prince, abbot, squire, felt the desire of bliss that swept stews, taverns, farms.</div>
+<div class="verse">Soft damosels ploughed through the mire with babe at breast and men-at-arms;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And, since this journey was the price of entrance into Paradise,</div>
+<div class="verse">The gaols belched out their criminals and beggars all alive with lice.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We took no food, for God is good; besides we heard that convents strewed</div>
+<div class="verse">Converted Hungary for us. We never dared mistrust His mood.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Heading the mass far up the pass, that led us straight to Calvary,</div>
+<div class="verse">The preaching-man upon an ass recited magic formulæ.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Soon we were joined by northern lords; no few among their folk had swords.</div>
+<div class="verse">(Walter the Pennyless his rout had gone before and died in hordes,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">While Gotschalk's dupes, with geese and goats upon their flags, had found the boats</div>
+<div class="verse">To pass beyond the Bosphorus, where Kilidj Arslan cut their throats.)</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our force could not await the Turk, but in its ardour got to work</div>
+<div class="verse">That was not mentioned in the breves. It murdered all the Jews in Treves.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I was sad a Christian lad should march with myrmidons so mad.</div>
+<div class="verse">They made our Holy War appear too near a Musulman Jehad.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We plodded on for many weeks through mazes where the Austrian ekes</div>
+<div class="verse">A bare existence on the slips of alp below the granite peaks,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And all those weeks did naught betide us palmers save that many died.</div>
+<div class="verse">Our gaol-birds eyed the preaching-man, and scholars spoke of vaticide;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But I was happy when our stout commander sent me on to scout.</div>
+<div class="verse">I cried for little Sunflower-tress, and made strange faces at the trout.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Because I was a fighting-man I trained myself to nettle-stings,</div>
+<div class="verse">And copied oaths and made up things my tutor would have tried to scan:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Briar and bramble,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Don't be so dense.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">You scratch and you scramble</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Like things without sense.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Why grudge me a ramble?</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">You can't want my hose,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">White-coated bramble,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Pink briar-rose.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Bramble and briar,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Leave me alone.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Cling to the friar,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Make him your own.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Kiss him, the liar</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Who brought us all here,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Gentle sweet-briar,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Bramble my dear.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Thus through the months of slapping rain we plunged into the Hungarian plain,</div>
+<div class="verse">And paid its mounted bowmen dear for wretched stocks of fruit and grain,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or shelter in a reed-built town. They asked for hostages. We gave</div>
+<div class="verse">Our leaders to these dirty-brown mongrels, who brought us to the Save</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">With loss. My tutor's Damocles perhaps had lived in times like these;</div>
+<div class="verse">For whoso straggled from the main body was never seen again.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Ere this my rhyme had spread, and swelled into a marching-song. I blushed</div>
+<div class="verse">To witness how the spearmen held their sides with laughter, as they yelled</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Bramble and briar." 'Twas the first faint mutiny. These men of Gaul</div>
+<div class="verse">Bantered the sterner pilgrims so I wondered why they came at all.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Yea, often now that I am old and hear how zealous scribes have told</div>
+<div class="verse">The zeal that made the first crusade, well&mdash;history is eaten cold.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My lord could think of nothing but the lady who had bidden him cut</div>
+<div class="verse">His way to her by such detours. Aye, this was true romance&mdash;the slut.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We called her secretly The Burr&mdash;whereof was plenty in our beds&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">For night by night he crooned of her, nor even named the Sepulchre:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">I waited, and the hours were loth to close.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">They scarcely stirred till evening leapt to sight</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Between the shadows that all substance throws</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">As bridges for its passage to the night.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">You never came. Life dozes at the touch</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Of those not wholly resolute to live,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Who let themselves mistrust her overmuch</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">To take the only thing she has to give.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Amid the rags there caracoled fop-penitents whose panders lolled</div>
+<div class="verse">With human baggage in the rear, and hound and hawk. So chaos rolled</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Adown the Danube rolling east. Beyond Semlin the pinewoods filled</div>
+<div class="verse">With Celt and Saxon, man and beast inspired to leave the west untilled.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The locust-swarms were better drilled than we, the owls were not so blind.</div>
+<div class="verse">At every stage we left behind poor simpletons that moaned and shrilled,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Thinking each swamp Gethsemane. It seemed that at their agony</div>
+<div class="verse">The doctors scoffed with cross aloft, reciting magic formulæ.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Alone the princes lightly pranced, as if the pilgrimage enhanced</div>
+<div class="verse">Their right to weigh upon the world thereafter. So the doom advanced</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To dervish cries and jester's japes. Hermit and boor and jackanapes,</div>
+<div class="verse">I and my ghost-pale master threw a trail of shadows, motley shapes,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Where Rhodopé's wine-purples mix snow with the moonlight. Oh, 'twas gall</div>
+<div class="verse">Amid the horror of it all that Bulgars thought us lunatics,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or worse; for ever at our flank a stream, that in my nostrils stank,</div>
+<div class="verse">Seethed; and amid the best of her the scum of Europe wenched and drank.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">At last we halted where Constantinople's grandeur puts to scorn</div>
+<div class="verse">The villaged west, and challenges the Orient on her Golden Horn.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Ah, brazen, were your heart as strong as looked your square-chinned ramparts.... Long</div>
+<div class="verse">We waited at the gates in dust knee-deep. The Emperor did not trust</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The help that he had craved. He swore he had not asked so many ... more</div>
+<div class="verse">Would ruin him.... He let the heat suck out our strength at every pore.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But we were told great noblemen, Godfrey of Bouillon in Ardennes,</div>
+<div class="verse">Robert of Flanders, "Sword and Lance of Christians," all the flower of France</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Were on our side, Hugh Vermandois, Stephen of Chartres and Troyes and Blois,</div>
+<div class="verse">Baldwin and Raymond of Toulouse. The preacher said we could not lose.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Moreover he had spoken with angel-reserves behind us, sith</div>
+<div class="verse">They sent assurance (Saracens we mocked, but had our own <i>Hadith</i>)</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">That we should root the heathen out, and blight as with a ten years' drought</div>
+<div class="verse">Their fields. Jehovah willed that we should leave no seed of theirs to sprout.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our mates streamed in from lands beyond the Adriatic, Bohemond</div>
+<div class="verse">With Tancred; strait Dalmatian bays, Epirus, Scodra, devious ways</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Bore them with boastful tales of sport and plunder, and a vague report</div>
+<div class="verse">That this was nothing to the spoil that beckoned from the Moslem court.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Henceforth impatient ups and downs possessed us. Asiatic towns</div>
+<div class="verse">Flamed to the general vision. We heard less perhaps of heavenly crowns</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Than flowers and peacocks made of gems, the Caliph's crusted diadems</div>
+<div class="verse">That crushed the head like Guthlac's bell, and trees with solid emerald stems.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I confess Christ counted less to us than tales of leash and gess,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or Hárún-el-Rashíd's largesse that sent the clock to Charlemagne.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We practised sums, and tried to train our cavalry in loss and gain.</div>
+<div class="verse">Upon the misty wizard-world rose like a star the money-brain.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Even monks planned theft of saintly scalps; stray hairs and chips of nail and chine,</div>
+<div class="verse">Divinely shielded through the Alps, would make the fortune of the Rhine.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I often tried to hide myself from this besetting spook of pelf.</div>
+<div class="verse">In olive-groves I called in vain to simple faun and acorn-elf.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I pictured kine that kissed their own reflections on the impulsive Rhone,</div>
+<div class="verse">A little maid with sunflower hair, a nest we found ... the birds had flown.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I think Alexius was wise to keep us out. Our hungry eyes</div>
+<div class="verse">Fixed on his capital. Why go farther when here were rich supplies?</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The Pope that cursed our tastes had laid the hand of blessing on this raid.</div>
+<div class="verse">Blest chance indeed&mdash;as though a man should drink his fill and then be paid!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Each set to whet his falchion-pet that only friends had tasted yet.</div>
+<div class="verse">We dressed our hopes in purple silk, wallowed in dreamland's wine and milk.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Yet more than any Sultan's spoil fair women should repay our toil.</div>
+<div class="verse">Already some were filled with thoughts that our red cross was meant to foil.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The notion twinged us. We compared our prospects with the way we fared</div>
+<div class="verse">On these lean suburbs and the flats about Barbyses. We were snared!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The very Greeks, whose prayers had lured us into this adventure, lodged</div>
+<div class="verse">Their saviours in a baited trap. Lord, how these foxes turned and dodged.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">There lay our army like a log; our camp, our tenets, turned to bog.</div>
+<div class="verse">We sank. Disorder brought disease that stalked us spectral through the fog.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The Greeks we came to bolster up against their weakness filled our cup</div>
+<div class="verse">With turpitude; the Byzantine put Circe's poison in our wine.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our aspirations all became mean as our hosts; the inner flame</div>
+<div class="verse">Went out. From many a starting-point we found a common ground in shame;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For here no soul can keep its health, but cat-like honour creeps by stealth</div>
+<div class="verse">Down side streets where the children breathe an atmosphere of rotting wealth.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Between our fellow-churches rose the hate that heaven had meant for foes....</div>
+<div class="verse">The infidel might well have laughed. Perhaps he did. We came to blows.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I was sad that Christians had nothing in common, saving bad</div>
+<div class="verse">Blood, that our highest dizziest heads could all divide but none could add.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But when spring lit the Judas-trees our chieftains kissed the Emperor's knees.</div>
+<div class="verse">We crossed to Asia sick at heart. Alexius kept us well apart,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Shuffling us o'er the Bosphorus. The number and the rank of us</div>
+<div class="verse">Exceeded those who went to Troy for Helen the Adulterous.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">On the Bithynian plain our force drew up: an hundred thousand horse</div>
+<div class="verse">With foot and monks and womankind in crowds that none can call to mind.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Fear stuffed the empty space ahead with devils and the shapes of dread</div>
+<div class="verse">That decked our church. A ghastly rush of loneliness made every head</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Feel like a pinpoint. Discontent ran through the score of nations blent</div>
+<div class="verse">In cries. Their ribald spokesman forced a drunkard's way to Godfrey's tent:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">You that have led us through the many tests</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Of Hungary, King Caloman, and Thrace,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Who think of kingdoms as of palimpsests</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">And human nature as a carapace,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Go up and prosper in your lofty chase!</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">We cannot live on barren mountain-crests.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Our wildest dreams are prisoners that pace</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Here lies the stronghold that our zeal invests,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">This infidel alone we long to face.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">This hollow, where our constant fancy nests,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Is more to us than pedestal and dais.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Nay, we will go no farther in the race</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">For gain, respond no more to mean behests.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">We know our cause, and reverently embrace</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">It is our holy land, and we, the guests</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Of passion, brand all other hosts as base.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">The bees have led us to their treasure-chests,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">A foxglove-sceptre and an hyacinth-mace,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">The meadow's fleeting broidery and lace.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Their heaven like ours is nigh to vulgar jests.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">A blossom's goal and glory is to grace</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Prince, be content and choose your resting-place,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Ere we be all forgotten with our quests,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">And this thin earth go crumbling into space,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The little space between a woman's breasts.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Thereat was scandal, and a priest exclaimed that man was half a beast.</div>
+<div class="verse">I could have told him that before. Man was the half I like the least.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To obviate a sinful fate the monks laid on us many weeks</div>
+<div class="verse">Of penance, wasting us the more with these inventions of the Greeks.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Some paid in cash, some chose the lash&mdash;their backs were pitiful to see&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">While Bishop Adhémar of Puy recited magic formulæ</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">That lurched us forward to our doom. We cleft the sultanate of Roum,</div>
+<div class="verse">Calling for bread. The peasants fled. We swept the country like a broom.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our armed migration choked the road. It ran ahead, a stream that flowed</div>
+<div class="verse">Uphill to glory, so it seemed; and so imagination strode&mdash;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">O Jack o' lantern!&mdash;into the unknown. The Virgin on a silver throne,</div>
+<div class="verse">Our leaders swore, went on before us. I saw nothing but the Rhone,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The impulsive Rhone that tumbles down, and breaks clean through the grey-walled town.</div>
+<div class="verse">I heard it rustle in its bed where others heard the Virgin's gown.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I blamed the foeman for my thirst, for sandstorm, flies, heat, scurvy&mdash;cursed</div>
+<div class="verse">Them. Piles of grievance fumed until the red fire kindled. Madness burst</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">All bounds, and capered in the glare that wrapped us round like Nessus' shirt.</div>
+<div class="verse">Each day 'twas there with yards to spare, and would not tear. How blue can hurt!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In my delirium I smelt a mirage, heard the swallows skim</div>
+<div class="verse">Above the reeds where angels knelt with envious eyes to watch me swim.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The preacher said Jehovah's cloud and pillar would go with us. Yea,</div>
+<div class="verse">The sky was on our heads alway. The sun rose up and cried aloud,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And stood immobilized at noon. We wondered if at Ajalon</div>
+<div class="verse">The Jews thanked Joshua for the boon of this divine phenomenon.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We came to Nice and formed a siege with tortoise, belfry, catapult,</div>
+<div class="verse">And curse that brought even less result. Each lordling quarrelled with his liege,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Layman with priest, until the place surrendered, and again we lurched</div>
+<div class="verse">Forward. I heard our name was made. I only saw how it was smirched.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for love's sweet sake</div>
+<div class="verse">That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I lay awake</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be full-grown,</div>
+<div class="verse">A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded barge</div>
+<div class="verse">Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain was large.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards meant</div>
+<div class="verse">To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they went.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of grace!</div>
+<div class="verse">The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I, polishing my master's helmet, also longed to overwhelm</div>
+<div class="verse">The miscreants, to hew in bits the devil and his earthly realm.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A boy's high spirits, weariness, a heart impulsive as the Rhone,</div>
+<div class="verse">The wish to get this business done, the thought of little Sunflower-tress&mdash;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A flower beside The Burr, and "Why, if knights sing rubbish, should not I?"&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">The preaching man's persistence, these stirred me to action by degrees.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We had our fill at Dorylæum. Our rogues were Paladins. We won,</div>
+<div class="verse">And weighed our booty by the ton. That night we chanted a Te Deum,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A myriad voices in the dark; they rose like one colossal lark</div>
+<div class="verse">Ere dawn. My soul flew up with them to see the new Jerusalem</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And spite my tutor. I was mad to be a fighting-man, would pad</div>
+<div class="verse">My arms like muscles. So my lord took me to foray. I was glad.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I had one thought: my hands were wet. That angered me: my mouth was dry.</div>
+<div class="verse">I had one fear: I might forget my master's silly battle-cry.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Belike 'twas well no foe would stand&mdash;our cavaliers were out of hand&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">So I was baulked. With scarce a blow we filed across the wasted land</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For leagues, till Baldwin turned aside, and out of Peradventure carved</div>
+<div class="verse">His slice, Edessa. We were plied to march on Antioch half-starved.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For seven months sheer courage toiled to take the town. Its ramparts foiled</div>
+<div class="verse">Our engines. Sulkiness sat down within us, and temptation coiled</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Tight round our bodies; every vice was lurking like a cockatrice.</div>
+<div class="verse">Ah, flesh can never quite repel the sinuous things which thoughts entice.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">You honey-coloured Syrian girls, whose voices turned our knights to thirls,</div>
+<div class="verse">I looked away and stopped my ears by thinking of the glossier merles</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">At home. The arm upheld by Hur had not sufficed him to deter</div>
+<div class="verse">The dissipation of our force, alas. My lord deceived The Burr.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">'Twas worse when treachery let us in. Blood, lechery, pillage, fire and din</div>
+<div class="verse">Burned an impression on my mind: the sexual ugliness of sin.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Cool Bohemond called Antioch his. Ere we had killed our mutineers,</div>
+<div class="verse">We the besiegers were besieged by Kurbugha and his Amírs.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Alternate famine and carouse brought plague; but doubtless God allows</div>
+<div class="verse">Expensive trials of faith that we might learn the magic formulæ.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We melted, melted; kites were fed upon us, dogs ran dripping red</div>
+<div class="verse">From piles of nameless carrion, the race that Europe might have bred.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Throughout our ranks desertion raged by daily sermons unassuaged.</div>
+<div class="verse">The preaching man was first in this "rope-dancing." Disillusion aged</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My youth by years. My master stayed. If he had erred he promptly paid.</div>
+<div class="verse">The pestilence ran after him. Despite the fervour I displayed</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He died of sores, this prince of tilt, though guarded by ten hallowed charms,</div>
+<div class="verse">This subject of all <i>trouvère</i>-lilt, lord in an hundred ladies' arms.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Oh, how I struggled to be brave when the Pope's legate, grey and grim,</div>
+<div class="verse">Said simply this beside the grave: "Christ died for you. You died for Him."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Only his jester seemed to care, and ceased awhile to swear and daff.</div>
+<div class="verse">"Who," he repeated in despair, "will pay me for his epitaph?"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Poor friend, this alien hungry land</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Has closed her lips upon her prey.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The tree is spoiled into her hand;</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">She sucks the brook's thin veins away.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">A sterner voice than bade you come</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">To reap the tears that exiles sow</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Has called you to her longer home,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">That neither bids nor lets you go.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Seven times you baulked her lawless laws,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">And foiled the customs of the year;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">But Death defends the tyrant's cause,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">And makes the silent court his lair.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The lease of life, that none can own,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Is written on her agent's roll;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">And from the desert and the sown</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">He takes a harsh and equal toll,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">High-handed, scorning code or text.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">No hope the debtor's gaol unlocks.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">A friend appeals? He is the next</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">To occupy the narrow box.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The witness cowers, pale with fear,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">When Death the stalker passes by;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">And only prays he may not hear</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">That ugly sound&mdash;a victim's cry.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">One weeps; his eyes are wet as long</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">As on Death's hand the blood is wet.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">He says: "The King can do no wrong!"</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">And craves permission to forget.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">How briefly to an echo clings</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">The memory of these solemn days,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The thought of those tremendous things</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">That Death implies but never says.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">An hour ago we laid you down.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">The tender, tardy autumn rain</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Is dried within the dusty town,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">And we are at our rounds again.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">With every round our spirits sank in bodies lean and members lank.</div>
+<div class="verse">I saw the soul of man, a cave, a wick that smouldered and smelled rank.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Men's fluid facts may wash the grime from pictures of a distant time,</div>
+<div class="verse">But I can paint the truth in one small touch: our poets ceased to rhyme.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Such was the army's hopelessness. I understood, who once had seen</div>
+<div class="verse">Our fading gardener rouse himself to kick and curse the wolf-cub, Life.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I would not let my feet desert, but oh the woods&mdash;the woods of home</div>
+<div class="verse">That bent and beckoned in the damp zephyr in vain! I could not stoop</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To play false in an enterprise however mad, if once begun.</div>
+<div class="verse">Besides another miracle was wrought in me. I was in love.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I was enamoured of dear Christ; His utter beauty struck me dumb,</div>
+<div class="verse">His face alone could compensate for scenes that almost made me long</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For blindness. Yea, to Him I turned from all this heartache, nightly kissed</div>
+<div class="verse">His hand with passion. I at least would not betray the children's Friend.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Haply His strength has always lain in contrast. I found strength to press</div>
+<div class="verse">Toward the mark. Not so the host: we could not kick it to its feet.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Then heaven inspired us to devise a pious fraud&mdash;The Holy Lance.</div>
+<div class="verse">We hid it in Saint Peter's crypt, and dug it up. The people wept</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">With rapture at this talisman, and sang the Psalm "Let God arise."</div>
+<div class="verse">Also our chiefs&mdash;they knew my zeal&mdash;bade me complete the heartening sign.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">White-plumed, white-horsed, with golden shield and halo, I contrived to appear</div>
+<div class="verse">On the horizon, waved my sword while Adhémar proclaimed Saint George.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our men responded with a shout. Through the five gates they tumbled out,</div>
+<div class="verse">An headlong torrent. In a trice the infidel was put to rout,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I joined in to hack and prod. Pure Tancred praised me with a nod.</div>
+<div class="verse">Ascetic Godfrey even spoke to me: "Lad, you belong to God."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I won my spurs. They <i>made</i> me proud. Before my sword the wizards bowed,</div>
+<div class="verse">Though me they washed. In vigil and fast I joined the perfect order, vowed</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To hold my manhood chaste, to gird on might with right and courtesy,</div>
+<div class="verse">To speak the truth, and so to be at variance with the common herd.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Such loftiness a man can feel once in a flash: strong arms, clean hands</div>
+<div class="verse">That forged us into iron bands to unify the world with steel.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But as I left the altar daft with the ambition I had quaffed&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">A word can kill a century&mdash;one of my perfect brothers laughed:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">I took the vow of virtue</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">As others take to vice.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">I could not break my heart of you.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Men call that sacrifice.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The priests applauded nature.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Poor devil, she was loth</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Enough. The love of God and you</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Has made me hate you both.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I was sad that Christians, clad in robes so dazzling, were not glad</div>
+<div class="verse">To keep them spotless from the world, and give the Virgin all they had.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Yet I was racked by continence of all we rightly rank as sense.</div>
+<div class="verse">I hungered for the Sunflower-tress that now my lips would never press.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I wrenched and wrestled to believe that God had sent us here to grieve</div>
+<div class="verse">Our bodies with this fruitlessness, that only fakirs could achieve</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">His purpose. Then in blind revolt my soul like an unbroken colt</div>
+<div class="verse">Ran round and round an empty field. The hedge was thick. I could not bolt,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Though one poor knight on stiffened knee revealed beneath his breath to me</div>
+<div class="verse">His thoughts on women while the monks recited magic formulæ.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I sought for solace in renown. Men watched me swagger through the town</div>
+<div class="verse">The youngest knight in Christendom. When women passed I tried to frown.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A year I suffered in this way before the wreck of our array</div>
+<div class="verse">Would undertake the final march. My soul was saved by movement. May</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Was with us, when my tutor closed his wintry Juvenal and posed</div>
+<div class="verse">Mid nightingales to quote and kiss the <i>Pervigilium Veneris</i>.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I drove his authors from my head, and read Augustin hard instead;</div>
+<div class="verse">But sap was mounting in my veins and western groves where finches wed.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To these no sound of sapphire seas, no stunted firs of Lebanon,</div>
+<div class="verse">Not Tyrian dyes nor Tripoli's loud yellows deafened. We ran on</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Through landmarks famed in Holy Writ, Emmaus, Bethlehem ... at last</div>
+<div class="verse">We saw the walls of Zion lit blood-red by sunset and the past.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The conquest of another world unfurled beneath our feet, the land</div>
+<div class="verse">Of miracle and mystery lay as a bauble in our hand.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Men flung their caps up, feigned a swoon. With prostrate lines of us the moon</div>
+<div class="verse">Drew silver circles round the site. A cock crowed&mdash;many hours too soon.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We thought to prise the gates ajar. My tutor wrote their private Lar</div>
+<div class="verse">Or else&mdash;with Tacitus&mdash;their folk designed them for eternal war.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The moat was wide; we feebly tried to stop its gape with pebbles, cried</div>
+<div class="verse">"Fall, Jericho!" The blessèd wall stood firm; but Christ was on our side.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The Church had saved Him from His wan repute and thrust Him in our van,</div>
+<div class="verse">Bronzed, scarred. Alas, the first crusade had made Him out a fighting man!</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He taught the Turks to mock Giaours!... sent timely Genoese to build</div>
+<div class="verse">Wheeled wooden turrets. These we filled brimful. Jerusalem was ours.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We entered reverent, barefoot; slew three livelong nights and mornings through,</div>
+<div class="verse">Then paused to sing a thanksgiving. We massacred the morrow too.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I was glad a Christian lad could boast of some small suffering <i>ad</i></div>
+<div class="verse"><i>Majorem Dei gloriam</i>. I only longed to burn Baghdad.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nay, I can say I never hid to chamber as my fellows did.</div>
+<div class="verse">I felt my conscience clear as frost, and touched no woman&mdash;God forbid.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I set my contrite soul apart with mass, procession, penance, rites</div>
+<div class="verse">That took me out to see the sights, brushing ecstatic lanes athwart</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The quiddering mob with tears of joy&mdash;my tutor's phrase was οἱ πολλοὶ [Greek: hoi polloi]&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Though few were left. Some Greeks of ours confused Jerusalem with Troy.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But most the bestial German louts made even their hardest allies sick;</div>
+<div class="verse">They ran to mutilate the quick and sniff the dead with joyous snouts.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Shriven, forgiven, we embraced each stone that Christ had touched, and placed</div>
+<div class="verse">Such relics under treble guard. One note in our rejoicings jarred.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">It seemed some types of Jewish dog escaped the flaming synagogue,</div>
+<div class="verse">And their ingratitude was base. They joined to form a wailing-place.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I heard them as I roamed among blind alleys dark and overhung</div>
+<div class="verse">By one-eyed dens. With whining nose against the wall the pack gave tongue:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Behold Thy people, Lord, a race of mourners.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Through this Thy sacred dwelling-place they creep</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Like strangers. Hearken, Lord, in holes and corners</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">For Thy decree, most terrible and holy,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">That as the fathers sow the sons shall reap,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all Thy just affliction of the lowly,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all the glory that is now departed,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">For all the stones that Thou hast made an heap,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Yea, for the city of the broken-hearted,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all the wealth wherewith Thou hadst endowed her,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">For all our shepherds gone astray like sheep,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">For all Thy temple's jewels ground to powder,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Because our soul is chastened as with lashes,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Because Thine anger like a stormy deep</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Goes over us, in sackcloth and in ashes</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">We sit alone and weep.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nobody gave them heed; indeed each man was thinking how to speed</div>
+<div class="verse">His interests, and if the prey would satisfy ambition or need.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To honest minds with zeal imbued the Pope's indulgence, their own merit</div>
+<div class="verse">Bestowed some licence to be lewd, and take&mdash;their preachers said "inherit."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Even I who was in love with Christ, I with the conscience clean and cold</div>
+<div class="verse">That hankered not for lands or gold, was wondering how to clinch my hold</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">On reputation, while our chiefs, before we could consolidate,</div>
+<div class="verse">Rode a great wallop round the State and split it into petty fiefs.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Their overlords revolted me. Alas, for our brief unity!</div>
+<div class="verse">Edessa snarled at Antioch, Jerusalem at Tripoli.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Poor Godfrey, who would not accept a crown where his Redeemer wore</div>
+<div class="verse">Thorns, nor be strong where Jesus wept! From the beginning weakness crept</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Into our councils. Worse, we watched the bulk of our brave lads disperse</div>
+<div class="verse">Well-pleased. At most we raised the ghost of needful power to hold their post.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Franks and Provincials, German brutes that bullied babes and prostitutes,</div>
+<div class="verse">Lombards and Flemings, made for home with clapping and the sound of flutes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">It flowed away, the unstable stuff, to whom a cause was but a noun.</div>
+<div class="verse">They stood to sea. Thank heaven 'twas rough! My place was here with my renown.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They vanished ... home ... to Sunflower-tress ... home, where a man may die obscure!</div>
