Enough we’ve said of this. Now turn we to our tale. By puss the lion’s held right hungry in the vale. And so it was; the hare his counsel did conceal; He would not let his comrades learn how he would deal. Some hours he now let pass before he took his leave; Then to the lion went, their honour to retrieve. He found the brute impatient, chafing at delay, From hunger’s pangs fierce howling, tearing every spray; And roaring in his rage: “I knew it so would be! Those vile, time-serving rascals! Thus they worry me! 165 They’re plausible, smooth-speaking, bland, calm, mild; and still They’ve cheated me! Alas! Who will be cheated, will! A too complaisant prince most foully is let in! Who sees no farther than his nose, none heeds a pin!” The path is smoothed beneath which lurks a deadly trap. A missive’s filled with compliments; all mere clap-trap. Bland messages, smooth words, are but a hook or snare. Civility’s a sandbank; life’s bark’s oft wrecked there, The sand from which a spring of water’s seen to flow Is rare to find. Go, seek such. Where? I do not know. 170 Yes, yes! Be sure that sand’s a holy man of God, Unto himself lost, rapt, in union with his Lord. Religion’s crystal waters flow from him apace; Disciples thence are edified and grow in grace. A worldling is a sandbank, void of moisture quite, On which you may make shipwreck, lose all chance of light. Seek wisdom, then, from wisdom’s sons, the pure of mind; So mayest thou learn the way salvation’s port to find. A seeker after wisdom, is, of wisdom, fount. “Humanities” he shuns; them, he does trash account. 175 A memory replete with holy Qur’ān’s lore A “hidden tablet” is;[154] its mind is wisdom’s store. If man begin as pupil to good common sense, He’ll end by being teacher,--mind, his audience. Man’s mind declares, as Gabriel to Ahmed there,[155] “One step beyond due limit leaves me ashes sere. Go forward, man of God; leave me; I know my place. To every one’s not given to see God face to face.” Whoever, out of sloth, endeavour’s path shall quit, And patience lose, compulsion’s creed must needs admit. 180 Whoe’er affirms compulsion, brings woe on himself, Until his troubles to the grave conduct the elf.