Chapter 4

Unto the Soul that is confused by Love Comes Sorrow after Sorrow—most of all To Love whose only Friendship is Reproof, And overmuch of Counsel—whereby Love Grows stubborn, and increases the Disease. Love unreproved is a delicious food; Reproved, is Feeding on one's own Heart's Blood. Salámán heard; his Soul came to his Lips; Reproaches struck not Absál out of him, But drove Confusion in; bitter became The Drinking of the sweet Draught of Delight, And wan'd the Splendour of his Moon of Beauty. His Breath was Indignation, and his Heart Bled from the Arrow, and his Anguish grew— How bear it?—Able to endure one wound, From Wound on Wound no remedy but Flight; Day after Day, Design upon Design, He turn'd the Matter over in his Heart, And, after all, no Remedy but Flight. Resolv'd on that, he victuall'd and equipp'd A Camel, and one Night he led it forth, And mounted—he and Absál at his side, The fair Salámán and Absál the Fair, Together on one Camel side by side, Twin Kernels in a single Almond packt. And True Love murmurs not, however small His Chamber—nay, the straitest best of all.

When the Moon of Canaan Yúsuf Darken'd in the Prison of Ægypt, Night by Night Zulaikha went To see him—for her Heart was broken. Then to her said One who never Yet had tasted of Love's Garden: "Leavest thou thy Palace-Chamber For the Felon's narrow Cell?" Answer'd She, "Without my Lover, Were my Chamber Heaven's Horizon, It were closer than an Ant's eye; And the Ant's eye wider were Than Heaven, my Lover with me there!"

XIX.

Six days Salámán on the Camel rode, And then Remembrance of foregone Reproach Abode not by him; and upon the Seventh He halted on the Seashore, and beheld An Ocean boundless as the Heaven above, That, reaching its Circumference from Káf To Káf, down to the Back of Gau and Mahi Descended, and its Stars were Creatures' Eyes. The Face of it was as it were a Range Of moving Mountains; or as endless Hosts Of Camels trooping from all Quarters up, Furious, with the Foam upon their Lips. In it innumerable glittering Fish Like Jewels polish-sharp, to the sharp Eye But for an Instant visible, glancing through As Silver Scissors slice a blue Brocade; Though were the Dragon from its Hollow roused, The Dragon of the Stars would stare Aghast. Salámán eyed the Sea, and cast about To cross it—and forthwith upon the Shore Devis'd a Shallop like a Crescent Moon, Wherein that Sun and Moon in happy Hour, Enter'd as into some Celestial Sign; That, figured like a Bow, but Arrow-like In Flight, was feather'd with a little Sail, And, pitcht upon the Water like a Duck, So with her Bosom sped to her Desire. When they had sail'd their Vessel for a Moon, And marr'd their Beauty with the wind o' th' Sea, Suddenly in mid Sea reveal'd itself An Isle, beyond Description beautiful An Isle that all was Garden; not a Bird Of Note or Plume in all the World but there; There as in Bridal Retinue array'd The Pheasant in his Crown, the Dove in her Collar; And those who tuned their Bills among the Trees That Arm in Arm from Fingers paralyz'd With any Breath of Air Fruit moist and dry Down scatter'd in Profusion to their Feet, Where Fountains of Sweet Water ran, and round Sunshine and Shadow chequer-chased the Ground. Here Iram Garden seemed in Secresy Blowing the Rosebud of its Revelation; Or Paradise, forgetful of the Day Of Audit, lifted from her Face the Veil.

Salámán saw the Isle, and thought no more Of Further—there with Absál he sat down, Absál and he together side by side Rejoicing like the Lily and the Rose, Together like the Body and the Soul. Under its Trees in one another's Arms They slept—they drank its Fountains hand in hand— Sought Sugar with the Parrot—or in Sport Paraded with the Peacock—raced the Partridge— Or fell a-talking with the Nightingale. There was the Rose without a Thorn, and there The Treasure and no Serpent to beware— What sweeter than your Mistress at your side In such a Solitude, and none to Chide!

Whisper'd one to Wámik—"Oh Thou Victim of the Wound of Azra, What is it that like a Shadow Movest thou about in Silence Meditating Night and Day?" Wámik answered, "Even this— To fly with Azra to the Desert; There by so remote a Fountain That, whichever way one travell'd League on League, one yet should never, Never meet the Face of Man— There to pitch my Tent—for ever There to gaze on my Belovéd; Gaze, till Gazing out of Gazing Grew to Being Her I gaze on, She and I no more, but in One. Undivided Being blended, All that is not One must ever Suffer with the Wound of Absence; And whoever in Love's City Enters, finds but Room for One, And but in Oneness Union."