+<div class="verse">Far off a carle of Albemarle trolled chanties like a Siren's lure.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">East, are you calling still,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Who tried your strength of will</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">For naught on brown Ulysses long ago?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">We have an island too,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">And haul away from you</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">To cleaner kin that bend a stronger bow.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Your caravans string out</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">On many a golden route</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">The turbaned Magi's offerings; but we</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Steer forth on loner trails</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Through rough wind-scented vales</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">To England, the oasis of the sea.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Child Jesus chose you, East,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Not that He loved us least,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">But just because His Father had foreseen</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">The dear and only Son</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Might dwell too long upon</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Our swinging greys and many-coloured green.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So we were left alone. The spring broke out in buds of bickering.</div>
+<div class="verse">Each summer brought contentious fruit. Strife waxed with every waning king.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I waxed also, better known, resolved to reap what I had sown.</div>
+<div class="verse">My childless manhood fixed my heart. The Holy Land was all my own.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I grew in grace with man&mdash;I hoped with God; from Beersheba to Dan</div>
+<div class="verse">I went about my Father's work. Faith could not shirk what Faith began.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Sometimes qualms came. I looked askance on Bishop Daimbert's schemes to enhance</div>
+<div class="verse">His seat. The native Christians sighed they missed the Caliph's tolerance.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Not that had hurt me, but the void which love will make if unemployed.</div>
+<div class="verse">I spent my strength to keep him quiet, and free the thoughts that he decoyed,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Till woods and Rhone were out of range. I often wondered at the change</div>
+<div class="verse">In nature's child, in me. The formulæ were there. "God's ways are strange."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Yet in my struggle with the powers of darkness I recalled the showers</div>
+<div class="verse">Of light that fought the undergrowth to catch the singing of the flowers.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Time passed, and no one seemed to reck of Zenghi, the first Atabek,</div>
+<div class="verse">Though every year we failed to act the Saracens grew more compact.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In vain I urged that we might fall, so slender was our human wall,</div>
+<div class="verse">So numberless the foe beside the Templars and the Hospital.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The answer was that dyke and fosse were useless when we had the Cross,</div>
+<div class="verse">With other relics by the score, to guard against defeat or loss.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My prophecies of coming ills fell on deaf ears and weakly wills.</div>
+<div class="verse">I did my best. You know I did, who saw me peer beyond the hills</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Where Karak like a lighthouse loomed at waves of sand that never spumed,</div>
+<div class="verse">The tideless main, an ocean-plain bare, petrified. Its silence boomed.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I saw in all that vastitude, the one, the drab, the many-hued,</div>
+<div class="verse">No sign of life, no moving speck; and yet I knew that trouble brewed.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I tortured every hour to find material things to prop behind&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Forgive me, God!&mdash;Your earthly realm. The need was great, for it was blind.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The mathematics of Abul Hassan, three hundred years at school</div>
+<div class="verse">In Arabic philosophy, showed that the West was still a fool.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nay, gently, call her still a babe. How should she know that I, the Great,</div>
+<div class="verse">Had learned from savages to prate of compass and of astrolabe.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our miracles were not so sure to heal as Rhazes' simplest cure.</div>
+<div class="verse">His friends the moon and stars obeyed the rules that Abul Wafa made.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My stolen lore raised me above my fellows. Everything but love</div>
+<div class="verse">Was mine, respect, authority. The jealous Churchmen dared not move.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our infant realm could not dispense with me, its shield and main defence.</div>
+<div class="verse">I knew the Damascene recipe for making steel, and made it cheap.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My mind was fertile in resorts. I spent the pilgrims' fees on forts,</div>
+<div class="verse">And settled, for their skill in trade, Venetian slavers at our ports.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Howbeit I trembled lest our main enthusiasm should be for gain.</div>
+<div class="verse">I stripped myself to work against the working of the money-brain.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I was glad I passed for mad and single-eyed as Galahad.</div>
+<div class="verse">I sacrificed in saving Christ the profit that I might have had.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nothing that I could do availed. My tongue grew bitter, girded, railed.</div>
+<div class="verse">My labour only builded Me, but not the kingdom. So I failed.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our Viscounts could but show their gums, while from Aleppo, Hama, Homs,</div>
+<div class="verse">The foe crept onward like the months, culling our conquests like ripe plums.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For all response in Chastel Blanc and towering Markab-of-the-Sea</div>
+<div class="verse">Some clerkly knight in red-crossed white recited magic formulæ;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Then darkly hinted science, hell and I were leagued, because their spell</div>
+<div class="verse">Would not or could not stave the blow that I foresaw. Edessa fell.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Curse our degenerate Poullains! The breed had need of spurs not reins.</div>
+<div class="verse">To stand an empty sack upright was easier than to warm their veins</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Save with amours. One night I knelt to pray; but on the battlement</div>
+<div class="verse">Hard by a lordling twanged a harp. I smelt the bastard's eastern scent.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He thought his leman lay behind my casement, where the jasmin twined</div>
+<div class="verse">And almost jingled.... Oh the woods at home and whitethroats calling blind!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Suppose you left that window and came down</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">To meet me. Do not turn away.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Also you need not frown.</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">I only say:</div>
+<div class="verse indent12 italic">"Suppose."</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose&mdash;you are a woman of resource&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">The fastenings of your door undone.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">No! They are not.... Of course!</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">But, just for fun,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose that&mdash;safe among the trees below</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">The terraces&mdash;you chanced to find ...</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Impossible!... I know,</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">But never mind.</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose that&mdash;being there&mdash;an eager arm</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Drew you towards the little dell....</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Why redden? Where's the harm?</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">You might as well</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose....</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose that, bending over you, a man</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Breathed words of which you knew the gist.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Suppose it!... Yes, you can....</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">No, I insist....</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Suppose you shut the window? Now? Pray do,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">And take a lonely night to learn</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">This tune shut in with you.</div>
+<div class="verse indent8 italic">Till I return,</div>
+<div class="verse indent10 italic">Suppose....</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Then I peeped out. Some breath divine had made his face, compared with mine,</div>
+<div class="verse">An angel's. Love with all its faults had set there our Creator's sign.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">That shook me. One of us was wrong. Which? He or I? His soul was vexed</div>
+<div class="verse">Neither by this world nor the next, but floated in a bubble of song.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">It haunted me, as he had said; it chimed and rhymed about my bed.</div>
+<div class="verse">It filled my head with Sunflower-tress; but she&mdash;I writhed&mdash;was old or dead.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Was all my suffering a waste? Had superstition wed me chaste</div>
+<div class="verse">To Its effect? Was this my Cause? My tutor in the dark grimaced.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I saw him snug at home, and how he would have chuckled at my vow!</div>
+<div class="verse">Well, who laughs last.... I pictured him a dotard or in hell by now.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I prayed for help all night; and, warned by lost Edessa, Baldwin made</div>
+<div class="verse">Great efforts to placate our God. The answer was a fresh crusade.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">This was an answer none could doubt. We heard a preacher more devout</div>
+<div class="verse">Than ours was quartering the west, and pulling true believers out.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He hight Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the home of light and miracles.</div>
+<div class="verse">The wives and mothers trembled so before his spirit's tentacles,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They hid their males&mdash;in vain. He swept the Emperor Conrad with him, kept</div>
+<div class="verse">The collar of his pale adept, emasculated Louis Sept.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He cured King's Evils, raised the dead, he cast out devils by the gross.</div>
+<div class="verse">'Twas said he promised us twelve legions of angels.... From the darkest regions</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Men flocked to Metz and Ratisbon. News came of more than half a million,</div>
+<div class="verse">Not counting those that rode apillion. Our battle was as good as won.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Such glorious news might well inflame our hopes. We waited. Nothing came,</div>
+<div class="verse">Not even light Turcopuli nor Conrad's Golden-footed Dame.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our Poullains first began to whine; the fainthearts said the fault was mine.</div>
+<div class="verse">Saint Bernard was the oracle of Europe, I of Palestine.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And nothing came ... no troops.... The Greek misled, starved, poisoned, murdered them,</div>
+<div class="verse">Betrayed them to the Turk, whose bleak deserts went over them. Week by week</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">We waited. Nothing. Cadmus saw them cut to bits, Attalia's maw</div>
+<div class="verse">Could not be sated with their ruck. King Louis' mind had just one flaw:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He would not hear of strategy, staked all on supernatural help.</div>
+<div class="verse">And nothing came, and nothing came. Our half-bred curs began to yelp</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"Good God, if truly God is good!" They kissed the Cross. Gems hid the wood.</div>
+<div class="verse">Had He forgotten? Was He deaf? Could such things be? Who understood?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Not I, though I had kept my word to save the Lamb by fire and sword.</div>
+<div class="verse">And after twelve long lustra spent in service this was my reward.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Louis and Conrad struggled through one day with some small retinue.</div>
+<div class="verse">I watched. Almost I could foretell what they and Providence would do.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I remember, as we fared, a Sufi&mdash;so the sect is named&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Sat by the road as though he cared no jot for us, while he declaimed:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Her home is in the heart of spaciousness,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">In the mid-city of ideals. The site</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Is harmony, the walls are made of light.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">There with the mother-thoughts she stands to bless</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">The godlike sons sent forth with her caress</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">To make new worlds. I see them all unite</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Into the whole that our most starry flight</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Of worship knew far off, and strove to express.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">What can we do for her? We run to ask</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">As restless children for a grown-up task,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">While wisdom in the porch, their kind old host,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">Smiles at nurse nature, and replies: The most,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">The least that we can do for Beauty is</div>
+<div class="verse indent2 italic">To love for love's sake and serve God for His.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But Conrad drove his lance in jest right through the ragamuffin's chest,</div>
+<div class="verse">Because his creed was not as ours; and on we rode. I lost my zest.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To take Damascus was our plan, relying on a talisman.</div>
+<div class="verse">I knew that this would not suffice, for I was still a fighting man.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">It ended in repulse and shame. Saint Bernard proved we were to blame</div>
+<div class="verse">For want of faith. Ah, some of us had had too much. We said the same</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Of him. At our return thick mobs of women filled the church with bobs</div>
+<div class="verse">And bows, poor puppets, trying hard to sing between their stifled sobs:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">God, whose Son has fathomed sorrow,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">Give a mother strength to say:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4 italic">Mine has faced and found To-morrow.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6 italic">I will try to face To-day.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They turned to me. They thought me wise because I had been led by lies</div>
+<div class="verse">To blind myself to them; and now I saw things through a woman's eyes,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I went out. Not yet the end. Since innocence alone could save,</div>
+<div class="verse">Saints hit on infant infantry, and fifty thousand found the grave.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My gorge rose, yet I stopped my ears. I had no hope, but I was tarred</div>
+<div class="verse">With fame too much to show my fears. My duty lay in dying hard.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Oh irony! That fame increased the more its robes were patched and pieced.</div>
+<div class="verse">My whole ambition was fulfilled when power and confidence had ceased.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The women kissed my feet, my horse; they clung to me like my remorse.</div>
+<div class="verse">I that set out to make the world had made myself believe by force.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nay, I that knew we were reprieved at best, had I in truth believed?</div>
+<div class="verse">My youth came back. I seemed to meet my tutor's sneer in every street.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Fate cursed us with three minor kings, a leper then. Against these Things</div>
+<div class="verse">Salah-ad-Din combined the entire orient. I wished our fate had wings</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Instead of feet to end our dumb, keen, futile questionings, to numb</div>
+<div class="verse">The brain that binds us with the chain of kingdom go and kingdom come.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">One of our knights for plunder's sake undid us, roused the foe who brake</div>
+<div class="verse">In through the pass of Banias, cutting our lands in two like cake.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The hour was here, but not the man. That murderer Guy de Lusignan</div>
+<div class="verse">Was sent to head our fight for life. The craven took for talisman</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Me</span> and my hundred years, alas, a relic of the man I was.</div>
+<div class="verse">I toiled to still our private feuds. We marched upon Tiberias,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For none would listen when I urged our leaders to await attack.</div>
+<div class="verse">We marched across the waterless inferno. Summer burnt us black.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The Moslems scorched us with Greek fire. As rain upon a funeral pyre</div>
+<div class="verse">Their arrows hissed in sheets upon the smoking scrub. "Go on!" "Retire!"</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Our rabble cried, starting aside like broken bows; they tried to hide,</div>
+<div class="verse">Split, fled for refuge to a hill, did nothing while the Templars died.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">When all was lost I cut my way out through the thicket of the fray,</div>
+<div class="verse">And galloped for Jerusalem to adjure Guy's Queen to stand at bay.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">In this last desperate passage each proud noble still opposed his friend.</div>
+<div class="verse">A little while and we were penned, and yet a little while a breach</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Was made. Jehovah's chosen seat was tottering, but no Paraclete</div>
+<div class="verse">Came down to comfort us. I made some sallies. Then the Queen would treat.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Perhaps in our appeal for ruth my wording stumbled on the truth,</div>
+<div class="verse">"One God that went by many names," or else I knew Him in my youth,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or else that Sufi haunted me with something that I could not see,</div>
+<div class="verse">Something that only had not been because we would not let it be.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And when the foe marched in, I own that I was thinking of the Rhone</div>
+<div class="verse">Long, long ago, and wondering&mdash;a child once more&mdash;if it had grown.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Yet there remained the sharpest cup to drain: the moan of us went up,</div>
+<div class="verse">When from the topmost dome was hurled the Sign that should have ruled the world.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Down, down it rumbled with our grand designs. All we had built or planned,</div>
+<div class="verse">Toiled, bled for, crumbled at a touch, was ruined like a house of sand.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">So soon we pass. The wind knows why. The efforts of a century,</div>
+<div class="verse">Three generations' handiwork failed in the twinkling of an eye.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And I was sad to think that shadows occupy us all. I had</div>
+<div class="verse">No hope of earth. What boots a toy that thinks its maker raving mad?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My soul had passed through every phase and, counting forty thousand days,</div>
+<div class="verse">Was farther off than at the start from comprehending heaven's ways</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Or bowing to them. I came nearest when I pressed my childish ear</div>
+<div class="verse">Earthward through briar and bramble bowers to catch the singing of the flowers.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The last remains of faith were shaken when I, the oracle, was taken.</div>
+<div class="verse">My pride was made to sleep in chains. I prayed that I might never waken,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">But woke. They gave me to a <i>rais</i> who wanted cattle, not advice.</div>
+<div class="verse">He flogged me down to Damietta. I was old and fetched no price.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Nathless my battling heart was brave enough to work me till I dropped.</div>
+<div class="verse">I passed for twopence to a Copt who sold me as a galley-slave</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">To Muscat. In the rhythmic stroke, old, undefeated, gnarled as oak</div>
+<div class="verse">I creaked and strained against my fate, until that Sufi-something broke.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">'Twas not my heart. An inner morn put the dark age in me to scorn,</div>
+<div class="verse">And in the light I found myself, a child at play with worlds unborn,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For all that I had thought and read, and fought and watched the world be led</div>
+<div class="verse">By any who contrived to cut a knot with that blunt tool, the head.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I laughed to think how sparrows might look down upon our highest flight,</div>
+<div class="verse">While each succeeding age would have its oracle or stagyrite,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Would trace the good we never did, the evil that we never saw,</div>
+<div class="verse">And out of our blind pyramid extract a stepping-stone to Law.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Here, where ambition had to cease in servitude, I tasted peace,</div>
+<div class="verse">Free of illusion stretched and yawned. A fool would clamour for release.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I make the rowers' bench a throne to think, and thought implies Alone,</div>
+<div class="verse">Of changing woods and endless streams. My happiness is all my own.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And often, when my mates deplore a brother who shall row no more,</div>
+<div class="verse">I talk about my wolf-cub, Life. They think I speak in metaphor.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">They gather round me all agog, they think a chronicle and log</div>
+<div class="verse">Of Progress lies in withered hands. Their cry is for an epilogue.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Has aught been drafted yet? A blot, an echo void and polyglot.</div>
+<div class="verse">Each century is written off as preface. Yes, most true.... Of what?</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">My gathered weight had held me bound to find for every fog a ground,</div>
+<div class="verse">For every riddle a reply, an end to Being that goes round.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Now I can say, I do not know if there will be a book at all,</div>
+<div class="verse">Or if the deepest chapters go beyond some writing on the wall,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Though wiser worlds will yet embark, sworn to eclipse our sorry trades,</div>
+<div class="verse">Succeed, and leave their little mark: a dynasty of thought that fades,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Fresh undergrowths of formulæ. Through these no <i>human</i> eye can see</div>
+<div class="verse">The open glade&mdash;the <i>last</i> crusade, in which Jerusalem might be</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The symbol of all peopled space, and Time an emblem of the day</div>
+<div class="verse">On which the nations march as one to liberate and not to slay.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">A story has no finish when it leads to nowhere out of ken?</div>
+<div class="verse">O friend, the lack of knowledge brings wisdom within the reach of men;</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">For whether hope can ever fit the future matters not a whit.</div>
+<div class="verse">My duty is to tug my oar&mdash;so long as I am chained to it.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX<br />
+FUSION</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">It was fulfilled. The giant <i>dhow</i> bestirred</div>
+<div class="verse">Herself, burst from her slender moorings, ran</div>
+<div class="verse">Exulting on her course beyond the green</div>
+<div class="verse">Thin shallows to the deeper violet</div>
+<div class="verse">Of that great gem wherein the continents</div>
+<div class="verse">Are flaws. With creaking oars and fluttering sails</div>
+<div class="verse">The wingèd ghost swept outward. On the prow</div>
+<div class="verse">Unveiled the Queen stood whiter than the sails,</div>
+<div class="verse">And save the revelation made no sign;</div>
+<div class="verse">And all the sound of singing was brought low.</div>
+<div class="verse">Then, as the vision vanished in the hushed</div>
+<div class="verse">Twilight that painted out the caravan,</div>
+<div class="verse">Leaving the pilgrims but a <i>burnûs</i>-blur</div>
+<div class="verse">On the drab canvas of the shore, a wail</div>
+<div class="verse">Rose, and to them the Dreamer's last reply:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The aimless spindrift mingles with the scats</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Where suddenly the desert is the beach.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">A low wind whimpers up and down the flats</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Seeking some obstacle to lend it speech.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The sky bleeds pale as from a mortal wound,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Darkening the waters. To a treble E</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Gulls stiffly wheel their nomad escort round</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">A white sail dwindling in the impassive sea.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"A last beam smites it with a benison.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The lantern twinkles fainter at its mast.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">It bears the purpose in me that is gone,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The only thing that cannot be, the past.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Let there be night. Shall evensong complain?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">My love was utter. Now I seek no sign.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Mine eyes have seen, and shall not see again.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Out of the deep shall call no voice of mine.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Yet I, whose happiness is hidden from view,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Have climbed the hill and touched eternity,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And Pisgah is a memory&mdash;of you,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">A white sail sinking in the summer sea."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">The ship drove spaceward to the skyline's crater,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The last of day flared vibrant as a cry,</div>
+<div class="verse">And in the Dreamer Emptiness loomed greater</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Than the unrifted pumice of the sky.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">He turned to see the friends whose hope had ended</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Like his beside the gulf. He was alone.</div>
+<div class="verse">The singers and the glory that had blended</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">With meaner notes and lowly, all were gone</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Into thin air. But, patient of his tether,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Enduring as the dream he would not break,</div>
+<div class="verse">Only old Tous remained. As back together</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">They fared, once more it seemed the camel spake:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Lo, these the fleeting and the true,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The keen to sacrifice and slow,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The plumed, the crawling, all were You</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">That started hither long ago.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">For man is many when begun,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">But Love can weave his ends to one.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The new, the ancient, song and prose,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The lower road, the higher aim,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The clean, the draggled, dust and snows</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Were you the striving, you the same.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Pride and endeavour, love and loss,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The pattern is the threads that cross.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Tilth, waste and water, sand and sap,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Tare, thorn and thistle, wine and oil,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Run through <i>your</i> Nature like a map,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Are <span class="smcap">You</span>. The ores that vein the soil</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of time and substance manifold</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Await the hour that makes them gold,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"That found the force of you dispersed</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">On all adventure save a quest,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And part perhaps was on the worst.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">It sent you all upon the best,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Wherein the journey is the goal.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Now leaving you they leave you whole.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The rabble melts, but more remains:</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The golden opportunity</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">By which the choir in us attains</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Not unison but unity.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">We feel the sunbeam, not the motes.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The Voice is made of many notes.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Slave, merchant, scholar, fighting-man,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The gambling, stumbling, praying kith</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">We called the Singing Caravan,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Have made their song at least no myth</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Not dawn to which yon skylark soared</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">But earth is his and your reward.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"The story ends, but not the book.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Sufi, the Queen that you ensued</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Led and shall lead you still to look</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">On peace&mdash;it is not solitude.</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Through her your warring kingdoms met,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And here is room for no regret."</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">So Dreamer-of-the-Age returned</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">With comfort, all his being fused</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">At last, and thus at night he mused</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Beside the fire that in him burned:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Heirs of the beauty yet to be,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Hail, from however far ahead</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Or out of sight I hear you tread</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">The dust that made this tale and me.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Each day shall raise me to rejoice</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">That lovers such as we must bear</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The unbroken chain of life and share</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Its thanksgiving. Perhaps my voice</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Shall be the servant of your mind,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Your linkman waiting in the arch</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Of phantom city-gates to march</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">With you by secret ways. The wind</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Shall tell me of you, he and I</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Be keenly with you, when you go</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Forth in my footsteps and the glow</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Of movement, steadfast to deny</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Only the frailer self. My grief</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Shall answer your unspoken word</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Through blithe interpreters, a bird</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Waking, the sounds of rill and leaf.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"By many a caravanserai</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">I shall not fail to watch you come,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">You of some far millennium,</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">Who, listening to the bird, will say:</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"'I seem to know that tune of his;</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">He sings what all can understand.'</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">In the clear water dip your hand:</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">'His deepest note was only this.'</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"You shall be glad of me, the shade,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Sighing 'O friend.' And I shall keep</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">The benediction of your sleep;</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And, when the woods of darkness fade,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"Shall waken with you, I that had</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Love to the full, and praised my lot,</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Trusting in truth to be forgot</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">For worthier verse. Ah, make me glad,</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse indent4">"You that come after me, and call</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">From summits that outstrip my hopes.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Yet I shall linger on the slopes</div>
+<div class="verse indent4">And dwell with those who gave their all."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX<br />
+LONG LEAVE</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I bow my head, O brother, brother, brother,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">But may not grudge you that were All to me.</div>
+<div class="verse">Should any <i>one</i> lament when this our Mother</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Mourns for so many sons on land and sea.</div>
+<div class="verse">God of the love that makes two lives as one</div>
+<div class="verse">Give also strength to see that England's will be done.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Let it be done, yea, down to the last tittle,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Up to the fullness of all sacrifice.</div>
+<div class="verse">Our dead feared this alone&mdash;to give too little.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Then shall the living murmur at the price?</div>
+<div class="verse">The hands withdrawn from ours to grasp the plough</div>
+<div class="verse">Would suffer only if the furrow faltered now.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">Know, fellow-mourners&mdash;be our cross too grievous&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">That One who sealed our symbol with His blood</div>
+<div class="verse">Vouchsafed the vision that shall never leave us,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Those humble crosses in the Flanders mud;</div>
+<div class="verse">And think there rests all-hallowed in each grave</div>
+<div class="verse">A life given freely for the world He died to save.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">And, ages hence, dim tramping generations</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Who never knew and cannot guess our pain&mdash;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+<div class="verse">Though history count nothing less than nations,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And fame forget where grass has grown again&mdash;</div>
+<div class="verse">Shall yet remember that the world is free.</div>
+<div class="verse">It is enough. For this is immortality.</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">I raise my head, O brother, brother, brother.</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The organ sobs for triumph to my heart.</div>
+<div class="verse">What! Who will think that ransomed earth can smother</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Her own great soul, of which you are a part!</div>
+<div class="verse">The requiem music dies as if it <i>knew</i></div>
+<div class="verse">The inviolate peace where 'tis already well with you.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="verse">"It's not as easy as you think,"</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The nettled poet sighed.</div>
+<div class="verse">"It's not as good as I could wish,"</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The publisher replied.</div>
+<div class="verse">"It might," the kindly critic wrote,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">"Have easily been <i>worse</i>."</div>
+<div class="verse">"We will not read it anyhow,"</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The public said, "it's verse."</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<p class="p4 center">PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS<br />
+WEST NORWOOD, LONDON</p>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div><div class="chap">
+<div class="transnote">
+<h2>Transcriber's Note</h2>
+<p>All unusual, archaic and inconsistent spellings and usage have been
+maintained as in the original text. Here are some notes:</p>
+
+<p>The Greek word in the <span class="italic">In Memoriam</span>&mdash;πολύμητις&mdash;would be transliterated "polymêtis", and the Greek phrase
+which appears in <span class="italic">The History of the Adventurer</span>&mdash;οἱ πολλοὶ&mdash; would be transliterated "hoi polloi."</p>
+
+<p>I added the entries for "In Memoriam" and "Acknowledgements" to the
+Table of Contents.</p>
+<p class="covernote">The cover was created by Linda Hamilton at pgdp.net, and is in the public domain.</p>
+<hr class="chap" />
+</div></div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49385 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Singing Caravan, by Robert Vansittart

