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diff --git a/13086-0.txt b/13086-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9417cc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/13086-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1723 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13086 *** + +The Wisdom of the East Series + +Edited by +L. CRANMER-BYNG +Dr. S. A. KAPADIA + + + +THE DIWAN OF ABU'L-ALA + +By +HENRY BAERLEIN + +Author of "In Pursuit of Dulcinea," "The Shade of the Balkans," +"Yrivand," etc. + + The stars have sunk from the celestial bowers, + And in the garden have been turned to flowers. + MUTAMID, _in captivity_. + +Second Edition + +LONDON: John Murray, 1909. + + + +DEDICATION + +TO DR. E. J. DILLON + +Now the book is finished, so far as I shall finish it. There is, +my friend, but this one page to write. And, more than probably, +this is the page of all the book that I shall never wish to blot. +Increasing wisdom or, at any rate, experience will make me frown, +I promise you, some time or other at a large proportion of the +pages of this volume. But when I look upon your name I hear a +troop of memories, and in their singing is my happiness. + +When you receive this book, presuming that the Russian Censor +does not shield you from it, I have some idea what you will do. +The string, of course, must not be cut, and you will seriously +set about the disentangling of it. One hand assists by holding +up, now near the nose now farther off, your glasses; the other +hand pecks at the string. After, say, twenty minutes there will +enter the admirable Miss Fox--oh! the tea she used to make for us +when we were freezing on the mountains of Bulgaria, what time our +Chicagoan millionaire was ruffled and Milyukov, the adventurous +professor, standing now not far from Russia's helm, would always +drive ahead of us and say, with princely gesture, that if we +suffered from the dust it was advisable that he should be the one +to meet the fury of the local lions. But do not let us lose the +scent: Miss Fox, that woman of resource, will cut the string. And +later on, while to her you are dictating things political and +while your other secretary is discoursing music, mournful Russian +music, then with many wrinkles on your brow you will hold the +book at arm's length. + +"The Serbonian Bog," says Miss Fox, repeating the last lines of +the dictation. + +Your face is held sideways with what is called, I believe, a +quizzical expression. + +"Morocco," says she, "viewed from the banks of the Seine, is +becoming more and more like the Serbonian Bog." Then she waits, +discreet as always, while you think. Miss Fox, his thoughts are +on the Adriatic! + +There his boat, eleven years ago, was sailing underneath a net of +stars and he was talking to a fellow-traveller. They had been +joined at first by common suffering,--and how shall mortals find +a stronger link? On board that boat there was an elderly +American, the widow of a senator's brother-in-law, whose mission +was, she took it, to convert those two. What specially attracted +her to them was not, perhaps, that they excelled the other +passengers in luridness, but that they had the privilege of +understanding, more or less, her language. + +"Feci quod potui," said Dr. Dillon, "faciant meliora potentes." + +She said, and let us hope with truth, that recently a Chinaman, +another object of her ministrations, had addressed her as "Your +honour, the foreign devil." And this caused her to discuss the +details of our final journey--in the meantime we have taken many +others of a more delightful sort--and she assured us that we +should be joined by Chinamen and all those Easterners. She had +extremely little hope for any of them, and Abu'l-Ala, the Syrian +poet, whom Dr. Dillon had been putting into English prose,-- +Abu'l-Ala she steadily refused to read. Nor did the prospect of +beholding him in English verse evoke a sign of joy upon her +countenance. "Oh," she exclaimed, "what good is it?" And there is +naught for me to say but "Feci quod potui, faciant meliora +potentes." + +H. B. + + + +CONTENTS + + INTRODUCTION TO THE DIWAN + + THE DIWAN OF ABU'L-ALA + + APPENDIX + + + +EDITORIAL NOTE + +The object of the Editors of this series is a very definite one. +They desire above all things that, in their humble way, these +books shall be the ambassadors of good-will and understanding +between East and West--the old world of Thought and the new of +Action. In this endeavour, and in their own sphere, they are but +followers of the highest example in the land. They are confident +that a deeper knowledge of the great ideals and lofty philosophy +of Oriental thought may help to a revival of that true spirit of +Charity which neither despises nor fears the nations of another +creed and colour. Finally, in thanking press and public for the +very cordial reception given to the "Wisdom of the East" Series, +they wish to state that no pains have been spared to secure the +best specialists for the treatment of the various subjects at +hand. + +L. CRANMER-BYNG. +S. A. KAPADIA. + +NORTHBROOK SOCIETY, +158, PICCADILLY, W. + + + +INTRODUCTION TO THE DIWAN + + God help him who has no nails wherewith to scratch himself. + _Arabian proverb_. + +An effort has been made to render in this book some of the poems +of Abu'l-Ala the Syrian, who was born 973 years after Jesus +Christ and some forty-four before Omar Khayyam. But the life of +such a man--his triumph over circumstance, the wisdom he +achieved, his unconventionality, his opposition to revealed +religion, the sincerity of his religion, his interesting friends +at Baghdad and Ma'arri, the multitude of his disciples, his +kindliness and cynic pessimism and the reverence which he +enjoyed, the glory of his meditations, the renown of his +prodigious memory, the fair renown of bending to the toil of +public life, not to the laureateship they pressed upon him, but +the post of being spokesman at Aleppo for the troubles of his +native villagers,--the life of such a one could not be told +within the space at our command; it will, with other of his +poems, form the subject of a separate volume. What appears +advisable is that we should devote this introduction to a +commentary on the poems here translated; which we call a "diwan," +by the way, because they are selected out of all his works. A +commentary on the writings of a modern poet is supposed to be +superfluous, but in the