The Diwan of Abul-Ala | Page 5

The reaper reaps, and
Time the reaper.
It is interesting to find Death also called a sower, who disseminates
weeds among men: "Dô der Tôt sînen Sâmen under si gesœte."
It was an ancient custom of the Arabs when they took an oath of special
significance to plunge their hands into a bowl of perfume and distribute
it among those who took part in the ceremony. Of the perfumes, musk
(quatrain 38) was one which they affected most. Brought commonly
from Turkistan, it was, with certain quantities of sandalwood and
ambra, made into a perfume. And "the wounds of him who falls in
battle and of the martyrs," said Mahomet, "shall on the Day of
Judgment be resplendent with vermilion and odorous as musk." This
was repeated by Ibnol Faradhi, who in the Kaaba entreated God for
martyrdom and, when this prayer was heard, repented having asked. . . .
This quatrain goes on to allude to things which can improve by being
struck. There is in the third book of a work on cookery (so rare a thing,
they tell us, that no MS. of it exists in England or in any other country
that can be heard of) an observation by the eighteenth- century editor to
the effect that it is a vulgar error to suppose that walnut-trees, like
Russian wives, are all the better for a beating; the long poles and stones
which are used by boys and others to get the fruit down, for the trees
are very high, are used rather out of kindness to themselves than with
any regard to the tree that bears it. This valued treatise, we may
mention, is ascribed to CÅ“lius Apicius; its science, learning, and
discipline were extremely condemned, and even abhorred by Seneca
and the Stoics. . . . Aloes-wood does not emit a perfume until it is
burned:
Lo! of hundreds who aspire Eighties perish--nineties tire! They who
bear up, in spite of wrecks and wracks, Were season'd by celestial hail
of thwacks.

Fortune in this mortal race Builds on thwackings for its base; Thus the
All-Wise doth make a flail a staff, And separates his heavenly corn
from chaff.[8]
Reward may follow on such absolute obedience (quatrain 40). We
remember what is said by Fra Giovanni in the prison of Viterbo[9]:
"Endurez, souffrez, acceptez, veuillez ce que Dieu veut, et votre
volonté sera faite sur la terre comme au ciel." And perhaps the dawn
for you may be your camel's dawn (quatrain 41); it was usual for Arabs
on the point of death to say to their sons: "Bury my steed with me, so
that when I rise from the grave I will not have to go on foot." The
camel was tied with its head towards its hind legs, a saddle-cloth was
wrapped about its neck, and it was left beside the grave until it died.
Meanwhile, if the master is a true believer, says Mahomet, his soul has
been divided from the body by Azrael, the angel of death. Afterwards
the body is commanded to sit upright in the grave, there to be examined
by the two black angels, Monkar and Nakyr (quatrain 42), with regard
to his faith, the unity of God and the mission of Mahomet. If the
answers be correct, the body stays in peace and is refreshed by the air
of paradise; if incorrect, these angels beat the corpse upon his temples
with iron maces, until he roars out for anguish so loudly that he is heard
by all from east to west, except by men and jinn. Abu'l-Ala had little
confidence in these two angels; he reminds one of St. Catherine of
Sienna, a visionary with uncommon sense, who at the age of eight ran
off one afternoon to be a hermit. She was careful to provide herself
with bread and water, fearing that the angels would forget to bring her
food, and at nightfall she ran home again because she was afraid her
parents would be anxious. With regard to the angel of death, Avicenna
has related that the soul, like a bird, escapes with much trouble from
the snares of earth (quatrain 43), until this angel delivers it from the
last of its fetters. We think of the goddess Rân with her net. Death is
imagined (quatrain 44) as a fowler or fisher of men, thus: "Dô kam
der Tôt als ein diep, und stal dem reinen wîbe daz leben ûz ir
lîbe."[10]
On account of its brilliance a weapon's edge (quatrain 46) has been
compared in Arab poetry with sunlit glass, with the torch of a monk,
with the stars and with the flame in a dark night. Nor would an Arab
turn to picturesque comparisons in poetry alone. Speaking of a certain

letter, Abu'l-Ala assures the man