VI
THE BOASTING OF YOUTH

The soldier-lad from Kerman,
The sailor-lad from Jask
Knew naught that should deter man
From finishing the cask.
"Wine sets the Faithful jibbing
Like mules before an inn,
But we sit bravely bibbing,
And hold our own with sin."
Said the stout-hearted wonder
Of Jask: "Wine frights not me.
I fear no foe but thunder
And winds that sting the sea."
"And I," said he of Kerman,
"Fear nothing but the night,
Or some imperious firman
That bids the Faithful fight."
"They say some lads fear ladies
And truckle to them." "Who
Could be so weak? The Cadis
Rise up for me and you."
"But doctors, nay and princes,
Have troubles of their own,
Save those whom fire convinces....
I leave the stuff alone."
"And I...." Then both bethought them
That, howso strong and wise,
Their principles had caught them
On this mad enterprise.
"'Tis time to act with daring,
And rest," said he of Jask,
And swore a mighty swearing,
(And drained another flask).
"If I go on, attendant
Upon this woman's way,
May I become dependant
On your arrears of pay!"
"If I," said Captain Kerman,
"Should knuckle to my mate,
May I become a merman
And live on maggot-bait!"
"Then since we have discovered
That women need our strength"—
(The tavern-houris hovered)
"To hold them at arm's length,
Sit down in this rest-house, and
Tell me a tale among
The tales, one in your thousand!"
This was the story sung:
"I threw my love about you like fine raiment;
I let you kill my pride.
You passed me by, but smiled at me in payment,
And I was satisfied.
"I made my mind a plaything for your leisure,
Content to be ignored.
Body and soul I waited on your pleasure,
Waited—without reward.
"I have no faint repinings that we met, dear,
Or that I left you cold.
I rub my hands. You will be colder yet, dear,
Some day when you are old."
"Forbidden wine is mellow.
The sun has set. Of whom
Sing you this song, Brave Fellow?
Night is the ante-room
Breeze-sprinkled to keep cooler
The feasting-halls behind."
"She might have been my ruler
But for my Strength of Mind."
"That was the tune to whistle!
How have I longed to learn
The deeds of men of gristle
Like mine!..." "Tell me in turn
Some of your lore of women,
Whose wiles are deep as bhang.
Your strength shall teach to swim men
Who fall in love...." He sang:
"You came to me, and well you chose your quarry.
You told your tale, and well you played your rôle.
You spoke of suffering, and I was sorry
With all my heart, with all my soul.
'Out of the deep,' you said. I thought to save you,
And stunned myself upon the covered shoal.
Yet, poor deceptive shallows, I forgave you
With all my heart, with all my soul.
You sought whatever evil had not sought you.
In vain I strove to make your nature whole.
I did not know the market that had bought you
With all your heart, with all your soul.
If man had one pure impulse you would smudge it.
You had one gift, my pity, which you stole.
Now I will only tell you that I grudge it
With all my heart, with all my soul."
"Of whom this song, Brave Fellow?
The stars in heaven's black soil
Fold up their petalled yellow
That pays the angels' toil."
The lamp had burned its wick dim,
The pair had drunk their fill....
"I might have been her victim
But for my Strength of Will."
Then one said to the other:
"Such strength as yours and mine
Must put its foot down, brother,
And stay here—pass the wine—
Till, for the world's salvation,
Shall radiate from this den
The Great Confederation
Of Independent Men."

The last sour mule was saddled,
On went the caravan.
These twain turned on the raddled
Handmaidens of the han,
Blinked, cast them forth with loathing
Because the queen was fair,
And lest their lack of clothing
Should lay man's weakness bare.
White as a cloud in summer,
Slender as sun-shot rain—
Earth knows what moods become her—
The queen passed....
In her train
The Great Confederation
Trod with such wealth of Will
That, in its trepidation,
It never paid its bill.