days of Abu'l-Ala of Ma'arri you were +held to pay the highest compliment if, and you were yourself a +poet, you composed a commentary on some other poet's work. +Likewise you were held to be a thoughtful person if you gave the +world a commentary on your own productions; and Abu'l-Ala did not +neglect to write upon his _Sikt al-Zand_ ("The Falling Spark of +Tinder") and his _Lozum ma la Yalzam_ ("The Necessity of what is +Unnecessary"), out of which our diwan has been chiefly made. But +his elucidations have been lost. And we--this nobody will +contradict--have lost the old facility. For instance, Hasan ibn +Malik ibn Abi Obaidah was one day attending on Mansur the +Chamberlain, and he displayed a collection of proverbs which Ibn +Sirri had made for the Caliph's delectation. "It is very fine," +quoth Mansur, "but it wants a commentary." And Hasan in a week +returned with a commentary, very well written, of three hundred +couplets. One other observation: we shall not be able to present +upon these pages a connected narrative, a dark companion of the +poem, which is to the poem as a shadow to the bird. A mediæval +Arab would have no desire to see this theory of connection put in +practice--no, not even with a poem; for the lines, to win his +admiration, would be as a company of stars much more than as a +flying bird. Suppose that he produced a poem of a hundred lines, +he would perchance make fifty leaps across the universe. But if +we frown on such discursiveness, he proudly shows us that the +hundred lines are all in rhyme. This Arab and ourselves--we +differ so profoundly. "Yet," says he, "if there existed no +diversity of sight then would inferior merchandise be left +unsold." And when we put his poem into English, we are careless +of the hundred rhymes; we paraphrase--"Behold the townsmen," so +cried one of the Bedawi, "they have for the desert but a single +word, we have a dozen!"--and we reject, as I have done, the +quantitative metre, thinking it far preferable if the metre sings +itself into an English ear, as much as possible with that effect +the poet wants to give; and we oppose ourselves, however +unsuccessfully, to his discursiveness by making alterations in +the order of the poem. But in this commentary we shall be obliged +to leap, like Arabs, from one subject to another. And so let us +begin. + +With regard to prayer (_quatrain_ 1), the Moslem is indifferent +as to whether he perform this function in his chamber or the +street, considering that every spot is equally pure for the +service of God. And yet the Prophet thought that public worship +was to be encouraged; it was not a vague opinion, because he knew +it was exactly five-and-twenty times more valuable than private +prayer. It is related of al-Muzani that when he missed being +present in the mosque he repeated his prayers twenty-five times. +"He was a diver for subtle ideas," said the biographer Ibn +Khallikan. And although our poet, quoting the Carmathians, here +deprecates the common worship, he remarks in one of his letters +that he would have gone to mosque on Fridays if he had not fallen +victim to an unmentionable complaint. . . . The pre-Islamic Arabs +were accustomed to sacrifice sheep (_quatrain_ 1) and other +animals in Mecca and elsewhere, at various stones which were +regarded as idols or as altars of the gods.[1] Sometimes they +killed a human being, such as the four hundred captive nuns of +whom we read that they were sacrificed by al-Mundhir to the +goddess Aphrodite. Sheep are offered up to-day in Palestine: for +instance, if the first wife of a man is barren and the second +wife has children, then the former vows that in return for a son +she will give a lamb. Apparently when it was thought desirable to +be particularly solemn a horse was sacrificed, and this we hear +of with the Persians, Indians, and more western people. White was +held to be the favourable colour, so we read in Herodotus (i. +189) that the Persians sacrificed white horses. In Sweden it was +thought that a black lamb must be dedicated to the water sprite +before he would teach any one to play the harp. As for the +subsequent fate of the victim, Burton tells us that the Moslems +do not look with favour on its being eaten. Unlike them, Siberian +Buriats will sacrifice a sheep and boil the mutton and hoist it +on a scaffold for the gods, and chant a song and then consume the +meat. So, too, the zealous devil-worshippers of Travancore, whose +diet is the putrid flesh of cattle and tigers, together with +arrak and toddy and rice, which they have previously offered to +their deities. + +The words of Abu'l-Ala concerning day and night (_quatrain_ 2) +may be compared with what he says elsewhere: + + These two, young for ever, + Speed into the West-- + Our life in their clutches-- + And give us no rest. + +"Generation goeth and generation cometh," says Ecclesiastes, +"while for ever the earth abideth. The sun riseth also and the +sun goeth down and cometh panting back to his place where he +riseth." . . . The early dawn, the time of scarlet eyes, was also +when the caravan would be attacked. However, to this day the +rising sun is worshipped by the Bedawi, despite the prohibition +of Mahomet and despite the Moslem dictum that the sun rises +between the devil's horns. Now the divinity of the stars +(_quatrain_ 4) had been affirmed by Plato and Aristotle; it was +said that in the heavenly bodies dwelt a ruling intelligence +superior to man's, and more lasting.[2] And in Islam, whose holy +house, the Kaaba, had traditionally been a temple of Saturn, we +notice that the rationalists invariably connect their faith with +the worship of Venus and other heavenly bodies. We are told by +ash-Shahrastani, in his _Book of Religious and Philosophical +Sects_, that the Indians hold Saturn for the greatest luck, on +account of his height and the size of his body. But such was not +Abu'l-Ala's opinion. "As numb as Saturn," he writes in one of his +letters,[3] "and as dumb as a crab has every one been struck by +you." Elsewhere he says in verse: + + If dark the night, old Saturn is a flash + Of eyes which threaten from a face of ash. + +And the worship of Saturn, with other deities, is about a hundred +years later resented by Clotilda, says Gregory of Tours, when she +is moving Chlodovich her husband to have their son baptized. When +the little boy dies soon after baptism, the husband does not fail +to draw a moral. But misfortunes, in the