The Diwan of Abul-Ala | Page 9

im Kaukasus, etc_.
[5] Cf. Ambros, Geschichte der Musik, 1862.
[6] Cf. Pliny, _Nat. Hist._, vii. 174.
[7] Frazer, The Golden Bough, vol. i., p. 254.
[8] Meredith, The Shaving of Shagpat.
[9] Anatole France, Le Puits de Sainte Claire.
[10] Quoted by Grimm, Teutonic Mythology, vol. 2, p. 845.
[11] Stoufenb., 1126.
[12] Cf. in Scandinavia the death-goddess Hel.
[13] Romain Rolland, Jean Christophe.
[14] Ella d'Arcy, Modern Instances.
[15] Dr. Friedrich Wilhelm Schwarzlose, _Die Waffen der alten Araber, aus ihren Dichtern dargestellt_.
[16] Pope, Iliad, xx. 577.

THE DIWAN OF ABU'L-ALA
I
Abandon worship in the mosque and shrink From idle prayer, from sacrificial sheep, For Destiny will bring the bowl of sleep Or bowl of tribulation--you shall drink.
II
The scarlet eyes of Morning are pursued By Night, who growls along the narrow lane; But as they crash upon our world the twain Devour us and are strengthened for the feud.
III
Vain are your dreams of marvellous emprise, Vainly you sail among uncharted spaces, Vainly seek harbour in this world of faces If it has been determined otherwise.
IV
Behold, my friends, there is reserved for me The splendour of our traffic with the sky: You pay your court to Saturn, whereas I Am slain by One far mightier than he.
V
You that must travel with a weary load Along this darkling, labyrinthine street-- Have men with torches at your head and feet If you would pass the dangers of the road.
VI
So shall you find all armour incomplete And open to the whips of circumstance, That so shall you be girdled of mischance Till you be folded in the winding-sheet.
VII
Have conversation with the wind that goes Bearing a pack of loveliness and pain: The golden exultation of the grain And the last, sacred whisper of the rose
VIII
But if in some enchanted garden bloom The rose imperial that will not fade, Ah! shall I go with desecrating spade And underneath her glories build a tomb?
IX
Shall I that am as dust upon the plain Think with unloosened hurricanes to fight? Or shall I that was ravished from the night Fall on the bosom of the night again?
X
Endure! and if you rashly would unfold That manuscript whereon our lives are traced, Recall the stream which carols thro' the waste And in the dark is rich with alien gold.
XI
Myself did linger by the ragged beach, Whereat wave after wave did rise and curl; And as they fell, they fell--I saw them hurl A message far more eloquent than speech:
XII
_We that with song our pilgrimage beguile, With purple islands which a sunset bore, We, sunk upon the sacrilegious shore, May parley with oblivion awhile_.
XIII
I would not have you keep nor idly flaunt What may be gathered from the gracious land, But I would have you sow with sleepless hand The virtues that will balance your account.
XIV
The days are dressing all of us in white, For him who will suspend us in a row. But for the sun there is no death. I know The centuries are morsels of the night.
XV
A deed magnanimous, a noble thought Are as the music singing thro' the years When surly Time the tyrant domineers Against the lute whereoutof it was wrought.
XVI
Now to the Master of the World resign Whatever touches you, what is prepared, For many sons of wisdom are ensnared And many fools in happiness recline.
XVII
Long have I tarried where the waters roll From undeciphered caverns of the main, And I have searched, and I have searched in vain, Where I could drown the sorrows of my soul.
XVIII
If I have harboured love within my breast, 'Twas for my comrades of the dusty day, Who with me watched the loitering stars at play, Who bore the burden of the same unrest.
XIX
For once the witcheries a maiden flung-- Then afterwards I knew she was the bride Of Death; and as he came, so tender-eyed, I--I rebuked him roundly, being young.
XX
Yet if all things that vanish in their noon Are but the part of some eternal scheme, Of what the nightingale may chance to dream Or what the lotus murmurs to the moon!
XXI
Have I not heard sagacious ones repeat An irresistibly grim argument: That we for all our blustering content Are as the silent shadows at our feet.
XXII
Aye, when the torch is low and we prepare Beyond the notes of revelry to pass-- Old Silence will keep watch upon the grass, The solemn shadows will assemble there.
XXIII
No Sultan at his pleasure shall erect A dwelling less obedient to decay Than I, whom all the mysteries obey, Build with the twilight for an architect.
XXIV
Dark leans to dark! the passions of a man Are twined about all transitory things, For verily the child of wisdom clings More unto dreamland than Arabistan.
XXV
Death leans to death! nor shall your vigilance Prevent him from whate'er he would possess, Nor, brother, shall unfilial peevishness Prevent you from the grand inheritance.
XXVI
Farewell, my soul!--bird in the narrow jail