The birds about their secrets one by one communed;
About their knowledge, sciences, and voices tuned.
To pay their court to Solomon their notes they raised;
Revealed their capabilities; skill of each praised.
Not out of pride and vanity; excess ’twould seem;
But solely to please Solomon, gain his esteem.
So slaves that seek for favour at a master’s hand
Exert themselves to name the talents they command.
But if they feel ashamed of one would them purchase,
Straightway they’re sick, halt, deaf, or something still
more base. 330
The turn then came for hoopoe’s setting forth his skill,
To say what he could do, what office he could fill.
Said he: “O King, one little talent’s all I own.
I’ll tell it in few words; succinctness is a crown.”
Said Solomon: “Let’s hear it. What then is thy skill?”
The hoopoe answered: “This.--I perch where’er I will.
From my seat I look down like plumbline on the ground,
And see if hidden water under it is found;
Where is it; at what depth; what are its qualities;
Whence takes its rise; from rock, sand, clay’s varieties. 335
O Solomon, whene’er thou send’st thy armies forth,
Me call to mind; my skill is surely notice worth.”
To him replied then Solomon: “Esteemed good friend,
Thee I will name Purveyor-General on land.
Whene’er my troops go forth, through sandy deserts sent,
With them thou’lt journey; so, ne’er will be water scant.”
The crow on hearing this with jealousy was stung.
Addressing Solomon, he said: “This bird a lie has sung.
His insolence is great to boast thus to the king.
Such falsehood’s quite disgusting. Who’s heard such a thing? 340
Had he possessed this very wonderful insight,
Would he be caught in springes barely out of sight?
He cannot see those traps beneath a little mound;
So caught he is, and caged. High dudgeon thence is found.”
Said Solomon: “O hoopoe, true is this remark.
A gulp of vanity has set thee raving, stark.
How is it thou’rt so tipsy early in the day,
To come and prate of things so far out of the way?”
The hoopoe then replied: “Great King, against poor me,
For love of God, believe not all my foes’ false plea. 345
If untruth I have spoken,--cannot prove my tale,—
I cast myself before thee; kill me without fail.
The crow denies the rule of Providence on earth;
With all his cunning, he’s a miscreant from birth.”
Of miscreants’ defects, if any one in us
Exist, it’s sure to spread,--a plague-spot cancerous.