Part 5

Unto your Fathers, Allah did make known This which they handed down and made your own,— That all who pray My Face may clearly see, I sit exalted high on Heaven's great Throne. As I in Heaven, so you I place on Earth, That I in my Vicegerents, may be shown. Serve Me then, that the World may serve you too Made to do good—this is your End alone. The World was fitly made to help you well: No Traitors be; let all my Justice own. And glorify the Maker of the World, Until the Rose of Peace hath round you blown.

The Lion of God

XXX.

Fairest Flower beneath the Skies: Ali Abutaleb's Son! Fairest Flower in Paradise: Ali Abutaleb's Son! God's brave Lion, lamb-like, gentle, Clearest Mirror, ever bright: Pure in Faith, without Disguise: Ali Abutaleb's Son! Next the Prophet is thy Place, All his Splendour flashing round: Thy bright Light too floods our Eyes: Ali Abutaleb's Son! By Renouncing, daring Soul, And by braving Danger too: Thou hast won the Hero's Prize: Ali Abutaleb's Son! Straight thy Strength of Soul and Limb Bore thee to the thickest Fight: Death thy giant Thews despise: Ali Abutaleb's Son! All the Paths we tread to-day, Thou hast traced them, Son of Light! Let on us thy Beams arise: Ali Abutaleb's Son! Leader, Guide, and Champion true, Ever foremost in the Van: Where thou leadest, Honour lies: Ali Abutaleb's Son! Maulānā, in Hymn of Praise Thee I laud, Jeláleddín! Even as thou praisest wise, Ali Abutaleb's Son!

Self-Realisation

XXXI.

When I knew myself a Thorn, soft Rose-buds' Swell I sought for then; When I saw myself all bitter, sweet Honey's Cell I sought for then. When I saw myself all Poison, I quaffed Life's Stream as Antidote; When I saw myself Lees turbid, Wine's clear Foam Bell I sought for then. When I saw myself all sour Fruit, I caught the ripening Sunbeams' Glow; When I saw myself droop feebly, the breezy Fell I sought for then. When I saw myself all blinded, the healing Power of Jesus' Hand; When I knew it could the Darkness from my Eyes dispel I sought for then.[27] Love's Touch became my Eyesalve, and all my Soul's dull Blindness fled; And, my Heart of Thirst a-dying, His sweet, pure Well I sought for then. I am Fire that never burneth; and thou, the Wind that makes it burn; O thou Wind, with my Fire playing, aye in me dwell: I sought for then.

[27] Rückert avoids the name of Jesus; not so Von Hammer.

Thy Hand!

XXXII.

Lord, that I thee may find, O stretch to me thy Hand! Close-clasped for ever, kind, O stretch to me thy hand! O'er Earth it gathers dark, and ever deeper here Where dim cross Footpaths wind, O stretch to me thy Hand! The Malice of the World and deadly Hate I know; Where the Danger grows defined, O stretch to me thy Hand! The Pilgrim's Journey still is threatened by the Foe; But to thwart the Ill designed, O stretch to me thy Hand! O come, and let it press upon this burning Heart; Though Tears my glad Eyes blind, O stretch to me thy Hand! Fair Moon, up to thy Palace all shining, I would climb; But lest I halt behind, O stretch to me thy hand!

The Priests

XXXIII.

Love called to Men from Heaven's bright Gate, 'Who look to God now, soon and late?' ''Tis we who look aloft to God,' To Love replied the Priests elate. Love cried 'How can ye look on high, Who thus your Forms and Words inflate? Ye cannot see where pure Light dwells, So full your Eyes of Greed and Hate. Your dark Deeds dim the Noontide's Ray; Ye shame the Sun while thus ye prate. The Grace that sits enthroned on high, Can ne'er its Claim of Faith abate. Nor can the Just One justly give The Hearing which ye supplicate. O ere ye look to Heaven again, Put off all earthly Pride and State. Your Hearts let Love, not Hatred, rule; Then look to God, and on Him wait!'

The Pilgrims

XXXIV.