VII
THE HEART OF THE SLAVE

But as they fared slave Obeidullah failed.
Devouring fever shook him like a rat,
And ere they reached Kashan his course was run.
Then freedom came towards him, and he spoke:
"Here is an eye of water, mulberry-trees,
A rest-house, and to me a stranger thing,
Rest. Caravan be strong, fare on with blessings
Whence you must forge your happiness—but I,
Possessed of peace, shall never see the end.
The heart within me has been fire so long
That now my body is smoke. I watch it drift
Life leaves me gently as a mistress goes
Before her time to meet the uncoloured days,
Saying: 'I have lived. Plead not. 'Twill be in vain.
You were the end of summer. I have passed
Out of the garden with fresh scents and dews
Upon me, out ere sunset with cool hands,
The supple tread of youth and glorying limbs
Firm as resolve, unblemished as my pride;
Passed ere a leaf be fallen, or losing fights
Begin, that smirch the memory of love....'
Sweet is the shade, and death's cool lips are welcome
After the burning kisses of the sun,
The strained embraces of my owner, Toil.
I shall remember her with gratitude
But no regret, as I lie here. The dawn
Biting the desert-edge shall not disturb me,
Nor green oases zigzagged through the heat
Like stepping-stones. The many-coloured hills,
Heaven's mutable emotions, these are past.
Beyond them I shall find security
Of tenure in the outstretched hands of God."
Thereat his fellows made lament, and urged:
"Sleep on and take your rest, but not for ever.
Time adds to strength, and you shall rise with us
Who wait. Already we foresee the coast.
A little while...." Slave Obeidullah raised
Himself and looked ahead with shining eyes:
"The moon is faint. A dust-cloud swirls.
Therein I see dim marching hosts:
Strange embassies and dancing girls,
Spice-caravans and pilgrims. Ghosts
Rise thick from this else fruitless plain,
A waste that every season chars.
Yet teeming centuries lie slain
And trodden in the road to Fars.
"The still, white, creeping road slips on,
Marked by the bones of man and beast.
What comeliness and might have gone
To pad the highway of the East!
Long dynasties of fallen rose,
The glories of a thousand wars,
A million lovers' hearts compose
The dust upon the road to Fars.
"No tears have ever served to hold
This shifting velvet, fathom-deep,
Though vain and ceaseless winds have rolled
Its pile wherein the ages sleep.
Between your fingers you may sift
Kings, poets, priests and charvadars.
Heaven knows how many make a drift
Of dust upon the road to Fars.
"The wraiths subside. And, One with All,
Soon, in the brevity of length,
Our lives shall hear the voiceless call
That builds this earth of love and strength.
Eternal, breathless, we shall wait,
Till, last of all the Avatars,
God finds us in his first estate:
The dust upon the road to Fars."
So still he lay, so still the pilgrims deemed
He was no longer there. The deepening shade
Covered him softly. With his latest breath
Slave Obeidullah looked upon the Queen:
"You whom I loved so steadfastly,
If all the blest should ask to see
The cause for which my spirit came
Among them with so little claim
To peace, this book should speak for me.
"I strove and only asked in fee
Hope of your immortality
Not mine—I had no other aim
You whom I loved.
"The Judge will bend to hear my plea,
And take my songs upon his knee.
Perhaps His hand will make the lame
Worthy to worship you, the same
As here they vainly tried to be,
You whom I loved."
Then, turned towards her, Obeidullah slept.