XX.

When by and bye The Shah was made aware Of that Soul-wasting absence of his Son, He reach'd a Cry to Heav'n—his Eyelashes Wept Blood—Search everywhere he set a-foot, But none could tell the hidden Mystery. Then bade he bring a Mirror that he had, A Mirror, like the Bosom of the wise, Reflecting all the World, and lifting up The Veil from all its Secret, Good and Evil. That Mirror bade he bring, and, in its Face Looking, beheld the Face of his Desire. He saw those Lovers in the Solitude, Turn'd from the World, and all its ways, and People, And looking only in each other's Eyes, And never finding any Sorrow there. The Shah beheld them as they were, and Pity Fell on his Eyes, and he reproach'd them not; And, gathering all their Life into his Hand, Not a Thread lost, disposed in Order all. Oh for the Noble Nature, and Clear Heart, That, seeing Two who draw one Breath together Drinking the Cup of Happiness and Tears Unshatter'd by the Stone of Separation, Is loath their sweet Communion to destroy, Or cast a Tangle in the Skein of Joy.

The Arrows that assail the Lords of Sorrow Come from the Hand of Retribution. Do Well, that in thy Turn Well may betide Thee; And turn from Ill, that Ill may turn beside Thee.

Firhád, Moulder of the Mountain, Love-distracted looked to Shírín, And Shírín the Sculptor's Passion Saw, and turn'd her Heart to Him.

Then the Fire of Jealous Frenzy Caught and carried up the Harvest Of the Might of Kai Khusrau.

Plotting with that ancient Hag Of Fate, the Sculptor's Cup he poison'd And remained the Lord of Love.

So—But Fate that Fate avenges Arms Shirúeh with the Dagger, That at once from Shírín tore him, Hurl'd him from the Throne of Glory.

XXI.

But as the days went on, and still The Shah Beheld Salámán how sunk in Absál, And yet no Hand of better Effort lifted; But still the Crown that shall adorn his Head, And still the Throne that waited for his Foot, Trampled from Memory by a Base Desire, Of which the Soul was still unsatisfied— Then from the Sorrow of The Shah fell Fire; To Gracelessness Ungracious he became, And, quite to shatter his rebellious Lust, Upon Salámán all his Will discharged. And Lo! Salámán to his Mistress turn'd, But could not reach her—look'd and look'd again, And palpitated tow'rd her—but in Vain! Oh Misery! what to the Bankrupt worse Than Gold he cannot reach! To one Athirst Than Fountain to the Eye and Lip forbid!— Or than Heaven opened to the Eyes in Hell!— Yet, when Salámán's Anguish was extreme, The Door of Mercy open'd in his Face; He saw and knew his Father's Hand outstretcht To lift him from Perdition—timidly, Timidly tow'rd his Father's Face his own He lifted, Pardon-pleading, Crime-confest, As the stray Bird one day will find her Nest.

A Disciple ask'd a Master, "By what Token should a Father Vouch for his reputed Son?" Said the Master, "By the Stripling, Howsoever Late or Early, Like to the Reputed Father Growing—whether Wise or Foolish.

"Lo the disregarded Darnel With itself adorns the Wheat-field, And for all the Early Season Satisfies the Farmer's Eye; But come once the Hour of Harvest. And another Grain shall answer, 'Darnel and no Wheat, am I.'"

XXII.

When The Shah saw Salámán's face again, And breath'd the Breath of Reconciliation, He laid the Hand of Love upon his Shoulder, The Kiss of Welcome on his Cheek, and said, "Oh Thou, who lost, Love's Banquet lost its Salt, And Mankind's Eye its Pupil!—Thy Return Is as another Sun to Heaven; a new Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul. Arise, Oh Moon of Majesty unwaned! The Court of the Horizon is thy Court, Thy Kingdom is the Kingdom of the World!— Lo! Throne and Crown await Thee—Throne and Crown Without thy Impress but uncurrent Gold, Not to be stamp'd by one not worthy Them; Behold! The Rebel's Face is at thy Door; Let him not triumph—let the Wicked dread The Throne under thy Feet, the Crown upon thy Head. Oh Spurn them not behind Thee! Oh my Son, Wipe Thou the Woman's Henna from thy Hand: Withdraw Thee from the Minion who from Thee Dominion draws; the Time is come to choose, Thy Mistress or the World to hold or lose." Four are the Signs of Kingly Aptitude; Wise Head—clean Heart—strong Arm—and open Hand. Wise is He not—Continent cannot be— Who binds himself to an unworthy Lust; Nor Valiant, who submits to a weak Woman; Nor Liberal, who cannot draw his Hand From that in which so basely he is busied. And of these Four who misses All or One Is not the Bridegroom of Dominion.

