{"collection":"Islam","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/isl/saab/saab10.htm","path":"isl/saab/saab10.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/isl/saab/saab10.htm","text":"Salaman and Absal, by Jami, tr. Edward Fitzgerald, [1904]\nSoon as the Lord of Heav\u2019n had sprung his Horse\n Over the Horizon into the Blue Field,\n Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n rose drunk with the Wine of Sleep,\n And set himself a-stirrup for the Field;\n He and a Troop of Princes\u2014Kings in Blood,\n Kings too in the Kingdom-troubling Tribe of Beauty,\n All Young in Years and Courage, Bat in hand\n Gallop\u2019d a-field, toss\u2019d down the Golden Ball\n And chased, so many Crescent Moons a Full;\n And, all alike Intent upon the Game,\n Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n still would carry from them all\n The Prize, and shouting \"H\u00e1l!\" drive Home the Ball.\n This done, Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n bent him as a Bow\n To Shooting\u2014from the Marksmen of the World\nCall\u2019d for an unstrung Bow\u2014himself the Cord\n Fitted unhelpt, and nimbly with his hand\n Twanging made cry, and drew it to his Ear:\n Then, fixing the Three-feather\u2019d Fowl, discharged.\n No point in Heaven's Azure but his Arrow\n Hit; nay, but Heaven were made of Adamant,\n Would overtake the Horizon as it roll\u2019d;\n And, whether aiming at the Fawn a-foot,\n Or Bird on wing, his Arrow went away\n Straight\u2014like the Soul that cannot go astray.\nWhen Night came, that releases Man from Toil,\n He play\u2019d the Chess of Social Intercourse;\n Prepared his Banquet Hall like Paradise,\n Summon\u2019d his Houri-faced Musicians,\n And, when his Brain grew warm with Wine, the Veil\n Flung off him of Reserve. Now Lip to Lip\n Concerting with the Singer he would breathe\n Like a Messias Life into the Dead;\n Now made of the Melodious-moving Pipe\n A Sugar-cane between his Lips that ran\n Men's Ears with Sweetness: Taking up a Harp,\n Between its dry String and his Finger fresh\n Struck Fire; or lifting in his arms a Lute\nAs if a little Child for Chastisement,\n Pinching its Ear such Cries of Sorrow wrung\n As drew Blood to the Eyes of Older Men.\n Now sang He like the Nightingale alone,\n Now set together Voice and Instrument;\n And thus with his Associates Night he spent.\nHis Soul rejoiced in Knowledge of all kinds;\n The fine Edge of his Wit would split a Hair,\n And in the Noose of Apprehension catch\n A Meaning ere articulate in Word;\n His Verse was like the Pleiads; his Discourse\n The Mourners of the Bier; his Penmanship,\n (Tablet and running Reed his Worshippers,)\n Fine on the Lip of Youth as the First Hair,\n Drove Penmen, as that Lovers, to Despair.\nHis Bounty was as Ocean's\u2014nay, the Sea's\n Self but the Foam of his Munificence,\n For it threw up the Shell, but he the Pearl;\n He was a Cloud that rain\u2019d upon the World\n Dirhems for Drops; the Banquet of whose Bounty\n Left H\u00e1tim's Churlish in Comparison\u2014","title":"Salaman and Absal: Sal\u00e1m\u00e1n and Abs\u00e1l: VIII","type":"page"}