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most

-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions

-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of

-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at

-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have

-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.

-

-Title: The Singing Caravan

-       A Sufi Tale

-

-Author: Robert Vansittart

-

-Release Date: July 7, 2015 [EBook #49385]

-

-Language: English

-

-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

-

-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SINGING CARAVAN ***

-

-

-

-

-Produced by Emmanuel Ackerman, University of California

-Libraries, Microsoft (scanning) and the Online Distributed

-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was

-produced from images generously made available by The

-Internet Archive)

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

-

-

-_FICTION_

-

-    THE GATES

-    JOHN STUART

-

-_VERSE_

-

-    SONGS AND SATIRES

-

-_THEATRE_

-

-    LES PARIAHS

-    THE CAP AND BELLS

-    PEOPLE LIKE OURSELVES

-    CLASS

-

-_THEATRE IN VERSE_

-

-    FOOLERY

-    DUSK

-

-

-

-

-THE SINGING CARAVAN

-

-

-

-

-_RECENT POETRY_

-

-

-  THE HEART OF PEACE

-    By LAURENCE HOUSMAN.           5s. net

-

-  ESCAPE AND FANTASY

-    By GEORGE ROSTREVOR.       3s. 6d. net

-

-  THE SAILING SHIPS

-    By ENID BAGNOLD.               5s. net

-

-  COUNTER-ATTACK

-    By SIEGFRIED SASSOON.      2s. 6d. net

-

-  POEMS

-    By GEOFFREY DEARMER.       2s. 6d. net

-

-

-

-

-THE SINGING

-CARAVAN

-

-A SUFI TALE

-

-BY

-

-ROBERT VANSITTART

-

-  Each man is many as a caravan;

-    His straggling selves collect in tales like these.

-  Only the love of one can make him one.

-    Who takes the Sufi Way--the Way of Peace?

-

-

-NEW YORK

-GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

-1919

-

-_Printed in Great Britain_

-

-

-

-

-_IN MEMORIAM_

-

-MY BROTHER ARNOLD

-

-  2ND LIEUTENANT, 11TH HUSSARS

-  KILLED IN ACTION NEAR YPRES

-  MAY 1915

-

-

-    _In twenty years of lands and seas and cities

-      I had small joy and sought for it the more,

-    Thinking: "If ever I am polymêtis,

-      'Tis yours to draw upon the hard-won store."_

-

-    _I had some bouts from Samarkand to Paris,

-      And took some falls 'twixt Sweden and Sudan.

-    If I was slow and patient learning parries,

-      I hoped to teach you when you were a man._

-

-    _I cannot fall to whining round the threshold

-      Where Death awaited you. I lack the skill

-    Of hands for ever working out a fresh hold

-      On life. In mystic ways I serve you still._

-

-    _The age of miracles is not yet ended.

-      As on the humble feast of Galilee

-    Surely a touch of heaven has descended

-      On the cheap earthen vessel, even on me,_

-

-    _Whose weak content--the soul I travail under--

-      Unstable as water, to myself untrue,

-    God's mercy makes an everlasting wonder,

-      Stronger than life or death, my love of you._

-

-

-

-

-I am indebted to Mr. Arthur Humphreys, Mr. John Murray, and the

-Editor of the _Spectator_ for kind permission to reproduce a few of

-the shorter poems in this tale of Persian mystics. I have included

-them, firstly, because I wished otherwise new work, being a memorial,

-to include such fragments of the past as might be worth preserving;

-secondly, because decreasing leisure inspires a diffidence in the

-future that may justify me in asking a reader or a friend to judge or

-remember me only by "Foolery" and "The Singing Caravan."

-

-                                                  R. V.

-

-

-

-

-CONTENTS

-

-

-                                               PAGE

-

-         IN MEMORIAM                             vi

-

-         ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS                      viii

-

-         PRELUDE                                  1

-

-      I. THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN                 9

-

-     II. THE JOY OF THE WORDS                    15

-

-    III. THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT                  17

-

-     IV. THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT          20

-

-      V. THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL                 22

-

-     VI. THE BOASTING OF YOUTH                   28

-

-    VII. THE HEART OF THE SLAVE                  33

-

-   VIII. THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK               37

-

-     IX. THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR              39

-

-      X. THE SONG OF THE SELVES                  49

-

-     XI. THE STORY OF THE SUTLER                 57

-

-    XII. THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT               62

-

-   XIII. THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER            66

-

-    XIV. THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR                78

-

-     XV. THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH           81

-

-    XVI. THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC             90

-

-   XVII. THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR                100

-

-  XVIII. THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER          103

-

-    XIX. FUSION                                 161

-

-     XX. LONG LEAVE                             167

-

-         EPILOGUE                               169

-

-

-

-

-PRELUDE

-

-

-    The sun smote Elburz like a gong.

-      Slow down the mountain's molten face

-    Zigzagged the caravan of song.

-      Time was its slave and went its pace.

-

-    It bore a white Transcaspian Queen

-      Whose barque had touched at Enzelí.

-    Splendid in jewelled palanquin

-      She cleft Iran from sea to sea,

-

-    Bound for the Persian Gulf of Pearls,

-      Where demons sail for drifting isles

-    With bodyguards of dancing girls

-      And four tamed winds for music, smiles

-

-    For passports. Thus the caravan,

-      Singing from chief to _charvadar_,

-    Reached the great gate of screened Tehran.

-      The burrows of the dim bazaar

-

-    Swarmed thick to see the vision pass

-      On broidered camels like a fleet

-    Of swaying silence. One there was

-      Who joined the strangers in the street.

-

-    They called him Dreamer-of-the-Age,

-      The least of Allah's _Muslimeen_

-    Who knew the joys of pilgrimage

-      And wore the sign of sacred green,

-

-    A poet, poor and wistful-eyed.

-      Him all the beauty and the song

-    Drew by swift magic to her side,

-      And in a trance he went along

-

-    Past friends who questioned of his goal:

-      "The Brazen Cliffs? The Realms of Musk?

-    Goes he to Mecca for his soul?..."

-      The town-light dwindled in the dusk

-

-    Behind. Ahead Misr? El Katíf?

-      The moon far up a brine-green sky

-    Made Demavend a huge pale reef

-      Set in an ocean long gone dry.

-

-    Bleached mosques like dwarf cave-stalagmites,

-      Smooth silver-bouldered _biyaban_

-    And sevenfold velvet of white nights

-      Vied with the singing caravan

-

-    To make her pathway plain.

-                                Then one

-      Beside the poet murmured low:

-    "I plod behind, sun after sun,

-      O master, whither do we go?

-

-    "Are we for some palmed port of Fars,

-      Or tombed Kerbela, or Baghdad

-    The Town-of-Knowledge-of-the-Stars?

-      Is worship wise or are we mad?"

-

-    Answered the poet: "Do we ask

-      Allah to buy each Friday's throng?

-    None to whom worship is a task

-      Should join the caravan of song.

-

-    "With heart and eyes unquestioning, friend,

-      We follow love from sea to sea,

-    And Love and Prayer have common end:

-      'May God be merciful to me!'"

-

-    So fared they, camped from noon to even,

-      Till dawn, quick-groping through the gloom,

-    Pounced on gilt planets low in heaven.

-      Thus they beheld the domes of Kum.

-

-    And onward nightly. Though the dust

-      Swirled in dread shapes of desert _Jinn_,

-    Ever the footsore poet's trust

-      Soared to the jewelled palanquin,

-

-    Parched, but still singing: "God, being great,

-      Lent me a star from sea to sea,

-    The drop in his hand-hollow, Fate.

-      He holds it high, and signs to me

-

-    "Although She--She may not ..."

-                                "For thirst

-      My songs and dreams like mirage fail.

-    Yea, mad "--his fellow pilgrim cursed--

-      "I was. The Queen lifts not her veil."

-

-    "Put no conditions to her glance,

-      O happy desert, where the guide

-    Is Love's own self, Life's only chance ..."

-      He saw not where the other died,

-

-    But pressed on strongly, loth to halt

-      At Persia's pride, Rose-Ispahan,

-    Whose hawks are bathed in pure cobalt.

-      To meet the singing caravan

-

-    Came henna-bearded prince and sage

-      With henna-fingered _houris_, who

-    Strove to retard the pilgrimage,

-      Saying: "Our streets are fair and you

-

-    "A poet. Sing of us instead.

-      God may be good, but life is short.

-    Yon are the mountains of the dead.

-      Here are clean robes to wear at court."

-

-    He said: "I seek a bliss beyond

-      The range of your _muezzin_-call.

-    Do birds cease song till heaven respond?

-      The road is naught. The Hope is all."

-

-    "You know not this Transcaspian Queen,

-      Or what the journey's end may be.

-    Fool among Allah's _Muslimeen_,

-      You chase a myth from sea to sea."

-

-    "Because I bargain not nor guess

-      If Waste or Garden wait for me,

-    Love gives me inner loveliness.

-      I hold to her from sea to sea."

-

-    So he was gone, nor seemed to care

-      For beckoning shade, or boasting brook,

-    Or human alabaster-ware

-      Flaunted before him in the _suk_,

-

-    Nor paused at sunburnt far Shiraz,

-      The home of sinful yellow wine,

-    Where morning mists, like violet gauze,

-      Deck the bare hills, and blossoms twine

-

-    In seething coloured foam around

-      The lighthouse minarets.

-                                And sheer--

-    A thin cascade bereft of sound--

-      The track falls down to dank Bushír.

-

-    The caravan slipped to the plain.

-      Its song rose through the rising damp,

-    Till, through the grey stockade of rain,

-      The Gulf of Pearls shone like a lamp.

-

-    Here waiting rode a giant _dhow_,

-      Each hand a captive _Roumi_ lord,

-    Who rose despite his chains to bow

-      As straight her beauty went aboard,

-

-    Sailed. For the Tableland of Rhyme?

-      The Crystal Archipelago?

-    Who knows! This happened on a time

-      Among the times of long ago.

-

-    He only, Dreamer-of-the-Age,

-      Was left alone upon the sands,

-    The goal of his long pilgrimage,

-      The soil of all the promised lands,

-

-    Watching the _dhow_ cut like a sword

-      The leaden waves. Yet, ere she sailed,

-    God poured on broken eyes reward

-      Out of Heaven's heart.

-                            The Queen unveiled.

-

-    There for a space fulfilment shone,

-      While worship had his soul for priest

-    And altar. Then the light was gone,

-      And on the sea the singing ceased.

-

-           *       *       *       *       *

-

-    And is this all my story? Yes,

-      Save that the _Sufi's_ dream is true.

-    Dearest, in its deep lowliness

-      This tale is told of me and you.

-

-    O love of mine, while I have breath,

-      Whatever my last fate shall be,

-    I seek you, you alone, till death

-      With all my life--from sea to sea.

-      And God be merciful to me.

-

-

-

-

-I

-

-THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN

-

-

-    The pilgrims from the north

-      Beat on the southern gate

-    All eager to set forth,

-      In little mood to wait

-    While watchman Abdelal

-      Expounded the Koran

-    To that wise seneschal,

-      His mate, Ghaffír Sultan.

-

-    At length Ghaffír: "Enough!"

-      Even watchmen's heads may nod.

-    "Asräil is not rough

-      If we have faith in God."

-    His fellow tapped the book:

-      The _Darawish_ discuss

-    The point you overlook:

-      Has Allah faith in us?

-

-    Know, then, that Allah, fresh

-      And splendid as a boy

-    Who thinks no ill of flesh,

-      Had one desire: a toy.

-    And so he took for site

-      To build his perfect plan

-    The Earth, where His delight

-      Was manufactured: Man.

-

-    Ah, had we ever seen

-      The draft, our Maker's spit,

-    I think we must have been

-      Drawn to live up to it.

-    God was so pure and kind

-      He showed Shaitan the lease

-    Of earth that He had signed

-      For us, His masterpiece.

-

-    The pilgrims cried: "You flout

-      Our calm. Beware. It flags.

-    Unbar and let us out,

-      Sons of a thousand rags."

-    And Abdelal said: "Hark!

-      Methought I heard a din."

-    Said Ghaffír: "After dark

-      I let no devils in.

-

-    "Proceed." He sucked his pipe:

-      God in His happiest mood

-    Laid down our prototype,

-      And saw that man was good.

-    Aglow with generous pride:

-      "Shaitan the son of Jann,

-    This is my crown," He cried.

-      "Bow down and worship man."

-

-    Said Evil with a smirk--

-      He was too sly to hiss--

-    "I cannot praise your work.

-      I could have bettered this."

-    God said: "I could have sown

-      The soil my puppet delves,

-    Yet rather gave my own

-      Power to perfect themselves."

-

-    Still the fiend stiffened. "I

-      Bow not." Our prophet saith

-    That he would not comply

-      Because he had no faith

-    In us. He only saw

-      The worst of Allah's toy,

-    The springs, some surface flaw,

-      The strengthening alloy.

-

-    Said God: "The faults are mine.

-      I gave him hope and doubt,

-    The mind that my design

-      Shall have to work Me out.

-    What though he fall! Is love

-      So faint that I should grieve?

-    How else, friend, should I prove

-      To him that I believe?

-

-    "And how else should he rise?

-      Lo, I, that made the night,

-    Have given his conscience eyes

-      Therein to find the Right.

-    I have stretched out his hand,

-      Oh, not to grasp but feel,

-    Have taught his aims to land,

-      But tipped the aims with steel;

-

-    "Have given him iron resolve

-      And one great master-key,

-    Courage, to bid revolve

-      The hinge of destiny,

-    And beams from heaven to build

-      The road to Otherwise,

-    With broken gloom to gild

-      The causeway of his sighs

-

-    "Whereby I watch him come

-      At last to judge of Me,

-    Beyond the thunder's drum,

-      The cymbals of the sea.

-    Aye, Shaitan, plumb the Space

-      And Time that planets buoy,

-    And you shall know the place

-      Appointed for my toy.

-

-    "I could not give him rest,

-      And see him satiate

-    At once, or make the zest

-      Of life an opiate.

-    I might have been his lord,

-      I had not been his friend

-    To sheathe his spirit's sword

-      And start him at the end.

-

-    "I would not make him old,

-      That he might see his port

-    Fling its nocturne of gold

-      And cheerfulness athwart

-    The dusk. I planned the wave,

-      And wealth of wind and star.

-    Could one be gay and brave

-      Who never saw afar

-

-    "The cause that he outlives

-      Only because he fought,

-    The peaks to which he strives,

-      The ranges of his thought,

-    Until the dawn to be

-      Relieve his watchfires dim,

-    Not by his faith in Me

-      But by my faith in him!

-

-    "I also have my dreams,

-      And through my darkest cloud

-    His climbing phalanx gleams

-      To my salute, and, proud

-    Of him even in defeat,

-      My light upon his brow,

-    My roughness at his feet,

-      I triumph. Shaitan, bow!"

-

-    But Shaitan like an ass

-      Jibbed and would not give ear.

-    Just so it came to pass,

-      Declares our Book, Ghaffír.

-    We know that in the heat

-      Of disputation--well,

-    Allah shot out his feet,

-      And Shaitan went to hell.

-

-    Thus Abdelal. The gate

-      Shook to the pilgrims' cry:

-    "When will you cease to prate,

-      Beards of calamity!"

-    The poet: "Allah's bliss

-      Fall on his watchmen! Thus

-    Our journey's password is

-      That God has faith in us."

-

-

-

-

-II

-

-THE JOY OF THE WORDS

-

-

-    The Sufis trembled: "Open, open wide,

-      Dismiss us to illuminate the East."

-    Old Ghaffír fumbled the reluctant bolts,

-      Lifting his hands and eyes as for a feast.

-    And this was their viaticum. His words

-      Were mingled with their eagerness like yeast:

-

-    Go forth, poor words!

-      If truly you are free,

-    Simple, direct, you shall be winged like birds,

-      Voiced like the sea.

-

-    Walk humbly clad!

-      Be sure those words are lame

-    That ride a-clatter, or that deck and pad

-      A puny frame.

-

-    As in your dress,

-      So in your speech be plain!

-    Be not deceived; the Mighty Meaningless

-      Are loud in vain.

-

-    Be not puffed up,

-      Nor drunk with your own sound!

-    Shall men drink deeply when an empty cup

-      Is handed round?

-

-    Shout not at heaven!

-      Say what I bade you say.

-    Simplicity is beauty dwelling even

-      In yea or nay.

-

-    Be this your goal.

-      Beauty within man's reach

-    Is poetry. You cannot touch man's soul

-      Save with man's speech.

-

-    Therefore go straight.

-      You shall not turn aside

-    To vain display; for yonder lies the gate

-      Where gods abide

-

-    Your coming. Go!

-      The way was never hard.

-    What would you more than common flowers or snow?

-      For your reward,

-

-    Be understood,

-      And thus shall you be sung.

-    Aye, you who think to show us any good,

-      Speak in our tongue.

-

-

-

-

-III

-

-THE DEPTH OF THE NIGHT

-

-

-    The watchman finished, as the southern gate

-    Clanged, and the breathless city lay behind.

-    The Dreamer's shadows shrank against the wall,

-    As though the desert called and none replied,

-    Till the young pilot, standing out to night,

-    Swung clear these lines to sound the depths of her:

-

-          "Blue Persian night,

-    Soft, voiceless as the summer sea!

-    Flooding the bouldered desert sand, submerge

-          This cypressed isle

-    And Demavend's snow-spire--a sunken rock

-    On your hushed floor, where I the diver stand

-          Beyond the reach of day.

-    And though, up through your overwhelming peace,

-          I see your surface, heaven,

-    I would not rise there, being drowned in you,

-          Blue Persian night.

-

-          "Blue Persian night,

-    O consolation of the East!

-    In your clear breathless oceanic sheen

-          My heart's an isle,

-    From whose innumerable caves and coigns--

-    When dusk awakes the city of my mind--

-          Exploring boats set forth,

-    Bound for the harbour-lights of God knows where,

-          Full, full of God knows what;

-    It must be love of Him, or Her, or You,

-          Blue Persian night."

-

-    Her signal answered; for a slender wand

-    Of moonbeam touched the Dreamer on the mouth.

-    The caravan looked upward with a shout

-    And set its camels rolling to the south,

-    Murmuring: "Blue Persian night, none ever saw

-    You through your own sheer purity before us.

-    Rise up our songs as bubbles from the sand ..."

-    Somewhere among the camels rose this chorus:

-

-                  Dong! Dong!

-              Lurching along

-              Out of the dusk

-              Into the night.

-            Noiseless and lusty,

-            Dreamy and dusty,

-        Looms the long caravan-line into sight.

-

-                  Dong! Dong!

-              Never a song,

-              Never a footfall

-              A breath or a sigh.

-            Ghostly and stolid,

-            Stately and squalid,

-        Creeps the monotonous caravan by.

-

-                  Dong! Dong!

-              Fugitive throng.

-              Out of the dark

-              Into the night,

-            Silent and lonely,

-            Gone!... the bells only

-        Tells us a caravan once was in sight.

-

-

-

-

-IV

-

-THE INWARDNESS OF THE MERCHANT

-

-

-    Moussa, the son of the Crypto-Jew,

-    Had eaten his fill of yellow stew

-

-    And a bit besides (as a business man

-    He was far too quick for the caravan,

-

-    Who loved him not, though it feared his guile).

-    Moussa then: "I shall walk awhile

-

-    "To ease my soul of its heavy load."

-    His pious friends: "May you find a road,"

-

-    And winked. "His soul has begun to feel

-    There's nothing left but a march to steal."

-

-    But one from the village, decoying quail

-    For the governor's pot, came back with a tale

-

-    Of a lean arm shaken against the sky

-    Like a stunted thorn, and this piteous cry:

-

-      "As sound within an ice-bound desert mewed

-      Drags out existence at the very core

-      Of isolation, as breakers slip ashore

-      In vainly eternal whispers to the nude

-      Reef-coral, where no human feet intrude

-      Upon the purity of stillness; or

-      As, far from life, unmated eagles soar

-      Above the hilltops' breathless solitude,

-

-      "So moves my love, like these a thing apart,

-      Fierce, in the ruined temple of my heart,

-      Shy as a shooting star that peers new-risen

-      Mid strangers. Even so. Pent in the prison

-      Of space my soul, a lonely planet, wheels ...

-      Men call the sum of loneliness 'Ideals.'"

-

-    This is the plaint that the cross-road heard

-    Where it strikes from Kashan to Burujird.

-

-    The townsmen, met by the sun-dried stream,

-    Caught a voice high up like an angel's scream

-

-    Or a teaspoon tapping the bowl of heaven,

-    And they cried: "_Ajab!_ May we be forgiven,

-

-    "But it sounds a soul of the rarer sort

-    Whose wings are set for no earthly port."

-

-    And the answer came, as they cried: "Who's that?"

-    "One that sells short weight in mutton fat."

-

-

-

-

-V

-

-THE LESSON OF THE CAMEL

-

-

-    Light was not. All was still. The caravan

-    Had ceased its song and motion by the bed

-    Wherein the hill-stream tosses sleeplessly,

-    The only sound, save one staccato note

-    Interminably piped by tiny owls.

-    The camp lay balmed in slumber, as the dead

-    Are straitened in white trappings. Then a voice,

-    Deeper than any dead black mountain pool

-    Or blacker well where devils cool by day,

-    Seemed to commune with Dreamer-of-the-Age,

-    Who, peering through the cloak about his head,

-    Challenged: "Who speaks?" The voice replied: "A friend

-    Unknown to you." ... It was old Peacock Tous,

-    The great grey camel with the crimson tail

-    On whom the queen was wont to ride. He said:

-

-    "Sheikh, I was born among the Bakhtiari,

-      The shelter of their hawthorn vales was mine;

-    For me, unbroken to the loads men carry,

-      The breeze that crowns their uplands glowed as wine

-    To drink. I, Tous, the Peacock, whom men call so

-      Because I ever moved as one above

-    The common herd, was mad and merry. Also

-      I knew not yet the prickled herb of Love.

-

-    "Spring tricked the desert out with flowered patterns

-      For me to tread like flowered carpets wrought

-    In patience by my master's painted slatterns--

-      He said that only Persian _women_ fought.

-    Ah, youth is free and silken-haired and leggy!

-      No camel knows why Allah makes it end,

-    But He is wiser. Me the tribe's Il-Beggi

-      Spied out and sent as tribute to a friend,

-

-    "A dweller in black tents, a nomad chieftain

-      Of Khamseh Arabs or unruled Kashgai,

-    Whose cattle-raids and rapines past belief stain

-      The furthest page of camel-history.

-    And shamefully the ragged sutlers thwacked us,

-      Until I learned, as to this manner born,

-    That pride must find a mother in the cactus

-      And hope the milk of kindness in the thorn.

-

-    "O Sheikh, I found. A milk-white _nakeh_ followed

-      The drove of males, and I would lag behind

-    With her, no matter how the drivers holloa'ed--

-      Man never doubts that all but he are blind.

-    At nightfall, when our champing echoed surly

-      Beyond the cheerful circle of the fire,

-    Something within me whispered, and thus early

-      I bore the burden of the world's desire.

-

-    "But I was saddled with the will of Allah,

-      Since one there was more fleet of foot than I,

-    The chosen of the chief of the Mehallah,

-      Whose nostrils quivered as he passed me by.

-    To her, beside his paces and his frothing,

-      My steadfastness was common as the air,

-    My passion and my patience were as nothing,

-      Because fate chose to make my rival fair.

-

-    "I suffered and was silent--some said lazy--

-      Until the seasons drove us to the plain.

-    The nomads sold me then to a Shirazi.

-      I never met my happiness again,

-    But trod the same old measure back and forward,

-      And passed a friend as seldom as a tree.

-    Oh, heaviness of ever going shoreward,

-      Of bringing all fruition to the sea!

-

-    "For I have fared from sea to sea like you, sirs,

-      And with your like, not once but many times.

-    Your path acclaims me eldest of its users,

-      It tells my step as I foresee your rhymes.

-    I know by heart a heartache's thousandth chapter

-      As you have read the preface of delight.

-    The silence you shall enter, I have mapped her.

-      O singing caravan, I was To-night

-

-    "Long ere you dreamed. I dreaming of my lady

-      Became the cargo-bearer we call Self.

-    Two hundredweight of flesh that spouted Sa'di,

-      A restless bag of bones intent on pelf,

-    Have straddled me in turn.... Hashish and spices,

-      Wheat, poisons, satins, brass, and graven stone,

-    I, Tous, have borne all human needs and vices

-      As solemnly as had they been my own.

-

-    "Moon-faced sultanas blue with kohl a-pillion,

-      Grey ambergris, pink damask-roses' oil,

-    Deep murex purple, beards or lips vermilion

-      As Abu Musa's flaming scarlet soil

-    I have borne--and dung and lacquer. I have flooded

-      Bazaars with poppy-seed and filigree.

-    Men little guess the stuff that I have studied,

-      Or what their vaunted traffic seems to me.

-

-    "I am hardened to all wonderments and stories--

-      My ears have borne the hardest of my task--

-    I have carried pearls from Lingah up to Tauris,

-      And Russian Jews from Lenkoran to Jask.

-    I have watched fat vessels crammed by sweating coolies

-      With all the rubbish that the rich devise,

-    And often I have wondered who the fool is

-      That takes it all, and whom the fool supplies.

-

-    "Yet ran my thoughts on her, though cedar rafters

-      Were laid on me, or mottled silk and plush,

-    Although the tinkling scales of varied laughters

-      Rode me from Bandar Abbas to Barfrush,

-    Or broken hearts from Astara to Gwetter.

-      All ironies have made their moving house

-    Of me. I smile to think how many a letter

-      Has passed from loved to lover thanks to Tous

-

-    "The loveless. Think you men alone are lonely,

-      My masters? I have also worshipped one,

-    Have built my days of faith and service only,

-      And while I worshipped all my life was gone.

-    I spent the funds of life in growing older,

-      In heaping fuel on a smothered fire.

-    See how my tale is rounded! On my shoulder

-      I bear the burden of _your_ world's desire.

-

-    "Yet keep that inner smile; and never show it

-      Though the Account be nothing--shorn of her.