language of an Arab +poet, cling about the wretched even as a coat of mail (_quatrain_ +6) is on the warrior. This image was a favourite among the Arabs, +and when Ibn Khallikan wants to praise the verses of one As Suli, +he informs us that they have the reputation of delivering from +sudden evil any person who recites them frequently. When this +evil is complete, with rings strongly riven, it passes away while +he thinks that nothing can dispel it. . . . We have mention in +this quatrain of a winding-sheet, and that could be of linen or +of damask. The Caliph Solaiman was so fond of damask that every +one, even the cook, was forced to wear it in his presence, and it +clothed him in the grave. Yet he, like other Moslems (_quatrain_ +10), would believe that he must undergo the fate recorded in a +book. The expression that a man's destiny is written on his +forehead, had its origin without a doubt, says Goldziher, in +India. We have remarked upon the Indian ideas which had been +gathered by Abu'l-Ala at Baghdad. There it was that he enjoyed +the opportunity of seeing ships (_quatrain_ 11). He spent a +portion of his youth beside the sea, at Tripoli. But in the +capital were many boats whose fascination he would not resist,-- +the Chinese junks laboriously dragged up from Bassora, and dainty +gondolas of basket-work covered with asphalt.[4] However, though +in this place and in others, very frequently, in fact, Abu'l-Ala +makes mention of the sea, his fondness of it was, one thinks, for +literary purposes. He writes a letter to explain how grieved he +is to hear about a friend who purposes to risk himself upon the +sea, and he recalls a certain verse: "Surely it is better to +drink among the sand-heaps foul water mixed with pure than to +venture on the sea." From Baghdad also he would carry home the +Zoroastrian view (_quatrain_ 14) that night was primordial and +the light created. As a contrast with these foreign importations, +we have reference (_quatrain_ 15) to the lute, which was the +finest of Arabian instruments. They said themselves that it was +invented by a man who flourished in the year 500 B.C. and added +an eighth string to the lyre. Certainly the Arab lute was popular +among the Greeks: [Greek: arabion ar' egô kekinêka aulon], says +Menander. It was carried to the rest of Europe by crusaders at +the beginning of the twelfth century, about which time it first +appears in paintings, and its form persisted till about a hundred +years ago.[5] But with regard to travels (_quatrain_ 18), in the +twenty-seventh letter of Abu'l-Ala, "I observe," says he, "that +you find fault with travelling. Why so? Ought not a man to be +satisfied with following the precedent set by Moses, who, when he +turned towards Midyan, said, Maybe the Lord will guide me?" +(Koran 28, 21). Should a man be satisfied with what he hears from +the philosopher al-Kindi? "In any single existing thing, if it is +thoroughly known, we possess," he said, "a mirror in which we may +behold the entire scheme of things" (_quatrain_ 20). The same +philosopher has laid it down that, "Verily there is nothing +constant in this world of coming and going (_quatrain_ 24), in +which we may be deprived at any moment of what we love. Only in +the world of reason is stability to be found. If then we desire +to see our wishes fulfilled and would not be robbed of what is +dear to us, we must turn to the eternal blessings of reason, to +the fear of God, to science and to good works. But if we follow +merely after material possessions in the belief that we can +retain them, we are pursuing an object which does not really +exist." . . . And this idea of transitoriness prevails so +generally among the Arabs that the salad-seller recommends his +transitory wares to pious folk by calling, "God is that which +does not pass away!" So, too, the Arab pictures as a bird, a +thing of transience, the human soul. In Syria the dove is often +carved upon their ancient tombstones. And the Longobards among +their graves erected poles in memory of kinsfolk who had died +abroad or had been slain in battle; on the summit of the pole was +a wooden image of a dove, whose head was pointed in the direction +where the loved one lay buried. With us, as with Abu'l-Ala +(_quatrain_ 26), the soul may metaphorically be imagined as a +bird, but for the European's ancestor it was a thing of sober +earnest, as it is to-day to many peoples. Thus the soul of +Aristeas was seen to issue from his mouth in the shape of a +raven.[6] In Southern Celebes they think that a bridegroom's soul +is apt to fly away at marriage, wherefore coloured rice is +scattered over him to induce it to remain. And, as a rule, at +festivals in South Celebes rice is strewed on the head of the +person in whose honour the festival is held, with the object of +detaining his soul, which at such times is in especial danger of +being lured away by envious demons.[7] . . . This metaphor was +used by Abu'l-Ala in the letter which he wrote on the death of +his mother: "I say to my soul, 'This is not your nest, fly +away.'" And elsewhere (_quatrain_ 34) Death is represented as a +reaper. Says Francis Thompson: + + The goodly grain and the sun-flushed sleeper + The reaper reaps, and Time the reaper. + +It is interesting to find Death also called a sower, who +disseminates weeds among men: "Dô der Tôt sînen Sâmen under si +gesœte." + +It was an ancient custom of the Arabs when they took an oath of +special significance to plunge their hands into a bowl of perfume +and distribute it among those who took part in the ceremony. Of +the perfumes, musk (_quatrain_ 38) was one which they affected +most. Brought commonly from Turkistan, it was, with certain +quantities of sandalwood and ambra, made into a perfume. And "the +wounds of him who falls in battle and of the martyrs," said +Mahomet, "shall on the Day of Judgment be resplendent with +vermilion and odorous as musk." This was repeated by Ibnol +Faradhi, who in the Kaaba entreated God for martyrdom and, when +this prayer was heard, repented having asked. . . . This quatrain +goes on to allude to things which can improve by being struck. +There is in the third book of a work on cookery (so rare a thing, +they tell us, that no MS. of it exists in England or in any other +country that can be heard of) an observation by the eighteenth- +century editor to the effect that it is a vulgar error to suppose +that walnut-trees, like Russian wives, are all the better for a +beating; the long poles and stones which are used by boys and +others to get the fruit down, for the trees are very high, are +used rather out of kindness to themselves than with any regard to +the tree that bears it. This valued treatise, we may mention, is +ascribed to Cœlius Apicius; its science, learning, and +discipline were extremely condemned, and even abhorred by Seneca +and the Stoics. . . . Aloes-wood does not emit a perfume until it +is burned: + + Lo! of hundreds who aspire + Eighties perish--nineties tire! + They who bear up, in spite of wrecks and wracks, + Were season'd by celestial hail of thwacks. + + Fortune in this mortal race + Builds on thwackings for its base; + Thus the All-Wise doth make a flail a staff, + And separates his heavenly corn from chaff.