The Pilgrims hail the Kaaba's sacred Ground, When they at last the holy Fane have found. They see a House of Stone, sublime, revered, All girt by steep and barren Cliffs around. They march'd in Hope expecting God to see; For this they toiled, and still their Prayers abound. But when all fervent they the Threshold tread, They hear a voice from out the Temple sound: 'Why pray ye thus, O Fools, to Clay and Stone? Revere the House for which the Pure are bound. The Heart's own House, Shrine of the True, the One: O blest are they whose Striving there is crown'd! Blest those who tread no Desert's weary Way, But rest at Home in peace, like SHEMS renown'd.'[28]

[28] Rosen, whom I have followed in the last two lines, calls this 'an incomparable Gazel.' Shems-ud-Din (The Sun of Religion) was Jeláleddín's celebrated Teacher and revered Master, whose name he introduced into his Gazels instead of his own, whence his Divan became entitled the 'Divan of Shems of Tabriz.' Rückert, however, substitutes Jeláleddín's own name, in accordance with Western usage and fact.

Many Faiths, One Lord

XXXV.

Our House has many Doors indeed, But all to One Lord inward lead. And all who reach this Lord must pray, With Forehead on the Ground, and plead. And many in the House born blind, The Lord's commands yet hear and heed. The Lame there too can Service give, They all perform House Tasks at need. Yea, even the Wind with panting Breath, Comes in, the Hearth's low Fire to feed. Each one must do his Part as bid, No one can choose his Share or Deed. Yet many deem them free, nor know The Bond that binds them firm decreed. But if thou humbly bear thy Bond, It holds a Crown of Flowers in Seed. Plight Troth, and Grace will answer Sure, For Love's Vow seals the highest Creed. Servant! To Fellow-servants shew The lowly Mien no Hate will breed. Forbearing be! Thy Over-Lord No Pleasure hath in Pride or Greed. Can one e'er claim to enter bold Who Entrance never would concede? Who dares to haggle with the Master, He drives them from His Doors with Speed.

Love Absolute

XXXVI.

Love lies not in Book, or Letter, or well reason'd Tome—O no! Love lives not in Cell of Penance, nor in gloomy Home—O no! From the Green of Spring eternal shoots up the Tree of Life; Yet Milkyway and Pleiad reach not Love's Dome—O no! Reason dismounts before her, Desire her Charioteer; So long the Way no slower to Love's Realm would come—O no! While thou art still a Lover, the Longing in thee moves; But when thou art the Loved One, thou need'st not roam—O no! Wrecked Landsmen shriek in Terror, though saving spars float round; The Pilot steeped in rapture, recks not Death's Foam—O no! JELÁLEDDÍN, thy soul in Ocean melts in joy: Thyself all Consecration, no Novice far from Home—O no!

Renunciation

XXXVII.

Since he to me his loving Heart has shown, I give my Life to him, as All his own. The Body's House becomes his Temple now, Until the Soul herself to Heav'n hath flown. The Earthly Life is Offering far too small; Then let the Eternal, silent All atone. JELÁLEDDÍN in self-negation found The Rose of Life divinely fair, full blown.

All Fulness

XXXVIII.

Ever shall I more desire Than Time's bounded Needs require. Ever as more Flowers I pluck, Blossoms new gay Spring attire. And when through the Heavens I sweep, Rolling Spheres will flash new Fire. Perfect Beauty only can True Eternal Love inspire.

Friendship

XXXIX.

The Rose is aye Love's dearest, sweetest Sign; To my Friend's Heart, I give this Rose of mine. Clear Thought dies out in Love's absorbed Delight, As Weeds grow pale before the Rose and pine. The Rose hides in her Heart the piercing Thorn, For deepest hidden Pains with Love entwine. The Rose is Beauty perfected in One, Her Charms all glowing, Heaven and Earth outshine. The full blown Rose in Splendour dims the Sun; Each quivering Leaflet shows a Moon's design. The Sun's sphered Light is moulded in her Form, While bright-eyed Stars keep watch around her Shrine. O Sun, the Rose that made the Moon to grow, To my Heart's Friend give Love and Joy divine!

The Friend Supreme

XL.