-    Be wise, O Sheikh. Pray God to be a poet

-      Lest life should make you a philosopher,

-    Or lest the dreams of which you had the making

-      Should prove to be such stuff as still I trail,

-    And bring your heart, my withers, nigh to breaking

-      When at the last the Bearer eyes the Bale,

-

-    "As you shall penetrate this day or morrow

-      The miracle of willing servitude,

-    And yet believe therein. It is the sorrow

-      And not the love that asks to be subdued;

-    It is the mirage not the truth that trammels

-      The travelling feet. Ah, if men only knew

-    How their brief frenzies move the mirth of camels,

-      Our rests were longer and our journeys few.

-

-    "Old Tous is up. The camp is struck and ready

-      For fresh emprise. Dawn sifts the clay-blue sky

-    For gold. Now see how dominant and steady

-      I prose along that have no mind to fly.

-    This is my lesson: over sand or shingle,

-      Blow hot, blow cold, by mountain, plain and khor,

-    Coming and going, I must set a-jingle

-      My own deep bell.... And you must ask for more!"

-

-    He ceased. White on the mirror of the air

-    His breath made patterns. In a ruined farm

-    Red cocks blared out and shouted down the owls.

-    The drivers rubbed their eyes. Another day

-    Among the days was starting on its march....

-    Above the pilgrims fallen to their prayers

-    Old Tous stood upright, blinking at the sun.

-

-

-

-

-VI

-

-THE BOASTING OF YOUTH

-

-

-    The soldier-lad from Kerman,

-      The sailor-lad from Jask

-    Knew naught that should deter man

-      From finishing the cask.

-    "Wine sets the Faithful jibbing

-      Like mules before an inn,

-    But we sit bravely bibbing,

-      And hold our own with sin."

-

-    Said the stout-hearted wonder

-      Of Jask: "Wine frights not me.

-    I fear no foe but thunder

-      And winds that sting the sea."

-    "And I," said he of Kerman,

-      "Fear nothing but the night,

-    Or some imperious _firman_

-      That bids the Faithful fight."

-

-    "They say some lads fear ladies

-      And truckle to them." "Who

-    Could be so weak? The _Cadis_

-      Rise up for me and you."

-    "But doctors, nay and princes,

-      Have troubles of their own,

-    Save those whom fire convinces....

-      I leave the stuff alone."

-

-    "And I...." Then both bethought them

-      That, howso strong and wise,

-    Their principles had caught them

-      On this mad enterprise.

-    "'Tis time to act with daring,

-      And rest," said he of Jask,

-    And swore a mighty swearing,

-      (And drained another flask).

-

-    "If I go on, attendant

-      Upon this woman's way,

-    May I become dependant

-      On your arrears of pay!"

-    "If I," said Captain Kerman,

-      "Should knuckle to my mate,

-    May I become a merman

-      And live on maggot-bait!"

-

-    "Then since we have discovered

-      That women need our strength"--

-    (The tavern-houris hovered)

-      "To hold them at arm's length,

-    Sit down in this rest-house, and

-      Tell me a tale among

-    The tales, one in your thousand!"

-      This was the story sung:

-

-      "I threw my love about you like fine raiment;

-        I let you kill my pride.

-      You passed me by, but smiled at me in payment,

-        And I was satisfied.

-

-      "I made my mind a plaything for your leisure,

-        Content to be ignored.

-      Body and soul I waited on your pleasure,

-        Waited--without reward.

-

-      "I have no faint repinings that we met, dear,

-        Or that I left you cold.

-      I rub my hands. You will be colder yet, dear,

-        Some day when you are old."

-

-        "Forbidden wine is mellow.

-          The sun has set. Of whom

-        Sing you this song, Brave Fellow?

-          Night is the ante-room

-        Breeze-sprinkled to keep cooler

-          The feasting-halls behind."

-        "She might have been my ruler

-          But for my _Strength of Mind_."

-

-        "That was the tune to whistle!

-          How have I longed to learn

-        The deeds of men of gristle

-          Like mine!..." "Tell me in turn

-        Some of your lore of women,

-          Whose wiles are deep as _bhang_.

-        Your strength shall teach to swim men

-          Who fall in love...." He sang:

-

-    "You came to me, and well you chose your quarry.

-    You told your tale, and well you played your rôle.

-    You spoke of suffering, and I was sorry

-      With all my heart, with all my soul.

-    'Out of the deep,' you said. I thought to save you,

-    And stunned myself upon the covered shoal.

-    Yet, poor deceptive shallows, I forgave you

-      With all my heart, with all my soul.

-    You sought whatever evil had not sought you.

-    In vain I strove to make your nature whole.

-    I did not know the market that had bought you

-      With all your heart, with all your soul.

-    If man had one pure impulse you would smudge it.

-    You had one gift, my pity, which you stole.

-    Now I will only tell you that I grudge it

-      With all my heart, with all my soul."

-

-      "Of whom this song, Brave Fellow?

-        The stars in heaven's black soil

-      Fold up their petalled yellow

-        That pays the angels' toil."

-      The lamp had burned its wick dim,

-        The pair had drunk their fill....

-      "I might have been her victim

-        But for my _Strength of Will_."

-

-      Then one said to the other:

-        "Such strength as yours and mine

-      Must put its foot down, brother,

-        And stay here--pass the wine--

-      Till, for the world's salvation,

-        Shall radiate from this den

-      The Great Confederation

-        Of Independent Men."

-

-           *       *       *       *       *

-

-      The last sour mule was saddled,

-        On went the caravan.

-      These twain turned on the raddled

-        Handmaidens of the _han_,

-      Blinked, cast them forth with loathing

-        Because the queen was fair,

-      And lest their lack of clothing

-        Should lay man's weakness bare.

-

-      White as a cloud in summer,

-        Slender as sun-shot rain--

-      Earth knows what moods become her--

-        The queen passed....

-                             In her train

-      The Great Confederation

-        Trod with such wealth of _Will_

-      That, in its trepidation,

-        It never paid its bill.

-

-

-

-

-VII

-

-THE HEART OF THE SLAVE

-

-

-    But as they fared slave Obeidullah failed.

-    Devouring fever shook him like a rat,

-    And ere they reached Kashan his course was run.

-    Then freedom came towards him, and he spoke:

-    "Here is an eye of water, mulberry-trees,

-    A rest-house, and to me a stranger thing,

-    Rest. Caravan be strong, fare on with blessings

-    Whence you must forge your happiness--but I,

-    Possessed of peace, shall never see the end.

-    The heart within me has been fire so long

-    That now my body is smoke. I watch it drift

-    Life leaves me gently as a mistress goes

-    Before her time to meet the uncoloured days,

-    Saying: 'I have lived. Plead not. 'Twill be in vain.

-    You were the end of summer. I have passed

-    Out of the garden with fresh scents and dews

-    Upon me, out ere sunset with cool hands,

-    The supple tread of youth and glorying limbs

-    Firm as resolve, unblemished as my pride;

-    Passed ere a leaf be fallen, or losing fights

-    Begin, that smirch the memory of love....'

-    Sweet is the shade, and death's cool lips are welcome

-    After the burning kisses of the sun,

-    The strained embraces of my owner, Toil.

-    I shall remember her with gratitude

-    But no regret, as I lie here. The dawn

-    Biting the desert-edge shall not disturb me,

-    Nor green oases zigzagged through the heat

-    Like stepping-stones. The many-coloured hills,

-    Heaven's mutable emotions, these are past.

-    Beyond them I shall find security

-    Of tenure in the outstretched hands of God."

-    Thereat his fellows made lament, and urged:

-    "Sleep on and take your rest, but not for ever.

-    Time adds to strength, and you shall rise with us

-    Who wait. Already we foresee the coast.

-    A little while...." Slave Obeidullah raised

-    Himself and looked ahead with shining eyes:

-

-      "The moon is faint. A dust-cloud swirls.

-        Therein I see dim marching hosts:

-      Strange embassies and dancing girls,

-        Spice-caravans and pilgrims. Ghosts

-      Rise thick from this else fruitless plain,

-        A waste that every season chars.

-      Yet teeming centuries lie slain

-        And trodden in the road to Fars.

-

-      "The still, white, creeping road slips on,

-        Marked by the bones of man and beast.

-      What comeliness and might have gone

-        To pad the highway of the East!

-      Long dynasties of fallen rose,

-        The glories of a thousand wars,

-      A million lovers' hearts compose

-        The dust upon the road to Fars.

-

-      "No tears have ever served to hold

-       This shifting velvet, fathom-deep,

-      Though vain and ceaseless winds have rolled

-        Its pile wherein the ages sleep.

-      Between your fingers you may sift

-        Kings, poets, priests and _charvadars_.

-      Heaven knows how many make a drift

-        Of dust upon the road to Fars.

-

-      "The wraiths subside. And, One with All,

-        Soon, in the brevity of length,

-      Our lives shall hear the voiceless call

-        That builds this earth of love and strength.

-      Eternal, breathless, we shall wait,

-        Till, last of all the Avatars,

-      God finds us in his first estate:

-        The dust upon the road to Fars."

-

-    So still he lay, so still the pilgrims deemed

-    He was no longer there. The deepening shade

-    Covered him softly. With his latest breath

-    Slave Obeidullah looked upon the Queen:

-

-      "You whom I loved so steadfastly,

-      If all the blest should ask to see

-        The cause for which my spirit came

-        Among them with so little claim

-      To peace, this book should speak for me.

-

-      "I strove and only asked in fee

-      Hope of your immortality

-        Not mine--I had no other aim

-              You whom I loved.

-

-        "The Judge will bend to hear my plea,

-      And take my songs upon his knee.

-        Perhaps His hand will make the lame

-        Worthy to worship you, the same

-      As here they vainly tried to be,

-              You whom I loved."

-

-    Then, turned towards her, Obeidullah slept.

-

-

-

-

-VIII

-

-THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK

-

-

-    Among the fruit-trees still he slumbers. All

-    Mourned for their brother with one heavy heart.

-    Even Tous drooped, swaying weakly in his stride;

-    Until Farid Bahadur, cheapjack, spoke,

-    One bootlessly afoot whose years had brought

-    For profit this, to see existence clear

-    And empty as a solid ball of glass.

-

-    Erstwhile, he said, my peddling carried me

-    Clean through two empires like a paper hoop,

-    Setting me down upon the olive slopes

-    Where Smyrna nestles back to mother earth,

-    And so lures in the ocean. I filled my pack

-    With kerchiefs, beads, dross, chaffering with a Greek,

-    Although he vowed a much-loved partner's death

-    Left him no heart for it. He blew his nose,

-    Asking strange prices as a man distraught.

-    I had no heart to bargain while he crooned:

-

-      "Our loves were woven of one splendid thread,

-      But not our lives, though we had been, we twain,

-      Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane

-      Of him who brought his brother from the dead.

-      Ah, would our God were like his gods that said:

-      Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain,

-      And let the younger Castor live again

-      The space that Pollux lay with Death instead.

-      Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave

-      Not for a part of time but for God's whole

-      Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save

-      Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul

-      Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask

-      From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task.

-

-      "They say the Olympian grace was not content

-      With housing Death, but giving Love the key.

-      It set the troths that guided you and me

-      Among the jewels of the firmament;

-      And there they dwell for ever and assent

-      To each propitious ploughing of the sea.

-      The coasting-pilots of Infinity

-      Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent,

-      Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here

-      With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut

-      All day; but every night an Argonaut

-      Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far

-      Beyond the limitations of his sphere

-      Into the vacant place beside a star."

-

-    So crooned he desolate in his dim shop,

-    Till I became all ears and had no eyes.

-    The fellow cheated me of three _dinars_.

-

-

-

-

-IX

-

-THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR

-

-

-    Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed

-    The caravan. Its courage failed

-    A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled

-      The sun, that overhead

-    From fields The Plough had turned to grain,

-    Star-honey laden on The Wain

-    And spices from the wind-domain,

-      Was baking angel-bread.

-    (Astronomers in Baghdad say

-    That Allah gave the Milky Way

-      To feed his guests, the dead.)

-

-    Even as the dead the pilgrims lay

-    Until the sun received his pay--

-    Man counts in gold, but he in grey--

-      Then, whining as one daft,

-    A voice crept to each sleeper's ear,

-    And one by one sat up to hear

-    It soughing like a Seistan mere

-      Where nothing ever laughed.

-    A blur at elbow on the floor

-    Cried: "Sleep! 'Tis but the tavern door

-      Amoaning in the draught."

-

-    "Ay," said the master of the inn,

-    "A black-faced gaper that lets in

-    The dark, my creditors, and kin!

-      Last month it strained my wrist, did

-    The lout, so hard it slams. This week

-    Claims it for fuel. See the leak

-    Of air it springs! Its hinges creak,

-      Its wood is warped and twisted.

-    'Tis heavy-hearted as a man,

-    Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...."

-      The wheezing voice persisted.

-

-    "Earth bare me in Mazanderan,

-    Where, breaking her dead level plan,

-    Steep foliage opens like a fan

-      To hide her virgin blush;

-    And singing, caravan, like you

-    Brooks dance towards the Caspian blue

-    Past coolth wherein mauve turtles coo

-      To panthers in the rush,

-    That turn hill-pools to amethyst.

-    Here bucks drink deep and tigers tryst

-      Neck-deep in grasses lush.

-

-    "And there the stainless peaks are kissed

-    By heaven whose crowning mercy, mist,

-    With cloud-lands white as Allah's fist

-      Anoints their heads with rain.

-    We never dreamed, where nature pours,

-    That life could run as thin as yours--

-    A waif thirst-stricken to all fours--

-      Or verdure, but a vein

-    In sandscapes wincing from the sun

-    That burns your flesh and visions dun,

-      Crawl throbbing through the plain.

-

-    "I grew. My shadow weighed a ton;

-    I held a countless garrison;

-    My boughs were roads for apes to run

-      Around the white owl's niche.

-    The hum of bees, the blue jay's scream....

-    The forest came to love and teem

-    In me beside the vivid stream

-      Shot through with speckled fish;

-    Till, weary of my sheltered glen,

-    I craved a human denizen

-      Fate granted me my wish.

-

-    "Yea, I had longed (if slope and fen

-    Can love like this, the love of men

-    Must live above our nature's ken)

-      To see and shade the room,

-    To shield far-leaning the abode,

-    Wherein the souls of lovers glowed

-    To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...

-      And man became my doom.

-    He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,

-    And took the heart of me to make

-      A tavern-door at Kum."

-

-    The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,

-    Or searched the crannies for a ghost.

-    "Ah, heed it not," implored the host;

-      "This hell-burnt father's son

-    Moans ever like a soul oppressed,

-    And takes the fancy of a guest,

-    And makes my house no house of rest:

-      I would its voice were gone.

-    Yet be indulgent, sirs! 'Tis old.

-    Next week it shall be burnt or sold.

-      A new--" The voice went on:

-

-    "Here have I stood while life unrolled

-    But not the tale my breezes told.

-    Moonlight alone conceals the cold

-      Drab city's lack of heart.

-    Here have I watched an hundred years

-    Bespatter me with blood and tears,

-    Yet leave man ever in arrears

-      Of where my monkeys start.

-    No more, dog-rose and meadow-sweet!

-    The harlot's musk and rotten meat

-      Blow at me from the mart.

-

-    "No more, clear streams and fairy feet!

-    But through my mouth the striving street

-    Drains in brown spate the men who eat

-      And drink and curse and die;

-    And out of me the whole night long

-    Reel revellers--O God, their song!...

-    Are there no mortals clean and strong,

-      Or do they pass me by?

-    I little thought that I should leave

-    For this the groves where turtles grieve

-      Far closer to the sky.

-

-    "Instead of every song-bird's note

-    I know the scales a merchant's throat

-    Can compass. I have learned by rote

-      The tricks of Copt and Jew;

-    Can tell if Lur or Afghan brawls,

-    The Armenian way of selling shawls

-    Softly, and how an Arab bawls

-      To rouse the raider's crew,

-    Lest ululating strings of slaves

-    Should take the kennel for their graves....

-      Raids! I have seen a few,

-

-    "Or wars, occasion dubs them--waves

-    Of Mongol sultans, Kurdish braves.

-    They--Find me words! the Simûn _raves_--

-      They worked ... 'tis called their will,

-    Battered me in--behold the dint--

-    With all their hearts that felt like flint,

-    Besmeared the city with the tint

-      Of sunset on my hill.

-    My leopards stalk my bucks at eve--

-    I shivered as I heard them heave--

-      At least they ate their kill.

-

-    "I followed that.... But men who weave

-    Such flowing robes of make-believe,

-    I think the flood was wept by Eve--

-      Some sportsman shot the dove--

-    These puzzled me, for God is good

-    And man His image--not of wood,

-    Thank God!--At last I understood

-      All ... all except their love.

-    I grew so hard that I could trace

-    His hand's chief glory in their race.

-      Perhaps He wore a glove."

-

-    Then one without made haste to smite

-    The malcontent. It opened. Night

-    Stood on the threshold dressed in white,

-      And myriad-eyed and blind.

-    The ostler murmured: "Some _Afrit_

-    Or bitter worm has entered it;

-    Nor jamb nor lintel seems to fit.

-      I know its frame of mind."

-    "Air stirs the dust upon the floor,"

-    The landlord cried. "Fool! Shut that door

-      Amoaning in the wind."

-

-    "My glade was deep, a lichened well

-    Of ether, limpid as a bell

-    Buoyed on the manifold ground-swell

-      Whose distance changed attires

-    As sun-stroked plush, a roundelay

-    Of all red-blue and purple grey,

-    And, at each rise and fall of day,

-      Snows dyed like altar fires

-    Licked through those loud green sheaves of copse,

-    Bent hyphens 'twixt the mountain-tops,

-      Mosques of my motley choirs.

-

-    "And I, who gave them bed and bower

-    For nights enduring but an hour

-    Mid blaring miles of trumpet-flower,

-      Leagues of liana-wreath,

-    I saw the rocks through leaves and lings,

-    Could blink the fangs and feel the wings,

-    Thrill with the elemental things

-      Of life and love and death.

-    The purity of air and brook

-    And song helped me to overlook

-      The rapine underneath.

-

-    "But you--no! one dream more: an elf,

-    Askip on ochre mountain-shelf,

-    Who once had seen a man himself.

-      I used his wand to gauge

-    The sheen of moths and peacocks' whir,

-    To plumb the jungle-aisles, to stir

-    The drifts of frankincense and myrrh,

-    And amorous lithe shapes that purr....

-      'Tis finished. Turn the page

-    To where man cased his bones in fat.

-    His mate moved like a tiger-cat

-      Until he built her cage.

-

-    "You, I have watched you all who sat

-    Successive round the food-stained mat,

-    And reckoned many who lived for that

-      Alone; have seen the mark

-    Of that last state the Thinking Beast

-    Peep through the foliage of the feast,

-    And crown its poet's flight with greased

-      Fingers that grope the dark;

-    Have heard a cleanlier bosom catch

-    Her breath, and fumble with my latch

-      Irresolute. The lark

-

-    "My inmates never feared to match

-    Bespoke the end. I belched the batch,

-    Rolling them down the street, a patch

-      Of dirt against the dawn.

-    Then in its stead there came a saint,

-    Inventor of a soul-complaint,

-    Who gave men's faith a coat of paint

-      Like mine, and made me yawn

-    With furtive wenching. Here have sighed

-    Exultant groom and weeping bride

-      Led like a captive fawn.

-

-    "This way passed those who marry lean

-    Girl-chattels ere their times of teen.

-    I knew a like but milder scene:

-      A hawk, small birds that cower.

-    How soon the chosen was brought back dead--

-    Poisoned, the _hakim_ always said--

-    The husband groaned beside the bed,

-      Arose, and kept the dower,

-    But swept his conscience out with prayer.

-    Man took the angels unaware

-      When he became a power.

-

-    "And what of woman? On my stair

-    The merchants spread their gaudiest ware,

-    For which fools bought a love affair

-      That ended in a jerk.

-    Enough! To round the _tamasha_

-    A bloated thing came by, the Shah;

-    It grinned, and viziers fawned 'Ha! ha!'

-      Curs, brainless as a Turk.

-    And all the women in his train

-    Beheld him once and ne'er again,

-      And called his love their work.

-

-    "You see, my friends, I tired of this

-    Wild doubling in the chase of bliss.

-    Pards miss their spring as men their kiss,

-      And yet the quarry dies.

-    I learned the world's least mortal god,

-    Whose epitaph is Ichabod,

-    May sport till noon, but if he nod

-      Shall never more arise.

-    Then, caravan, you passed, and I

-    Have solved my riddle with a cry:

-      The sad are never wise.

-

-    "Your song was all that I had heard

-    In dreams beyond the wildest bird,

-    That rose above my yellow-furred

-      Basses that bell and roar.

-    It took the heart of me in tow

-    To heights that I had longed to know,

-    To the great deeps where lovers go

-      And find--and want--no shore.

-    In these alone is man fulfilled;

-    And gleaming in the air I build

-      My hope of him once more.

-

-    "For all the few that see truth whole,

-    And take its endlessness for goal,

-    And steer by stars as if no shoal

-      Could mar their firmament,

-    For all the few that sing and sail

-    Knowing their quest of small avail,

-    Thank God who gave them strength to fail

-      In finding what He meant...."

-    "Poets!" the landlord groaned, "and poor!

-    This house is cursed." He banged the door

-    Behind them as they went.

-

-    And distance placed soft hands upon their mouths.

-

-

-

-

-X

-

-THE SONG OF THE SELVES

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    'Twas in old Tehran City,

-      Hard by the old bazaar,

-    I heard a restless ditty

-      That pushed my door ajar;

-

-    A song nor great nor witty,

-      It spoke of my own mind.

-    I looked on Tehran City,

-      And knew I had been blind,

-

-    Or else the streets were altered

-      As by a peri's wand.

-    "Who are you, friends?" I faltered.

-      "The Pilgrims of Beyond,"

-

-    They said. I kissed the tatters

-      That wiser heads contemn.

-    I saw the Thing-that-matters,

-      And took the road with them.

-

-    I seek. Bestow no pity

-      On Failure's courtier. Say:

-    "'Twas well to find the city,

-      But that was yesterday."

-

-

-THE PILGRIMS

-

-    Athirst as the Hadramut,

-      Our spirits correspond

-    With God by all the gamut

-      Of harmony, too fond

-    Of Him for prayer that rifles

-    His treasury for trifles.

-    No load of blessing stifles

-      The Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    And yet the empty-handed

-      Hold richer merchandise

-    Than ever fable landed

-      From Dreamland's argosies,

-

-    Since we, the symbol-merchants,

-      Are partners with Bulbul.

-    The silversmith of her chants

-      Knows how our chests are full.

-

-    In marts, where echoes answer

-      And only they, we trade.

-    But join our caravan, sir,

-      And count your fortune made.

-

-    Dawn brings us dazzling offers

-      With fingers gemmed and pearled,

-    And evening fills our coffers

-      As we explain the world,

-

-    Green fields and seas that curtsey

-      To us and mock Despair;

-    For blossoms in the dirt see

-      Their spirit in the air.

-

-    And Ecstasy our servant

-      Demands no other wage

-    But that we be observant

-      To joy in pilgrimage.

-

-

-THE MERCHANTS

-

-    We do not bid our master

-      Declare His word His bond,

-    Or make His payments faster--

-      As though He would abscond!

-    We ask Him for too little

-    To strain at jot or tittle.

-    We know our lives are brittle,

-      We Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    We come from everlasting

-      Towards eternity,

-    Ho! not in dirge and fasting

-      But lapped in jollity.

-

-    Though sackcloth be our clothing

-      We bear no ash but fire.

-    We have no sickly loathing

-      Of youth and youth's desire.

-

-    We prize no consummation

-      Of one peculiar creed.

-    We travel for a nation,

-      The one that feels our need.

-

-    Our tongue conceals no message,

-      But leaves you free to find,

-    And vaunts itself the presage

-      Of those that come behind.

-

-

-THE CAMELMEN

-

-    Here is no patch of shade. A

-      Fierce wilderness and blonde

-    Links Delhi to Hodeidah,

-      Tashkent to Trebizond.

-    The cargo is our brother's,

-    We march and moil for others,

-    Until the desert smothers

-      The Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    Hark how our camels grumble

-      At morn! Would you permit

-    The stone on which you stumble

-      To make you carry it?

-

-    And if at last your burden

-      Be cheapened in a shop,

-    Seraglio or Lur den,

-      Should lack of humour stop

-

-    The game at its beginning?

-      We lug the stuff of dreams.

-    Earth does her best by spinning,

-      She cannot help the seams;

-

-    But you can help to monger

-      The broidery. She may

-    Have made you richer, stronger,

-      To give her best away.

-

-    I own no musk or camphor,

-      I have no truck with care,

-    Nor change the thing I am for

-      The things men only wear.

-

-

-THE SOLDIERS

-

-    First cousin of a sieve is

-      The uniform we donned.

-    We slop along on _ghivehs_,

-      In rags caparisonned.

-    No Shah has ever paid us.

-    All brigands mock and raid us,

-    And misery has made us

-      The Pilgrims of Beyond.

-

-

-DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

-

-    What then! Would you be willing

-      To quit the caravan,

-    And fall again to drilling,

-      Pent in the walled _meidan_,

-

-    When history flings open

-      Blank scrolls for you to write

-    Such victories as no pen

-      Has ever brought to light?

-

-    You shall not burn as Jengiz,

-      Nor rage like Timur Lang.

-    Your foemen are _ferengis_

-      Of whom no epic sang.

-

-    The housed that blame the tented,

-      Or comfort those that think,

-    The flocks that die contented

-      With settling down to blink

-

-    The sun we keep our eyes on,

-      That bow their heads too far

-    To face their own horizon,

-      On these be war on war.

-

-    Cursed by the bonds you sever,

-      The bondsmen you release,

-    Go, seek the Land of Fever

-      And find the Land of Ease.

-

-

-THE CARAVAN

-

-    Lift up your hearts, ye singers!

-      We lift them up in song.

-    Behold, the sunset lingers.

-      No less shall night be long.

-    We meet her unaffrighted,

-    Though never bourne be sighted.

