Classic Poem

PART III

The war was over for the time; and men
Returned to heal its wounds, repair its waste,
And thus grow strong and rich to fight again.
And Weddah, cold in victory's sun, embraced
The uncle whom his glory warmed; and then,
Gathering his spoil of gems and gold in haste,
Rode forth: the clansmen wondered much to find
His famous favourite steed was left behind.

He set out in the night: none knew his goal,
Though some might fix it in their secret thought.
He could no longer stifle or control,
In calm by battle's fever undistraught,
The piteous yearning of his famished soul
Which unappeasably its food besought;
Fretting his life out like an infant's cry,
Let us but see her once before we die!

When he returned not, soon the rumour spread,
That he had vanished now his work was done;
The prophecy had been fulfilled; not dead,
But in the body borne beyond the sun,
He lived eternal life. He heard this said
Himself in Walid's city, where as one
Who sojourns but for traffic's sake he dwelt;
And hearing it, more surely shrouded felt.

Courteous and humble as beseemeth trade,
While ever on the watch, some gems he sold:
Men said, this young man is discreet and staid,
Yet fair in dealing, nor too fond of gold.
He smiled to hear his virtues thus arrayed,
A smile that gloomed to frowning; but controlled
The haughty spirit surging in his breast;
The end in view, what mattered all the rest?

The end in reach: for now the favourite slave
Of Om-el-Bonain, as he knew full well;
A frank-eyed girl, whose bosom was a wave
Whereon love's lotus lightly rose and fell;
Drew near to him, attracted by his grave
Unsceptred majesty, and by the spell
Of his intense and fathomless regard,
Splendid in gloom as midnight myriad-starred.

She haggled for a trinket with her tongue
To veil the eager commerce of her eyes;
Those daring smugglers when the heart is young,
For contraband of passion. His disguise
In talk with her but loosely round him hung;
She glimpsed a secret and an enterprise;
Love's flower, unsunned by hope, soon fades; she grieves,
Yet still returns to scent the rich dead leaves.

Till sick at heart and desperate with delay
He ventured all, abruptly flinging down
The weary mask: if death must end the play,
Better at once: I learn that in your town
Dwells Om-el-Bonain, whom you know men say,
Upon her eye-flash dropped a decent frown:
She is my mistress, and great Walid's wife —
The word his heart sought, stabbed in with a knife.

Your mistress is my cousin; and will be
The friend of who shall tell her I am here.
But if I may not trust your secrecy,
Tell Walid, tell not her: and have no fear
That I will harm you for harm done to me,
Unaimed at her. The life I hold not dear
Might dower you well. But with a passionate oath
The eager girl swore loyalty to both.

Then hurried from him to her lady sweet,
And thrilled her frozen heart with burning pang:
For life resigned and torpid in defeat
To new contention with its fate upsprang,
This sword of hope found lying at her feet
While love's impetuous clarion summons rang:
Weddah alive! alive and here! Beware!
If you now mock, Hell mock your dying prayer!

I saw a merchant: never chief or king
Of form so noble visited our land;
He wore a little ring, a lady's ring,
On the last finger of a feared right hand;
Some woe enormous overshadowing
Made beauty terrible that had been bland;
He was convulsed when he would speak your name,
From such abysses of his heart it came.

Now whether this be Weddah's self or not,
My Lady in her wisdom must decide.
The lady's questions ploughed the self-same spot
Over and over lest some grains should hide
Of this vast treasure fallen to her lot:
Swear by the Prophet's tomb I may confide
In you as in myself until the end;
And Om-el-Bonain lives and dies your friend.

Brave Amine swore, and bravely held the vow.
Her mistress kept her babbling all that eve,
A pleasant rill. And on the morrow: Now
Go bid him tell all friends that he must leave
In seven days; so much we must allow,
So many starving hours of bliss bereave!
His travels urge him in his own despite;
He gives a farewell feast on such a night:

And in the meanwhile he shall fully learn
What is to follow. When this message came,
The thick dark in him 'gan to seethe and burn
Till soul and body fused in one clear flame.
His guests all blinked with wonder to discern
This glowing heart of joy; and flushed with shame
Unmerited for having thought him cold,
Who made their old feel young, their young feel old.

The long week passed; the morning came to crown
Or kill the lovers' hope. It was a day
Well chosen, for some guests of high renown
Left Walid, who would speed them on their way;
And festal tumult filled the sunny town.
The merchant in departure strolled astray
Amongst the groups about the palace heaving
To glimpse the rich procession form for leaving.

And when it left, absorbing every eye;
A stream of splendours rolling with the din
Of horn and tabor under that blue sky;
Came Amine carelessly and led him in,
With chat of certain anklets she would buy;
And led him lounging onwards till they win
A storeroom where her mistress daily spent
Some matin hours on household cares intent.

