The Parliament of Birds

Sam'an was once the first man of his time.
Whatever praise can be expressed in rhyme
Belonged to him: for fifty years this sheikh
Kept Mecca's holy place, and for his sake
Four hundred pupils entered learning's way.
He mortified his body night and day,
Knew theory, practice, mysteries of great age,
And fifty times had made the Pilgrimage.
He fasted, prayed, observed all sacred laws --
Astonished saints and clerics thronged his doors.
He split religious hairs in argument;
His breath revived the sick and impotent.
He knew the people's hearts in joy and grief
And was their living symbol of Belief.
Though conscious of his credit in their sight,
A strange dream troubled him, night after night;
Mecca was left behind; he lived in Rome,
The temple where he worshipped was his home,
And to an idol he bowed down his head.
'Alas!' he cried, when awoke in dread,
'Like Joseph I am in a well of need
And have no notion when I shall be freed.
But every man meets problems on the Way,
And I shall conquer if I watch and pray.
If I can shift this rock my path is clear;
If not, then I must wait and suffer here.'
Then suddenly he burst out: 'It would seem
That Rome could show the meaning of this dream;
There I must go!' And off the old man strode;
Four hundred followed him along the road.
They left the Ka'abah* for Rome's boundaries,
A gentle landscape of low hills and trees,
Where, infinitely lovelier than the view,
There sat a girl, a Christian girl who knew
The secrets of her faith's theology.
A fairer child no man could hope to see --
In beauty's mansion she was like a sun
That never set -- indeed the spoils she won
Where headed by the sun himself, whose face
Was pale with jealousy and sour disgrace.
The man about whose heart her ringlets curled
Became a Christian and renounced the world;
The man who saw her lips and knew defeat
Embraced the earth before her bonny feet.'
And as the breeze passed through her musky hair
The men of Rome watched wondering in despair.
Her eyes spoke promises to those in love,
Their fine brows arched coquettishly above --
Those brows sent glancing messages that seemed
To offer everything her lovers dreamed.
The pupils of her eyes grew wide and smiled,
And countless souls were glad to be beguiled;
The face beneath her curls glowed like soft fire;
Her honeyed lips provoked the world's desire;
But those who thought to feast there found her eyes
Held pointed daggers to protect the prize,
And since she kept her counsel no one knew --
Despite the claims of some -- what she would do.
Her mouth was tiny as a needle's eye,
Her breath as quickening as Jesus' sigh;
Her chin was dimpled with a silver well
In which a thousand drowning Josephs fell;
A glistering jewel secured her hair in place,
Which like a veil obscured her lovely face.
The Christian turned, the dark veil was removed,
A fire flashed through the old man's joints -- he loved!
One hair converted hundreds; how could he
Resist that idol's face shown openly?
He did not know himself; in sudden fire
He knelt abjectly as the flames beat higher;
In that sad instant all he had been fled
And passion's smoke obscured his heart and head.
Love sacked his heart; the girl's bewitching hair
Twined round his faith impiety's smooth snare.
The sheikh exchanged religion's wealth for shame,
A hopeless heart submitted to love's fame.
'I have no faith,' he cried. 'The heart I gave
Is useless now; I am the Christian's slave.'
When his disciples saw him weeping there
And understood the truth of the affair
They stared, confounded by his frantic grief,
And strove to call him back to his belief.
Their remonstrations fell on deafened ears;
Advice has no effect when no one hears.
In turn the sheikh's disciples had their say;
Love has no cure, and he could not obey.
(When did a lover listen to advice?
When did a nostrum cool love's flames to ice?)
Till evening came he could not move but gazed
With stupefaction in his face, amazed.

When gloomy twilight spread its darkening shrouds --
Like blasphemy concealed by guilty clouds --
His ardent heart gave out the only light,
And loved increased a hundredfold that night.
He put aside the Self and selfish lust;
In grief he smeared his locks with filth and dust
And kept his haunted vigil, watched and wept,
Lay trembling in love's grip and never slept.
'O Lord, when will this darkness end?' he cried,
'Or is it that the heavenly sun has died?
Those night I passed in faith's austerities
Cannot compare with this night's agonies;
But like a candle now my flame burns high
To weep all night and in the daylight die.
Ambush and blood have been my lot this night;
Who knows what torments day will bring to light?
This fevered darkness and my wretched state
Were made when I was made, and are my fate;
The night continues and the hours delay --
Perhaps the world has reached its Judgement Day;
Perhaps the sun's extinguished with my sighs,
Or hides in shame from my belovèd's eyes.
This long, dark night is like her flowing hair --
The thought in absence comforts my despair,
But love consumes me through this endless night --
I yield to love, unequal to the fight.
Where is there time enough to tell my grief?
Where is the patience to regain belief?
Where is the luck to waken me, or move
Love's idol to reciprocate my love?
Where is the reason that could rescue me,
Or by some trick prove my auxiliary?
Where is the hand to pour dust on my head,
Or lift me from the dust where I lie dead?
Where is the foot that seeks the longed-for place?
Where is the eye to show me her fair face?
Where is the loved one to relieve my pain?
Where is the guide to help me turn again?
Where is the strength to utter my complaint?
Where is the mind to counsel calm restraint?
The loved one, reason, patience -- all are gone
And I remain to suffer love alone.'

At this the fond disciples gathered round,
Bewildered by his groans' pathetic sound.
'My sheikh,' urged one, 'forget this evil sight;
Rise, cleanse yourself according to our rite.'
'In blood I cleanse myself,' the sheikh replied;
'In blood, a hundred times, my life is dyed.'
Another asked, 'Where is your rosary?'
He said: 'I fling the beads away from me;
The Christian's belt** is my sole sanctuary!'
One urged him to repent; he said, 'I do,
Of all I was, all that belonged thereto.'
One counselled prayer; he said: 'Where is her face
That I may pray toward that blessèd place?'
Another cried: 'Enough of this; you must
Seek solitude and in repentant dust
Bow down to God.' 'I will,' replied the sheikh,
'Bow down in dust, but for my idol's sake.'
And one reproached him: 'Have you no regret
For Islam and those rites you would forget?'
He said: 'No man repents past folly more;
Why is it I was not in love before?'
Another said: 'A demon’s poisoned dart --
Unknown to you -- has pierced your trusting heart.'
The sheikh said: 'If a demon straight from hell
Deceives me, I rejoice and wish her well.'
One said: 'Our noble sheikh has lost his way;
Passion has led his wandering wits astray.'
'True, I have lost the fame I once held dear,'
Replied their sheikh, 'and fraud as well, and fear.'
One said: 'You break our hearts with this disgrace.'
He laughed: 'The Christian's heart will take their place.'
One said: 'Stay with old friends awhile, and come --
We'll seek the Ka'abah’s shade and journey home.'
The sheikh replied: 'A Christian monastery
And not the Ka'abah's shade suffices me.'
One said: 'Return to Mecca and repent!'
He answered: 'Leave me here, I am content.'
One said: 'You travel on hell's road.' 'This sigh
Would shrivel seven hells' was his reply.
One said: 'In hope of heaven turn again.'
He said: 'Her face is heaven; I remain.'
One said: 'Before our God confess your shame.'
He replied: 'God Himself has lit this flame.'
One said: 'Stop vacillating now and fight;
Defend the ways our faith proclaims as right.'
He said: 'Prepare your ears for blasphemy;
An infidel does not prate piety.'
Their words could not recall him to belief,
And slowly they grew silent, sunk in grief.
They watched; each felt the heart within him fail,
Fearful of deeds Fate hid beneath her veil.