They still insisted: “Vazīr, that we’ll not deny, But our remonstrance is a truly piteous cry. We weep our eyes out through our grief thee not to see, With sighs our hearts burst, vainly looking out for thee. An infant quarrels not with its attentive nurse; And yet it weeps, through knowing not what’s good from worse. We are thy harps. The plectrum’s stroke is from thy hand. ’Tis thus we moan; smit by thy cunning harpist wand. 285 Like flutes of reed, our utterances are through thee found; Or mountain vale, our echo’s but child of thy sound. Or as chess-players, striving in their dubious game; Our ‘check’ and ‘mate’ are from thee, man of mighty name. What are we,--can we be? ’Tis thou’rt our life of life, So long as thou’rt among us. If not, all is strife. We’re naught;--we’re nothings. All our being is in thee. Existence’ very self by thy frail form we see. We’re lions, true; but stand on vanes of weathercocks, Our twists and twirls, our starts, our jumps, are from wind’s shocks. 290 These lions’ movements are in sight; the winds unseen. The Great Unseen, th’ Almighty One, ’s behind the screen. Our moving wind, our very being from thee springs. Existence, else, were vain, not sheltered ’neath thy wings. ’Tis thou hast taught us, nothings, valued life to prize; ’Twas thou that made us, erring, lovers of th’ Allwise. Take not from us the savour sweet of thy good gifts, Thy cup, thy wine, thy relish, absence from us lifts. But shouldst thou still refuse, who to repine ’d have heart? Can pictures of the painter’s hand complain, and art? 295 No notice of us take; from us avert thy face; But ne’er deride the claims of thy prevailing grace. We were not; prayers from us arose not to thy ear; Thy grace alone ’twas sought us out; thou drewest near. Before the artist and his brush, the picture’s null; Like unborn babe in mother’s womb, till time be full. Before almighty power creation stands in wait, As canvas ’fore the needle ’broiderer’s hand may mate. A demon here, an angel there, or man, is bid To be; now joy, now sorrow, rises up amid. 300 We have no hand to move; defend ourselves we can’t. We have no breath, no speech to pray for aid in want.”