Chapter IV: On the Impudence of Dervishes and the Clemency of Kings

A prince of Damascus, King Salih by name,With his slave about dawn from his residence came.The suburbs and streets and bazaars he went round;Like an Arab in style, half his face was upbound.An observer he was and a friend of the poor ;Whoever is these is a Salih, I'm sure.Two poor men lying down in a mosque met his sight ;Heart-distracted he found them and restless in plight.From the cold of the night sleep had closed not their eyes ;They, chameleon-like, longed for the sun to arise.One unto the other proceeded to say :"A Judge, too, will come on the Last Judgment Day.If all the proud monarchs of lofty degree,Who pleasures and mirth and desires sated see,With the sufferers should unto Paradise go,My head I'd not raise from my brick tomb below.The Paradise high is our dwelling-place meet;For to-day are grief's fetters attached to our feet.What pleasure from them during life did you share,That at last you should also their miseries bear?Were Salih to come to this garden retreat,With my slippers, the brains from his head I would beat !"When he uttered these words, to which Salih gave ear,To remain, did not useful to Salih appear.Off he went for a time, till the fountain sun-riseWashed slumber away from the multitude's eyes.He sent for and summoned both men in hot haste ;Majestic he sat and with honour them placed.A shower of bounty upon them he rained,And washed from their bodies the filth that remained.After suff'ring from cold, rain, high floods, and all that,'Midst renowned cavaliers, they in dignity sat.As beggars, quite naked they shivered all night;With censers they perfumed their clothes at daylight!One privately thus to the monarch did say :"Oh thou, whose commands all the world must obey !Only persons of merit to eminence rise;What appeared in us slaves that seemed good in your eyes?"From gladness the king like a rose raised his head ;He smiled in the face of the beggars and said :"The man I am not, who from pride and display,Would in wrath, from the helpless my face turn away.Put you, too, on my account malice aside !Or you'll wrangle in Heaven when there you abide !The portal of concord I've opened to-day ;Shut it not in my face on the morrow, I pray!"If accepted you are, keep before you the way ;And if honour you wish, be the poor beggar's stay !None bore fruit from the branch of the Tuba away,Who sowed not the seed of true longing, to-day.If you're void of belief, don't for happiness strain!With the club of devotion, the ball you will gain.When will you to lantern-like burning attain?Like a water-filled lamp, only self, you contain.A body imparts a bright light to the rest,Which burns like a candle within its own breast.