[8] + +Reward may follow on such absolute obedience (_quatrain_ 40). We +remember what is said by Fra Giovanni in the prison of +Viterbo[9]: "Endurez, souffrez, acceptez, veuillez ce que Dieu +veut, et votre volonté sera faite sur la terre comme au ciel." +And perhaps the dawn for you may be your camel's dawn (_quatrain_ +41); it was usual for Arabs on the point of death to say to their +sons: "Bury my steed with me, so that when I rise from the grave +I will not have to go on foot." The camel was tied with its head +towards its hind legs, a saddle-cloth was wrapped about its neck, +and it was left beside the grave until it died. Meanwhile, if the +master is a true believer, says Mahomet, his soul has been +divided from the body by Azrael, the angel of death. Afterwards +the body is commanded to sit upright in the grave, there to be +examined by the two black angels, Monkar and Nakyr (_quatrain_ +42), with regard to his faith, the unity of God and the mission +of Mahomet. If the answers be correct, the body stays in peace +and is refreshed by the air of paradise; if incorrect, these +angels beat the corpse upon his temples with iron maces, until he +roars out for anguish so loudly that he is heard by all from east +to west, except by men and jinn. Abu'l-Ala had little confidence +in these two angels; he reminds one of St. Catherine of Sienna, a +visionary with uncommon sense, who at the age of eight ran off +one afternoon to be a hermit. She was careful to provide herself +with bread and water, fearing that the angels would forget to +bring her food, and at nightfall she ran home again because she +was afraid her parents would be anxious. With regard to the angel +of death, Avicenna has related that the soul, like a bird, +escapes with much trouble from the snares of earth (_quatrain_ +43), until this angel delivers it from the last of its fetters. +We think of the goddess Rân with her net. Death is imagined +(_quatrain_ 44) as a fowler or fisher of men, thus: "Dô kam der +Tôt als ein diep, und stal dem reinen wîbe daz leben ûz ir +lîbe."[10] + +On account of its brilliance a weapon's edge (_quatrain_ 46) has +been compared in Arab poetry with sunlit glass, with the torch of +a monk, with the stars and with the flame in a dark night. Nor +would an Arab turn to picturesque comparisons in poetry alone. +Speaking of a certain letter, Abu'l-Ala assures the man 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 this quatrain we may quote Blunt's rendering of +Zohair: + + I have learned that he who giveth nothing, deaf to his + friends' begging, + loosed shall be to the world's tooth-strokes: fools' + feet shall tread on him. + +As for the power of the weak, we have some instances from +Abbaside history. One of the caliphs wanted to do deeds of +violence in Baghdad. Scornfully he asked of his opponents if they +could prevent him. "Yes," they answered, "we will fight you with +the arrows of the night." And he desisted from his plans. +Prayers, complaints, and execrations which the guiltless, +fighting his oppressor, sends up to heaven are called the arrows +of the night and are, the Arabs tell us, invariably successful. +This belief may solace you for the foundation of suffering +(_quatrain_ 71), which, by the way, is also in the philosophic +system of Zeno the Stoic. Taking the four elements of Empedocles, +he says that three of them are passive, or suffering, elements +while only fire is active, and that not wholly. It was Zeno's +opinion that everything must be active or must suffer. . . . An +explanation for our suffering is given by Soame Jenyns, who +flourished in the days when, as his editor could write, referring +to his father Sir Roger Jenyns, "the order of knighthood was +received by gentlemen with the profoundest gratitude." Soame's +thesis is his "Free Inquiry into the Nature and Origin of Evil," +that human sufferings are compensated by the enjoyment possibly +experienced by some higher order of beings which inflict them, is +ridiculed by Samuel Johnson. We have Jenyns's assurance that + + To all inferior animals 'tis given + To enjoy the state allotted them by Heav'n. + +And (_quatrain_ 75) we may profitably turn to Coleridge: + + Oh, what a wonder seems the fear of death! + Seeing how gladly we all sink to sleep; + Babes, children, youths and men, + Night following night, for threescore years and ten. + +We should be reconciled, says Abu'l-Ala (_quatrain_ 76), even to +the Christian kings of Ghassan, in the Hauran. These were the +hereditary enemies of the kings of Hirah. On behalf of the Greek +emperors of Constantinople they controlled the Syrian Arabs. But +they disappeared before the triumphant Moslems, the last of their +kings being Jabalah II., who was dethroned in the year 637. His +capital was Bosra, on the road between the Persian Gulf and the +Mediterranean. Nowadays the district is chiefly occupied by +nomads; to the Hebrews it was known as Bashan, famous for its +flocks and oak plantations. We can still discern the traces of +troglodyte dwellings of this epoch. The afore-mentioned Jabalah +was a convert to Islam, but, being insulted by a Mahometan, he +returned to Christianity and betook himself to Constantinople, +where he died. But in the time of Abu'l-Ala, the Ghassanites were +again in the exercise of authority. "These were the kings of +Ghassan," says Abu'l-Ala, "who followed the course of the dead; +each of them is now but a tale that is told, and God knows who is +good." A poet is a liar, say the Arabs, and the greatest poet is +the greatest liar. But in this case Abu'l-Ala in prose was not so +truthful as in poetry; for if Jabalah's house had vanished, the +Ghassanites were still a power. The poet, for our consolation, +has a simile (_quatrain_ 77) that may be put against a passage of +Homer: + + As with autumnal harvests cover'd o'er, + And thick bestrown, lies Ceres' sacred floor, + When round and round, with never-weary'd pain + The trampling steers beat out th' unnumber'd grain: + So the fierce coursers, as the chariot rolls, + Tread down whole ranks, and crush out heroes' souls.