-    We _meant_ to be benighted

-      Still moving fleet and strong.

-

-    We smooth the stony places

-    For those that else despond.

-    We pass, and leave no traces

-      Save this, a broken frond,

-    And this, that hands once craven

-    Take hardship for the haven

-    Upon whose rocks is graven:

-      "The Pilgrims of Beyond."

-

-

-

-

-XI

-

-THE STORY OF THE SUTLER

-

-

-    And so the song was finished. Then they called

-    To Kizzil Bash, the Sutler of Dilman,

-    "Take up the tale, for you have wandered far

-    Behind strange masters...." Once, he said, I served

-    One of the Roumi lordlings, silver-faced,

-    Who to forget some sorrow or lost love--

-    Such is their way--came with an embassage

-    To cringe before the Caliph in Stamboul

-    For something sordid, trade.... He mouthed our verse

-    To please his guests, and I corrected him.

-    The man was cypress-sad and lone, but he

-    Could not be silent as the great should be,

-    Because he neither knew his place nor me.

-    The boatman marvelled at his lack of dignity.

-    They knew the currents. He was bent on steering,

-    And spoke of God in terms wellnigh endearing.

-    I see him still, sharp beard, black velvet mantle, ear-ring.

-    He dug with slaves for Greekling manuscript,

-    Danced like a slave-girl when he found, and shipped

-    Westward cracked heads and friezes we had chipped.

-    I saw him kiss a statue, murmuring eager-lipped:

-

-    "Fear was born when the woods were young.

-      Chance had gathered an heap of sods,

-    Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue

-      Throned the dam of the elder gods.

-        Twilight, a rustled leaf,

-        Started the first belief

-        In some unearthly Chief

-          Latent behind

-        Cover of aspen shade.

-        Skirting the haunted glade

-        Some one found speech, and prayed.

-          Was it the wind

-    Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?

-    Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,

-      Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.

-    Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,

-    And gods went whither none was fain to follow,

-      Because the earth was green

-      And Afterwards was black.

-

-    "Man, the child of a tale of rape,

-      Drew the seas with his hunting ships,

-    Cut their prows to a giant's shape,

-      Fitted names to their snarling lips:

-        Gods in his image born,

-        Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn,

-        Lords of a drinking-horn

-          Five fathoms deep;

-        Holding the one reward

-        Carved by a dripping sword,

-        Feasts, and above them stored

-          Ceiling-high sleep.

-    Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying,

-    And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying--

-      How long--with over-restful hosts abed.

-    The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking,

-    Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking.

-      And so the earth was red

-      While Afterwards was grey.

-

-    "Jungles thinned, and the clearings merged

-      Where the wandering clans drew breath.

-    Druids rose and the people surged.

-      Then the blessing of Nazareth

-        Fell on them mad and mild,

-        Boasting itself a child.

-        Smite it! And yet it smiled.

-          There, as it kneeled,

-        Lowliness rose to might,

-        Deeming our days a night,

-        Bodily joy a plight

-          Soon to be healed;

-    Gave to one god all credit for creation,

-    But, lest the Path should seem the Destination,

-      Strove to attune man's heartstrings to a rack,

-    Until the soul was fortified to change hells,

-    While saints and poets chanted songs of angels,

-      Confessing earth was black

-      But Afterwards was gold.

-

-    "Faith was raised to the power of millions,

-      Went as wine to a single head,

-    Took its chiefs for the sun's postillions,

-      Claimed to speak in its founder's stead;

-        Till in the western skies

-        Reason's epiphanies

-        Beckoned the other-wise

-          Men to rebirth.

-        Doubt, that makes spirits lithe,

-        Woke and began to writhe,

-        Burst through the osier withe,

-          Freed the old earth.

-    Nature cried out again for recognition,

-    Claiming that flesh is more than mere transition,

-      That mouths were made for sweeter things than prayer.

-    Yea, she, that first revealed the superhuman,

-    Out of the depths in us shall bring the new man

-      Who knows that earth is fair,

-      And Afterwards--who knows!"

-

-    We knew his childish searching meant no harm,

-    But his own people somehow took alarm;

-    For when his heart was healed, and he returned

-    With songs, 'tis said that he and they were burned.

-    Only this one survived. I put it by

-    Lest one who lived so much should wholly die.

-    He tried to spend far more than every day,

-    And never asked what he would have to pay.

-    To him a pint of music was a potion

-    That set him dabbling in some small emotion.

-    Wherever he could drown he marked an ocean

-    He got no pleasure but the pains he took

-    To bring himself to death by one small book

-    Filled with what he had heard, the babble of a brook.

-

-

-

-

-XII

-

-THE LEGEND OF THE PEASANT

-

-

-    They passed a field of purple _badinjan_.

-    A peasant raised his head to hear the tune,

-    And, seeking some excuse for holiday,

-    He followed humming ballads, this the first:

-

-    "It happened say a century ago,

-      Somewhere between Mazanderan and Fars,

-    A Frank was in the picture--that I know--

-      Mud-walls and roses, cypresses and stars,

-        White dust and shadows black.

-

-    "It happened She was loved by more than One,

-      Though no one now recalls the name and rank

-    Of even One, whose heart was like the stone

-      That framed the water of the garden tank

-        Long gone to utter wrack.

-

-    "It happened that one night She had a mind

-      To roam her garden. Youth was hidden there,

-    It happened One was watching from behind

-      A Judas-tree, though neither of the pair

-        Heard the twigs sigh and crack.

-

-    "It happened that next night She wandered out

-      Once more, and Youth was hiding there again.

-    And One sprang forth upon them with a shout,

-      And fanatics and _seyids_ in his train

-        Streamed in a wolfish pack.

-

-    "It happened that the sun found something red

-      Among the Judas-blossoms where Youth lay

-    Upon his face; a crow was on his head,

-      And desert dogs began to sniff and bay

-        At something in his back.

-

-    "It happened that none ever knew Her fate--

-      Except that She was never heard of more--

-    Save One, and two that through a secret gate--

-      Perhaps they knew--a struggling burden bore.

-        I think it was a sack."

-

-    Some one applauded; then the humming drone

-    Was stung to louder efforts, and went on:

-

-    "They staggered down the stiff black avenue,

-      Hiding the sack's convulsions from the moon,

-    To drown its cries they feigned the shrill _iouiou_

-      Of owls, then dropped it in the swift Karûn,

-        Paused, and admired the view.

-

-    "The ripples took her, trying not to leap,

-      But, copying the uneventful sky,

-    Serenely burnished where the stream grows deep

-      They smoothened their staccato lullaby.

-        And so she fell asleep

-

-    "Where no sharp rock disturbs the river bed,

-      A moving peace, whose eddies turn half-fain

-    Towards their youth's tumultuous watershed,

-      And slow blank scutcheons widen like a stain

-        Portending Sound is dead.

-

-    "No herd or village fouls the shining tide,

-      Till ocean lays a suzerain's armistice

-    On brawling tributaries. Like a bride

-      Greeting her lord it laved her with a kiss,

-        And left her purified.

-

-    "But the sea-_Jinn_, who dwell and dress in mauve,

-      And hunt blind monsters down the corridors

-    Between sunk vessels--fishers know the drove,

-      Their horns and conches and the quarry's roars

-        In autumn--hold that love

-

-    "Should meet with more than pardon. So the pack

-      Spliced up a wand of all the spillikin spars

-    Flagged with the purple fantasies of wrack,

-      Composed a spell not one of them could parse,

-        And tried it on the sack.

-

-    "'Twas filled with pearls! Each _Jinni_ dipped his hand,

-      And scattered trails through labyrinths of ooze,

-    Or sowed gems thick upon the golden sand,

-      Festooned a bed from Bahrein to Ormuz,

-        Muscat to Ras Naband....

-

-    "_Hajji_, a deeper meaning than appears

-      Beneath the surface of my song may lurk

-    Like _Jinn_. How oft the crown of gathered years,

-      The dazzling things for which men thank their work,

-        Are made by Woman's tears."

-

-    Tous shook his head and grunted, ceaselessly

-    The caravan limped onward to the Gulf.

-

-

-

-

-XIII

-

-THE PROMOTION OF THE SOLDIER

-

-

-    Serdar-i-Jang, the Wazir of the west,

-    Of all mankind had served his country best

-    By weeding it. The terror of his name

-    Lapped up the barren Pusht-i-kuh like flame,

-    Till the Shah smiled: "My other lords of war lose

-    Battles, but he wrings love from my Baharlus."

-

-    He smote them hip and thigh. The man was brave.

-    Having four wives, he needs must take for slave

-    Whatever captive baggage crossed his path,

-    And never feared love for its aftermath.

-    Thus fared the Wazir while his locks were blue.

-    The silver in them found him captive too.

-

-    The singing caravan in chorus flowed

-    Past the clay porticoes of his abode.

-    She came, he saw, was conquered--like a puppet

-    Drawn to the window, to the street and up it,

-    Forth to the desert, leaving in the lurch

-    His pleasant wars and policies to search

-

-    For what? He knew not. Haply for the truth

-    Whose home is open eyes, not dreams or youth.

-    But this he dimly knew, that something strange,

-    Beauty, had come within his vision's range;

-    And a new splendour, running through the world,

-    Drummed at the postern of his senses, hurled

-

-    Him forth, this warrior proud and taciturn,

-    Footsore upon a pilgrimage to learn

-    Humility.... These beggars, in whose wake

-    He toiled, ne'er paused for him to overtake

-    Their echoes. When at dusk he joined their ring

-    None rose or bowed. All watched him. Could he sing?

-

-    And he could not, for never had he thrown

-    His days away on verse! He sat alone,

-    So that his silence stamped him with the badge

-    Of hanger-on or menial of this _haj_.

-    Thrust as he would with much unseemly din,

-    He found no place beside the palanquin,

-

-    Till Seyid Rida, scholar of Nejaf,

-    Took pity on him, saying: "You shall laugh

-    At these black days when, having served your time,

-    You share the sovereignty of Persian rhyme.

-    Be patient, pray to Allah, O my son,

-    For power of worship. It shall come anon...."

-

-    Seyid Rida spoke in vain. The Wazir's place

-    So far behind the Queen, her perfect face

-    But half-divined, as Sight denied to Faith,

-    A doubt lest love itself should be a wraith

-    Dazzling but mocking him, these stirred his passion

-    To sworn defiance, to his last Circassian

-

-    And thoughts of many a woman taken by force,

-    Restive and then submissive as a horse.

-    And now.... He followed in the wake of vision

-    Lofty and pure as Elburz snows. Derision

-    Would follow him in turn!... He shook his fist

-    Toward the feet his soul would fain have kissed:

-

-      "Oh, I was born for women, women, women.

-      Through my still boyhood rang the first alarm;

-      And since that terror ever fresh invaders

-      Have occupied and sacked me to their harm.

-      I am the cockpit where endemic fever

-      Holds the low country in a broken lease

-      From waves that ruined dykes appear to welcome.

-      Only one great emotion spares me--Peace!

-

-      "I have grown up for women, women, women;

-      And suffering has had her fill of me.

-      My ears still echo with receding laughter,

-      As shells retain the voices of the sea.

-      I am the gateway only, not the garden,

-      That opens from a crowded thoroughfare.

-      I stand ajar to every passing fancy,

-      And all have knocked, but none have rested there.

-

-      "And I shall die for women, women, women,

-      But not for love of them. Adventure calls

-      Or waits with old romance to disappoint me

-      Behind the promise of surrendered walls.

-      I am the vessel of some mad explorer,

-      That sails to seek for treasure in strange lands

-      Without a steersman in a crew of gallants,

-      And, finding fortune, ends with empty hands."

-

-    A deathly silence fell. Green-turbaned men

-    Fell noiselessly to sharpening their knives

-    On their bare hardened feet. Seyid Rida sighed:

-    "Alas, your heart is set upon reward

-    For gifts of self. You cannot understand

-    Love loves for nothing, brother. Those who serve

-    God the most purely cannot count that He

-    Will love them in return...."

-                                  The Wazir scowled.

-    But Dreamer-of-the-Age took him aside,

-    "I would unfold a story like a carpet.

-    The camel Tous told it to me last night:

-

-    "King Suleiman's wives were as jewels, his jewels as stones of the

-                                             desert

-    In number. His concubines herded as desert-gazelles in their grace,

-    That answered his bidding as meekly as all his wild animal kingdom,

-    The beasts and the birds and the fishes. Yet the world was as pitch

-                                             on his face.

-

-    "Now it chanced that the ruler of Saba had news by a merchant of

-                                             peacocks

-    From this king like a hawk-god of Egypt, whose beak was set deep in

-                                             the gloom

-    Of his grape-purple beard, and she said: 'We shall see how his

-                                             vanities stead him

-    When from under the arch of his eyebrows he sees my feet enter his

-                                             room.'

-

-    "For her feet were far whiter than manna. Her body was white as the

-                                             cry

-    Of a child when the chords of hosanna draw the beauty of holiness

-                                             nigh.

-    The droop of her eyelids would fan a revolt from Baghdad to Lake

-                                             Tsana,

-    Her fingers were veined alabaster. The sprites of her escort would

-                                             sigh,

-

-    "As they bathed her with sun set in amber and cooled in the snow of

-                                             a cloudlet,

-    And taught her chief eunuch to clamber up moonbeams as fleet as a

-                                             ghost:

-    These, lavish of reed-pipe and tamburine, slaves of the Son of

-                                             Daoud, let

-    Her palanquin down into Zeila--gambouge and magenta, the coast!"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Ha!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "Round the harbour a hoopoe was strutting, for Suleiman's Seal had

-                                             appointed

-    Him messenger-bird, and he thought: 'If I bring the good news of

-                                             this beauty,

-    This Sovereign of Silkiness, I shall harvest great thanks and

-                                             promotion.'

-    So he flew to the Presence and twittered a text on the pleasure of

-                                             Duty.

-

-    "'Fulfiller of faint Superstition, whose hand rolls the eyeballs of

-                                             Thunder,

-    And lightens forked tongues on a mission of menace to bat or to

-                                             eagle!

-    There comes to your portal a vision whose light shall make Israel

-                                             wonder.

-    Immortal her beauty and mortal her glance that is soft as a

-                                             seagull.'"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Hey!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "But Suleiman, sated with women and governance, lifted his beak

-    From his beard. Naught escaped the magician, not a thought, not a

-                                             tone. Ah, he knew

-    All! He said: 'I have measured your mind as my pity has measured my

-                                             people.

-    We shall speak of reward when she comes; I may live to regret

-                                             it--and you!

-

-    "'Lo, I am the servant of God, whom I serve as you serve me, not

-                                             asking

-    For pay by each day or each act, but just for the general sum.

-    The work of the world must be done without wage to be done to our

-                                             credit.

-    We shall profit in claiming our guerdon not by what we are but

-                                             become.'

-

-    "So the Queen came to Kuddus. Mashallah! Shall a picture be limned

-                                             of her coming!

-    Flushed dancers and lutists athrumming light-limbed as Daoud round

-                                             the Ark!

-    Crushed roadway and crowd-applause rumbled, loud music, hushed

-                                             barbarous mumming!

-    To the cry, 'On to Sion' above her, this lover rode straight at her

-                                             mark!"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Ho!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "She had but to flatter the wizard to win him. He said to the

-                                             hoopoe:

-    'I will haggle no more. You shall learn to your cost what the

-                                             bargainer buys,

-    Whose faith levies toll upon duty, whose trust will not serve me on

-                                             trust,

-    Or love for Love. On your head be it.' The hoopoe said:

-                                             '_Cheshm_--on my eyes!'

-

-    "All other birds fainted with envy, as Suleiman lifted a digit.

-    Thereon was the Ring-of-most-Magic. Then he spat on the dust from

-                                             his bed,

-    And the miracle came! for the hoopoe went swaggering out of the

-                                             presence

-    (So he struts in his walking to-day) with a crown of pure gold on

-                                             his head.

-

-    "But the Jews thus learnt avarice. Some one spread news of the

-                                             bird-coronation

-    To the ends of the kingdom. The tribes ran out as one man armed

-                                             with lime,

-    Bows, nets, slings--and slew the hoopoes for the sake of their

-                                             crowns. There was profit

-    In sport then; none other has liked them so well since King

-                                             Suleiman's time.

-

-    "They divided the spoil till in Israel only our messenger-bird

-    Survived with two fellows.... He fled to Suleiman's closet for

-                                             _bast_,

-    Sobbing, 'Spare us, O king! Make a sign with the ring that men sing

-                                             of! We fare as

-    Amalekites. If I have sinned, I am punished. We three are the last

-

-    "'Of our race. In your grace turn your face to our case. We place

-                                             hope in your favour!

-    My brood is a Yahudi's food. Israel--who disputes it--insane

-    For gain. We are slain all day long by the strong sons of Cain. Let

-                                             us waive our

-    Gold bane for plain down, lest we drown in our own blood! Discrown

-                                             us again!'"

-

-    And the Wazir cried, "Hi!" to the rhymes.

-

-    "The King made reply. He was sadder than rain in the willows of

-                                             Jordan.

-    'We are God's passing thoughts. They alone that await their

-                                             fulfilment are wise.

-    You shall be for a warning, O hoopoe. I had given you more than

-                                             gold-wages

-    If you had believed we not only had ears, I and Allah, but eyes!

-

-    "'Yet giving is fraught with forgiveness. Now therefore the crown

-                                             you did covet

-    Is gone. You are healed of your pride; you shall live till the

-                                             Angel of Death errs

-    From Allah's command. By my Ring-of-most-Magic the gold is

-                                             transmuted.

-    Go forth! He has set for a sign on your brow a tiara of feathers.'

-

-    "So the hoopoe went forth in the glory of plumes that he won in

-                                             this wise

-    And wears. Then the hunters, assembled from the uttermost quarters

-                                             of Sham, should

-    Have shot, but did not, for they said: 'What a head! We will not

-                                             waste an arrow

-    On sport of this sort. We are sold! We were told it was gold

-                                             and....'"

-                                                       Tamam Shud

-

-    And the Wazir shrieked "Halt!" at the rhymes.

-

-    But as he slept that night the Dreamer prayed

-    That understanding might bedew his head.

-    And so it was. The fountain of the Dawn

-    Rose in the whiteness of the month _Rajab_,

-    Washing the desert stones, and made each body

-    Shine as the sun-swift chariot of a soul.

-

-    While the last swimmer in the sea of slumber,

-    Out of the deep, its jungled bottom, its ghosts,

-    Its weight and wonders, rises to the surface

-    In final breaths of sleep, the Wazir stirred

-    And flung out joyful arms. Not otherwise

-    The groping diver in the Gulf of Pearls,

-    Having achieved adventure, comes to light

-    And grasps the painted gunwale--with his prize.

-

-            "For every hour and day

-            Of youth that spelled delay

-            In finding you, I pray

-              To life for pardon,

-            I that long since have faced

-            My task in patient haste:

-            Out of my former waste

-              To make your garden.

-

-            "With these soiled hands I made

-            My Self (man's hardest trade).

-            The sun was _you_: the shade

-              My toil, my seed did.

-            I drove my strong soul through

-            Years in the thought of you,

-            For whom my garden grew,

-              And grew unheeded;

-

-            "For you, an episode

-            That lay beside your road,

-            For me, my long abode,

-              My will's whole centre.

-            Lo now my task fulfilled,

-            Yet not the hope that thrilled

-            The stubborn realm I tilled

-              For you to enter.

-

-            "Ah, must all sacrifice

-            Be weighed with balance nice!

-            To ask the gods our price

-              Makes all creeds shoddy.

-            Then should I bargain now--

-            Troubling my worship--how

-            You will reward my vow

-              Of soul and body?

-

-            "I have not striven in vain,

-            Though all my poor domain

-            Cries daily for your reign.

-              I hold its treasure,

-            A source of splendour, known

-            Haply to me alone,

-            A boundless love--my own.

-              Had you but leisure

-

-            "To pause beside this spring

-            A moment, harkening

-            How through my silence sing

-            The dreams that here rest,

-              I yet might make you see

-            Some of the You in Me.

-            This song not I but we

-              Have written, dearest."

-

-    Long ropes of stillness joined the caravan

-    Closer together; no man spoke a word,

-    Till Dreamer-of-the-Age: "Friend, go up higher

-    At the Queen's right hand." Seyid Rida smiled:

-    "I knew you would outrun us." The Wazir

-    Heard neither fame nor blame, and so was blest

-    Because he sought praise only of the Queen.

-

-

-

-

-XIV

-

-THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR

-

-

-    At Ispahan the notables were met

-    In conclave. Seyid Rida, scholar scamp--

-    As Dawlatshah records--perched in the porch:

-

-        "Round the table sit the sages--

-        Different views and different ages--

-        Secretaries scribble pages,

-          Taking down each 'er' and 'hem,'

-        Taking down each word they utter

-        Like the solemn measured sputter

-        Of fat raindrops from a gutter.

-          I speak last of them.

-

-       "Outside in the summer weather

-       Birds are talking all together,

-       While a tiny pecked-out feather

-         Flutters past the pane.

-       Dare you own: The work before us

-       Seems at moments like their chorus,

-       Just a little more sonorous,

-         Similar in strain?

-

-        "Have a care! The bird that chatters

-        Is the only bird that matters,

-        Heedless of the hand that scatters

-          Grains of sense or chaff

-        Mid your Barmecides and Cleons.

-        I have listened here for æons

-        To these rooster-flights and pæans.

-          No one heard me laugh.

-

-        "Parrot, jackdaw, jay, and pigeon,

-        Prose would be the whole religion

-        Of the Nephelococcygian

-          State to which you steer.

-        If the earth remains a youngster

-        With some waywardness amongst her

-        Virtues, I should thank the songster

-          Whom you cannot hear.

-

-        "Tits that swing upon a thistle,

-        Wrens and chats that pipe and whistle,

-        Join their notes to our epistle,

-          Where the bee-fraught lime

-        Orchestrates the lark's espousal

-        Not of causes but carousal:

-        Owl, we hear you charge the ouzel

-          With a waste of time!

-

-        "Princeling, a fantastic prophet

-        Tweaks your robe and bids you doff it,

-        Offers you escape from Tophet

-          On the wings of words.

-        Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell

-        All you have for this one counsel:

-        Sing and never mind the groundsel!

-          Come, we too are birds."

-

-    Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out,

-    And I have heard them on the Persian roads,

-    In half-dead cities. History repeats

-    Nothing except the rose. But Persians say

-    This was the last they heard of government.

-

-

-

-

-XV

-

-THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE SHEIKH

-

-

-    Alas! 'Twas time to go--"Conceal the wine,

-    The purple and the yellow infidel!"--

-    Rice cooked in saffron, honey-cakes, and _mast_

-    With many-coloured _shirini_ were all

-    Packed up in paunches capon-lined....

-                                          The Queen

-    Sailed through the city, mounted high on Tous,

-    Full in the moonlight, purer than the moon,

-    Whose beauty, being weighed with hers, the scale

-    Sent up to heaven and left the Queen on earth....

-

-    Followed quick tumbles to the lambent street,

-    Graspings of shoes, and search for garments lost,

-    With tunes that mounted all awry as flame

-    Draught-blown, short breaths and straggling feet.

-                                           The Dreamer

-    Reddened and drooped his head; for at the Gate

-    Sat a portentous Sheikh, thrice great in girth,

-    Ali-el-Kerbelaï, Known-of-Men,

-    To whom--he slept all day--his nightly school

-    Resorted in the porch. He saw, and shrugged

-    His shoulders, rounded in glory like the hills

-    That drift and clash about the Gulf of Pearls--

-    Bahreinis tell the tale lest rival _dhows_

-    Should venture into trade--and thus held forth:

-

-      "Gossips, I have watched fools wander through this gate

-      In generations. Never have I seen

-      Men so bewitched by one closed palanquin,

-      So little fain to chatter with the great,

-      So blind, or single-eyed, they did not see

-      Ali-el-Kerbelaï, even me.

-

-      "Poor souls! Dusk swamps our wriggling thoroughfares

-      Like trenches; and I rub my hands to think

-      How I to-night in coolth shall sleep and drink,

-      While sunrise takes these vagrants unawares.

-      Madmen set out each day to beard the sun,

-      And seventy years ago Your Slave was one.

-

-      "When all the world was young, that is when _I_

-      Was young, I promised Allah to be wise,

-      And started on the road of enterprise

-      That leads towards the snow-capped hills of Why,

-      Passing my hand across my shaven brow

-      Heavy with all the lower lore of How."

-

-    Ali-el-Kerbelaï sighed his soul

-    Out of his nostrils pious and serene,

-    For the swift curtain of the night had slid

-    Along the rings of stillness, as he peered

-    Into the plain. The singing caravan

-    Had dwindled slowly to a speck of white.

-    Then said the sage: "Behold they go to nothing,

-    These lovers, these far-eyed. To think they passed

-    Within a foot of wisdom and my robe!

-    Alas, they passed and knew not. 'Tis the risk

-    Of all such noisy dreamers. Ah, my head

-    Pities.... Well, God is great. And God made me.

-

-      "Thus first I reached Mohammerah, whose sheikh

-      In speechless gratitude besought a boon--

-      To make me eunuch in his _anderûn_--

-      For I had talked away his stomach-ache.

-      And of this epoch I need only say

-      I had fresh dates for dinner every day.

-

-      "But I was young. I spurned the unmanly job,

-      For I loved conquest, and the world lay flat

-      Before me like a purple praying-mat,

-      And all young women made my heart _kebob_,

-      Until the sheikh conceived himself disgraced.

-      Then I took ship from Basra--in some haste.

-

-      "We put to sea, fair sirs, a foul-faced sea

-      Puckered with viciousness and green with hate

-      Of all the sons of Adam; and black fate

-      Conspired with her to take account of me,

-      For all the _Jinn_ who lurk among the gales

-      Came down to fecundate our bellied sails.

-

-      "They blew. They thrust my skull against the sky,

-      The jade-backed _Jinn_ disguised as ocean-swell,

-      But I saw through them.... Down we went to hell,

-      Where Iblis tried to teach me blasphemy

-      In vain. No devil's wile could make me speak.

-      Thus I learned self-control. (I was so weak.)

