Section XVIII

Through many a town and bower had spreadThe maniac's tale—all anxious readIn Bagdad and far-distant plainsThe mournful lover's amorous strains;And every heart, which had been wrungWith withered hopes, in pity hungO'er sorrows which to madness drove—The very martyrdom of love.And all aspired to seek the caveWhich hourly might become his graveTo find th' enduring man; to viewThat prodigy—but seen by few—Of whom the world astonished spoke,As crushed beneath misfortune's yoke;Whose truth and constancy excelledAll that the world had e'er beheld.A gallant youth, who long had knownThe pangs of love, impatient rose,And on his camel, all alone,Sought for the man of many woes;Anxious to be the first to seeThe man pre-eminent in misery;And many a farsang he had rode,Before he reached the lover's wild abode.Majnún beheld him from afar,And sent his vassals to their lair;And welcome gave, and asked his name,And whence the hurrying stranger came.—'I come, my friend, to make thee glad;I come from beautiful Bagdad.In that enchanting place I mightHave lived in transport day and night;But I have heard thy tender lays,Thy sorrows, which the world amaze;And all that now remains for meIs, all life long, to dwell with thee.Thy tuneful strains such joy impart,Each word is treasured in my heart:In love, like thee, I weep and sigh—Let us together live—together die!'Astonished at this strange desire,Laughing, the maniac thus replies:'Sir knight! so soon does pleasure tire?And dost thou worldly pomp despise,And all that luxury can give,With me in wood and cave to live?

'Mistaken youth! what dost thou knowOf broken hearts—of love like mine—That thou shouldst life's sweet joys forego,And every cheering hope resign?I have companions, night and day;But forest-inmates—beasts of prey;Yet do I ask no other—none;I'd rather live with them alone.What hast thou social seen in me,When demons from my presence flee,That thou wouldst brave the noontide heat,The dangers of the midnight air,Unsheltered, naked head and feet,To herd with one not worth thy care,Nor worth a thought? Beneath the scorching sunI thread the wild wood, and, when day is done,Lay myself down upon a beggar's throne—My canopy, the trees—my pillow, a rude stone.Houseless and poor, and oft with hunger pressed,How can I take a stranger for my guest?Whilst thou, surrounded by thy friends at home,Moved by no need, but by a whim to roam,Mayst pass thy hours in cheerfulness and glee,And never think of such a wretch as me!'The gallant youth now placed in viewVarious refreshments he had thither brought—Sweet cakes and fruit—and from his pannier drewHeart-easing wine, his purpose to promote,To win the favour of the moon-struck man;And thus his brief but earnest speech began:'Friend, share my meal in kindness, and allowA smile of joy to clear that furrowed brow!In bread is life; it strengthens every part,And, while it strengthens, cheers the droopingheart.'Majnún rejoined: 'The argument is just;Without refreshment man descends to dust:Nerve, power, and strength from nourishment proceed;But this is not the nourishment I need.''Yet mortals change, whate'er their aim;Nothing on earth remains the same:I know thou canst not be unmoved;For ever thus thou canst not be;Perpetual change the heavens have proved;And night and morn, successively,Attest its truth. That thou hast lovedI know; but thou mayst yet be free:The heavens are clothed in deepest gloom;Black is the threatening day of doom;The clouds fly off, the storm is past,No longer howls the scattering blast;The heavens resume their wonted sheen,And brighter glows the varied scene:So grief devours the heart a while;So frowns are followed by a smile:Like thee was I enchanted, bound,Girt by love's galling fetters round;But to the winds my grief I flung,And to my fate no longer clung.This fire of love, which burns so bright,What is it but a treacherous light?The type of youth;—when that is o'er,The burning mountain flames no more!'But Majnún spurned the traitor-thought, and said:'Speak'st thou to me as one to feeling dead?I am myself the king of love; and nowGlory in my dominion: and wouldst thouPersuade me to abandon all that HeavenHas, 'mid my sufferings, for my solace given,To quit that cherished hope, than life more dear,Which rivets me to earth, and keeps me here?That pure ethereal love, that mystic flower,Nurtured in Heaven, fit for an angel's dower?What! from my heart expel the dream of love?First from the ocean's bed the sands remove!Useless the effort,—useless is thy aim,—Thou canst not quench a never-dying flame.Then cease persuasion. Why to me appearA master, teaching, like some holy seer?He who aspires to open locks, they say,To be successful, first must know the way.'The youth perceived his error, yet remainedIn friendly converse a few fleeting days;And, by the oracle of love enchained,Listened, enraptured, to his varied lays;Companionship delectable! then roseTo bid adieu, since there he might not stay,And, sorrowing, left the man of many woes,Surrounded by his vassal-beasts of prey.