XXIII.

Ah the poor Lover!—In the changing Hands Of Day and Night no wretcheder than He! No Arrow from the Bow of Evil Fate But reaches him—one Dagger at his Throat, Another comes to wound him from behind. Wounded by Love—then wounded by Reproof Of Loving—and, scarce stauncht the Blood of Shame By flying from his Love—then, worst of all, Love's back-blow of Revenge for having fled!

Salámán heard—he rent the Robe of Peace— He came to loathe his Life, and long for Death, (For better Death itself than Life in Death)— He turn'd his face with Absál to the Desert— Enter'd the deadly Plain; Branch upon Branch Cut down, and gather'd in a lofty Pile, And fired. They look'd upon the Flames, those Two— They look'd, and they rejoiced; and hand in hand They sprang into the Fire. The Shah who saw In secret all had order'd; and the Flame, Directed by his Self-fulfilling Will, Devouring utterly Absál, pass'd by Salámán harmless—the pure Gold return'd Entire, but all the baser Metal burn'd.

XXIV.

Heaven's Dome is but a wondrous House of Sorrow, And Happiness therein a lying Fable. When first they mix'd the Clay of Man, and cloth'd His Spirit in the Robe of Perfect Beauty, For Forty Mornings did an Evil Cloud Rain Sorrows over him from Head to Foot; And when the Forty Mornings pass'd to Night, Then came one Morning-Shower—one Morning-Shower Of Joy—to Forty of the Rain of Sorrow!— And though the better Fortune came at last To seal the Work, yet every Wise Man knows Such Consummation never can be here!

Salámán fired the Pile; and in the Flame That, passing him, consumed Absál like Straw, Died his Divided Self, and there survived His Individual; and, like a Body From which the Soul is parted, all alone. Then rose his Cry to Heaven—his Eyelashes Dropt Blood—his Sighs stood like a Smoke in Heaven, And Morning rent her Garment at his Anguish. He tore his Bosom with his Nails—he smote Stone on his Bosom—looking then on hands No longer lockt in hers, and lost their Jewel, He tore them with his Teeth. And when came Night, He hid him in some Corner of the House, And communed with the Fantom of his Love. "Oh Thou whose Presence so long sooth'd my Soul, Now burnt with thy Remembrance! Oh so long The Light that fed these Eyes now dark with Tears! Oh Long, Long Home of Love now lost for Ever! We were Together—that was all Enough— We two rejoicing in each other's Eyes, Infinitely rejoicing—all the World Nothing to Us, nor We to all the World— No Road to reach us, nor an Eye to watch— All Day we whisper'd in each other's Ears, All Night we slept in one another's Arms— All seem'd to our Desire, as if the Hand Of unjust Fortune were for once too short. Oh would to God that when I lit the Pyre The Flame had left Thee Living and me Dead, Not Living worse than Dead, depriv'd of Thee! Oh were I but with Thee!—at any Cost Stript of this terrible Self-solitude! Oh but with Thee Annihilation—lost, Or in Eternal Intercourse renew'd!"

Slumber-drunk an Arab in the Desert off his Camel tumbled, Who the lighter of her Burden Ran upon her road rejoicing. When the Arab woke at morning, Rubb'd his Eyes and look'd about him— "Oh my Camel! Oh my Camel!" Quoth he, "Camel of my Soul!— That Lost with Her I lost might be, Or found, She might be found with Me!"

XXV.

When in this Plight The Shah Salámán saw, His Soul was struck with Anguish, and the Vein Of Life within was strangled—what to do He knew not. Then he turn'd him to The Sage— "On Altar of the World, to whom Mankind Directs the Face of Prayer in Weal or Woe, Nothing but Wisdom can untie the Knot; And art not Thou the Wisdom of the World, The Master-Key of all its Difficulties? Absál is perisht; and, because of Her, Salámán dedicates his Life to Sorrow; I cannot bring back Her, nor comfort Him. Lo, I have said! My Sorrow is before Thee; From thy far-reaching Wisdom help Thou Me Fast in the Hand of Sorrow! Help Thou Me, For I am very wretched!" Then The Sage— "Oh Thou that err'st not from the Road of Right, If but Salámán have not broke my Bond, Nor lies beyond the Noose of my Firmán, He quickly shall unload his Heart to me, And I will find a Remedy for all."