[16] + +For everything there is decay, and (_quatrain_ 78) for the +striped garment of a long cut which now we are unable to +identify. + +We read in the Wisdom of Solomon: "As when an arrow is shot at a +mark, it parteth the air which immediately cometh together again, +so that a man cannot know where it went through." In this place +(_quatrain_ 84), if the weapon's road of air is not in vain it +will discover justice in the sky. How much the Arabs were averse +from frigid justice is to be observed in the matter of recompense +for slaying. There existed a regular tariff--so many camels or +dates--but they looked askance upon the person who was willing to +accept this and forgo his vengeance. If a man was anxious to +accept a gift as satisfaction and at the same time to escape +reproach, he shot an arrow into the air. Should it come down +unspotted, he was able to accept the gift; if it was bloody, then +he was obliged to seek for blood. The Arabs, by the way, had been +addicted to an ancient game, but Islam tried to stamp this out, +like other joys of life. The players had ten arrows, which they +shot into the air; seven of them bestowed a right to the portion +of a camel, the other three did not. Abu'l-Ala was fond of using +arrows metaphorically. "And if one child," he writes to a +distinguished sheikh, "were to ask another in the dead of night +in a discussion: 'Who is rewarded for staying at home many times +what he would be rewarded for going on either pilgrimage?' and +the second lad answered: 'Mahomet, son of Sa'id,' his arrow would +have fallen near the mark; for your protection of your subjects +(_quatrain_ 86) is a greater duty than either pilgrimage." And +our poet calls to mind some benefits attached to slavery +(_quatrain_ 88): for an offence against morals a slave could +receive fifty blows, whereas the punishment of a freeman was +double. A married person who did not discharge his vows was +liable to be stoned to death, whereas a slave in similar +circumstances was merely struck a certain number of blows. It was +and still is customary, says von Kremer, if anything is broken by +a slave, forthwith to curse Satan, who is supposed to concern +himself in very trifling matters. The sympathy Abu'l-Ala displays +for men of small possessions may be put beside the modicum +(_quatrain_ 92) he wanted for himself. And these necessaries of +Abu'l-Ala, the ascetic, must appeal to us as more sincerely felt +than those of Ibn at-Ta'awizi, who was of opinion that when seven +things are collected together in the drinking-room it is not +reasonable to stay away. The list is as follows: a melon, honey, +roast meat, a young girl, wax lights, a singer, and wine. But Ibn +at-Ta'awizi was a literary person, and in Arabic the names of all +these objects begin with the same letter. Abu'l-Ala was more +inclined to celebrate the wilderness. He has portrayed +(_quatrain_ 93) a journey in the desert where a caravan, in order +to secure itself against surprises, is accustomed to send on a +spy, who scours the country from the summit of a hill or rock. +Should he perceive a sign of danger, he will wave his hand in +warning. From Lebid's picture of another journey--which the +pre-Islamic poet undertook to the coast lands of Hajar on the +Persian Gulf--we learn that when they entered a village he and +his party were greeted by the crowing of cocks and the shaking of +wooden rattles (_quatrain_ 95), which in the Eastern Christian +Churches are substituted for bells. . . . And the mediæval +leper, in his grey gown, was obliged to hold a similar object, +waving it about and crying as he went: "Unclean! unclean!" + +An ambitious man desired, regardless of expense, to hand down his +name to posterity (_quatrain_ 99). "Write your name in a prayer," +said Epictetus, "and it will remain after you." "But I would have +a crown of gold," was the reply. "If you have quite made up your +mind to have a crown," said Epictetus, "take a crown of roses, +for it is more beautiful." In the words of Heredia: + + Déjà le Temps brandit l'arme fatale. As-tu + L'espoir d'éterniser le bruit de ta vertu? + Un vil lierre suffit à disjoindre un trophée; + + Et seul, aux blocs épars des marbres triomphaux + Où ta gloire en ruine est par l'herbe étouffée, + Quelque faucheur Samnite ébréchera sa faulx. + +Would we write our names so that they endure for ever? There was +in certain Arab circles a heresy which held that the letters of +the alphabet (_quatrain_ 101) are metamorphoses of men. And +Magaira, who founded a sect, maintained that the letters of the +alphabet are like limbs of God. According to him, when God wished +to create the world, He wrote with His own hands the deeds of +men, both the good and the bad; but, at sight of the sins which +men were going to commit, He entered into such a fury that He +sweated, and from His sweat two seas were formed, the one of salt +water and the other of sweet water. From the first one the +infidels were formed, and from the second the Shi'ites. But to +this view of the everlasting question you may possibly prefer +what is advanced (_quatrains_ 103-7) and paraphrased as an +episode: Whatever be the wisdom of the worms, we bow before the +silence of the rose. As for Abu'l-Ala, we leave him now +prostrated (_quatrain_ 108) before the silence of the rolling +world. It is a splendour that was seen by Alfred de Vigny: + + Je roule avec dédain, sans voir et sans entendre, + A côté des fourmis les populations; + Je ne distingue pas leur terrier de leur cendre. + J'ignore en les portant les noms des nations. + On me dit une mère et je suis une tombe. + Mon hiver prend vos morts comme son hécatombe, + Mon printemps n'entend pas vos adorations. + + Avant vous j'étais belle et toujours parfumée, + J'abandonnais au vent mes cheveux tout entiers. . . . + + + +Footnotes + +[1] _Cf_. Lyall, _Ancient Arabian Poets_. + +[2] _Cf_. Whittaker, _The Neo-Platonists_. + +[3] Of course I use Professor Margoliouth's superb edition of the +letters. + +[4] _Cf_. Thielmann, _Streifzüge 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 + Who cannot sing. The door is opened! Fly! + Ah, soon you stop, and looking down you cry +The saddest song of all, poor nightingale. + + +XXVII + +Our fortune is like mariners to float + Amid the perils of dim waterways; + Shall then our seamanship have aught of praise +If the great anchor drags behind the boat? + + +XXVIII + +Ah! let the burial of yesterday, + Of yesterday be ruthlessly decreed, + And, if you will, refuse the mourner's reed, +And, if you will, plant cypress in the way. + + +XXIX + +As little shall it serve you in the fight + If you remonstrate with the storming seas, + As if you querulously sigh to these +Of some imagined haven of delight. + + +XXX + +Steed of my soul! when you and I were young + We lived to cleave as arrows thro' the night,-- + Now there is ta'en from me the last of light, +And wheresoe'er I gaze a veil is hung. + + +XXXI + +No longer as a wreck shall I be hurled + Where beacons lure the fascinated helm, + For I have been admitted to the realm +Of darkness that encompasses the world. + + +XXXII + +Man has been thought superior to the swarm + Of ruminating cows, of witless foals + Who, crouching when the voice of thunder rolls, +Are banqueted upon a thunderstorm. + + +XXXIII + +But shall the fearing eyes of humankind + Have peeped beyond the curtain and excel + The boldness of a wondering gazelle +Or of a bird imprisoned in the wind? + + +XXXIV + +Ah! never may we hope to win release + Before we that unripeness overthrow,-- + So must the corn in agitation grow +Before the sickle sings the songs of peace. + + +XXXV + +Lo! there are many ways and many traps + And many guides, and which of them is lord? + For verily Mahomet has the sword, +And he may have the truth--perhaps! _perhaps!_ + + +XXXVI + +Now this religion happens to prevail + Until by that religion overthrown,-- + Because men dare not live with men alone, +But always with another fairy-tale. + + +XXXVII + +Religion is a charming girl, I say; + But over this poor threshold will not pass, + For I may not unveil her, and alas! +The bridal gift I can't afford to pay. + + +XXXVIII + +I have imagined that our welfare is + Required to rise triumphant from defeat; + And so the musk, which as the more you beat, +Gives ever more delightful fragrancies. + + +XXXIX + +For as a gate of sorrow-land unbars + The region of unfaltering delight, + So may you gather from the fields of night +That harvest of diviner thought, the stars. + + +XL + +Send into banishment whatever blows + Across the waves of your tempestuous heart; + Let every wish save Allah's wish depart, +And you will have ineffable repose. + + +XLI + +My faith it is that all the wanton pack + Of living shall be--hush, poor heart!--withdrawn, + As even to the camel comes a dawn +Without a burden for his wounded back. + + +XLII + +If there should be some truth in what they teach + Of unrelenting Monkar and Nakyr, + Before whose throne all buried men appear-- +Then give me to the vultures, I beseech. + + +XLIII + +Some yellow sand all hunger shall assuage + And for my thirst no cloud have need to roll, + And ah! the drooping bird which is my soul +No longer shall be prisoned in the cage. + + +XLIV + +Life is a flame that flickers in the wind, + A bird that crouches in the fowler's net-- + Nor may between her flutterings forget +That hour the dreams of youth were unconfined. + + +XLV + +There was a time when I was fain to guess + The riddles of our life, when I would soar + Against the cruel secrets of the door, +So that I fell to deeper loneliness. + + +XLVI + +One is behind the draperies of life, + One who will tear these tanglements away-- + No dark assassin, for the dawn of day +Leaps out, as leapeth laughter, from the knife. + + +XLVII + +If you will do some deed before you die, + Remember not this caravan of death, + But have belief that every little breath +Will stay with you for an eternity. + + +XLVIII + +Astrologers!--give ear to what they say! + "The stars be words; they float on heaven's breath + And faithfully reveal the days of death, +And surely will reveal that longer day." + + +XLIX + +I shook the trees of knowledge. Ah! the fruit + Was fair upon the bleakness of the soil. + I filled a hundred vessels with my spoil, +And then I rested from the grand pursuit. + + +L + +Alas! I took me servants: I was proud + Of prose and of the neat, the cunning rhyme, + But all their inclination was the crime +Of scattering my treasure to the crowd. + + +LI + +And yet--and yet this very seed I throw + May rise aloft, a brother of the bird, + Uncaring if his melodies are heard-- +Or shall I not hear anything below? + + +LII + +The glazier out of sounding Erzerûm, + Frequented us and softly would conspire + Upon our broken glass with blue-red fire, +As one might lift a pale thing from the tomb. + + +LIII + +He was the glazier out of Erzerûm, + Whose wizardry would make the children cry-- + There will be no such wizardry when I +Am broken by the chariot-wheels of Doom. + + +LIV + +The chariot-wheels of Doom! Now, hear them roll + Across the desert and the noisy mart, + Across the silent places of your heart-- +Smile on the driver you will not cajole. + + +LV + +I never look upon the placid plain + But I must think of those who lived before + And gave their quantities of sweat and gore, +And went and will not travel back again. + + +LVI + +Aye! verily, the fields of blandishment + Where shepherds meditate among their cattle, + Those are the direst of the fields of battle, +For in the victor's train there is no tent. + + +LVII + +Where are the doctors who were nobly fired + And loved their toil because we ventured not, + Who spent their lives in searching for the spot +To which the generations have retired? + + +LVIII + +"Great is your soul,"--these are the words they preach,-- + "It passes from your framework to the frame + Of others, and upon this road of shame +Turns purer and more pure."