-

-      "We drifted past bare cliff and jungle sedge,

-      Past spouting loose volcanoes known as whales,

-      And sirens that blew kisses with their tails,

-      Till we fell over the horizon's edge,

-      Fell sheer three thousand parasangs. And there

-      I first discovered that the world is square.

-

-      "We were in China, sir. The Home of Yellows,

-      Soil, porcelain, manuscripts, men.... Here I spent

-      Six weeks in stuffing to my heart's content

-      The thought-scraps given to these whoreson fellows

-      By heaven. My zeal picked all tradition's locks,

-      And knowledge opened like a lacquered box

-

-      "Wrought with strange figures.... Now I learned by heart

-      Eleven score ways of dodging every sin.

-      So, having sucked the marrow from Pekin,

-      I planned with Allah that I should depart,

-      And having thus obtained a ruly wind

-      I shone like lightning through the schools of Hind.

-

-      "I shall say little of Hind. Its mouth is wide

-      With sacred texts and precepts packed in lyrics

-      For carriage, verse unversed in our empirics.

-      I grasped all Indian knowledge like a bride

-      Without a dower, enjoyed and let her go,

-      Giving God thanks that only Persians _know_."

-

-    The singing caravan shrank in a clear

-    Green sideless tunnel of the firmament.

-    Ali-el-Kerbelaï paused and watched

-    Intent, even as by torchlight men spear fish,

-    While searching flame-reflections brushed and lit

-    The deep brown-watered caverns of his eyes,

-    Where dim shapes moved profoundly in the pool.

-    His listeners watched the sage in ecstasy

-    Poise, concentrate his massive thought on Nothing,

-    Heard his _narghilé_ bubble like a brain....

-

-      "From Hind to Misr. At Cairo's El-Azhar,

-      The flower of Moslem scholarship, I sat

-      Among the Sunni bastards. As a cat

-      Watches the sun through eyelids scarce ajar,

-      From dawn till evening prayer I laboured hard,

-      Lolling in ambush round the great courtyard

-

-      "To pounce on wingèd words. Athwart the arcade

-      Midday in golden bars came clanging down

-      Upon the anvil of each turbaned crown,

-      And many minds took refuge in my shade.

-      I was divinely hard to understand,

-      Talking until my throat was dry as sand.

-

-      "So to the mosque well--into it they pushed

-      A dog who disagreed with me--and drew

-      Relief what time the pigeons ceased to coo

-      Or rustle round its rainbow-juice. We hushed

-      Our flights of eloquence when my _roghan_

-      Sizzled complacent in the frying-pan.

-

-      "Mashallah, what a life! Yet in this scene

-      I found a fleck of rust upon my tongue.

-      Propelled by Fate and my own force of lung,

-      I flitted with two reverend _Maghrebín_

-      Whom I had favoured, having learned the trick

-      Of speaking their foul breed of Arabic.

-

-      "Immortal spirits led us, yea the chief

-      _Afrit_, the crown of all the _Afarit_.

-      We crossed the great Sahara like a street.

-      My fame allows me licence to be brief.

-      Enough. Whatever any sceptic says,

-      I still maintain I spent a year at Fez.

-

-      "Here was a sect that said one God was three.

-      I plied Moriscos who had tasted two

-      Beliefs perforce, I even asked a Jew

-      To make this strange _Tariqah_ clear; but he--

-      By this judge Christians--he could not explain,

-      Although his father had been burnt in Spain.

-

-      "Ah, how I studied in that narrow city,

-      Whose walls are changeless as a Persian law,

-      And full of loopholes. To the seers I saw

-      Is due the gamut of my human pity.

-      We stirred the puddles of the human mind

-      Till none could see the bottom but the blind.

-

-      "Now Shaitan tempted me. I fell for once,

-      A venial sin.... I journeyed to Stamboul

-      To plumb the errors of the _Greegi_ school.

-      'Twas there I read the Stagyrite, a dunce,

-      The Frankish ruler of theology,

-      And father of a dunce, Alfarabi.

-

-      "I laid him low and hurried home to indite

-      A book, the fruit of all my Thought and Travel,

-      Entitled 'Contemplation of the Navel,'

-      A mystic book. (But first I learned to write.)

-      Such of our doctors as can read have read it.

-      But I was bent on even higher credit.

-

-      "I sought a cave whence madmen hunt wild sheep,

-      And there for thirteen years I held my head,

-      Until the dupes decided I was dead.

-      Indeed I spent the better part in sleep,

-      Lest I should be beguiled from abstract chatter

-      By lust for this world's striped and dazzling matter.

-

-      "Night brought me counsel, and a pock-marked Kurd

-      Or angels brought me food. Day spared my dreams

-      That tilled the solitude like slow white teams

-      Of oxen, till it blossomed, and I heard

-      The Roc's huge pinions scour the starry cobbles;

-      And so I rose above all human squabbles.

-

-      "For me the burning haze made sandhills dance,

-      Till blushing shadows covered their nude breasts.

-      The eternal heirs of leisure were my guests,

-      And feasted on my glory in advance.

-      Then on an eve among the eves.... The End!

-      My soul sat by me talking as a friend.

-

-      "I bleached my beard, and came to Ispahan.

-      You know the rest. To Allah's will I bowed

-      In suffering the plaudits of the crowd,

-      For all must listen; those must preach who can.

-      I stirred the town with fingers raised to bless....

-      And gauged the people by my emptiness."

-

-    The caravan was gone. Its song survived

-    A little, faint, an echo, not at all.

-    Then like a magic carpet warmth was drawn

-    Back into heaven, and left behind a void

-    Where thin-faced breezes, huddling from the hills,

-    Sat down to breathe hard tales upon their hands.

-    And suddenly earth looked her age. Like her

-    The shapes round Ali-el-Kerbelaï shivered,

-    Pulling their coloured _abbas_ to their ears

-    And drawing in their feet. At last one spoke:

-    "O master, you to whom the world is known,

-    What is your thought's conclusion, what the sum

-    Of added knowledge in the tome of YOU?"

-    And Ali answered weighing out his words:

-

-       "Sir, I have seen the East and West, great peace,

-      Great wars, indifferent fates that blessed or cursed

-      Their builders. I have touched the best and worst

-      In flesh and thought, have watched flames rise and cease,

-      Consoled high hopes, deep passions, men that die

-      For things beneath the earth, behind the sky,

-

-      "For god or woman. I have counted change

-      For the Sarraf of Changelessness, have marked

-      Kings, Wazirs, coursed by sons of dogs that barked

-      And bit, the uninhabitable range

-      Of power, where all that climb in others' shoes

-      Are honoured and unperched like cockatoos.

-

-      "Now having known mankind in hell and bliss

-      Through thrice a generation, I have formed

-      From all the problems I besieged or stormed

-      One firm conviction, only one! 'Tis this:

-      The Faith, the Pomp, the Loves, the Lives of men

-      Outshine the firefly and outcrest the wren."

-

-    He added as he rose: "But God is great."

-    And bent, repassing through the city gate,

-    Lest he should bump his venerable pate.

-

-

-

-

-XVI

-

-THE ARGUMENT OF THE SCEPTIC

-

-

-    Beside the Sufis ran a whited wall.

-    Two cypress-trees peeped over from the waist,

-    Stiff, motionless as toys. Among their spires

-    A lithe voice mounted and leaned down again:

-

-      "Come, for to-night the hills are all white marble

-        Under a sapphire dome,

-      Where bats scrawl riddles which the bulbuls garble

-        For owls to answer. Come.

-

-      "The air is sick of moon-discoloured roses,

-        The plain stagnates like some

-      Weird archipelago of garden-closes

-        And dead, bleached waters. Come.

-

-      "O night of miracles! Come, let us wander

-        Over this ghostly sea

-      To that dark cypress-circled island yonder,

-        In whose clear centre we

-

-      "Will lie and float in phosphorescent ether.

-        Thank heaven that night is cool

-      As day was scorching. Let us watch together

-        The lovers in the pool.

-

-      "Look in! Lie still! A jewelled ripple spangles

-        The hand upon her hair;

-      While, lying listless on her back, she dangles

-        A finger in the air.

-

-      "How still he is. Your motionless perfection

-        Absorbs him utterly.

-      Doubtless you seem to him his love's reflection

-        Face downwards in the sky,

-

-      "Whence I am hanging, seeing only her face,

-        As he sees only yours.

-      Lean down! And they shall meet us at the surface.

-        O silent paramours

-

-      "We bring to you, by stealth, while men are sleeping,

-        A gift. Let your domain

-      Have it for ever in its steadfast keeping;

-        We shall not come again.

-

-      "We bring our shadows: just the fleeting semblance

-        Of human love. O might

-      Your waters hold them for us in remembrance

-        Of one short summer night!

-

-      "A wondrous night, when two reflections hovered,

-        Dreaming of love aloud

-      Here by the pool, until the moon was covered

-        By an impending cloud;

-

-      "And then they lost each other. Where but lately

-        The magic mirror shone,

-      A wider shadow, cruelly, sedately,

-        Passes ... and we are gone."

-

-    The Dreamer stayed: "Who speaks of passing here?

-    The river passes, passes to the sea,

-    Drawing in rills the voices of the earth

-    To make its voice that merges in the swell.

-    The river passes and the boatman's chant

-    Is swallowed up in distance and the night.

-    Or is it, friend, the boats alone that pass?

-    The river, as I sometimes think, remains.

-    Even so it is with lovers and with love.

-    Then sing us something wise where laughter lurks,

-    As underneath the desert, from the hills

-    Whence cometh help, the hidden water-course

-    Chuckles. Upon this thread your garden hangs.

-    Nay, never shake that cypress head! We need

-    Not only sun but cloud and tears to build

-    Laughter, the rainbow of the inner man."

-    But the voice answered, or the cypress sighed:

-

-        "I am the brain of Hitherto.

-        In darkness I revolve and flash.

-      Books are the fortune I ran through.

-      My painted pen-case, yellow hue

-        And yellow sash

-

-        "Were famed from Yezd to Yezdikhast.

-        I taught what space and learned what mud is.

-      My metaphysics were my past.

-      Alas, I left my lust till last

-        Of all my studies.

-

-        "I kept my mind so clear and keen

-        By grinding guesswork into saws,

-      You scarce could fit a meal between

-      The triumphs of my thought-machine,

-        Its puissant jaws.

-

-        "The process of my intellect,

-        Mazed by the clapping hands that fed it,

-      Rolled on. They, founding a new sect

-      On premises that I had wrecked,

-        Gave me the credit.

-

-        "And so I used my fame to part

-        Man from his planks to sink or swim;

-      I plumbed his shallows, drew the chart....

-      Illusions broke the blacksmith's heart.

-        I envied him

-

-        "Suddenly, and set out to moon

-        About this garden scholarwise.

-      One silver laugh, two silken shoon,

-      To fill my empty _anderûn_

-        With splendid lies

-

-        "I ask of shadows, battering

-        My bars, and wonder why I ache.

-      O You who made both cage and wing,

-      Let me redeem my toilsome spring

-        By one mistake."

-

-    In the parched road the Dreamer took his lute

-    And tossed these chords across the battlement:

-

-          "The myrtles of Damascus,

-            The willows of Gilan,

-          Have sent the breeze to ask us

-            If aught but sceptics can

-          Deny the spirit calling

-            To flesh--we are the call--

-          And save themselves from falling

-            Behind a whited wall.

-

-          "Most pure was Abu Bakr,

-            And Allah speeds the plough

-          That furrows young wiseacre

-            Across an open brow.

-          Most fair is self-possession--

-            Give me the open road--

-          But Solomon in session

-            Went mad and wrote an ode.

-

-          "All fields of thought are arid,

-            No earthly soil is rich,

-          By thirst of knowledge harried

-            And those ambitions which

-          The heart like Pharaoh's harden

-            To let no impulse go.

-          But every yard's a garden

-            Through which we mystics flow.

-

-          "I conjure hawthorn blossom

-            From Bakhtiari vales--

-          As when one looks across some

-            Choked channel where the sails

-          Of anchored vessels jostle--

-            I tune their rhythmic sway

-          In hollows where the throstle

-            Is only dumb by day.

-

-          "Red routs of rhododendron,

-            That slope to Trebizond,

-          Rapt round the garden's end run

-            To mask the waste beyond.

-          There facts are free to wonder

-            Down pathways like the streak

-          Of silver pavement under

-            The palms of Basra creek.

-

-          "In charity of jasmin

-            My poor designs are clad,

-          As nature cloaked the chasm in

-            The ramparts of Baghdad,

-          Where passed the fabled Caliph

-            With Giafar by night

-          To mystify the bailiff

-            At Garden-of-Delight.

-

-          "The orchard-grave of Omar,

-            Neglected Nishapur,

-          Where sprays of petaled foam are,

-            Sighs through my garden-door

-          With boughs round whose gnarled stem men

-            Had never thought to twine

-          Green tendrils from rich Yemen,

-            The sunburnt Smyrniot vine.

-

-          "Wild lilies, whose rich red owes

-            Its undertone to brown,

-          From Kurd-betented meadows

-            Break out in every town.

-          Blind alleys' bursts of lilac,

-            Where russet warblers woo,

-          Are set to cover my lack

-            Of vocal retinue.

-

-          "The myrtles of Damascus,

-            The poppies of Shiraz,

-          Have sent the breeze to ask us

-            If they are dumb, because

-          Wisdom and one that had her

-            To wife still hug the fence,

-          Where we have left a ladder

-            To rescue men from sense."

-

-    The cypress swayed. Hard by another voice

-    Climbed the twin tree, and thus its theme began:

-

-          "Young man, Shirín is out of date.

-            We have to thank the West

-          That Attar's latest is too late

-            To waken Interest,

-          And one of Love's great names, Majnûn,

-          Is now generic for a loon.

-

-          "Our crust is cooling, and the bent

-            For culture bears its fruit,

-          As we that weed out sentiment

-            Likewise outgrow the brute;

-          While Providence matures a blend

-          That pure philosophers commend

-

-          "In logic. Constancy declined

-            Because we pruned our morals.

-          Love practises the change of mind

-            That ethics preach in quarrels...."

-

-    There cried the Dreamer: "Who are you that mock

-    Exiles in search of that from which they came,

-    Intent to know themselves and so the Lord

-    Whose ways are as the number of men's souls?

-    By these we compass our escape from Self,

-    The mirage in the waste through which we pass

-    Across the bridge Phantasmal to the Real;

-    Until, forgetting Self, we see in All

-    The Loved that leads us to the eternal beauty

-    Shown in a thousand mirrors yet but one.

-    These are the Sufi tenets. What of you?"

-    From the first tree the quavering voice replied:

-

-        "It is my double, Peder Sag,

-        The summit of the civilized

-        Above such heats as woman or flag.

-        It is my double, Peder Sag,

-        Who bows the poet to the wag,

-        The hero to the undersized.

-        It is my double, Peder Sag,

-        The summit of the civilized.

-

-        "His mission is to educate

-        By atrophy, the cure for spasm,

-        And so to serve the future state.

-        His mission is to educate

-        A world of fellowships that hate

-        One living thing--enthusiasm.

-        His mission is to educate

-        By atrophy, the cure for spasm.

-

-        "He dresses us in faultless drab.

-        His colour-scheme for you is tan,

-        And, level as a marble slab,

-        He dresses us in faultless drab.

-        Him urchins call Abu Kilab:

-        The Father-of-the-Modern-Man.

-        He dresses us in faultless drab.

-        His colour-scheme for you is tan.

-

-        "My double did a deal for truth.

-        He teaches balance to the Young,

-        And knows a better thing than youth.

-        My double did a deal for truth,

-        His emblem is the wisdom tooth,

-        A flowery and fruitless tongue.

-        My double did a deal for truth.

-        He teaches balance to the Young."

-

-    Serdar-i-Jang impatient pulled his beard

-    And growling Tous his bridle: "Let him be

-    The fool I was, and so mine enemy

-    From whom I part in peace." Farid Bahadur

-    Shrugged that: "Our wares are not for such as these."

-

-    Once more the Brain: "I might have come with you,

-    Leaving my gloomy castle in the air,

-    For, overgrown with tangles, in its flank

-    Lies hid the thrice-veiled door of happiness;

-    Only--my double has mislaid the key."

-

-    Seyid Rida laughed and answered: "We have found it."

-          The Lover knocked: "'Tis I!"

-          The Loved One made reply:

-          "There is no room for two

-          Beyond the Gateway."

-          In solitude he learned

-          The Secret; so returned

-          Saying: "O Love, 'tis you."

-          And entered straightway.

-

-    A wicket opened gently of itself,

-    And so a sceptic joined the caravan.

-

-

-

-

-XVII

-

-THE PRIDE OF THE TAILOR

-

-

-    Oh, sliding down the desert from Shiraz

-      The tailor-man from Meshed tore his hose:

-    A crowning test, a broken man! "Ah, was

-      I born that fate might practise fancy-blows?

-

-    "The road is rougher than a magnate's mirth

-      Toward the humble, long as a bad debt.

-    I cannot dream of any woman worth

-      This cloth. To me 'twas dearer than a pet."

-

-    Then Dreamer-of-the-Age cried: "Bring me thread

-      Strong as the bridge as they call Pul-i-Katûn!

-    For Meshed's champion tailor-man is dead

-      Unless his wounded pride be succoured soon."

-

-    Launched on the seaward slope the pilgrims went

-      On to the gulf, and heard, athwart the dim

-    Night echoing, a sufferer's lament

-      And Dreamer-of-the-Age consoling him:

-

-      "The night fits down on the desert, brother;

-        We are drawn there-through like a piece of thread.

-      The steepened sky and the vastness smother

-        Uneasy sleep in her league-wide bed.

-      Rocked to and fro with a camel's burden

-        On broken tracks, that are thin as scars,

-      We near the Gulf. Have we seen our guerdon?"

-        "Yea, every night we have seen the stars."

-

-      "The dust is thick, and our own feet raise it.

-        Our eyes were clear did our feet but rest.

-      We give our heart and no sign repays it.

-        What need we ever a further test!

-      We drift along with the old dumb neighbour

-        In the old blind alley we call our goal,

-      Hope: all that comes of a soul's life-labour."

-        "It was the labour that made the soul."

-

-      "We stride ahead, but in every village

-        A brother faints and a weakness falls.

-      The tribes that till and the tribes that pillage

-        Are reconciled with the life that palls.

-      Oh, townsmen tread to a fixed thanksgiving,

-        But what of us, if these pitying throngs

-      Should ask the end of our harder living?"

-        "God knows the answer. They know our songs,

-

-      "The coloured patch on the background, Silence,

-        The gleaming thought that is Love's to wear

-      Undimmed through space to a myriad-while hence.

-        Could the hands be worthy that knew not care

-      To weave Love's garb? Though we needs must suffer,

-        Shall we sing the worse that we sing in vain?

-      Our songs shall rise as the road grows rougher.

-        In the breathless hills, in the fevered plain,

-

-      "They mount as sparks from the night's oases,

-        And fall far short of the idol's feet.

-      They are stored by God in his secret places,

-        The least-lit stars of his darkest street.

-      Yet ten worlds hence they shall dance, my brother,

-        To travelling winds.... If our songs were worth

-      One gleam of light to the Way of Another,

-        We bless the sorrow that gave them birth."

-

-

-

-

-XVIII

-

-THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURER

-

-

-    So to the journey's end. The Gulf was there

-    Steaming and soundless, and the weary feet

-    Were stayed at last from following the Queen.

-    The great _dhow_ nosed the creek; slow water lapped

-    About her burnished; burnished in her sat

-    Unmoving bronze, her oarsmen. Then they rose:

-    "Hail, Bringers of the Queen!" "Hail, ship! you bear

-    What cargo hence?" "We carry on your charge."

-    "But leave us nothing--nothing in exchange?"

-    "Only the ancient story of a slave.

-    There lies a secret buried none too deep."

-

-    Thus the chief rower. This the far-off tale.

-

-    I dwelled beside the impulsive Rhone, a child that loved to be

-                                             alone.

-    The forest was my nursery. My happiness was all my own.

-

-    I knew by name each cloud that lowers the sunshine through in

-                                             liquid showers.

-    Deep in the tangled undergrowth I caught the singing of the

-                                             flowers.

-

-    Our minstrels sang of rape and arson, all the joys of private wars.

-    The forest wall was calm and tall. My tutor laughed, and drank to

-                                             Mars.

-

-    Bald, vulture-like upon its perch, our crag-born castle seemed to

-                                             search

-    The gorge for prey, its shade to still the bells a-twitter in the

-                                             church

-

-    Where, cheek by jowl with fearsome fowl and gargoyle, ghostly men,

-                                             in foul

-    Incense that tried to stifle me, recited magic formulæ.

-

-    At home clanked metal psalm and spur; but, oh the woods ...! I

-                                             tried to tame

-    A wolf-cub that the gardener called Life. He knew. The preacher

-                                             came.

-

-    I see him yet, his visage wet with hot emotion, tears, and sweat.

-    Contorted in the market-place he shrieked that all must pay a debt

-

-    To one Jehovah and His Son, by bursting eastward as the Hun

-    Had scourged the West. In unison we all replied 'twere nobly done,

-

-    For he explained that heaven was gained more featly--wrenching

-                                             Saint Jerome--

-    From Palestine than Christendom. That night no peasant durst go

-                                             home.

-

-    His words were like a wind that fanned a grass-fire: God would lend

-                                             His hand

-    To purge away the infidel whose breath profaned the Holy Land.

-

-    He showered indulgences, and kissed the brows of those who would

-                                             enlist

-    To take a chance of martyrdom or give the devil's tail a twist.

-

-    He promised we should see the light, that cursèd Arabs could not

-                                             fight,

-    Counted them dead since we were "led by General Jesus," said the

-                                             pope.

-

-    Moreover we must win and use Christ, His true Cross, the Widow's

-                                             cruse,

-    All talismans that found no scope for miracles among the Jews.

-

-    Upon the walls the veriest dolt and clown, arow like birds that

-                                             moult,

-    Chattered with one accord--or some small priestly prompting:--

-                                             "Diex el volt."

-

-    No wonder that our heartstrings glowed within us like a smelted

-                                             lode

-    Whence Kobolds welded Durandal; and like one man we ran or rode

-

-    Forth. Were we not enchanted? This was first among God's

-                                             certainties.

-    Even our steeds were like Shabdíz, the pride of King Khusraw

-                                             Parvíz.

-

-    We saw our path made plain, the hills removed by faith, whose

-                                             foaming course

-    Flooded the continents like flats. We saw the world made one--by

-                                             force.

-

-    In ecstasy our spirits soared. With beatific face toward

-    My cloudland all the crowd shed tears, and vowed to serve and save

-                                             the Lord.

-

-    But cloudland, seeming to disdain such warmth, replied with

-                                             slapping rain.

-    Conjuring such black augury the monks recited formulæ.

-

-    Besides, lest women, priests and traders should tempt the appetite

-                                             of raiders,

-    The Church proclaimed the Truce of God. Not all our barons were

-                                             crusaders.

-

-    Those who were frightened not to go sold all they had to make a

-                                             show,

-    Land, tool and ware to pay a fare. The panic made sly kings its

-                                             heir.

-

-    So much was sold by young and old, by fond, ambitious, hot and

-                                             cold,

-    That steel took sudden silver wings, then flew beyond the reach of

-                                             gold.

-

-    In such a gust my tender age availed not with the preaching sage,

-    For I was born of fighting men; and one of them took me for page,

-

-    Though I was loth to go, and prayed for mercy and a little maid

-    Whose hair was shining sunflower brown. I thought of all the games

-                                             we played

-

-    All day with hay and idle mowers. She dubbed me knight in pixy

-                                             bowers,

-    Where in the hindering undergrowth I caught the singing of the

-                                             flowers,

-

-    Ah me, how distant!... I was blest in my young lord who shared the

-                                             test,

-    Being sent upon this pilgrimage, his snow-white love still

-                                             unpossessed.

-

-    He, too, was paler than a ghost, as though already all were lost.

-    She dreamed of empery for him. He taught me this to show the cost:

-

-            _My heart was mine.

-            Ambition kept it whole.

-            I gained the world,

-            And so I lost my soul._

-

-            _Then you were mine,

-            But only mine in part.

-            You loved the world,

-            And so I lost my heart._

-

-    Only my tutor lay abed, calling us savages, and read

-    His pagan books. The fever would abate, he sneered, when we were

-                                             bled.

-

-    He chilled me. His head was like a block of ice, so clear. He tried

-                                             to shock

-    Me with his whispered flings that saints and monarchs came of

-                                             laughing-stock,

-

-    Or boasted some loud organ, Reason, which doctors had confused with

-                                             treason,

-    Looked round lest walls should hear, then wept that he was one born

-                                             out of season.

-

-    Our preaching-man pronounced a ban upon him, cried good riddance:

-                                             he

-    Was like to lead young men astray because he knew geography,

-

-    (And sciences, as medicine, reduce the value of a shrine).

-    My tutor passed for riding gnomes through space upon a pack of

-                                             tomes.

-

-    But at the water-parting I waved to the castle green and dun,

-    A tapestry where liquid sun--or tears--had made the colours run.

-

-    I looked my last on every stone and tree to whom my face was known.

-    The warriors smiled and called me child. They had not understood

-                                             the Rhone,

-

-    Nor that I _loved_ the birchwood's skin, the pansy's face, the

-                                             sheep-dog's grin,

-    That sleep with Nature in a field was sweet to me as mortal sin.

-

-    For love so fierce I stole: I gave my summer holidays to save

-    Lambs from the butcher, built for them sanctuary at my wolf-cub's

-                                             grave.

-

-    I stroked the landscape like a lute. No scentless words, no colours

-                                             mute,

-    Could paint its music. Henceforth I had only heaven for substitute.

-

-    Sling, crossbow, bludgeon, axe and spud, cilice and vials of sacred

-                                             blood,

-    On such equipment we relied. Our foes were misery and mud.

-

-    Each Norman keep, each Frankish hold, each corner of the Christian

-                                             fold

-    Sent forth its sheep to sound of bells. Our prophets might have had

-                                             them tolled.

-

-    Prince, abbot, squire, felt the desire of bliss that swept stews,

-                                             taverns, farms.

