Classic Poem

L OKMAN the wise, therefore the Good (for wise
Is but sage good, seeing with final eyes),
Was slave once to a lord, jealous though kind,
Who, piqued sometimes at the man's master mind,
Gave him one day, to see how he would treat
So strange a grace, a bitter gourd to eat.

With simplest reverence, and no surprise,
The sage received what stretched the donor's eyes;
And, piece by piece, as though it had been food
To feast and gloat on, every morsel chewed;
And so stood eating, with his patient beard,
Till all the nauseous favour disappeared.

Vexed, and confounded, and disposed to find
Some ground of scorn, on which to ease his mind,
" Lokman!" exclamed his master, — " In God's name,
Where could the veriest slave get soul so tame?
Have all my favours been bestowed amiss?
Or could not brains like thine have saved thee this?"

Calmly stood Lokman still, as duty stands. —
" Have I received," he answered, " at thine hands
Favours so sweet they went to mine heart's root,
And could I not accept one bitter fruit?"

" O Lokman!" said his lord (and as he spoke,
For very love his words in softness broke),
" Take but this favour yet: — be slave no more: —
Be, as thou art, my friend and counsellor:
Oh be; nor let me quit thee, self-abhorred; —
'Tis I that am the slave, and thou the lord."