XXVI.

Then The Sage counsell'd, and Salámán heard, And drew the Wisdom down into his Heart; And, sitting in the Shadow of the Perfect, His Soul found Quiet under; sweet it seem'd, Sweeping the Chaff and Litter from his own, To be the very Dust of Wisdom's Door, Slave of the Firmán of the Lord of Life, Then The Sage marvell'd at his Towardness, And wrought in Miracle in his behalf. He pour'd the Wine of Wisdom in his Cup, He laid the Dew of Peace upon his lips; And when Old Love return'd to Memory, And broke in Passion from his Lips, The Sage Under whose waxing Will Existence rose Responsive, and, relaxing, waned again, Raising a Fantom Image of Absál Set it awhile before Salámán's Eyes, Till, having sow'd the Seed of Quiet there, It went again down to Annihilation. But ever, for the Sum of his Discourse, The Sage would tell of a Celestial Love; "Zuhrah," he said, "the Lustre of the Stars— 'Fore whom the Beauty of the Brightest wanes; Who were she to reveal her perfect Beauty, The Sun and Moon would craze; Zuhrah," he said, "The Sweetness of the Banquet—none in Song Like Her—her Harp filling the Ear of Heaven, That Dervish-dances at her Harmony." Salámán listen'd, and inclin'd—again Repeated, Inclination ever grew; Until The Sage beholding in his Soul The Spirit quicken, so effectually With Zuhrah wrought, that she reveal'd herself In her pure Beauty to Salámán's Soul, And washing Absál's Image from his Breast, There reign'd instead. Celestial Beauty seen, He left the Earthly; and, once come to know Eternal Love, he let the Mortal go.

XXVII.

The Crown of Empire how supreme a Lot! The Throne of the Sultán how high!—But not For All—None but the Heaven-ward Foot may dare To mount—The Head that touches Heaven to wear!—

When the Belov'd of Royal Augury Was rescued from the Bondage of Absál, Then he arose, and shaking off the Dust Of that lost Travel, girded up his Heart, And look'd with undefiléd Robe to Heaven. Then was His Head worthy to wear the Crown, His Foot to mount the Throne. And then The Shah Summon'd the Chiefs of Cities and of States, Summon'd the Absolute Ones who wore the Ring, And such a Banquet order'd as is not For Sovereign Assemblement the like In the Folding of the Records of the World. No arméd Host, nor Captain of a Host, From all the Quarters of the World, but there; Of whom not one but to Salámán did Obeisance, and lifted up his Neck To yoke it under his Supremacy. Then The Shah crown'd him with the Golden Crown, And set the Golden Throne beneath his Feet. And over all the Heads of the Assembly, And in the Ears of all of them, his Jewels With the Diamond of Wisdom cut and said:—

XXVIII.

"My Son, the Kingdom of The World is not Eternal, nor the Sum of right Desire; Make thou the Faith-preserving Intellect Thy Counsellor; and considering To-day To-morrow's Seed-field, ere That come to bear, Sow with the Harvest of Eternity. All Work with Wisdom hath to do—by that Stampt current only; what Thyself to do Art wise, that _Do_; what not, consult the Wise, Turn not thy Face away from the old Ways, That were the Canon of the Kings of Old; Nor cloud with Tyranny the Glass of Justice; But rather strive that all Confusion Change by thy Justice to its opposite. In whatsoever Thou shalt Take or Give Look to the _How_; Giving and Taking still, Not by the backward Counsel of the Godless, But by the Law of Faith increase and Give. Drain not thy People's purse—the Tyranny Which Thee enriches at thy Subjects' cost, Awhile shall make Thee strong; but in the End Shall bow thy Neck beneath a Double Burden. The Tyrant goes to Hell—follow not Him—