VIII
THE TALE OF THE CHEAPJACK

Among the fruit-trees still he slumbers. All
Mourned for their brother with one heavy heart.
Even Tous drooped, swaying weakly in his stride;
Until Farid Bahadur, cheapjack, spoke,
One bootlessly afoot whose years had brought
For profit this, to see existence clear
And empty as a solid ball of glass.
Erstwhile, he said, my peddling carried me
Clean through two empires like a paper hoop,
Setting me down upon the olive slopes
Where Smyrna nestles back to mother earth,
And so lures in the ocean. I filled my pack
With kerchiefs, beads, dross, chaffering with a Greek,
Although he vowed a much-loved partner's death
Left him no heart for it. He blew his nose,
Asking strange prices as a man distraught.
I had no heart to bargain while he crooned:
"Our loves were woven of one splendid thread,
But not our lives, though we had been, we twain,
Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane
Of him who brought his brother from the dead.
Ah, would our God were like his gods that said:
Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain,
And let the younger Castor live again
The space that Pollux lay with Death instead.
Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave
Not for a part of time but for God's whole
Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save
Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul
Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask
From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task.
"They say the Olympian grace was not content
With housing Death, but giving Love the key.
It set the troths that guided you and me
Among the jewels of the firmament;
And there they dwell for ever and assent
To each propitious ploughing of the sea.
The coasting-pilots of Infinity
Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent,
Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here
With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut
All day; but every night an Argonaut
Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far
Beyond the limitations of his sphere
Into the vacant place beside a star."
So crooned he desolate in his dim shop,
Till I became all ears and had no eyes.
The fellow cheated me of three dinars.

