IV.
THE STORY.
A Shah there was who ruled the Realm of Yún,
And wore the Ring of Empire of Sikander;
And in his Reign A Sage, who had the Tower
Of Wisdom of so strong Foundation built
That Wise Men from all Quarters of the World
To catch the Word of Wisdom from his Lip
Went in a Girdle round him—Which The Shah
Observing, took him to his Secresy;
Stirr’d not a Step nor set Design a-foot
Without that Sage’s sanction; till so counsel’d,
From Káf to Káf reach’d his Dominion:
No Nation of the World or Nation’s Chief
Who wore the Ring but under span of his
Bow’d down the Neck; then rising up in Peace
Under his Justice grew, and knew no Wrong,
And in their Strength was his Dominion Strong.
The Shah that has not Wisdom in Himself,
Nor has a Wise Man for his Counsellor,
The Wand of his Authority falls short,
And his Dominion crumbles at the Base.
For he, discerning not the Characters
Of Tyranny and Justice, confounds both,
Making the World a Desert, and the Fount
Of Justice a Seráb. Well was it said,
“Better just Káfir than Believing Tyrant.”
God said to the Prophet David,—
“David, speak, and to the Challenge
Answer of the Faith within Thee.
Even Unbelieving Princes,
Ill-reported if Unworthy,
Yet, if They be Just and Righteous,
Were their Worship of The Fire—
Even These unto Themselves
Reap glory and redress the World.”
V.
One Night The Shah of Yúnan, as his wont,
Consider’d of his Power, and told his State,
How great it was, and how about him sat
The Robe of Honour of Prosperity;
Then found he nothing wanted to his Heart,
Unless a Son, who his Dominion
And Glory might inherit after him,
And then he turn’d him to The Shah and said;
“Oh Thou, whose Wisdom is the Rule of Kings—
(Glory to God who gave it!)—answer me;
Is any Blessing better than a Son?
Man’s prime Desire; by which his Name and He
Shall live beyond Himself; by whom his Eyes
Shine living, and his Dust with Roses blows;
A Foot for Thee to stand on, he shall be
A Hand to stop thy Falling; in his Youth
Thou shall be Young, and in his Strength be Strong;
Sharp shall he be in Battle as a Sword,
A Cloud of Arrows on the Enemy’s Head;
His Voice shall cheer his Friends to Plight,
And turn the Foeman’s Glory into Flight.”
Thus much of a Good Son, whose wholesome Growth
Approves the Root he grew from; but for one
Kneaded of Evil—Well, could one undo
His Generation, and as early pull
Him and his Vices from the String of Time.
Like Noah’s, puff’d with Ignorance and Pride,
Who felt the Stab of “He is none of Thine!”
And perish’d in the Deluge. And because
All are not Good, be slow to pray for One
Whom having you may have to pray to lose.
Crazy for the Curse of Children,
Ran before the Sheikh a Fellow
Crying out, “Oh hear and help me!
Pray to Allah from my Clay
[Pg 56] To raise me up a fresh young Cypress,
Who my Childless Eyes may lighten
With the Beauty of his Presence.”
Said the Sheikh, “Be wise, and leave it
Wholly in the Hand of Allah,
Who, whatever we are after,
Understands our Business best.”
But the Man persisted, saying,
“Sheikh, I languish in my Longing;
Help, and set my Prayer a-going!”
Then the Sheikh held up his Hand—
Pray’d—his Arrow flew to Heaven—
From the Hunting-ground of Darkness
Down a musky Fawn of China
Brought—a Boy—Who, when the Tender
Shoot of Passion in him planted
Found sufficient Soil and Sap,
Took to Drinking with his Fellows;
From a Corner of the House-top
Ill affronts a Neighbour’s Wife,
Draws his Dagger on the Husband,
Who complains before the Justice,
And the Father has to pay.
Day and Night the Youngster’s Doings
Such—the Talk of all the City;
Nor Entreaty, Threat, or Counsel
Held him; till the Desperate Father
Once more to the Sheikh a-running,
Catches at his Garment, crying—
“Sheikh, my only Hope and Helper!
One more Prayer! that God who laid
Will take that Trouble from my Head!”
But the Sheikh replied: “Remember
How that very Day I warn’d you
Better not importune Allah;
[Pg 57] Unto whom remains no other
Prayer, unless to pray for Pardon.
When from this World we are summon’d
On to bind the pack of Travel
Son or Daughter ill shall help us;
Slaves we are and unencumber’d
Best may do the Master’s mind;
And, whatever he may order,
Do it with a Will Resign’d.”
VI.
When the Sharp-witted Sage
Had heard these sayings of The Shah, he said,
“Oh Shah, who would not be the Slave of Lust
Must still endure the Sorrow of no Son.
—Lust that makes blind the Reason; Lust that makes
A Devil’s self seem Angel to our Eyes;
A Cataract that, carrying havoc with it,
Confounds the prosperous House; a Road of Mire
Where whoso falls he rises not again;
A Wine of which whoever tastes shall see
Redemption’s face no more—one little Sip
Of that delicious and unlawful Drink
Making crave much, and hanging round the Palate
Till it become a Ring to lead thee by
(Putting the rope in a Vain Woman’s hand),
Till thou thyself go down the Way of Nothing.
For what is Woman? A Foolish, Faithless Thing—
To whom The Wise Self-subjected, himself
Deep sinks beneath the Folly he sets up.
A very Káfir in Rapacity;
Clothe her a hundred Years in Gold and Jewel,
Her Garment with Brocade of Susa braided,
Her very Night-gear wrought in Cloth of Gold,
Dangle her Ears with Ruby and with Pearl,
Her House with Golden Vessels all a-blaze,
Her Tables loaded with the Fruit of Kings,
Ispahan Apples, Pomegranates of Yazd;
And, be she thirsty, from a Jewell’d Cup
Drinking the Water of the Well of Life—
One little twist of Temper,—all you’ve done
Goes all for Nothing. ‘Torment of my Life!’
She cries, ‘What have you ever done for me!’—
Her Brow’s white Tablet—Yes—’tis uninscrib’d
With any Letter of Fidelity;
Who ever read it there? Lo, in your Bosom
She lies for Years—you turn away a moment,
And she forgets you—worse, if as you turn
Her Eye should light on any Younger Lover.”