--Oh, let them teach! + + +LIX + +I look on men as I would look on trees, + That may be writing in the purple dome + Romantic lines of black, and are at home +Where lie the little garden hostelries. + + +LX + +Live well! Be wary of this life, I say; + Do not o'erload yourself with righteousness. + Behold! the sword we polish in excess, +We gradually polish it away. + + +LXI + +God who created metal is the same + Who will devour it. As the warriors ride + With iron horses and with iron pride-- +Come, let us laugh into the merry flame. + + +LXII + +But for the grandest flame our God prepares + The breast of man, which is the grandest urn; + Yet is that flame so powerless to burn +Those butterflies, the swarm of little cares. + + +LXIII + +And if you find a solitary sage + Who teaches what is truth--ah, then you find + The lord of men, the guardian of the wind, +The victor of all armies and of age. + + +LXIV + +See that procession passing down the street, + The black and white procession of the days-- + Far better dance along and bawl your praise +Than if you follow with unwilling feet. + + +LXV + +But in the noisy ranks you will forget + What is the flag. Oh, comrade, fall aside + And think a little moment of the pride +Of yonder sun, think of the twilight's net. + + +LXVI + +The songs we fashion from our new delight + Are echoes. When the first of men sang out, + He shuddered, hearing not alone the shout +Of hills but of the peoples in the night. + + +LXVII + +And all the marvels that our eyes behold + Are pictures. There has happened some event + For each of them, and this they represent-- +Our lives are like a tale that has been told. + + +LXVIII + +There is a palace, and the ruined wall + Divides the sand, a very home of tears, + And where love whispered of a thousand years +The silken-footed caterpillars crawl. + + +LXIX + +And where the Prince commanded, now the shriek + Of wind is flying through the court of state: + "Here," it proclaims, "there dwelt a potentate +Who could not hear the sobbing of the weak." + + +LXX + +Beneath our palaces the corner-stone + Is quaking. What of noble we possess, + In love or courage or in tenderness, +Can rise from our infirmities alone. + + +LXXI + +We suffer--that we know, and that is all + Our knowledge. If we recklessly should strain + To sweep aside the solid rocks of pain, +Then would the domes of love and courage fall. + + +LXXII + +But there is one who trembles at the touch + Of sorrow less than all of you, for he + Has got the care of no big treasury, +And with regard to wits not overmuch. + + +LXXIII + +I think our world is not a place of rest, + But where a man may take his little ease, + Until the landlord whom he never sees +Gives that apartment to another guest. + + +LXXIV + +Say that you come to life as 'twere a feast, + Prepared to pay whatever is the bill + Of death or tears or--surely, friend, you will +Not shrink at death, which is among the least? + + +LXXV + +Rise up against your troubles, cast away + What is too great for mortal man to bear. + But seize no foolish arms against the share +Which you the piteous mortal have to pay. + + +LXXVI + +Be gracious to the King. You cannot feign + That nobody was tyrant, that the sword + Of justice always gave the just award +Before these Ghassanites began to reign. + + +LXXVII + +You cultivate the ranks of golden grain, + He cultivates the cavaliers. They go + With him careering on some other foe, +And your battalions will be staunch again. + + +LXXVIII + +The good law and the bad law disappear + Below the flood of custom, or they float + And, like the wonderful Sar'aby coat, +They captivate us for a little year. + + +LXXIX + +God pities him who pities. Ah, pursue + No longer now the children of the wood; + Or have you not, poor huntsman, understood +That somebody is overtaking you? + + +LXXX + +God is above. We never shall attain + Our liberty from hands that overshroud; + Or can we shake aside this heavy cloud +More than a slave can shake aside the chain? + + +LXXXI + +"There is no God save Allah!"--that is true, + Nor is there any prophet save the mind + Of man who wanders through the dark to find +The Paradise that is in me and you. + + +LXXXII + +The rolling, ever-rolling years of time + Are as a diwan of Arabian song; + The poet, headstrong and supremely strong, +Refuses to repeat a single rhyme. + + +LXXXIII + +An archer took an arrow in his hand; + So fair he sent it singing to the sky + That he brought justice down from--ah, so high! +He was an archer in the morning land. + + +LXXXIV + +The man who shot his arrow from the west + Made empty roads of air; yet have I thought + Our life was happier until we brought +This cold one of the skies to rule the nest. + + +LXXXV + +Run! follow, follow happiness, the maid + Whose laughter is the laughing waterfall; + Run! call to her--but if no maiden call, +'Tis something to have loved the flying shade. + + +LXXXVI + +You strut in piety the while you take + That pilgrimage to Mecca. Now beware, + For starving relatives befoul the air, +And curse, O fool, the threshold you forsake. + + +LXXXVII + +How man is made! He staggers at the voice, + The little voice that leads you to the land + Of virtue; but, on hearing the command +To lead a giant army, will rejoice. + + +LXXXVIII + +Behold the cup whereon your slave has trod; + That is what every cup is falling to. + Your slave--remember that he lives by you, +While in the form of him we bow to God. + + +LXXXIX + +The lowliest of the people is the lord + Who knows not where each day to make his bed, + Whose crown is kept upon the royal head +By that poor naked minister, the sword. + + +XC + +Which is the tyrant? say you. Well, 'tis he + That has the vine-leaf strewn among his hair + And will deliver countries to the care +Of courtesans--but I am vague, you see. + + +XCI + +The dwellers of the city will oppress + Your days: the lion, a fight-thirsty fool, + The fox who wears the robe of men that rule-- +So run with me towards the wilderness. + + +XCII + +Our wilderness will be the laughing land, + Where nuts are hung for us, where nodding peas + Are wild enough to press about our knees, +And water fills the hollow of our hand. + + +XCIII + +My village is the loneliness, and I + Am as the travellers through the Syrian sand, + That for a moment see the warning hand +Of one who breasted up the rock, their spy. + + +XCIV + +Where is the valiance of the folk who sing + These valiant stories of the world to come? + Which they describe, forsooth! as if it swum +In air and anchored with a yard of string. + + +XCV + +Two merchantmen decided they would battle, + To prove at last who sold the finest wares; + And while Mahomet shrieked his call to prayers, +The true Messiah waved his wooden rattle. + + +XCVI + +Perchance the world is nothing, is a dream, + And every noise the dreamland people say + We sedulously note, and we and they +May be the shadows flung by what we seem. + + +XCVII + +Zohair