Saadi

Trees in groves,Kine in droves,In ocean sport the scaly herds,Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks,Browse the mountain sheep in flocks,Men consort in camp and town,But the poet dwells alone.

God, who gave to him the lyre,Of all mortals the desire,For all breathing men's behoof,Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;'Annexed a warning, poets say,To the bright premium,--Ever, when twain together play,Shall the harp be dumb.

Many may come,But one shall sing;Two touch the string,The harp is dumb.Though there come a million,Wise Saadi dwells alone.

Yet Saadi loved the race of men,--No churl, immured in cave or den;In bower and hallHe wants them all,Nor can dispenseWith Persia for his audience;They must give ear,Grow red with joy and white with fear;But he has no companion;Come ten, or come a million,Good Saadi dwells alone.

Be thou ware where Saadi dwells;Wisdom of the gods is he,--Entertain it reverently.Gladly round that golden lampSylvan deities encamp,And simple maids and noble youthAre welcome to the man of truth.Most welcome they who need him most,They feed the spring which they exhaust;For greater needDraws better deed:But, critic, spare thy vanity,Nor show thy pompous parts,To vex with odious subtletyThe cheerer of men's hearts.

Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly sayEndless dirges to decay,Never in the blaze of lightLose the shudder of midnight;Pale at overflowing noonHear wolves barking at the moon;In the bower of dalliance sweetHear the far Avenger's feet:And shake before those awful Powers,Who in their pride forgive not ours.Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach:'Bard, when thee would Allah teach,And lift thee to his holy mount,He sends thee from his bitter fountWormwood,--saying, "Go thy ways;Drink not the Malaga of praise,But do the deed thy fellows hate,And compromise thy peaceful state;Smite the white breasts which thee fed.Stuff sharp thorns beneath the headOf them thou shouldst have comforted;For out of woe and out of crimeDraws the heart a lore sublime."'And yet it seemeth not to meThat the high gods love tragedy;For Saadi sat in the sun,And thanks was his contrition;For haircloth and for bloody whips,Had active hands and smiling lips;And yet his runes he rightly read,And to his folk his message sped.Sunshine in his heart transferredLighted each transparent word,And well could honoring Persia learnWhat Saadi wished to say;For Saadi's nightly stars did burnBrighter than Jami's day.

Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot:'O gentle Saadi, listen not,Tempted by thy praise of wit,Or by thirst and appetiteFor the talents not thine own,To sons of contradiction.Never, son of eastern morning,Follow falsehood, follow scorning.Denounce who will, who will deny,And pile the hills to scale the sky;Let theist, atheist, pantheist,Define and wrangle how they list,Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,--But thou, joy-giver and enjoyer,Unknowing war, unknowing crime,Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme;Heed not what the brawlers say,Heed thou only Saadi's lay.

'Let the great world bustle onWith war and trade, with camp and town;A thousand men shall dig and eat;At forge and furnace thousands sweat;And thousands sail the purple sea,And give or take the stroke of war,Or crowd the market and bazaar;Oft shall war end, and peace return,And cities rise where cities burn,Ere one man my hill shall climb,Who can turn the golden rhyme.Let them manage how they may,Heed thou only Saadi's lay.Seek the living among the dead,--Man in man is imprisonèd;Barefooted Dervish is not poor,If fate unlock his bosom's door,So that what his eye hath seenHis tongue can paint as bright, as keen;And what his tender heart hath feltWith equal fire thy heart shalt melt.For, whom the Muses smile upon,And touch with soft persuasion,His words like a storm-wind can bringTerror and beauty on their wing;In his every syllableLurketh Nature veritable;And though he speak in midnight dark,--In heaven no star, on earth no spark,--Yet before the listener's eyeSwims the world in ecstasy,The forest waves, the morning breaks,The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes,Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be,And life pulsates in rock or tree.Saadi, so far thy words shall reach:Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech!'

And thus to Saadi said the Muse:'Eat thou the bread which men refuse;Flee from the goods which from thee flee;Seek nothing,--Fortune seeketh thee.Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keepThe midway of the eternal deep.Wish not to fill the isles with eyesTo fetch thee birds of paradise:On thine orchard's edge belongAll the brags of plume and song;Wise Ali's sunbright sayings passFor proverbs in the market-place:Through mountains bored by regal art,Toil whistles as he drives his cart.Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind,A poet or a friend to find:Behold, he watches at the door!Behold his shadow on the floor!Open innumerable doorsThe heaven where unveiled Allah poursThe flood of truth, the flood of good,The Seraph's and the Cherub's food.Those doors are men: the Pariah hindAdmits thee to the perfect Mind.Seek not beyond thy cottage wallRedeemers that can yield thee all:While thou sittest at thy doorOn the desert's yellow floor,Listening to the gray-haired crones,Foolish gossips, ancient drones,Saadi, see! they rise in statureTo the height of mighty Nature,And the secret stands revealedFraudulent Time in vain concealed,--That blessed gods in servile masksPlied for thee thy household tasks.'