Large chests were ranged around it, one of which
They had made ready with most loving care;
Lurked apertures among the carvings rich,
Above its deep soft couch, for light and air:
Behold your prison cell, your palace niche,
The jewel casket of my Lady fair!
I lock you in; from her must come your key:
Love's captives pay sweet ransom to get free!

She found her mistress fever-flushed, and told.
Their full success: Our prisoner is secure;
A lion meek as lambkin of the fold,
Prepared your harshest torments to endure!
But, dearest Lady, as you have been bold,
Be prudent, prudent, prudent, and assure
Long life to bliss. Now with your leave I go
To be well seen of all the house below.

She took another stairway for descent,
And sauntered round to the front courtyard gate,
Chatting and laughing lightly as she went
With various groups, all busy in debate
On those departed guests: and some were shent
For meanness maugre retinue and state,
And some extolled for bounteous disposition,
And all summed up with judgement-day precision.

Of all her fellow-slaves it seemed but one,
Whose breast was tinder for love's flame would she
Vouchsafe a spark, had spied the venture run:
Soho, my flirting madam, where is he
You brought in here an hour since with your fun?
A happy rogue, whoever he may be!
Have you already tired of this new dandy,
Or hid him somewhere to be always handy?

The stupid jealous creature that you are!
Where were your eyes, then, not to know his face?
For weeks back he has dealt in our bazaar,
And now is on the road to some new place.
He had an emerald and diamond star
I thought might win my poor dear Lady's grace;
She would not even look at it, alack!
I packed him off for ever with his pack.

Thus these long-hapless lovers for awhile,
Enringed with dreadful fire, safe ambush found,
Screened by its very glare; a magic isle
By roaring billows guarded well till drowned;
A refuge spot of green and liquid smile
Whose rampart was the simoom gathering round:
If darkness hid them, it was thunder gloom
Whose light must come in lightnings to consume.

And even as Iskander's self, for whom
The whole broad earth sufficed not, found at last
Full scope vouchsafed him in the narrow tomb;
So he long pining in the desert vast
As in a dungeon, found now ample room,
Found perfect freedom and content, shut fast
Alive within that coffer-coffin lonely,
Which gave him issue to that chamber only.

They knew what peril compassed them about,
But could not feel the dread it would inspire;
Imperious love shut other passions out,
Or made them fuel for his altar fire.
At first one sole thought harassed them with doubt;
To kill her lord and flee? Then tribe and sire
Would justly curse them; for in every act
He had been loyal to the evil pact.

He had indeed wronged them; for well he knew
Their love from infancy, their plighted troth,
When merciless in mastery he drew
From her repugnant lips the fatal oath:
That love avenged the wrong of love was due;
But still his blood was sacred to them both;
The tender husband and the proved ally
They dare not harm; must death come, they could die.

Die! Often he would dream for hours supine
Upon his lidded couch, Life's dream is over;
I wait the resurrection in this shrine:
Anon an angel cometh to uncover
The inmost glories of the realm divine,
Because though dead I still am faithful lover;
My spirit drinks its fill of bliss, and then
Sinks back into this twilight trance again.

Like bird above its young one in the nest
Which cannot fly, he often heard her singing;
The thrill and swell of rapture from her breast
In fountains of delightful music springing:
It seemed he had been borne among the blest,
Whose quires around his darksome couch were ringing;
Long after that celestial voice sank mute
His heartstrings kept sweet tremble like a lute.

She heard his breathing like a muffled chime,
She heard his tranquil heart-beats through the flow
Of busy menials in the morning time;
Far-couched at night she felt a sudden glow,
And straight her breathing answered rhyme for rhyme
His softest furtive footsteps to and fro:
And none else heard? She marvelled how the sense
Of living souls could be so dull and dense.

Once early, early, ere the dawn grew loud,
She stole to watch his slumber by its gleam;
And blushing with a soft laugh-gurgle bowed
And sank as in the bosom of a stream,
An ardent angel in a rosy cloud
Resolving the enchantment of his dream:
Where there is room for thee, is room for us;
So may I share thy death-sarcophagus!

She grew so lovely, ravishing, and sweet,
Her brow so radiant and her lips so warm;
Such rich heart-music stirred her buoyant feet,
And swayed the gestures of her lithe young form,
And revelled in her voice to bliss complete;
That Walid whirled with his great passion's storm,
Befooled with joy, went doting down his hell:
Oh, tame and meek, my skittish wild gazelle!

Thus these, sings Hassan, of their love's full measure
Drank swiftly in that circle of swift fire;
A veil of light and ardour to their pleasure
Till it revealed their ashes on one pyre:
Some never win, some spend in youth this treasure,
And crawl down sad age starvelings of desire:
These lavished royal wealth in one brief season,
But Death found both so rich he gave them reason.