the poet sang of loveliness + Which is the flight of things. Oh, meditate + Upon the sorrows of our earthly state, +For what is lovely we may not possess. + + +XCVIII + +Heigho! the splendid air is full of wings, + And they will take us to the--friend, be wise + For if you navigate among the skies +You too may reach the subterranean kings. + + +XCIX + +Now fear the rose! You travel to the gloom + Of which the roses sing and sing so fair, + And, but for them, you'd have a certain share +In life: your name be read upon the tomb. + + +C + +There is a tower of silence, and the bell + Moves up--another man is made to be. + For certain years they move in company, +But you, when fails your song do fail as well. + + +CI + +No sword will summon Death, and he will stay + For neither helm nor shield his falling rod. + We are the crooked alphabet of God, +And He will read us ere he wipes away. + + +CII + +How strange that we, perambulating dust, + Should be the vessels of eternal fire, + That such unfading passion of desire +Should be within our fading bodies thrust. + + +CIII + +_Deep in a silent chamber of the rose +There was a fattened worm. He looked around, +Espied a relative and spoke at him: +It seems to me this world is very good_. + + +CIV + +_A most unlovely world, said brother worm, +For all of us are piteous prisoners. +And if, declared the first, your thought is true, +And this a prison be, melikes it well_. + + +CV + +_So well that I shall weave a song of praise +And thankfulness because the world was wrought +For us and with such providential care-- +My brother, I will shame you into singing_. + + +CVI + +_Then, cried the second, I shall raise a voice +And see what poor apologies are made. +And so they sang, these two, for many days, +And while they sang the rose was beautiful_. + + +CVII + +_But this affected not the songful ones, +And evermore in beauty lived the rose. +And when the worms were old and wiser too, +They fell to silence and humility_. + + +CVIII + +A night of silence! 'Twas the swinging sea + And this our world of darkness. And the twain + Rolled on below the stars; they flung a chain +Around the silences which are in me. + + +CIX + +The shadows come, and they will come to bless + Their brother and his dwelling and his fame, + When I shall soil no more with any blame +Or any praise the silence I possess. + + + +APPENDIX + +ON THE NAME ABU'L-ALA + +Arab names have always been a stumbling-block, and centuries ago +there was a treatise written which was called "The Tearing of the +Veil from before Names and Patronymics." Abu Bakr Ahmad ibn Jarit +al-Misri is a fair example of the nomenclature; here we have the +patronymic (Abu Bakr--father of Bakr), the personal name (Ahmad), +the surname (ibn Jarit--son of Jarit), and the ethnic name +(al-Misri--native of Egypt). In addition, they made use of fancy +names if they were poets (such as Ssorrdorr, the sack of pearls, +who died in the year 1072), names connoting kindred, habitation +(such as Ahmad al-Maidani, the great collector of proverbs, who +lived near the Maidan, the race-course of Naisapur), faith or +trade or personal defects (such as a caliph who was called the +father of flies, since on account of his offensive breath no fly +would rest upon his lip), and finally they gave each other names +of honour (such as sword of the empire, helper of the empire, +etc.). Then the caliph gave, as a distinction, double titles and, +when these became too common, triple titles. ("In this way," says +al-Biruni, "the matter is opposed to sense and clumsy to the last +degree, so that a man who says the titles is fatigued when he has +scarcely started and he runs the risk of being late for prayer.") +. . . The patronymic was, of all of these, the most in favour. At +first it was assumed when the eldest son was born; when Bakr came +into the world his father took the name of Abu Bakr, and acquired +a new importance. This was not by any means peculiar to the +Arabs: "O Queen," says Das, a king of Indian folk-song, "O Queen, +the name of childless has departed from me." When the Arab had no +son, he used an honorific patronymic (such as Abu'l-Ala, father +of excellence, or Abu'l-Feda, father of redemption). At times +this manufactured patronymic was a thing of mockery, more or less +gentle (such as a companion of the Prophet who was fond of cats, +and was entitled "father of the cat"). The prevalence among the +Arabs of the patronymic is immediately noticed, (a camel is the +father of Job; a strongly built person is the father of the +locust; a licentious person is the father of the night; and there +are multitudes of such formations). . . . With regard to +surnames, it was not the custom always for them to denote that +so-and-so was the son of his father's family. "Who is your +father?" says an Arab to the mule, and he replies, "The horse is +my maternal uncle." So there are some people who, for shame, +prefer that we should think of them as members of their mother's +family. . . . + +The following additional quatrains may be quoted: + + Unasking have we come,--too late, too soon + Unasking from this plot of earth are sent. + But we, the sons of noble discontent, + Use half our lives in asking for the moon. + +("We all sorely complain," says Seneca, "of the shortness of +time, and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our +lives are either spent in doing nothing at all or in doing +nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to do. +We are always complaining that our days are few, and acting as +though there would be no end of them.") + + So then your hand has guarded me! Be blessed, + And, if you like such reading, read, I pray, + Through Moses' book, or credit them who say + That old Isaiah's hand is far the best. + + Some day, some day the potter shall return + Into the dust. O potter, will you make + An earth which I would not refuse to take, + Or such unpleasant earth as you would spurn? + + Then out of that--men swear with godly skill-- + Perchance another potter may devise + Another pot, a piece of merchandise + Which they can love and break, if so they will. + + And from a resting-place you may be hurled + And from a score of countries may be thrust-- + Poor brother, you the freeman of the dust, + Like any slave are flung about the world. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Diwan of Abu'l-Ala, by Henry Baerlein + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13086 *** |