-    Soft damosels ploughed through the mire with babe at breast and

-                                             men-at-arms;

-

-    And, since this journey was the price of entrance into Paradise,

-    The gaols belched out their criminals and beggars all alive with

-                                             lice.

-

-    We took no food, for God is good; besides we heard that convents

-                                             strewed

-    Converted Hungary for us. We never dared mistrust His mood.

-

-    Heading the mass far up the pass, that led us straight to Calvary,

-    The preaching-man upon an ass recited magic formulæ.

-

-    Soon we were joined by northern lords; no few among their folk had

-                                             swords.

-    (Walter the Pennyless his rout had gone before and died in hordes,

-

-    While Gotschalk's dupes, with geese and goats upon their flags, had

-                                             found the boats

-    To pass beyond the Bosphorus, where Kilidj Arslan cut their

-                                             throats.)

-

-    Our force could not await the Turk, but in its ardour got to work

-    That was not mentioned in the breves. It murdered all the Jews in

-                                             Treves.

-

-    And I was sad a Christian lad should march with myrmidons so mad.

-    They made our Holy War appear too near a Musulman Jehad.

-

-    We plodded on for many weeks through mazes where the Austrian ekes

-    A bare existence on the slips of alp below the granite peaks,

-

-    And all those weeks did naught betide us palmers save that many

-                                             died.

-    Our gaol-birds eyed the preaching-man, and scholars spoke of

-                                             vaticide;

-

-    But I was happy when our stout commander sent me on to scout.

-    I cried for little Sunflower-tress, and made strange faces at the

-                                             trout.

-

-    Because I was a fighting-man I trained myself to nettle-stings,

-    And copied oaths and made up things my tutor would have tried to

-                                             scan:

-

-            _Briar and bramble,

-            Don't be so dense.

-            You scratch and you scramble

-              Like things without sense.

-            Why grudge me a ramble?

-              You can't want my hose,

-            White-coated bramble,

-              Pink briar-rose._

-

-            _Bramble and briar,

-              Leave me alone.

-            Cling to the friar,

-              Make him your own.

-            Kiss him, the liar

-              Who brought us all here,

-            Gentle sweet-briar,

-              Bramble my dear._

-

-    Thus through the months of slapping rain we plunged into the

-                                             Hungarian plain,

-    And paid its mounted bowmen dear for wretched stocks of fruit and

-                                             grain,

-

-    Or shelter in a reed-built town. They asked for hostages. We gave

-    Our leaders to these dirty-brown mongrels, who brought us to the

-                                             Save

-

-    With loss. My tutor's Damocles perhaps had lived in times like

-                                             these;

-    For whoso straggled from the main body was never seen again.

-

-    Ere this my rhyme had spread, and swelled into a marching-song. I

-                                             blushed

-    To witness how the spearmen held their sides with laughter, as they

-                                             yelled

-

-    "Bramble and briar." 'Twas the first faint mutiny. These men of

-                                             Gaul

-    Bantered the sterner pilgrims so I wondered why they came at all.

-

-    Yea, often now that I am old and hear how zealous scribes have told

-    The zeal that made the first crusade, well--history is eaten cold.

-

-    My lord could think of nothing but the lady who had bidden him cut

-    His way to her by such detours. Aye, this was true romance--the

-                                             slut.

-

-    We called her secretly The Burr--whereof was plenty in our beds--

-    For night by night he crooned of her, nor even named the Sepulchre:

-

-        _I waited, and the hours were loth to close.

-          They scarcely stirred till evening leapt to sight

-        Between the shadows that all substance throws

-          As bridges for its passage to the night._

-

-        _You never came. Life dozes at the touch

-          Of those not wholly resolute to live,

-        Who let themselves mistrust her overmuch

-          To take the only thing she has to give._

-

-    Amid the rags there caracoled fop-penitents whose panders lolled

-    With human baggage in the rear, and hound and hawk. So chaos rolled

-

-    Adown the Danube rolling east. Beyond Semlin the pinewoods filled

-    With Celt and Saxon, man and beast inspired to leave the west

-                                             untilled.

-

-    The locust-swarms were better drilled than we, the owls were not so

-                                             blind.

-    At every stage we left behind poor simpletons that moaned and

-                                             shrilled,

-

-    Thinking each swamp Gethsemane. It seemed that at their agony

-    The doctors scoffed with cross aloft, reciting magic formulæ.

-

-    Alone the princes lightly pranced, as if the pilgrimage enhanced

-    Their right to weigh upon the world thereafter. So the doom

-                                             advanced

-

-    To dervish cries and jester's japes. Hermit and boor and

-                                             jackanapes,

-    I and my ghost-pale master threw a trail of shadows, motley shapes,

-

-    Where Rhodopé's wine-purples mix snow with the moonlight. Oh, 'twas

-                                             gall

-    Amid the horror of it all that Bulgars thought us lunatics,

-

-    Or worse; for ever at our flank a stream, that in my nostrils

-                                             stank,

-    Seethed; and amid the best of her the scum of Europe wenched and

-                                                      drank.

-

-    At last we halted where Constantinople's grandeur puts to scorn

-    The villaged west, and challenges the Orient on her Golden Horn.

-

-    Ah, brazen, were your heart as strong as looked your square-chinned

-                                             ramparts.... Long

-    We waited at the gates in dust knee-deep. The Emperor did not trust

-

-    The help that he had craved. He swore he had not asked so many ...

-                                             more

-    Would ruin him.... He let the heat suck out our strength at every

-                                             pore.

-

-    But we were told great noblemen, Godfrey of Bouillon in Ardennes,

-    Robert of Flanders, "Sword and Lance of Christians," all the flower

-                                             of France

-

-    Were on our side, Hugh Vermandois, Stephen of Chartres and Troyes

-                                             and Blois,

-    Baldwin and Raymond of Toulouse. The preacher said we could not

-                                             lose.

-

-    Moreover he had spoken with angel-reserves behind us, sith

-    They sent assurance (Saracens we mocked, but had our own _Hadith_)

-

-    That we should root the heathen out, and blight as with a ten

-                                             years' drought

-    Their fields. Jehovah willed that we should leave no seed of theirs

-                                             to sprout.

-

-    Our mates streamed in from lands beyond the Adriatic, Bohemond

-    With Tancred; strait Dalmatian bays, Epirus, Scodra, devious ways

-

-    Bore them with boastful tales of sport and plunder, and a vague

-                                             report

-    That this was nothing to the spoil that beckoned from the Moslem

-                                             court.

-

-    Henceforth impatient ups and downs possessed us. Asiatic towns

-    Flamed to the general vision. We heard less perhaps of heavenly

-                                             crowns

-

-    Than flowers and peacocks made of gems, the Caliph's crusted

-                                             diadems

-    That crushed the head like Guthlac's bell, and trees with solid

-                                             emerald stems.

-

-    And I confess Christ counted less to us than tales of leash and

-                                             gess,

-    Or Hárún-el-Rashíd's largesse that sent the clock to Charlemagne.

-

-    We practised sums, and tried to train our cavalry in loss and gain.

-    Upon the misty wizard-world rose like a star the money-brain.

-

-    Even monks planned theft of saintly scalps; stray hairs and chips

-                                             of nail and chine,

-    Divinely shielded through the Alps, would make the fortune of the

-                                             Rhine.

-

-    I often tried to hide myself from this besetting spook of pelf.

-    In olive-groves I called in vain to simple faun and acorn-elf.

-

-    I pictured kine that kissed their own reflections on the impulsive

-                                             Rhone,

-    A little maid with sunflower hair, a nest we found ... the birds

-                                             had flown.

-

-    I think Alexius was wise to keep us out. Our hungry eyes

-    Fixed on his capital. Why go farther when here were rich supplies?

-

-    The Pope that cursed our tastes had laid the hand of blessing on

-                                             this raid.

-    Blest chance indeed--as though a man should drink his fill and then

-                                             be paid!

-

-    Each set to whet his falchion-pet that only friends had tasted yet.

-    We dressed our hopes in purple silk, wallowed in dreamland's wine

-                                             and milk.

-

-    Yet more than any Sultan's spoil fair women should repay our toil.

-    Already some were filled with thoughts that our red cross was meant

-                                             to foil.

-

-    The notion twinged us. We compared our prospects with the way we

-                                             fared

-    On these lean suburbs and the flats about Barbyses. We were snared!

-

-    The very Greeks, whose prayers had lured us into this adventure,

-                                             lodged

-    Their saviours in a baited trap. Lord, how these foxes turned and

-                                             dodged.

-

-    There lay our army like a log; our camp, our tenets, turned to bog.

-    We sank. Disorder brought disease that stalked us spectral through

-                                             the fog.

-

-    The Greeks we came to bolster up against their weakness filled our

-                                             cup

-    With turpitude; the Byzantine put Circe's poison in our wine.

-

-    Our aspirations all became mean as our hosts; the inner flame

-    Went out. From many a starting-point we found a common ground in

-                                             shame;

-

-    For here no soul can keep its health, but cat-like honour creeps by

-                                             stealth

-    Down side streets where the children breathe an atmosphere of

-                                             rotting wealth.

-

-    Between our fellow-churches rose the hate that heaven had meant for

-                                             foes....

-    The infidel might well have laughed. Perhaps he did. We came to

-                                             blows.

-

-    And I was sad that Christians had nothing in common, saving bad

-    Blood, that our highest dizziest heads could all divide but none

-                                             could add.

-

-    But when spring lit the Judas-trees our chieftains kissed the

-                                             Emperor's knees.

-    We crossed to Asia sick at heart. Alexius kept us well apart,

-

-    Shuffling us o'er the Bosphorus. The number and the rank of us

-    Exceeded those who went to Troy for Helen the Adulterous.

-

-    On the Bithynian plain our force drew up: an hundred thousand horse

-    With foot and monks and womankind in crowds that none can call to

-                                             mind.

-

-    Fear stuffed the empty space ahead with devils and the shapes of

-                                             dread

-    That decked our church. A ghastly rush of loneliness made every

-                                             head

-

-    Feel like a pinpoint. Discontent ran through the score of nations

-                                             blent

-    In cries. Their ribald spokesman forced a drunkard's way to

-                                             Godfrey's tent:

-

-        _You that have led us through the many tests

-          Of Hungary, King Caloman, and Thrace,

-        Who think of kingdoms as of palimpsests

-          And human nature as a carapace,

-        Go up and prosper in your lofty chase!

-          We cannot live on barren mountain-crests.

-        Our wildest dreams are prisoners that pace

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-        _Here lies the stronghold that our zeal invests,

-          This infidel alone we long to face.

-        This hollow, where our constant fancy nests,

-          Is more to us than pedestal and dais.

-        Nay, we will go no farther in the race

-          For gain, respond no more to mean behests.

-        We know our cause, and reverently embrace

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-        _It is our holy land, and we, the guests

-          Of passion, brand all other hosts as base.

-        The bees have led us to their treasure-chests,

-          A foxglove-sceptre and an hyacinth-mace,

-        The meadow's fleeting broidery and lace.

-          Their heaven like ours is nigh to vulgar jests.

-        A blossom's goal and glory is to grace

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-        _Prince, be content and choose your resting-place,

-          Ere we be all forgotten with our quests,

-        And this thin earth go crumbling into space,

-          The little space between a woman's breasts._

-

-    Thereat was scandal, and a priest exclaimed that man was half a

-                                             beast.

-    I could have told him that before. Man was the half I like the

-                                             least.

-

-    To obviate a sinful fate the monks laid on us many weeks

-    Of penance, wasting us the more with these inventions of the

-                                             Greeks.

-

-    Some paid in cash, some chose the lash--their backs were pitiful to

-                                             see--

-    While Bishop Adhémar of Puy recited magic formulæ

-

-    That lurched us forward to our doom. We cleft the sultanate of

-                                             Roum,

-    Calling for bread. The peasants fled. We swept the country like a

-                                             broom.

-

-    Our armed migration choked the road. It ran ahead, a stream that

-                                             flowed

-    Uphill to glory, so it seemed; and so imagination strode--

-

-    O Jack o' lantern!--into the unknown. The Virgin on a silver

-                                             throne,

-    Our leaders swore, went on before us. I saw nothing but the Rhone,

-

-    The impulsive Rhone that tumbles down, and breaks clean through the

-                                             grey-walled town.

-    I heard it rustle in its bed where others heard the Virgin's gown.

-

-    I blamed the foeman for my thirst, for sandstorm, flies, heat,

-                                             scurvy--cursed

-    Them. Piles of grievance fumed until the red fire kindled. Madness

-                                             burst

-

-    All bounds, and capered in the glare that wrapped us round like

-                                             Nessus' shirt.

-    Each day 'twas there with yards to spare, and would not tear. How

-                                             blue can hurt!

-

-    In my delirium I smelt a mirage, heard the swallows skim

-    Above the reeds where angels knelt with envious eyes to watch me

-                                             swim.

-

-    The preacher said Jehovah's cloud and pillar would go with us. Yea,

-    The sky was on our heads alway. The sun rose up and cried aloud,

-

-    And stood immobilized at noon. We wondered if at Ajalon

-    The Jews thanked Joshua for the boon of this divine phenomenon.

-

-    We came to Nice and formed a siege with tortoise, belfry, catapult,

-    And curse that brought even less result. Each lordling quarrelled

-                                             with his liege,

-

-    Layman with priest, until the place surrendered, and again we

-                                             lurched

-    Forward. I heard our name was made. I only saw how it was smirched.

-

-    My master clasped a small, soiled glove, and promised deeds for

-                                             love's sweet sake

-    That took my breath, as though his death would please The Burr. I

-                                             lay awake

-

-    All night afraid to cry for fright. I tried my best to be

-                                             full-grown,

-    A child now loth to be alone. My misery was all my own.

-

-    I well recall our knights' first charge. It was as though a loaded

-                                             barge

-    Should seek to crush a dancing skiff. The foe was small, the plain

-                                             was large.

-

-    Our men returned with horses spent. It seemed the Turkish cowards

-                                             meant

-    To harry, not oppose. Sometimes we caught them full, and down they

-                                             went.

-

-    Strange that within so short a space I felt the strong effects of

-                                             grace!

-    The preaching man upon his ass called it a miracle. It was.

-

-    I, polishing my master's helmet, also longed to overwhelm

-    The miscreants, to hew in bits the devil and his earthly realm.

-

-    A boy's high spirits, weariness, a heart impulsive as the Rhone,

-    The wish to get this business done, the thought of little

-                                             Sunflower-tress--

-

-    A flower beside The Burr, and "Why, if knights sing rubbish, should

-                                             not I?"--

-    The preaching man's persistence, these stirred me to action by

-                                             degrees.

-

-    We had our fill at Dorylæum. Our rogues were Paladins. We won,

-    And weighed our booty by the ton. That night we chanted a Te Deum,

-

-    A myriad voices in the dark; they rose like one colossal lark

-    Ere dawn. My soul flew up with them to see the new Jerusalem

-

-    And spite my tutor. I was mad to be a fighting-man, would pad

-    My arms like muscles. So my lord took me to foray. I was glad.

-

-    I had one thought: my hands were wet. That angered me: my mouth was

-                                             dry.

-    I had one fear: I might forget my master's silly battle-cry.

-

-    Belike 'twas well no foe would stand--our cavaliers were out of

-                                             hand--

-    So I was baulked. With scarce a blow we filed across the wasted

-                                             land

-

-    For leagues, till Baldwin turned aside, and out of Peradventure

-                                             carved

-    His slice, Edessa. We were plied to march on Antioch half-starved.

-

-    For seven months sheer courage toiled to take the town. Its

-                                             ramparts foiled

-    Our engines. Sulkiness sat down within us, and temptation coiled

-

-    Tight round our bodies; every vice was lurking like a cockatrice.

-    Ah, flesh can never quite repel the sinuous things which thoughts

-                                             entice.

-

-    You honey-coloured Syrian girls, whose voices turned our knights to

-                                             thirls,

-    I looked away and stopped my ears by thinking of the glossier

-                                             merles

-

-    At home. The arm upheld by Hur had not sufficed him to deter

-    The dissipation of our force, alas. My lord deceived The Burr.

-

-    'Twas worse when treachery let us in. Blood, lechery, pillage, fire

-                                             and din

-    Burned an impression on my mind: the sexual ugliness of sin.

-

-    Cool Bohemond called Antioch his. Ere we had killed our mutineers,

-    We the besiegers were besieged by Kurbugha and his Amírs.

-

-    Alternate famine and carouse brought plague; but doubtless God

-                                             allows

-    Expensive trials of faith that we might learn the magic formulæ.

-

-    We melted, melted; kites were fed upon us, dogs ran dripping red

-    From piles of nameless carrion, the race that Europe might have

-                                             bred.

-

-    Throughout our ranks desertion raged by daily sermons unassuaged.

-    The preaching man was first in this "rope-dancing." Disillusion

-                                             aged

-

-    My youth by years. My master stayed. If he had erred he promptly

-                                             paid.

-    The pestilence ran after him. Despite the fervour I displayed

-

-    He died of sores, this prince of tilt, though guarded by ten

-                                             hallowed charms,

-    This subject of all _trouvère_-lilt, lord in an hundred ladies'

-                                             arms.

-

-    Oh, how I struggled to be brave when the Pope's legate, grey and

-                                             grim,

-    Said simply this beside the grave: "Christ died for you. You died

-                                             for Him."

-

-    Only his jester seemed to care, and ceased awhile to swear and

-                                             daff.

-    "Who," he repeated in despair, "will pay me for his epitaph?"

-

-          _Poor friend, this alien hungry land

-            Has closed her lips upon her prey.

-          The tree is spoiled into her hand;

-            She sucks the brook's thin veins away._

-

-          _A sterner voice than bade you come

-            To reap the tears that exiles sow

-          Has called you to her longer home,

-            That neither bids nor lets you go._

-

-          _Seven times you baulked her lawless laws,

-            And foiled the customs of the year;

-          But Death defends the tyrant's cause,

-            And makes the silent court his lair._

-

-          _The lease of life, that none can own,

-            Is written on her agent's roll;

-          And from the desert and the sown

-            He takes a harsh and equal toll,_

-

-          _High-handed, scorning code or text.

-            No hope the debtor's gaol unlocks.

-          A friend appeals? He is the next

-            To occupy the narrow box._

-

-          _The witness cowers, pale with fear,

-            When Death the stalker passes by;

-          And only prays he may not hear

-            That ugly sound--a victim's cry._

-

-          _One weeps; his eyes are wet as long

-            As on Death's hand the blood is wet.

-          He says: "The King can do no wrong!"

-            And craves permission to forget._

-

-          _How briefly to an echo clings

-            The memory of these solemn days,

-          The thought of those tremendous things

-            That Death implies but never says._

-

-          _An hour ago we laid you down.

-            The tender, tardy autumn rain

-          Is dried within the dusty town,

-            And we are at our rounds again._

-

-    With every round our spirits sank in bodies lean and members lank.

-    I saw the soul of man, a cave, a wick that smouldered and smelled

-                                             rank.

-

-    Men's fluid facts may wash the grime from pictures of a distant

-                                             time,

-    But I can paint the truth in one small touch: our poets ceased to

-                                             rhyme.

-

-    Such was the army's hopelessness. I understood, who once had seen

-    Our fading gardener rouse himself to kick and curse the wolf-cub,

-                                             Life.

-

-    I would not let my feet desert, but oh the woods--the woods of home

-    That bent and beckoned in the damp zephyr in vain! I could not

-                                             stoop

-

-    To play false in an enterprise however mad, if once begun.

-    Besides another miracle was wrought in me. I was in love.

-

-    I was enamoured of dear Christ; His utter beauty struck me dumb,

-    His face alone could compensate for scenes that almost made me long

-

-    For blindness. Yea, to Him I turned from all this heartache,

-                                             nightly kissed

-    His hand with passion. I at least would not betray the children's

-                                             Friend.

-

-    Haply His strength has always lain in contrast. I found strength to

-                                             press

-    Toward the mark. Not so the host: we could not kick it to its feet.

-

-    Then heaven inspired us to devise a pious fraud--The Holy Lance.

-    We hid it in Saint Peter's crypt, and dug it up. The people wept

-

-    With rapture at this talisman, and sang the Psalm "Let God arise."

-    Also our chiefs--they knew my zeal--bade me complete the heartening

-                                             sign.

-

-    White-plumed, white-horsed, with golden shield and halo, I

-                                             contrived to appear

-    On the horizon, waved my sword while Adhémar proclaimed Saint

-                                             George.

-

-    Our men responded with a shout. Through the five gates they tumbled

-                                             out,

-    An headlong torrent. In a trice the infidel was put to rout,

-

-    And I joined in to hack and prod. Pure Tancred praised me with a

-                                             nod.

-    Ascetic Godfrey even spoke to me: "Lad, you belong to God."

-

-    I won my spurs. They _made_ me proud. Before my sword the wizards

-                                             bowed,

-    Though me they washed. In vigil and fast I joined the perfect

-                                             order, vowed

-

-    To hold my manhood chaste, to gird on might with right and

-                                             courtesy,

-    To speak the truth, and so to be at variance with the common herd.

-

-    Such loftiness a man can feel once in a flash: strong arms, clean

-                                             hands

-    That forged us into iron bands to unify the world with steel.

-

-    But as I left the altar daft with the ambition I had quaffed--

-    A word can kill a century--one of my perfect brothers laughed:

-

-          _I took the vow of virtue

-            As others take to vice.

-          I could not break my heart of you.

-            Men call that sacrifice._

-

-          _The priests applauded nature.

-            Poor devil, she was loth

-          Enough. The love of God and you

-            Has made me hate you both._

-

-    And I was sad that Christians, clad in robes so dazzling, were not

-                                             glad

-    To keep them spotless from the world, and give the Virgin all they

-                                             had.

-

-    Yet I was racked by continence of all we rightly rank as sense.

-    I hungered for the Sunflower-tress that now my lips would never

-                                             press.

-

-    I wrenched and wrestled to believe that God had sent us here to

-                                             grieve

-    Our bodies with this fruitlessness, that only fakirs could achieve

-

-    His purpose. Then in blind revolt my soul like an unbroken colt

-    Ran round and round an empty field. The hedge was thick. I could

-                                             not bolt,

-

-    Though one poor knight on stiffened knee revealed beneath his

-                                             breath to me

-    His thoughts on women while the monks recited magic formulæ.

-

-    I sought for solace in renown. Men watched me swagger through the

-                                             town

-    The youngest knight in Christendom. When women passed I tried to

-                                             frown.

-

-    A year I suffered in this way before the wreck of our array

-    Would undertake the final march. My soul was saved by movement. May

-

-    Was with us, when my tutor closed his wintry Juvenal and posed

-    Mid nightingales to quote and kiss the _Pervigilium Veneris_.

-

-    I drove his authors from my head, and read Augustin hard instead;

-    But sap was mounting in my veins and western groves where finches

-                                             wed.

-

-    To these no sound of sapphire seas, no stunted firs of Lebanon,

-    Not Tyrian dyes nor Tripoli's loud yellows deafened. We ran on

-

-    Through landmarks famed in Holy Writ, Emmaus, Bethlehem ... at last

-    We saw the walls of Zion lit blood-red by sunset and the past.

-

-    The conquest of another world unfurled beneath our feet, the land

-    Of miracle and mystery lay as a bauble in our hand.

-

-    Men flung their caps up, feigned a swoon. With prostrate lines of

-                                             us the moon

-    Drew silver circles round the site. A cock crowed--many hours too

-                                             soon.

-

-    We thought to prise the gates ajar. My tutor wrote their private

-                                             Lar

-    Or else--with Tacitus--their folk designed them for eternal war.

-

-    The moat was wide; we feebly tried to stop its gape with pebbles,

-                                             cried

-    "Fall, Jericho!" The blessèd wall stood firm; but Christ was on our

-                                             side.

-

-    The Church had saved Him from His wan repute and thrust Him in our

-                                             van,

-    Bronzed, scarred. Alas, the first crusade had made Him out a

-                                             fighting man!

-

-    He taught the Turks to mock Giaours!... sent timely Genoese to

-                                             build

-    Wheeled wooden turrets. These we filled brimful. Jerusalem was

-                                             ours.

-

-    We entered reverent, barefoot; slew three livelong nights and

-                                             mornings through,

-    Then paused to sing a thanksgiving. We massacred the morrow too.

-

-    And I was glad a Christian lad could boast of some small

-                                             suffering _ad

-    Majorem Dei gloriam_. I only longed to burn Baghdad.

-

-    Nay, I can say I never hid to chamber as my fellows did.

-    I felt my conscience clear as frost, and touched no woman--God

-                                             forbid.

-

-    I set my contrite soul apart with mass, procession, penance, rites

-    That took me out to see the sights, brushing ecstatic lanes athwart

-

-    The quiddering mob with tears of joy--my tutor's phrase was hoi

-                                             polloi--

-    Though few were left. Some Greeks of ours confused Jerusalem with

-                                             Troy.

-

-    But most the bestial German louts made even their hardest allies

-                                             sick;

-    They ran to mutilate the quick and sniff the dead with joyous

-                                             snouts.

-

-    Shriven, forgiven, we embraced each stone that Christ had touched,

-                                             and placed

-    Such relics under treble guard. One note in our rejoicings jarred.

-

-    It seemed some types of Jewish dog escaped the flaming synagogue,

-    And their ingratitude was base. They joined to form a

-                                             wailing-place.

-

-    I heard them as I roamed among blind alleys dark and overhung

-    By one-eyed dens. With whining nose against the wall the pack gave

-                                             tongue:

-

-      _Behold Thy people, Lord, a race of mourners.

-        Through this Thy sacred dwelling-place they creep

-      Like strangers. Hearken, Lord, in holes and corners

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _For Thy decree, most terrible and holy,

-        That as the fathers sow the sons shall reap,

-      For all Thy just affliction of the lowly,

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _For all the glory that is now departed,

-        For all the stones that Thou hast made an heap,

-      Yea, for the city of the broken-hearted,

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _For all the wealth wherewith Thou hadst endowed her,

-        For all our shepherds gone astray like sheep,

-      For all Thy temple's jewels ground to powder,

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-      _Because our soul is chastened as with lashes,

-        Because Thine anger like a stormy deep

-      Goes over us, in sackcloth and in ashes

-            We sit alone and weep._

-

-    Nobody gave them heed; indeed each man was thinking how to speed

-    His interests, and if the prey would satisfy ambition or need.