O what a Friend is mine! O what a burning Flame! My Heart was parched and dead, Till His Breath o'er me came. When I before Him fled, By Love's Keen Pang distressed; He cried, Why dost thou flee? Thou art thyself to blame. At Night I asked the Moon, Where hid my Moon still stayed? She said, My Cheek grew pale, In Fear when told His Name. The Sun, when risen, I asked, And why art thou so dim? He said, My Eyelids dull In Tears have veil'd their Shame. And to the Sea I said, Why canst thou not be still? She answer'd, Deep Unrest Will leave me ne'er the Same. I cried to Fire, Flame Queen: Why flickerest thou So? On me, she cried, He looked, And quench'd all Earthly Aim. I shouted then, O Wind: Why hurriest to and fro? She gasped, His Breath consumes me, Whene'er my Pace I tame! But what in me, too, meaneth This elemental Strife? The Cup in my Hand shaketh, And Fever thrills my Frame. In Revel's Glow enraptured, His Love I know my own: Then, come, pour foaming Wine out, Till o'er All flows His Name.

Immortality

XLI.

I am the Bird of Paradise; And still my Nest is in the Skies. I am the Spirit Falcon, flown From Heav'n's Tent, where it open lies. But in my eager Chase of Prey, I fell to where new Sense Worlds rise. I am the Hero of Mount Kaf,[29] Who braves the Death the Weakling flies. I look on high, until he call Me home from this far Enterprise. I look up steadfast, searching keen, Until my Gaze the Throne descries. There all secure my Nest bides near The Tree of Life, where Nothing dies.

[29] Simurg. Also the name of the Phoenix (Von Hammer), but according to Steingass, the Griffin.

The First and Last

XLII.

Thou art of all Man's Joys the Spring; Life's honey'd Sweetness thou dost bring. My gather'd Pearls, from Bosom full, Before thy Feet my glad Hands fling. The Souls love-moved, are circling on, Like Streams to their great Ocean King. Thou art the Sun of all Men's Thoughts; Thy Kisses are the Flowers of Spring. The Dawn is pale from yearning Love; The Moon in Tears is sorrowing. Thou art the Rose; and deep for thee, In Sighs, the Nightingales still sing. O can my Love me so despise, That he my Heart with Pain can wring? O Wine of Life, all fragrant, pour, And soothe the Pain of Death's last Sting!

Mystic Love Dance

XLIII.

On with the Dance! We fly upon the Wings of Love; We glow in all the Joys and scorn the Stings of Love. I heard Love joyous calling from out the Realm of Death; Lo! God hath drown'd dark Death now in living Springs of Love. The Power of Life that loosen'd my Band when I was born, That Hour my Mother gave me the Leading Strings of Love. I asked Love's Self, fond nursing: How shall I Love escape? She said: There is no Outlet from encircling Rings of Love. Love's magic Mirror radiates a Thousand Worlds most fair; And wondering Eyes look dazzled on all it brings of Love. Thy Body's gold surrender to Love's refining Flames, The Gold is Dross till boiling, all pure, it sings of Love. I tell thee why the Ocean aye tosses glittering Spray: It dances and it glances with Gems, Playthings of Love. I tell thee how was Mankind a-formed from Earthy Dust: God in the Dust inbreathèd sweet Whisperings of Love. I tell thee why the Heavens for ever circle round: God's Throne set in the Centre, draws All on Wings of Love. I tell thee why the Zephyr at Morn so softly blows: To flutter every Leaflet with the Kiss it flings of Love. I tell thee why Night hideth in Veil so dark her Face: She makes the World a bridal Tent, and darkling sings of Love. I can divine all Riddles Creation puts to me, For to her Riddles Ever, Man the Answer brings of Love.

Dream Fear

XLIV.

O Love, the Realm of Dreams Is thine; they come, unsought: With fiery Weapons, throng'd, As if whole Armies fought. The Standard of thy Rule, Hot Hearts bear in the Van; It flames till Worlds, o'ercome, Beneath thy Sway are brought. Thou, ever and again, Sendst out a Phantom Form; Till cower weak, trembling Souls, Like Children terror-wrought. But when a Soul resigns, Thou, Victor, marchest in: A Conqueror—lovelier far Than ever Soul had thought.

The Cry of Love

XLV.

