The Diwan of Abul-Ala | Page 6

who wrote it that "it proceeds from
the residence of the great doctor who holds the reins of prose and
verse" (quatrain 50). Now with regard to glass, it was a very ancient
industry among the Arabs. In the second century of the Hegira it was so
far advanced that they could make enamelled glass and unite in one
glass different colours. A certain skilled chemist of the period was not
only expert in these processes (quatrain 52), but even tried to make of
glass false pearls, whereon he published a pamphlet.
Death, from being a silent messenger who punctually fulfilled his duty,
became a grasping, greedy foe (quatrain 56). In the Psalms (xci. 3-6)
he comes as a hunter with snares and arrows. Also "der Tôt wil mit
mir ringen."[11] In ancient times Death was not a being that slew, but
simply one that fetched away to the underworld, a messenger. So was
the soul of the beggar fetched away by angels and carried into
Abraham's bosom. An older view was the death-goddess, who receives
the dead men in her house and does not fetch them. They are left alone
to begin the long and gloomy journey, provided with various things.[12]
"Chacun remonte à son tour le calvaire des siècles. Chacun retrouve
les peines, chacun retrouve l'espoir désespéré et la folie des
siècles. Chacun remet ses pas dans les pas de ceux qui furent, de ceux
qui luttèrent avant lui contre la mort, nièrant la mort,--sont
morts"[13] (quatrain 57). It is the same for men and trees (quatrain 59).
This vision of Abu'l-Ala's is to be compared with Milton's "men as
trees walking," a kind of second sight, a blind man's pageant. In
reference to haughty folk, an Arab proverb says that "There is not a
poplar which has reached its Lord." But on the other hand, "There are
some virtues which dig their own graves,"[14] and with regard to
excessive polishing of swords (quatrain 60) we have the story of the
poet Abu Tammam, related by Ibn Khallikan. He tells us how the poet
once recited verses in the presence of some people, and how one of
them was a philosopher who said, "This man will not live long, for I
have seen in him a sharpness of wit and penetration and intelligence.
From this I know that the mind will consume the body, even as a sword
of Indian steel eats through its scabbard." Still, in Arabia, where swords
were so generally used that a priest would strap one to his belt before
he went into the pulpit, there was no unanimous opinion as to the
polishing,--which, by the way, was done with wood. A poet boasted

that his sword was often or was rarely polished, according as he wished
to emphasise the large amount of work accomplished or the excellence
of the polishing. Imru'al-Kais says that his sword does not recall the
day when it was polished. Another poet says his sword is polished
every day and "with a fresh tooth bites off the people's heads."[15] This
vigour of expression was not only used for concrete subjects. There
exists a poem, dating from a little time before Mahomet, which says
that cares (quatrain 62) are like the camels, roaming in the daytime on
the distant pastures and at night returning to the camp. They would
collect as warriors round the flag. It was the custom for each family to
have a flag (quatrain 65), a cloth fastened to a lance, round which it
gathered. Mahomet's big standard was called the Eagle,--and, by the
bye, his seven swords had names, such as "possessor of the spine."
With quatrain 68 we may compare the verses of a Christian poet,
quoted by Tabari:
And where is now the lord of Hadr, he that built it and laid taxes on the
land of Tigris? A house of marble he established, whereof the covering
was made of plaster; in the galbes were nests of birds. He feared no
sorry fate. See, the dominion of him has departed. Loneliness is on his
threshold.
"Consider how you treat the poor," said Dshafer ben Mahomet, who
pilgrimaged from Mecca to Baghdad between fifty and sixty times;
"they are the treasures of this world, the keys of the other." Take care
lest it befall you as the prince (quatrain 69) within whose palace now
the wind is reigning. "If a prince would be successful," says
Machiavelli, "it is requisite that he should have a spirit capable of turns
and variations, in accordance with the variations of the wind." Says an
Arab mystic, "The sighing of a poor man for that which he can never
reach has more of value than the praying of a rich man through a
thousand years." And in connection with