-

-    To honest minds with zeal imbued the Pope's indulgence, their own

-                                             merit

-    Bestowed some licence to be lewd, and take--their preachers said

-                                             "inherit."

-

-    Even I who was in love with Christ, I with the conscience clean and

-                                             cold

-    That hankered not for lands or gold, was wondering how to clinch my

-                                             hold

-

-    On reputation, while our chiefs, before we could consolidate,

-    Rode a great wallop round the State and split it into petty fiefs.

-

-    Their overlords revolted me. Alas, for our brief unity!

-    Edessa snarled at Antioch, Jerusalem at Tripoli.

-

-    Poor Godfrey, who would not accept a crown where his Redeemer wore

-    Thorns, nor be strong where Jesus wept! From the beginning weakness

-                                             crept

-

-    Into our councils. Worse, we watched the bulk of our brave lads

-                                             disperse

-    Well-pleased. At most we raised the ghost of needful power to hold

-                                             their post.

-

-    Franks and Provincials, German brutes that bullied babes and

-                                             prostitutes,

-    Lombards and Flemings, made for home with clapping and the sound of

-                                             flutes.

-

-    It flowed away, the unstable stuff, to whom a cause was but a noun.

-    They stood to sea. Thank heaven 'twas rough! My place was here with

-                                             my renown.

-

-    They vanished ... home ... to Sunflower-tress ... home, where a man

-                                             may die obscure!

-    Far off a carle of Albemarle trolled chanties like a Siren's lure.

-

-          _East, are you calling still,

-          Who tried your strength of will

-        For naught on brown Ulysses long ago?

-          We have an island too,

-          And haul away from you

-        To cleaner kin that bend a stronger bow._

-

-          _Your caravans string out

-          On many a golden route

-        The turbaned Magi's offerings; but we

-          Steer forth on loner trails

-          Through rough wind-scented vales

-        To England, the oasis of the sea._

-

-          _Child Jesus chose you, East,

-          Not that He loved us least,

-        But just because His Father had foreseen

-          The dear and only Son

-          Might dwell too long upon

-        Our swinging greys and many-coloured green._

-

-    So we were left alone. The spring broke out in buds of bickering.

-    Each summer brought contentious fruit. Strife waxed with every

-                                             waning king.

-

-    And I waxed also, better known, resolved to reap what I had sown.

-    My childless manhood fixed my heart. The Holy Land was all my own.

-

-    I grew in grace with man--I hoped with God; from Beersheba to Dan

-    I went about my Father's work. Faith could not shirk what Faith

-                                             began.

-

-    Sometimes qualms came. I looked askance on Bishop Daimbert's

-                                             schemes to enhance

-    His seat. The native Christians sighed they missed the Caliph's

-                                             tolerance.

-

-    Not that had hurt me, but the void which love will make if

-                                             unemployed.

-    I spent my strength to keep him quiet, and free the thoughts that

-                                             he decoyed,

-

-    Till woods and Rhone were out of range. I often wondered at the

-                                             change

-    In nature's child, in me. The formulæ were there. "God's ways are

-                                             strange."

-

-    Yet in my struggle with the powers of darkness I recalled the

-                                             showers

-    Of light that fought the undergrowth to catch the singing of the

-                                             flowers.

-

-    Time passed, and no one seemed to reck of Zenghi, the first Atabek,

-    Though every year we failed to act the Saracens grew more compact.

-

-    In vain I urged that we might fall, so slender was our human wall,

-    So numberless the foe beside the Templars and the Hospital.

-

-    The answer was that dyke and fosse were useless when we had the

-                                             Cross,

-    With other relics by the score, to guard against defeat or loss.

-

-    My prophecies of coming ills fell on deaf ears and weakly wills.

-    I did my best. You know I did, who saw me peer beyond the hills

-

-    Where Karak like a lighthouse loomed at waves of sand that never

-                                             spumed,

-    The tideless main, an ocean-plain bare, petrified. Its silence

-                                             boomed.

-

-    I saw in all that vastitude, the one, the drab, the many-hued,

-    No sign of life, no moving speck; and yet I knew that trouble

-                                             brewed.

-

-    I tortured every hour to find material things to prop behind--

-    Forgive me, God!--Your earthly realm. The need was great, for it

-                                             was blind.

-

-    The mathematics of Abul Hassan, three hundred years at school

-    In Arabic philosophy, showed that the West was still a fool.

-

-    Nay, gently, call her still a babe. How should she know that I, the

-                                             Great,

-    Had learned from savages to prate of compass and of astrolabe.

-

-    Our miracles were not so sure to heal as Rhazes' simplest cure.

-    His friends the moon and stars obeyed the rules that Abul Wafa

-                                             made.

-

-    My stolen lore raised me above my fellows. Everything but love

-    Was mine, respect, authority. The jealous Churchmen dared not move.

-

-    Our infant realm could not dispense with me, its shield and main

-                                             defence.

-    I knew the Damascene recipe for making steel, and made it cheap.

-

-    My mind was fertile in resorts. I spent the pilgrims' fees on

-                                             forts,

-    And settled, for their skill in trade, Venetian slavers at our

-                                             ports.

-

-    Howbeit I trembled lest our main enthusiasm should be for gain.

-    I stripped myself to work against the working of the money-brain.

-

-    And I was glad I passed for mad and single-eyed as Galahad.

-    I sacrificed in saving Christ the profit that I might have had.

-

-    Nothing that I could do availed. My tongue grew bitter, girded,

-                                             railed.

-    My labour only builded Me, but not the kingdom. So I failed.

-

-    Our Viscounts could but show their gums, while from Aleppo, Hama,

-                                             Homs,

-    The foe crept onward like the months, culling our conquests like

-                                             ripe plums.

-

-    For all response in Chastel Blanc and towering Markab-of-the-Sea

-    Some clerkly knight in red-crossed white recited magic formulæ;

-

-    Then darkly hinted science, hell and I were leagued, because their

-                                             spell

-    Would not or could not stave the blow that I foresaw. Edessa fell.

-

-    Curse our degenerate Poullains! The breed had need of spurs not

-                                             reins.

-    To stand an empty sack upright was easier than to warm their veins

-

-    Save with amours. One night I knelt to pray; but on the battlement

-    Hard by a lordling twanged a harp. I smelt the bastard's eastern

-                                             scent.

-

-    He thought his leman lay behind my casement, where the jasmin

-                                             twined

-    And almost jingled.... Oh the woods at home and whitethroats

-                                             calling blind!

-

-        _Suppose you left that window and came down

-          To meet me. Do not turn away.

-            Also you need not frown.

-              I only say:

-                "Suppose."_

-

-      _Suppose--you are a woman of resource--

-        The fastenings of your door undone.

-          No! They are not.... Of course!

-            But, just for fun,

-              Suppose._

-

-      _Suppose that--safe among the trees below

-        The terraces--you chanced to find ...

-          Impossible!... I know,

-            But never mind.

-              Suppose._

-

-      _Suppose that--being there--an eager arm

-        Drew you towards the little dell....

-          Why redden? Where's the harm?

-            You might as well

-              Suppose...._

-

-      _Suppose that, bending over you, a man

-        Breathed words of which you knew the gist.

-          Suppose it!... Yes, you can....

-            No, I insist....

-              Suppose!_

-

-      _Suppose you shut the window? Now? Pray do,

-        And take a lonely night to learn

-          This tune shut in with you.

-            Till I return,

-              Suppose...._

-

-    Then I peeped out. Some breath divine had made his face, compared

-                                             with mine,

-    An angel's. Love with all its faults had set there our Creator's

-                                             sign.

-

-    That shook me. One of us was wrong. Which? He or I? His soul was

-                                             vexed

-    Neither by this world nor the next, but floated in a bubble of

-                                             song.

-

-    It haunted me, as he had said; it chimed and rhymed about my bed.

-    It filled my head with Sunflower-tress; but she--I writhed--was old

-                                             or dead.

-

-    Was all my suffering a waste? Had superstition wed me chaste

-    To Its effect? Was this my Cause? My tutor in the dark grimaced.

-

-    I saw him snug at home, and how he would have chuckled at my vow!

-    Well, who laughs last.... I pictured him a dotard or in hell by

-                                             now.

-

-    I prayed for help all night; and, warned by lost Edessa, Baldwin

-                                             made

-    Great efforts to placate our God. The answer was a fresh crusade.

-

-    This was an answer none could doubt. We heard a preacher more

-                                             devout

-    Than ours was quartering the west, and pulling true believers out.

-

-    He hight Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the home of light and

-                                             miracles.

-    The wives and mothers trembled so before his spirit's tentacles,

-

-    They hid their males--in vain. He swept the Emperor Conrad with

-                                             him, kept

-    The collar of his pale adept, emasculated Louis Sept.

-

-    He cured King's Evils, raised the dead, he cast out devils by the

-                                             gross.

-    'Twas said he promised us twelve legions of angels.... From the

-                                             darkest regions

-

-    Men flocked to Metz and Ratisbon. News came of more than half a

-                                             million,

-    Not counting those that rode apillion. Our battle was as good as

-                                             won.

-

-    Such glorious news might well inflame our hopes. We waited. Nothing

-                                             came,

-    Not even light Turcopuli nor Conrad's Golden-footed Dame.

-

-    Our Poullains first began to whine; the fainthearts said the fault

-                                             was mine.

-    Saint Bernard was the oracle of Europe, I of Palestine.

-

-    And nothing came ... no troops.... The Greek misled, starved,

-                                             poisoned, murdered them,

-    Betrayed them to the Turk, whose bleak deserts went over them. Week

-                                             by week

-

-    We waited. Nothing. Cadmus saw them cut to bits, Attalia's maw

-    Could not be sated with their ruck. King Louis' mind had just one

-                                             flaw:

-

-    He would not hear of strategy, staked all on supernatural help.

-    And nothing came, and nothing came. Our half-bred curs began to

-                                             yelp

-

-    "Good God, if truly God is good!" They kissed the Cross. Gems hid

-                                             the wood.

-    Had He forgotten? Was He deaf? Could such things be? Who

-                                             understood?

-

-    Not I, though I had kept my word to save the Lamb by fire and

-                                             sword.

-    And after twelve long lustra spent in service this was my reward.

-

-    Louis and Conrad struggled through one day with some small retinue.

-    I watched. Almost I could foretell what they and Providence would

-                                             do.

-

-    And I remember, as we fared, a Sufi--so the sect is named--

-    Sat by the road as though he cared no jot for us, while he

-                                             declaimed:

-

-      _Her home is in the heart of spaciousness,

-      In the mid-city of ideals. The site

-      Is harmony, the walls are made of light.

-      There with the mother-thoughts she stands to bless

-      The godlike sons sent forth with her caress

-      To make new worlds. I see them all unite

-      Into the whole that our most starry flight

-      Of worship knew far off, and strove to express.

-      What can we do for her? We run to ask

-      As restless children for a grown-up task,

-      While wisdom in the porch, their kind old host,

-      Smiles at nurse nature, and replies: The most,

-      The least that we can do for Beauty is

-      To love for love's sake and serve God for His._

-

-    But Conrad drove his lance in jest right through the ragamuffin's

-                                             chest,

-    Because his creed was not as ours; and on we rode. I lost my zest.

-

-    To take Damascus was our plan, relying on a talisman.

-    I knew that this would not suffice, for I was still a fighting man.

-

-    It ended in repulse and shame. Saint Bernard proved we were to

-                                             blame

-    For want of faith. Ah, some of us had had too much. We said the

-                                             same

-

-    Of him. At our return thick mobs of women filled the church with

-                                             bobs

-    And bows, poor puppets, trying hard to sing between their stifled

-                                             sobs:

-

-        _God, whose Son has fathomed sorrow,

-          Give a mother strength to say:

-        Mine has faced and found To-morrow.

-          I will try to face To-day._

-

-    They turned to me. They thought me wise because I had been led by

-                                             lies

-    To blind myself to them; and now I saw things through a woman's

-                                             eyes,

-

-    And I went out. Not yet the end. Since innocence alone could save,

-    Saints hit on infant infantry, and fifty thousand found the grave.

-

-    My gorge rose, yet I stopped my ears. I had no hope, but I was

-                                             tarred

-    With fame too much to show my fears. My duty lay in dying hard.

-

-    Oh irony! That fame increased the more its robes were patched and

-                                             pieced.

-    My whole ambition was fulfilled when power and confidence had

-                                             ceased.

-

-    The women kissed my feet, my horse; they clung to me like my

-                                             remorse.

-    I that set out to make the world had made myself believe by force.

-

-    Nay, I that knew we were reprieved at best, had I in truth

-                                             believed?

-    My youth came back. I seemed to meet my tutor's sneer in every

-                                             street.

-

-    Fate cursed us with three minor kings, a leper then. Against these

-                                             Things

-    Salah-ad-Din combined the entire orient. I wished our fate had

-                                             wings

-

-    Instead of feet to end our dumb, keen, futile questionings, to numb

-    The brain that binds us with the chain of kingdom go and kingdom

-                                             come.

-

-    One of our knights for plunder's sake undid us, roused the foe who

-                                             brake

-    In through the pass of Banias, cutting our lands in two like cake.

-

-    The hour was here, but not the man. That murderer Guy de Lusignan

-    Was sent to head our fight for life. The craven took for talisman

-

-    ME and my hundred years, alas, a relic of the man I was.

-    I toiled to still our private feuds. We marched upon Tiberias,

-

-    For none would listen when I urged our leaders to await attack.

-    We marched across the waterless inferno. Summer burnt us black.

-

-    The Moslems scorched us with Greek fire. As rain upon a funeral

-                                             pyre

-    Their arrows hissed in sheets upon the smoking scrub. "Go on!"

-                                             "Retire!"

-

-    Our rabble cried, starting aside like broken bows; they tried to

-                                             hide,

-    Split, fled for refuge to a hill, did nothing while the Templars

-                                             died.

-

-    When all was lost I cut my way out through the thicket of the fray,

-    And galloped for Jerusalem to adjure Guy's Queen to stand at bay.

-

-    In this last desperate passage each proud noble still opposed his

-                                             friend.

-    A little while and we were penned, and yet a little while a breach

-

-    Was made. Jehovah's chosen seat was tottering, but no Paraclete

-    Came down to comfort us. I made some sallies. Then the Queen would

-                                             treat.

-

-    Perhaps in our appeal for ruth my wording stumbled on the truth,

-    "One God that went by many names," or else I knew Him in my youth,

-

-    Or else that Sufi haunted me with something that I could not see,

-    Something that only had not been because we would not let it be.

-

-    And when the foe marched in, I own that I was thinking of the Rhone

-    Long, long ago, and wondering--a child once more--if it had grown.

-

-    Yet there remained the sharpest cup to drain: the moan of us went

-                                             up,

-    When from the topmost dome was hurled the Sign that should have

-                                             ruled the world.

-

-    Down, down it rumbled with our grand designs. All we had built or

-                                             planned,

-    Toiled, bled for, crumbled at a touch, was ruined like a house of

-                                             sand.

-

-    So soon we pass. The wind knows why. The efforts of a century,

-    Three generations' handiwork failed in the twinkling of an eye.

-

-    And I was sad to think that shadows occupy us all. I had

-    No hope of earth. What boots a toy that thinks its maker raving

-                                             mad?

-

-    My soul had passed through every phase and, counting forty thousand

-                                             days,

-    Was farther off than at the start from comprehending heaven's ways

-

-    Or bowing to them. I came nearest when I pressed my childish ear

-    Earthward through briar and bramble bowers to catch the singing of

-                                             the flowers.

-

-    The last remains of faith were shaken when I, the oracle, was

-                                             taken.

-    My pride was made to sleep in chains. I prayed that I might never

-                                             waken,

-

-    But woke. They gave me to a _rais_ who wanted cattle, not advice.

-    He flogged me down to Damietta. I was old and fetched no price.

-

-    Nathless my battling heart was brave enough to work me till I

-                                             dropped.

-    I passed for twopence to a Copt who sold me as a galley-slave

-

-    To Muscat. In the rhythmic stroke, old, undefeated, gnarled as oak

-    I creaked and strained against my fate, until that Sufi-something

-                                             broke.

-

-    'Twas not my heart. An inner morn put the dark age in me to scorn,

-    And in the light I found myself, a child at play with worlds

-                                             unborn,

-

-    For all that I had thought and read, and fought and watched the

-                                             world be led

-    By any who contrived to cut a knot with that blunt tool, the head.

-

-    I laughed to think how sparrows might look down upon our highest

-                                             flight,

-    While each succeeding age would have its oracle or stagyrite,

-

-    Would trace the good we never did, the evil that we never saw,

-    And out of our blind pyramid extract a stepping-stone to Law.

-

-    Here, where ambition had to cease in servitude, I tasted peace,

-    Free of illusion stretched and yawned. A fool would clamour for

-                                             release.

-

-    I make the rowers' bench a throne to think, and thought implies

-                                             Alone,

-    Of changing woods and endless streams. My happiness is all my own.

-

-    And often, when my mates deplore a brother who shall row no more,

-    I talk about my wolf-cub, Life. They think I speak in metaphor.

-

-    They gather round me all agog, they think a chronicle and log

-    Of Progress lies in withered hands. Their cry is for an epilogue.

-

-    Has aught been drafted yet? A blot, an echo void and polyglot.

-    Each century is written off as preface. Yes, most true.... Of what?

-

-    My gathered weight had held me bound to find for every fog a

-                                             ground,

-    For every riddle a reply, an end to Being that goes round.

-

-    Now I can say, I do not know if there will be a book at all,

-    Or if the deepest chapters go beyond some writing on the wall,

-

-    Though wiser worlds will yet embark, sworn to eclipse our sorry

-                                             trades,

-    Succeed, and leave their little mark: a dynasty of thought that

-                                             fades,

-

-    Fresh undergrowths of formulæ. Through these no _human_ eye can see

-    The open glade--the _last_ crusade, in which Jerusalem might be

-

-    The symbol of all peopled space, and Time an emblem of the day

-    On which the nations march as one to liberate and not to slay.

-

-    A story has no finish when it leads to nowhere out of ken?

-    O friend, the lack of knowledge brings wisdom within the reach of

-                                             men;

-

-    For whether hope can ever fit the future matters not a whit.

-    My duty is to tug my oar--so long as I am chained to it.

-

-

-

-

-XIX

-

-FUSION

-

-

-    It was fulfilled. The giant _dhow_ bestirred

-    Herself, burst from her slender moorings, ran

-    Exulting on her course beyond the green

-    Thin shallows to the deeper violet

-    Of that great gem wherein the continents

-    Are flaws. With creaking oars and fluttering sails

-    The wingèd ghost swept outward. On the prow

-    Unveiled the Queen stood whiter than the sails,

-    And save the revelation made no sign;

-    And all the sound of singing was brought low.

-    Then, as the vision vanished in the hushed

-    Twilight that painted out the caravan,

-    Leaving the pilgrims but a _burnûs_-blur

-    On the drab canvas of the shore, a wail

-    Rose, and to them the Dreamer's last reply:

-

-        "The aimless spindrift mingles with the scats

-          Where suddenly the desert is the beach.

-        A low wind whimpers up and down the flats

-          Seeking some obstacle to lend it speech.

-

-        "The sky bleeds pale as from a mortal wound,

-          Darkening the waters. To a treble E

-        Gulls stiffly wheel their nomad escort round

-          A white sail dwindling in the impassive sea.

-

-        "A last beam smites it with a benison.

-          The lantern twinkles fainter at its mast.

-        It bears the purpose in me that is gone,

-          The only thing that cannot be, the past.

-

-        "Let there be night. Shall evensong complain?

-          My love was utter. Now I seek no sign.

-        Mine eyes have seen, and shall not see again.

-          Out of the deep shall call no voice of mine.

-

-        "Yet I, whose happiness is hidden from view,

-          Have climbed the hill and touched eternity,

-        And Pisgah is a memory--of you,

-          A white sail sinking in the summer sea."

-

-    The ship drove spaceward to the skyline's crater,

-      The last of day flared vibrant as a cry,

-    And in the Dreamer Emptiness loomed greater

-      Than the unrifted pumice of the sky.

-

-    He turned to see the friends whose hope had ended

-      Like his beside the gulf. He was alone.

-    The singers and the glory that had blended

-      With meaner notes and lowly, all were gone

-

-    Into thin air. But, patient of his tether,

-      Enduring as the dream he would not break,

-    Only old Tous remained. As back together

-      They fared, once more it seemed the camel spake:

-

-        "Lo, these the fleeting and the true,

-          The keen to sacrifice and slow,

-        The plumed, the crawling, all were You

-          That started hither long ago.

-        For man is many when begun,

-        But Love can weave his ends to one.

-

-        "The new, the ancient, song and prose,

-          The lower road, the higher aim,

-        The clean, the draggled, dust and snows

-          Were you the striving, you the same.

-        Pride and endeavour, love and loss,

-        The pattern is the threads that cross.

-

-        "Tilth, waste and water, sand and sap,

-          Tare, thorn and thistle, wine and oil,

-        Run through _your_ Nature like a map,

-          Are YOU. The ores that vein the soil

-        Of time and substance manifold

-        Await the hour that makes them gold,

-

-        "That found the force of you dispersed

-          On all adventure save a quest,

-        And part perhaps was on the worst.

-          It sent you all upon the best,

-        Wherein the journey is the goal.

-        Now leaving you they leave you whole.

-

-        "The rabble melts, but more remains:

-          The golden opportunity

-        By which the choir in us attains

-          Not unison but unity.

-        We feel the sunbeam, not the motes.

-        The Voice is made of many notes.

-

-        "Slave, merchant, scholar, fighting-man,

-          The gambling, stumbling, praying kith

-        We called the Singing Caravan,

-          Have made their song at least no myth

-        Not dawn to which yon skylark soared

-        But earth is his and your reward.

-

-        "The story ends, but not the book.

-          Sufi, the Queen that you ensued

-        Led and shall lead you still to look

-          On peace--it is not solitude.

-        Through her your warring kingdoms met,

-        And here is room for no regret."

-

-        So Dreamer-of-the-Age returned

-          With comfort, all his being fused

-          At last, and thus at night he mused

-        Beside the fire that in him burned:

-

-        "Heirs of the beauty yet to be,

-          Hail, from however far ahead

-          Or out of sight I hear you tread

-        The dust that made this tale and me.

-

-        "Each day shall raise me to rejoice

-          That lovers such as we must bear

-          The unbroken chain of life and share

-        Its thanksgiving. Perhaps my voice

-

-        "Shall be the servant of your mind,

-          Your linkman waiting in the arch

-          Of phantom city-gates to march

-        With you by secret ways. The wind

-

-        "Shall tell me of you, he and I

-          Be keenly with you, when you go

-          Forth in my footsteps and the glow

-        Of movement, steadfast to deny

-

-        "Only the frailer self. My grief

-          Shall answer your unspoken word

-          Through blithe interpreters, a bird

-        Waking, the sounds of rill and leaf.

-

-        "By many a caravanserai

-          I shall not fail to watch you come,

-          You of some far millennium,

-        Who, listening to the bird, will say:

-

-        "'I seem to know that tune of his;

-          He sings what all can understand.'

-          In the clear water dip your hand:

-        'His deepest note was only this.'

-

-        "You shall be glad of me, the shade,

-          Sighing 'O friend.' And I shall keep

-          The benediction of your sleep;

-        And, when the woods of darkness fade,

-

-        "Shall waken with you, I that had

-          Love to the full, and praised my lot,

-          Trusting in truth to be forgot

-        For worthier verse. Ah, make me glad,

-

-        "You that come after me, and call

-          From summits that outstrip my hopes.

-          Yet I shall linger on the slopes

-        And dwell with those who gave their all."

-

-

-

-

-XX

-

-LONG LEAVE

-

-

-    I bow my head, O brother, brother, brother,

-      But may not grudge you that were All to me.

-    Should any _one_ lament when this our Mother

-      Mourns for so many sons on land and sea.

-    God of the love that makes two lives as one

-    Give also strength to see that England's will be done.

-

-    Let it be done, yea, down to the last tittle,

-      Up to the fullness of all sacrifice.

-    Our dead feared this alone--to give too little.

-      Then shall the living murmur at the price?

-    The hands withdrawn from ours to grasp the plough

-    Would suffer only if the furrow faltered now.

-

-    Know, fellow-mourners--be our cross too grievous--

-      That One who sealed our symbol with His blood

-    Vouchsafed the vision that shall never leave us,

-      Those humble crosses in the Flanders mud;

-    And think there rests all-hallowed in each grave

-    A life given freely for the world He died to save.

-

-    And, ages hence, dim tramping generations

-      Who never knew and cannot guess our pain--

-    Though history count nothing less than nations,

-      And fame forget where grass has grown again--

-    Shall yet remember that the world is free.

-    It is enough. For this is immortality.

-

-    I raise my head, O brother, brother, brother.

-      The organ sobs for triumph to my heart.

-    What! Who will think that ransomed earth can smother

-      Her own great soul, of which you are a part!

-    The requiem music dies as if it _knew_

-    The inviolate peace where 'tis already well with you.

-

-

-

-

-EPILOGUE

-

-

-    "It's not as easy as you think,"

-      The nettled poet sighed.

-    "It's not as good as I could wish,"

-      The publisher replied.

-    "It might," the kindly critic wrote,

-      "Have easily been _worse_."

-    "We will not read it anyhow,"

-      The public said, "it's verse."

-

-

-PRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS

-

-WEST NORWOOD, LONDON

-

-

-

-

-TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

-

-

-All unusual, archaic and inconsistent spellings and usage have been

-maintained as in the original text. The only changes made were:

-

-In the original text, the words "polymêtis" and "hoi polloi" were

-written in Greek.

-

-I added the entries for "In Memoriam" and "Acknowledgements" to the

-Table of Contents.

-

-

-

-

-

-End of Project Gutenberg's The Singing Caravan, by Robert Vansittart

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