My Soul sends up to Heaven each Night the Cry of Love! Hu! Hu![30] God's starry Beauty draws with Might the Cry of Love! Hu! Ya! Bright Sun and Moon each Morn dance in my Heart at Dawn; And waking me in Daylight, excite the Cry of Love! On every Meadow glancing, I see God's Sunbeams play; And all Creation's Wonders incite the Cry of Love! The Turtledove embowered, awakened by my Call, Returns to me in coo'd Delight, the Cry of Love! Gu! Gu! The Crag on whose bare Forehead thy Light in Glory falls, Resounds in Echoes clear, aright the Cry of Love! Men! Hu! For all the Flowers sweet blowing in timid Silence there, For deaf Worms, too, I offer God's Rite, the Cry of Love! The Ocean's speechless Billows sound ever loud thy Praise; And all in rolling Anthems recite the Cry of Love! To thee for every Rosebud and every Dewdrop fair, And every Gem, deep hidden, I plight the Cry of Love! Hu! Ya! I, All in All becoming, now clear see God in All; And up for Union yearning, takes Flight the Cry of Love! Hu! Hu!

[30] Rückert does not give these Exclamations, but Von Hammer does. Hu!=HE!

Night Thought

XLVI.

Sleep not, O Thought, my Guest—the livelong Night! I bring thee Friendship's best—the livelong Night! Thou, like an Angel's Breath, from Heaven hast come, To heal me while I rest—the livelong Night! Banish dull Slumber, let Heaven's Mystery sing, From out his secret Nest—the livelong Night! Shine clear, ye circling Stars, that in your Rays, The Soul its Vision test—the livelong Night! Ye Diamonds, sparkling in your dark Retreats, Rival the starry West—the livelong Night! Soar up, O Eagle, Sunwards—higher, higher! Be still thy Flight up pressed—the livelong Night! Thank God, the World now sleeps; alone are God And I, all God-possess'd—the livelong Night! The Night is calm and deep, and Heaven's own Lyre, Sounds soft, as Star-caress'd—the livelong Night! War's Turmoil whirling through the starry Streets, New spheral Choirs attest—the livelong Night! With Lion, Bull, and Ram, all warlike gleam Orion's Sword and Crest—the livelong Night! Scorpion and Dragon seize the Crown, while weeps The Virgin sore opprest—the livelong Night! My Tongue sinks dumb with rapture, drunk with Love; Now, Thought, brood, silent, blest—the livelong Night!

Up out of Night

XLVII.

O for Wings to Heaven to soar— Up out of Night! A Heart to Struggle to Light's Shore— Up out of Night! Lo! How God's Messengers of Love, In dancing Dawn: In Life and Light new Worlds restore, Up out of Night! See in the West how Daylight there, Slow Sinking down: Looks back, with Love all blushing sore, Up out of Night! And now in East where she again, Doth rise all fair; Blooms Rose Dawn, brightening as of yore, Up out of Night! Time's Memories clear and Life's bright Hopes Together twine: Hands loving stretch to us once more, Up out of Night! The Eternal Stars all sparkling ope Their radiant Eyes; And flash anew deep Wisdom's Lore, Up out of Night! And ere Heavens full-blown Rose shall fade, The endless Day Shall rise in Bliss at thy Heart's Core, Up out of Night! O Nightingale that woos for aye The Heavenly Rose: Now, now thy deepest Love Notes pour, Up out of Night!

All One

XLVIII.

I looked around, and saw in all Heaven's Spaces: One! In Ocean's rippling Waves and billowy Races: One! I looked into the Heart, and saw a Sea, wide Worlds All full of Dreams, and in all Dreaming Faces: One! Thou art the First, the Last, the Outer, Inner, Whole: Thy Light breaks through in all Earth's Hues and Graces: One! Thou seest All from East to furthest Bound of West, And lo! each Leaf and Flower and Tree Crown traces: One! Four wild and restive Steeds draw on the World's vast Car; Thou bridlest them, and rul'st in all their Paces: One! Air, Fire, Earth, Water melt to One in Fear of thee; Nor struggle wild, but show in close Embraces: One! The Hearts of all that live in Earth and Heav'n above, Beat Praise to thee; nor fails in all their Places—One.

O Wake in Me

XLIX.

When all the World has gone to rest, O Wake in Me! When tired Eyes close by Sleep opprest, O Wake in Me! When Eyes in Heaven all sleepless watch with Starry gaze, Make my blind Orbs thy Home as Guest, O Wake in Me! When all my outer Gates of Sense, are shut and bar'd; Lest, lone, my Soul be fear-possest, O Wake in Me! That no grim Power of Darkness through the Gloom around, My deeper Peace and Calm molest, O Wake in Me! From Eden's Garden still soft blown, That fragrant Air The healing Tree of Life attest, O Wake in Me! That once, at least in Dream, Life's Good be here attained, The Heart no more by pain distrest, O Wake in Me! In the moist Midnight dank and drear, where Shadows creep, Lest Passions vile my Heart infest, O Wake in Me! And when Life's Night is gone, and Love's new dawning Smile Woos me for ever to thy Breast, O Wake in Me!