"Become not Thou the Fuel of its Fires. Thou art a Shepherd, and thy Flock the People, To save and not destroy; nor at their Loss To lift Thyself above the Shepherd's calling. For which is for the other, Flock or Shepherd? And join with Thee true Men to keep the Flock. Dogs, if you will—but Trusty—head in leash, Whose Teeth are for the Wolf, not for the Lamb, And least of all the Wolf's Accomplices, Their Jaws blood-dripping from the Tyrant's Shambles. For Shahs must have Vizírs—but be they Wise And Trusty—knowing well the Realm's Estate— (For who eats Profit of a Fool? and least A wise King girdled by a Foolish Council)— Knowing how far to Shah and Subject bound On either Hand—not by Extortion, Nor Usury wrung from the People's purse, Their Master's and their own Estates (to whom Enough is apt enough to make them Rebel) Feeding to such a Surplus as feeds Hell. Proper in Soul and Body be They—pitiful To Poverty—hospitable to the Saint— Their sweet Access a Salve to wounded Hearts, Their Vengeance terrible to the Evil Doer, Thy Heralds through the Country bringing Thee Report of Good or Ill—which to confirm By thy peculiar Eye—and least of all Suffering Accuser also to be Judge— By surest Steps builds up Prosperity."

XXIX.

EPILOGUE.

Under the Outward Form of any Story An Inner Meaning lies—This Story now Completed, do Thou of its Mystery (Whereto the Wise hath found himself a way) Have thy Desire—No Tale of _I_ and Thou, Though _I_ and Thou be its Interpreters. What signifies The Shah? and what the Sage? And what Salámán not of Woman born? And what Absál who drew him to Desire? And what the Kingdom that awaited him When he had drawn his Garment from her Hand? What means that Fiery Pile? and what The Sea? And what that Heavenly Zuhrah who at last Clear'd Absál from the Mirror of his Soul? Learn part by part the Mystery from me; All Ear from Head to Foot and Understanding be.

XXX.

The Incomparable Creator, when this World He did create, created First of All The First Intelligence—First of a Chain Of Ten Intelligences, of which the Last Sole Agent is in this our Universe, Active Intelligence so call'd; The One Distributor of Evil and of Good, Of Joy and Sorrow, Himself apart from Matter, In Essence and in Energy—his Treasure Subject to no such Talisman—He yet Hath fashion'd all that is—Material Form, And Spiritual, sprung from Him—by Him Directed all, and in his Bounty drown'd. Therefore is He that Firmán-issuing Shah To whom the World was subject. But because What He distributes to the Universe Himself from still a Higher Power receives, The Wise, and all who comprehend aright, Will recognise that Higher in The Sage. His the Prime Spirit that, spontaneously Projected by the Tenth Intelligence, Was from no Womb of Matter reproduced A Special Essence called The Soul—a Child Fresh sprung from Heaven in Raiment undefiled Of Sensual Taint, and therefore call'd Salámán. And who Absál?—The Lust-adoring Body, Slave to the Blood and Sense—through whom The Soul, Although the Body's very Life it be, Does yet imbibe the Knowledge and Desire Of Things of Sense; and these united thus By such a Tie God only can unloose, Body and Soul are Lovers Each of other.

What is The Sea on which they sail'd?—The Sea Of Animal Desire—the Sensual Abyss, Under whose Waters lie a World of Being Swept far from God in that Submersion.

And wherefore was it Absál in that Isle Deceived in her Delight, and that Salámán Fell short of his Desire?—That was to show How Passion tires, and how with Time begins The Folding of the Carpet of Desire. And what the turning of Salámán's Heart Back to the Shah, and looking to the Throne Of Pomp and Glory? What but the Return Of the Lost Soul to its true Parentage, And back from Carnal Error looking up Repentant to its Intellectual Throne. What is The Fire?—Ascetic Discipline, That burns away the Animal Alloy, Till all the Dross of Matter be consumed, And the Essential Soul, its Raiment clean Of Mortal Taint, be left. But forasmuch As any Life-long Habit so consumed, May well recur a Pang for what is lost, Therefore The Sage set in Salámán's Eyes A Soothing Fantom of the Past, but still Told of a Better Venus, till his Soul She fill'd, and blotted out his Mortal Love. For what is Zuhrah?—That Divine Perfection, Wherewith the Soul inspir'd and all array'd In Intellectual Light is Royal blest, And mounts The Throne and wears The Crown, and Reigns Lord of the Empire of Humanity.

This is the Meaning of This Mystery Which to know wholly ponder in thy Heart, Till all its ancient Secret be enlarged. Enough—The written Summary I close, And set my Seal:

THE TRUTH GOD ONLY KNOWS.

PERSIAN POETRY

AN ESSAY BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON