XII.

Now when Salámán’s Heart turn’d to Absál,
Her Star was happy in the Heavens—Old Love
Put forth afresh—Desire doubled his Bond:
And of the running Time she watch’d an Hour
To creep into the Mansion of her Moon
And satiate her soul upon his Lips.
And the Hour came; she stole into his Chamber—
Ran up to him, Life’s offer in her Hand—
And, falling like a Shadow at his Feet,
She laid her Face beneath. Salámán then
With all the Courtesies of Princely Grace
Put forth his Hand—he rais’d her in his Arms—
He held her trembling there—and from that Fount
Drew first Desire; then Deeper from her Lips,
That, yielding, mutually drew from his
A Wine that ever drawn from never fail’d—

So through the Day—so through another still—
The Day became a Seventh—the Seventh a Moon—
The Moon a Year—while they rejoiced together,
Thinking their pleasure never was to end.
But rolling Heaven whisper’d from his Ambush,
“So in my License is it not set down.
Ah for the sweet Societies I make
At Morning and before the Nightfall break;
Ah for the Bliss that with the Setting Sun
I mix, and, with his Rising, all is done!”

Into Bagdad came a hungry
Arab—after many days of waiting
In to the Khalífah’s Supper
Push’d, and got before a Pasty
Luscious as the Lip of Beauty,
Or the Tongue of Eloquence.
Soon as seen, Indecent Hunger
Seizes up and swallows down;
Then his mouth undaunted wiping—
“Oh Khalífah, hear me Swear,
Not of any other Pasty
Than of Thine to sup or dine.”
The Khalífah laugh’d and answer’d;
“Fool; who thinkest to determine
What is in the Hands of Fate—
Take and thrust him from the Gate!”

XIII.

While a Full Year was counted by the Moon,
Salámán and Absál rejoiced together,
And for so long he stood not in the face
Of Sage or Shah, and their bereavéd Hearts
Were torn in twain with the Desire of Him.
They question’d those about him, and from them
Heard something; then Himself in Presence summon’d,
And, subtly sifting on all sides, so plied
Interrogation till it hit the Mark,
And all the Truth was told. Then Sage and Shah
Struck out with Hand and Foot in his Redress.
And First with Reason, which is also Best;
Reason that rights the Retrograde—completes
The Imperfect—Reason that unties the Knot:
For Reason is the Fountain from of old
From which the Prophets drew, and none beside.
Who boasts of other Inspiration lies—
There are no other Prophets than The Wise.

XIV.

First spoke The Shah;—“Salámán, Oh my Soul,
Oh Taper of the Banquet of my House,
Light of the Eyes of my Prosperity,
And making bloom the Court of Hope with Rose;
Years Rose-bud-like my own Blood I devour’d
Till in my hand I carried thee, my Rose;
Oh do not tear my Garment from my Hand,
Nor wound thy Father with a Dagger Thorn.
Years for thy sake the Crown has worn my Brow,
And Years my Foot been growing to the Throne
Only for Thee—Oh spurn them not with Thine;
Oh turn thy Face from Dalliance unwise,
Lay not thy Heart’s hand on a Minion!
For what thy Proper Pastime? Is it not
To mount and manage Rakhsh along the Field;
Not, with no stouter weapon than a Love-lock,
Idly reclining on a Silver Breast.
Go, fly thine Arrow at the Antelope
And Lion—let not me my Lion see
Slain by the Arrow eyes of a Ghazál.
Go, flash thy Steel among the Ranks of Men,
And smite the Warriors’ Necks; not, flying them,
Lay down thine own beneath a Woman’s Foot,
Leave off such doing in the Name of God,
Nor bring thy Father weeping to the Ground;
Years have I held myself aloft, and all
For Thee—Oh Shame if thou prepare my Fall!”

When before Shirúeh’s Feet
Drencht in Blood fell Kai Khusrau,
He declared this Parable—
“Wretch!—There was a Branch that, waxing
Wanton o’er the Root he drank from,
At a Draught the Living Water
Drain’d wherewith Himself to crown!
Died the Root—and with it died
The Branch—and barren was brought down!”