Classic Poem

XXXI

But ere the messengers with garments rent
Fled back to Ghaznin at the trumpet's blare,
Firdausi to the warlike Khalif sent
His little servant with the flowing hair,
Who scarcely knowing what he said, by rote
Repeated, " Master, have no thought or care
Of old Firdausi; he can dive and float
A fish in water and a bird in air.

XXXII

" The quail upon the mountain needs no host
To guard her covert in the waving grass;
And though Mahmoud and all his ships be tost
On lake or sea, the little trout will pass,
Stain not thy sword for such a guest as I,
For God, before whose sight man's heart is glass,
Will see the stain that on my soul will lie
If life-blood gush from helmet or cuirass.

XXXIII

" I go my way into the lion's mouth,
And as I journey, God will hold my hand;
Whether I wander north or wander south,
There is no rest for me in any land;
The serpent's fang will find me though I fly
To Frankistan, or Ind, or Samarkand;
I will go home again, for tired am I,
And all too old to wrestle and withstand.

XXXIV

" So send the Persian envoys back in peace,
For, whilst these words are spoken, I am gone;
Though thou shouldst scour the lands and drain the seas,
Thou shalt not find me, since I wend alone;
For all the days that I have loved thee well
My heart is myrrh, that kindles at thy throne,
And I am sadder than my tongue can tell,
That I must leave thee with the end unknown. "

XXXV

So with a single camel, clad to sight
Like some poor merchant of the common sort,
Firdausi left the town at morning light,
And passed the gate, and passed the sullen fort,
Unnoted; and his face was to the east,
Towards Hasan and the hateful Persian court,
As if contempt of life were in his breast,
And loathing of his days, so sad and short.

XXXVI

But sure some angel had forewarned him well,
And murmured in his ear the name of " home " ,
For through this perilous journey there befell
No evil wheresoever he might come;
And Mahmoud guessed not that the foe he sought
Had turned upon his track and ceased to roam,
But sent out scouts, and bade his head be brought
From Bahrein by the vexed Arabian foam.

XXXVII

At last one night, as lone Firdausi rode,
The dawn broke gray across the starry sky,
And far ahead behind the mountains flowed
A sudden gush of molten gold on high;
The glory spread from snowy horn to horn,
Tinged by the rushing dawn with sanguine dye,
And Tous, the little town where he was born,
Flashed at his feet, with white roofs clustered nigh.

XXXVIII

His aged sister fell upon his neck;
His girl, his only child, with happy tears,
Clung to his knees, and sobbing, with no check
Poured out the story of her hopes and fears.
Gravely his servants gave him welcome meet,
And when his coming reached the town-folk's ears
They ran to cluster round him in the street,
And gave him honour for his wealth of years.

XXXIX

And there in peace he waited for the end;
But in all distant lands where Mahmoud sent,
Each Prince and Sultan was Firdausi's friend,
And murmured, like a high-stringed instrument
Swept by harsh fingers, at a quest so rude,
And chid the zeal, austere and violent,
That drove so sweet a voice to solitude,
And bade the Shah consider and relent.

XL

And once from Delhi, that o'erhangs the tide
Of reedy Ganges like a gorgeous cloud,
The Hindu king, with Persia close allied,
Sent letters larger than the faith he vowed,
Smelling of sandalwood and ambergris,
And cited from Firdausi lines that showed
Friendship should be eternal, and the bliss
Of love a gift to make a master proud.