IX
THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR

Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed
The caravan. Its courage failed
A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled
The sun, that overhead
From fields The Plough had turned to grain,
Star-honey laden on The Wain
And spices from the wind-domain,
Was baking angel-bread.
(Astronomers in Baghdad say
That Allah gave the Milky Way
To feed his guests, the dead.)
"Ay," said the master of the inn,
"A black-faced gaper that lets in
The dark, my creditors, and kin!
Last month it strained my wrist, did
The lout, so hard it slams. This week
Claims it for fuel. See the leak
Of air it springs! Its hinges creak,
Its wood is warped and twisted.
'Tis heavy-hearted as a man,
Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...."
The wheezing voice persisted.
"Earth bare me in Mazanderan,
Where, breaking her dead level plan,
Steep foliage opens like a fan
To hide her virgin blush;
And singing, caravan, like you
Brooks dance towards the Caspian blue
Past coolth wherein mauve turtles coo
To panthers in the rush,
That turn hill-pools to amethyst.
Here bucks drink deep and tigers tryst
Neck-deep in grasses lush.
"And there the stainless peaks are kissed
By heaven whose crowning mercy, mist,
With cloud-lands white as Allah's fist
Anoints their heads with rain.
We never dreamed, where nature pours,
That life could run as thin as yours—
A waif thirst-stricken to all fours—
Or verdure, but a vein
In sandscapes wincing from the sun
That burns your flesh and visions dun,
Crawl throbbing through the plain.
"I grew. My shadow weighed a ton;
I held a countless garrison;
My boughs were roads for apes to run
Around the white owl's niche.
The hum of bees, the blue jay's scream....
The forest came to love and teem
In me beside the vivid stream
Shot through with speckled fish;
Till, weary of my sheltered glen,
I craved a human denizen
Fate granted me my wish.
"Yea, I had longed (if slope and fen
Can love like this, the love of men
Must live above our nature's ken)
To see and shade the room,
To shield far-leaning the abode,
Wherein the souls of lovers glowed
To songs that dimmed the bulbul's ode ...
And man became my doom.
He dragged me through the dew-drenched brake,
And took the heart of me to make
A tavern-door at Kum."
The pilgrims sat erect, engrossed,
Or searched the crannies for a ghost.
"Ah, heed it not," implored the host;
"This hell-burnt father's son
Moans ever like a soul oppressed,
And takes the fancy of a guest,
And makes my house no house of rest:
I would its voice were gone.
Yet be indulgent, sirs! 'Tis old.
Next week it shall be burnt or sold.
A new—" The voice went on:
"Here have I stood while life unrolled
But not the tale my breezes told.
Moonlight alone conceals the cold
Drab city's lack of heart.
Here have I watched an hundred years
Bespatter me with blood and tears,
Yet leave man ever in arrears
Of where my monkeys start.
No more, dog-rose and meadow-sweet!
The harlot's musk and rotten meat
Blow at me from the mart.
"No more, clear streams and fairy feet!
But through my mouth the striving street
Drains in brown spate the men who eat
And drink and curse and die;
And out of me the whole night long
Reel revellers—O God, their song!...
Are there no mortals clean and strong,
Or do they pass me by?
I little thought that I should leave
For this the groves where turtles grieve
Far closer to the sky.
"Instead of every song-bird's note
I know the scales a merchant's throat
Can compass. I have learned by rote
The tricks of Copt and Jew;
Can tell if Lur or Afghan brawls,
The Armenian way of selling shawls
Softly, and how an Arab bawls
To rouse the raider's crew,
Lest ululating strings of slaves
Should take the kennel for their graves....
Raids! I have seen a few,
"Or wars, occasion dubs them—waves
Of Mongol sultans, Kurdish braves.
They—Find me words! the Simûn raves
They worked ... 'tis called their will,
Battered me in—behold the dint—
With all their hearts that felt like flint,
Besmeared the city with the tint
Of sunset on my hill.
My leopards stalk my bucks at eve—
I shivered as I heard them heave—
At least they ate their kill.
"I followed that.... But men who weave
Such flowing robes of make-believe,
I think the flood was wept by Eve—
Some sportsman shot the dove—
These puzzled me, for God is good
And man His image—not of wood,
Thank God!—At last I understood
All ... all except their love.
I grew so hard that I could trace
His hand's chief glory in their race.
Perhaps He wore a glove."
Then one without made haste to smite
The malcontent. It opened. Night
Stood on the threshold dressed in white,
And myriad-eyed and blind.
The ostler murmured: "Some Afrit
Or bitter worm has entered it;
Nor jamb nor lintel seems to fit.
I know its frame of mind."
"Air stirs the dust upon the floor,"
The landlord cried. "Fool! Shut that door
Amoaning in the wind."
"My glade was deep, a lichened well
Of ether, limpid as a bell
Buoyed on the manifold ground-swell
Whose distance changed attires
As sun-stroked plush, a roundelay
Of all red-blue and purple grey,
And, at each rise and fall of day,
Snows dyed like altar fires
Licked through those loud green sheaves of copse,
Bent hyphens 'twixt the mountain-tops,
Mosques of my motley choirs.
"And I, who gave them bed and bower
For nights enduring but an hour
Mid blaring miles of trumpet-flower,
Leagues of liana-wreath,
I saw the rocks through leaves and lings,
Could blink the fangs and feel the wings,
Thrill with the elemental things
Of life and love and death.
The purity of air and brook
And song helped me to overlook
The rapine underneath.
"But you—no! one dream more: an elf,
Askip on ochre mountain-shelf,
Who once had seen a man himself.
I used his wand to gauge
The sheen of moths and peacocks' whir,
To plumb the jungle-aisles, to stir
The drifts of frankincense and myrrh,
And amorous lithe shapes that purr....
'Tis finished. Turn the page
To where man cased his bones in fat.
His mate moved like a tiger-cat
Until he built her cage.
"You, I have watched you all who sat
Successive round the food-stained mat,
And reckoned many who lived for that
Alone; have seen the mark
Of that last state the Thinking Beast
Peep through the foliage of the feast,
And crown its poet's flight with greased
Fingers that grope the dark;
Have heard a cleanlier bosom catch
Her breath, and fumble with my latch
Irresolute. The lark
"My inmates never feared to match
Bespoke the end. I belched the batch,
Rolling them down the street, a patch
Of dirt against the dawn.
Then in its stead there came a saint,
Inventor of a soul-complaint,
Who gave men's faith a coat of paint
Like mine, and made me yawn
With furtive wenching. Here have sighed
Exultant groom and weeping bride
Led like a captive fawn.
"This way passed those who marry lean
Girl-chattels ere their times of teen.
I knew a like but milder scene:
A hawk, small birds that cower.
How soon the chosen was brought back dead—
Poisoned, the hakim always said—
The husband groaned beside the bed,
Arose, and kept the dower,
But swept his conscience out with prayer.
Man took the angels unaware
When he became a power.
"And what of woman? On my stair
The merchants spread their gaudiest ware,
For which fools bought a love affair
That ended in a jerk.
Enough! To round the tamasha
A bloated thing came by, the Shah;
It grinned, and viziers fawned 'Ha! ha!'
Curs, brainless as a Turk.
And all the women in his train
Beheld him once and ne'er again,
And called his love their work.
"You see, my friends, I tired of this
Wild doubling in the chase of bliss.
Pards miss their spring as men their kiss,
And yet the quarry dies.
I learned the world's least mortal god,
Whose epitaph is Ichabod,
May sport till noon, but if he nod
Shall never more arise.
Then, caravan, you passed, and I
Have solved my riddle with a cry:
The sad are never wise.
"Your song was all that I had heard
In dreams beyond the wildest bird,
That rose above my yellow-furred
Basses that bell and roar.
It took the heart of me in tow
To heights that I had longed to know,
To the great deeps where lovers go
And find—and want—no shore.
In these alone is man fulfilled;
And gleaming in the air I build
My hope of him once more.
"For all the few that see truth whole,
And take its endlessness for goal,
And steer by stars as if no shoal
Could mar their firmament,
For all the few that sing and sail
Knowing their quest of small avail,
Thank God who gave them strength to fail
In finding what He meant...."
"Poets!" the landlord groaned, "and poor!
This house is cursed." He banged the door
Behind them as they went.
And distance placed soft hands upon their mouths.

X
THE SONG OF THE SELVES

DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

THE PILGRIMS

Athirst as the Hadramut,
Our spirits correspond
With God by all the gamut
Of harmony, too fond
Of Him for prayer that rifles
His treasury for trifles.
No load of blessing stifles
The Pilgrims of Beyond.

DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

And yet the empty-handed
Hold richer merchandise
Than ever fable landed
From Dreamland's argosies,
Since we, the symbol-merchants,
Are partners with Bulbul.
The silversmith of her chants
Knows how our chests are full.
In marts, where echoes answer
And only they, we trade.
But join our caravan, sir,
And count your fortune made.
Dawn brings us dazzling offers
With fingers gemmed and pearled,
And evening fills our coffers
As we explain the world,
Green fields and seas that curtsey
To us and mock Despair;
For blossoms in the dirt see
Their spirit in the air.
And Ecstasy our servant
Demands no other wage
But that we be observant
To joy in pilgrimage.

THE MERCHANTS

We do not bid our master
Declare His word His bond,
Or make His payments faster—
As though He would abscond!
We ask Him for too little
To strain at jot or tittle.
We know our lives are brittle,
We Pilgrims of Beyond.

DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

We come from everlasting
Towards eternity,
Ho! not in dirge and fasting
But lapped in jollity.
Though sackcloth be our clothing
We bear no ash but fire.
We have no sickly loathing
Of youth and youth's desire.
We prize no consummation
Of one peculiar creed.
We travel for a nation,
The one that feels our need.
Our tongue conceals no message,
But leaves you free to find,
And vaunts itself the presage
Of those that come behind.

THE CAMELMEN

Here is no patch of shade. A
Fierce wilderness and blonde
Links Delhi to Hodeidah,
Tashkent to Trebizond.
The cargo is our brother's,
We march and moil for others,
Until the desert smothers
The Pilgrims of Beyond.

DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

Hark how our camels grumble
At morn! Would you permit
The stone on which you stumble
To make you carry it?
And if at last your burden
Be cheapened in a shop,
Seraglio or Lur den,
Should lack of humour stop
The game at its beginning?
We lug the stuff of dreams.
Earth does her best by spinning,
She cannot help the seams;
But you can help to monger
The broidery. She may
Have made you richer, stronger,
To give her best away.
I own no musk or camphor,
I have no truck with care,
Nor change the thing I am for
The things men only wear.

THE SOLDIERS

First cousin of a sieve is
The uniform we donned.
We slop along on ghivehs,
In rags caparisonned.
No Shah has ever paid us.
All brigands mock and raid us,
And misery has made us
The Pilgrims of Beyond.

DREAMER-OF-THE-AGE

What then! Would you be willing
To quit the caravan,
And fall again to drilling,
Pent in the walled meidan,
When history flings open
Blank scrolls for you to write
Such victories as no pen
Has ever brought to light?
You shall not burn as Jengiz,
Nor rage like Timur Lang.
Your foemen are ferengis
Of whom no epic sang.
The housed that blame the tented,
Or comfort those that think,
The flocks that die contented
With settling down to blink
The sun we keep our eyes on,
That bow their heads too far
To face their own horizon,
On these be war on war.
Cursed by the bonds you sever,
The bondsmen you release,
Go, seek the Land of Fever
And find the Land of Ease.

THE CARAVAN

Lift up your hearts, ye singers!
We lift them up in song.
Behold, the sunset lingers.
No less shall night be long.
We meet her unaffrighted,
Though never bourne be sighted.
We meant to be benighted
Still moving fleet and strong.
We smooth the stony places
For those that else despond.
We pass, and leave no traces
Save this, a broken frond,
And this, that hands once craven
Take hardship for the haven
Upon whose rocks is graven:
"The Pilgrims of Beyond."

XI
THE STORY OF THE SUTLER

"Fear was born when the woods were young.
Chance had gathered an heap of sods,
Where the slip of a tree-man's tongue
Throned the dam of the elder gods.
Twilight, a rustled leaf,
Started the first belief
In some unearthly Chief
Latent behind
Cover of aspen shade.
Skirting the haunted glade
Some one found speech, and prayed.
Was it the wind
Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?
Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,
Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.
Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,
And gods went whither none was fain to follow,
Because the earth was green
And Afterwards was black.
"Man, the child of a tale of rape,
Drew the seas with his hunting ships,
Cut their prows to a giant's shape,
Fitted names to their snarling lips:
Gods in his image born,
Singing, fierce-eyed, unshorn,
Lords of a drinking-horn
Five fathoms deep;
Holding the one reward
Carved by a dripping sword,
Feasts, and above them stored
Ceiling-high sleep.
Save to the conqueror Life was put-off Dying,
And Death brought nothing but the irk of lying—
How long—with over-restful hosts abed.
The rough immortals, whom he met unshrinking,
Spared him from nothing but the pain of thinking.
And so the earth was red
While Afterwards was grey.
"Jungles thinned, and the clearings merged
Where the wandering clans drew breath.
Druids rose and the people surged.
Then the blessing of Nazareth
Fell on them mad and mild,
Boasting itself a child.
Smite it! And yet it smiled.
There, as it kneeled,
Lowliness rose to might,
Deeming our days a night,
Bodily joy a plight
Soon to be healed;
Gave to one god all credit for creation,
But, lest the Path should seem the Destination,
Strove to attune man's heartstrings to a rack,
Until the soul was fortified to change hells,
While saints and poets chanted songs of angels,
Confessing earth was black
But Afterwards was gold.
"Faith was raised to the power of millions,
Went as wine to a single head,
Took its chiefs for the sun's postillions,
Claimed to speak in its founder's stead;
Till in the western skies
Reason's epiphanies
Beckoned the other-wise
Men to rebirth.
Doubt, that makes spirits lithe,
Woke and began to writhe,
Burst through the osier withe,
Freed the old earth.
Nature cried out again for recognition,
Claiming that flesh is more than mere transition,
That mouths were made for sweeter things than prayer.
Yea, she, that first revealed the superhuman,
Out of the depths in us shall bring the new man
Who knows that earth is fair,
And Afterwards—who knows!"
We knew his childish searching meant no harm,
But his own people somehow took alarm;
For when his heart was healed, and he returned
With songs, 'tis said that he and they were burned.
Only this one survived. I put it by
Lest one who lived so much should wholly die.
He tried to spend far more than every day,
And never asked what he would have to pay.
To him a pint of music was a potion
That set him dabbling in some small emotion.
Wherever he could drown he marked an ocean
He got no pleasure but the pains he took
To bring himself to death by one small book
Filled with what he had heard, the babble of a brook.