Then the Fire of Jealous Frenzy
Caught and carried up the Harvest
Of the Might of Kai Khusrau.

Plotting with that ancient Hag
Of Fate, the Sculptor’s Cup he poison’d
And remained the Lord of Love.

So—But Fate that Fate avenges
Arms Shirúeh with the Dagger,
That at once from Shírín tore him,
Hurl’d him from the Throne of Glory.

XXI.

But as the days went on, and still The Shah
Beheld Salámán how sunk in Absál,
And yet no Hand of better Effort lifted;
But still the Crown that shall adorn his Head,
And still the Throne that waited for his Foot,
Trampled from Memory by a Base Desire,
Of which the Soul was still unsatisfied—
Then from the Sorrow of The Shah fell Fire;
To Gracelessness Ungracious he became,
And, quite to shatter his rebellious Lust,
Upon Salámán all his Will discharged.
And Lo! Salámán to his Mistress turn’d,
But could not reach her—look’d and look’d again,
And palpitated tow’rd her—but in Vain!
Oh Misery! what to the Bankrupt worse
Than Gold he cannot reach! To one Athirst
Than Fountain to the Eye and Lip forbid!—
Or than Heaven opened to the Eyes in Hell!—
Yet, when Salámán’s Anguish was extreme,
The Door of Mercy open’d in his Face;
He saw and knew his Father’s Hand outstretcht
To lift him from Perdition—timidly,
Timidly tow’rd his Father’s Face his own
He lifted, Pardon-pleading, Crime-confest,
As the stray Bird one day will find her Nest.

A Disciple ask’d a Master,
“By what Token should a Father
Vouch for his reputed Son?”
Said the Master, “By the Stripling,
Howsoever Late or Early,
Like to the Reputed Father
Growing—whether Wise or Foolish.

“Lo the disregarded Darnel
With itself adorns the Wheat-field,
And for all the Early Season
Satisfies the Farmer’s Eye;
But come once the Hour of Harvest.
And another Grain shall answer,
‘Darnel and no Wheat, am I.’”

XXII.

When The Shah saw Salámán’s face again,
And breath’d the Breath of Reconciliation,
He laid the Hand of Love upon his Shoulder,
The Kiss of Welcome on his Cheek, and said,
“Oh Thou, who lost, Love’s Banquet lost its Salt,
And Mankind’s Eye its Pupil!—Thy Return
Is as another Sun to Heaven; a new
Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul.
Arise, Oh Moon of Majesty unwaned!
The Court of the Horizon is thy Court,
Thy Kingdom is the Kingdom of the World!—
Lo! Throne and Crown await Thee—Throne and Crown
Without thy Impress but uncurrent Gold,
Not to be stamp’d by one not worthy Them;
Behold! The Rebel’s Face is at thy Door;
Let him not triumph—let the Wicked dread
The Throne under thy Feet, the Crown upon thy Head.
Oh Spurn them not behind Thee! Oh my Son,
Wipe Thou the Woman’s Henna from thy Hand:
Withdraw Thee from the Minion who from Thee
Dominion draws; the Time is come to choose,
Thy Mistress or the World to hold or lose.”
Four are the Signs of Kingly Aptitude;
Wise Head—clean Heart—strong Arm—and open Hand.
Wise is He not—Continent cannot be—
Who binds himself to an unworthy Lust;
Nor Valiant, who submits to a weak Woman;
Nor Liberal, who cannot draw his Hand
From that in which so basely he is busied.
And of these Four who misses All or One
Is not the Bridegroom of Dominion.