How many more examples could be pointed out!
But, if thou seest the truth, give me thy hand. Quit doubt. 255
Forsake thy dunghill. Enter our abode of bliss.
From darkness thee to guide, a light shines o’er th’ abyss.
Shake off all hesitation. Enter heaven’s gate.
Avoid the pit that’s bottomless! Be not too late!
The Prince of all Believers thus addressed that chief,
In tones serenest: “Know, that in our contest brief,
When thou didst spit upon me, giving scorn its vent,
My choler was aroused;--to wreck my patience went.
Half warmed with zeal for God, half stirred with anger’s fire,
Unholy partnership was formed ’twixt truth and ire. 260
Thou wast designed and fashioned by a hand divine.
To God dost thou belong;--no creature art of mine.
Defacement of God’s work should be by God’s decree;
To break God’s pitcher, man a stone of God should see.”
The Magian heard. The light flashed on his heart and soul.
The clouds of misbelief, as fog, away did roll.
He spake: “The seed of wrongfulness is what I’ve sown.
Thou’rt altogether different from what I’ve known.
Thou art a balance, with an equitable soul;
Or rather, index art thou, of just balance-bowl. 265
Thou art become my kith and kin,--my brother true;
Thou art a ray to light the path I shall pursue.
The slave I have become of that fair Source of light,
From whence thou hast derived the beam that charms my sight.
The slave of every billow of that glorious Sea,
That casts such pearls ashore, as I admire in thee.
Teach me to formulate the motto of thy creed;
For, henceforth thou’rt my guide, of whom I stand in need.”
Full fifty of his household,--of his stock and race,
With zealous love the noble law of Islām did embrace. 270
Thus ’twas, the hero, by decisive wisdom’s stroke,
Averted death from many, slavery’s fetters broke.
The sword of wisdom’s sharper than the finest steel;
Its words more efficacious than an army’s wheel.
XVII.
Conclusion.
Alas! By one poor morsel, tasted through a sin,
The fount of thought’s congealed; heart’s blood diluted thin.
One grain of wheat has cast eclipse o’er sun of mind,
As “dragon’s tail” doth dull the full moon, when inclined.[433]
Behold! How delicate is thought! One mite of clay,
From full-moon glory, it reduced to disarray.
The bread of life, received, digested, gives man power.
Material bread excites distrusts, contentions, sour.
The thorn, while green, cropped by the camel, far from fords,
Not only pleasure gives, but nutriment affords. 5
That selfsame thorn, grown dry and void of juicy sap,
If ventured on by starving beast in desert gap,
His palate and his lips will puncture, blood make flow;
As if conserve of roses should with daggers glow.