Jeláleddín

L.

Highest Love, where thou art thronèd, here before Thy Throne unseen, O let me pour my Melodies, my sweetest, highest yet, I ween. If well-pleasing they ascending reach Thine ear in tones of power, All their work of soul-subduing comes from Thy own soul serene. Let them hymn and let them praise thee: let them cry and supplicate: Where is he to Earth descended, Star from out thy Glory's Sheen? He his Head with thy soft Roses wreathed, and struck the charmèd String, Till drunk with Love he passed sweet playing to the Light no cloud can screen. He beclad in Garments waving here on broken Pillar leaned, Pouring Songs by which upwafted he hath left this lower Scene. Hath he now flown to Thy Bosom? Tell me, Love, who here below Didst his Soul so sweetly cherish, where still cherished hath he been?— Where the Peoples sink their Banners, where Pride lays her Signs aside, All their Caste Distinctions blending, where eternal Peace is Queen. There among the Saints, the purest, of all Zones, is he now found: Hail! All hail his Memory holy: MAULĀNĀ JELÁL-ED-DÍN!

Notes.

_A._

SIR WILLIAM JONES ON THE MYSTICAL POETRY OF THE PERSIANS.

1. _Epitome of the Mystical System._—The Persian (and Hindu) mystical Poets 'concur in believing that the souls of men differ infinitely in _degree_, but not at all in _kind_, from the divine Spirit, of which they are particles, and in which they will ultimately be absorbed; that the spirit of God pervades the universe, always immediately present to his work, and consequently always in substance; that he alone is perfect benevolence, perfect truth, perfect beauty; that the love of him alone is real and genuine love, while that of all other objects is absurd and illusory; that the beauties of Nature are faint resemblances, like images in a mirror, of the divine charms; that, from eternity without beginning to eternity without end, the supreme benevolence is occupied in bestowing happiness or the means of attaining it; that men can only attain it by performing their part of the _primal covenant_ between them and the Creator; that nothing has a pure absolute existence, but _mind_ or _spirit_; that material substances, as the ignorant call them, are no more than gay _pictures_ presented continually to our minds by the Sempiternal Artist; that we must beware of attachment to such phantoms, and attach ourselves exclusively to God, who truly exists in us, as we exist solely in him; that we retain, even in this forlorn state of separation from our beloved, _the idea of heavenly beauty_, and _the remembrance of our primeval vows_; that sweet music, gentle breezes, fragrant flowers, perpetually renew the primary _idea_, refresh our fading memory, and melt us with tender affections; that we must cherish those affections, and by abstracting our souls from vanity, that is, from all but God, approximate to his essence, in our final union with which will consist our supreme beatitude. From these principles flow a thousand metaphors and poetical figures, which abound in the sacred poems of the Persians and Hindus.'

2. _The poetical Imagery._—'Many zealous admirers of Hafiz insist, that by _Wine_ he invariably means _devotion_; and they have gone so far as to compose a Dictionary of Words in the _Language_, as they call it, of the Súfis. In that vocabulary _sleep_ is explained by _meditation_ on the divine perfections, and _perfume_ by _hope_ of the divine favour; _gales_ are _illapses_ of grace; _kisses_ and _embraces_, the _raptures_ of piety; _idolaters_, _infidels_, and _libertines_ are men of the purest _religion_, and their _idol_ is the Creator Himself; the _tavern_ is a retired Oratory, and its _keeper_ a sage instructor; _beauty_ denotes the _perfection_ of the Supreme Being; _tresses_ are the _expansion_ of his glory; _lips_, the hidden mysteries of his essence; _down_ on the cheek, the world of spirits, who encircle his throne; and a _black mole_, the point of indivisible unity; lastly, _wantonness_, _mirth_, and _ebriety_, mean religious ardour and abstraction from all terrestrial thoughts.'—Sir William Jones' _Works_, vol. iv. pp. 219, 227.

_B_.

HEGEL ON THE CHARACTER OF THE PERSIAN LYRICAL POETRY.

Continuing the exposition quoted on p. xxi., Hegel goes on to say:—