The Festival of Spring, from the Díván of Jeláleddín: Rendered in English Gazels after Rückert's Versions, with an Introduction and a Criticism of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám — Rumi — John Shaqi
The Festival of Spring, from the Díván of Jeláleddín: Rendered in English Gazels after Rückert's Versions, with an Introduction and a Criticism of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám
Rumi · en
In the year of Jeláleddín's death Edward I. ascended the throne of
England, with the first faltering grasp of a mightier Empire; the boy
Dante was catching the gleam of strange Visions in the shining eyes of
the sweet-faced gentle maiden Beatrice; the mystic thrill that had run
through the Middle Age was pulsing in the youth of Meister Eckhart, and
preparing for Suso and Ruysbroek and Thomas à Kempis, through the
mellifluous Rhythm of St. Bernard which had been sung for a hundred
years; the Doctor Angelicus had all but summed up the system of
Christian Theology, the well-worn pen just trembling to its fall from
his wearied grasp; and the spirit of Martin Luther, whom of all
religious Reformers Jeláleddín most resembles, was already beginning to
breathe in William Occam and the free young thinkers of the time. Yes;
Jeláleddín has both a wider relationship and a more modern significance
than even Hegel has thought of.
And now we have surely cited Authorities enough to enable us to form at
least a preliminary judgment, fair, reasonably informed, and impartial,
concerning Jeláleddín's distinctive position and work as a Poet. We have
seen him thrice crowned—in the Realms of Poetry. Philosophy, and
Religion—by authoritative representatives, qualified kingmakers; and
hardly any one who now knows truly of him, will dispute his right to be
ranked as one of 'the great of old! The dead but sceptred sovrans who
still rule our spirits from their urns.' His royal Title was proclaimed
long ago in the musical name most aptly bestowed upon him when he lived
and sang, and by those who knew him best: JELÁLEDDÍN, which we have
already rendered literally as 'The Splendour of the Faith,' but which we
prefer now to reproduce in its proper English equivalent as 'The Glory
of Religion.' This designation at once strikingly expresses the Secret
of his Power, the Consecration of his Genius, and the essence and end of
his Humanity. To him Religion was all in all; it was the very
Life-breath of his Soul; the Home and Joy of his Heart; the be-all and
end-all of his Will. Of but very few others of the Sons of Men can this
be said; of only One can it be said in a higher degree than of
Jeláleddín, as he himself knew and confessed. He too 'sought for the
healing Hand of Jesus,' and it purged his inner sight and enabled him to
see all the world again, lying bright and beautiful, in the Light and
Love of God. And moved by that all-compelling Law whose 'seat is the
Bosom of God' and whose 'voice is the Harmony of the world,' he burst
spontaneously into song, and the keynote of all his singing—exultant,
jubilant, triumphant—was ever the living, loving God, 'Him first, Him
last, Him without end.' Religion was the golden Thread on which, all his
silvery poetic Pearls were strung, and he flung them around him in his
own generous, selfless joy, with the most lavish hand. They seem to have
cost him no effort of search or toil. Much more than Spinoza or Novalis