COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. In the Path of the Persian by Stephen Magister Second Edition SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA S. C. HOUGHTON 1908 im Copyright, 1908, by S. C. Houghton. All Rights Reserved ft i i^H^sToToGN H ^ €-5 S ! inu iioDies rtscti.c^ I 4;opY d. ,908 .(6 IN THE PATH OF THE PERSIAN Seek not Elysium in far-off skies; Before thine eyes the realm felicious lies. Serve gentle Love^ lavish-requiting Love, And here and now create a Paradise. LIFE From the ethereal Spirit of Control Doth Life appropriate its meed of Soul, Useth but not consumeth, rendering hack To the eternal, all-pervading Whole. The Spirit of Control is Fate, God, All, Thy prisoner, thy master and thy thrall. Invoke, command, direct, for good or ill. And what thy will compelleth shall befall. LIFE I No eye hath pierced the secret of THE CAUSE, None scanned the mystic scroll of primal laws. Master and pupil, saint, philosopher, At templed Truth's unyielding portal pause. II What is is Matter. Motion molds its face. Life pervades matter through the vast of Space. If Ether be the ultimate 'tis All ; If a composite, then its subtile base. Ill Forms change. The mineral of yesterday Was parent to the flower that cheers thy way, And from its dust zoons*shall spring. Forms change But Life endures. Life knoweth not decay. IV All Nature feels. In earth and sea and air Sentient, conscious life is everywhere. Behold Mimosa shrink beneath thy touch, The lustrous pearl respond to tender care. In the Path of the Persian V Like man and mollusk, moss and spreading bay, Crystal, gem, granite, metal live their day. As flows or flies the vital force they know Inception, growth, vigor, wane, death, decay. VI Life's lowly types preserve a stolid peace, But with complexities of form increase Complexities of danger, pain and grief, Till Travail reigns throughout the lotted lease. VII Man bends and groans 'neath Care's oppressive sway. Fear, Longing, Dole and Conscience blight his day. Reason, at once his glory and his curse. Alluring him from Nature's ways astray. VIII Life knows no unborn Future, no dead Past, For growth and gain, for work and feast and fast. For all the uses of Eternity, To-day is thine. Employ it as thy last. Life IX Ask me not how thou best mayst spend thy day, My weal may be thy woe. I may not say Wisdom doth prompt my head, my heart, my feet ; Not mine to guide or chide another's way. Round out thy Ufe each day. To the Hope-fond The era of Content hath never dawned. Doth Toil or Fortune gain a longed-for goal, How fair soe'er a fairer lies beyond. XI Though rough the way beneath thy bruised feet, The day, the lark, the rose thy coming greet. Though rank and tangled weeds o'ertop the blooms The sapient bee still gleans a harvest sweet. XII Goodly and noxious fruits Earth's gardens bear, Tis thine to cull the baneful or the fair. Gazing into the mirror of the World Thou dost behold thyself reflected there. 10 In the Path of the Persian XIII Contemning Pleasure, which I counted naught, With earnest prayer and ceaseless toil and thought I sought THE GOOD, and find in palsied age Contemned Pleasure the fair prize I sought. XIV Pleasure is Lord, omnipotent its sway, All men their hearts on its low altar lay. Saint, sage, drudge, gleaner, roister, sybarite, Each seeks its solace in his chosen way. XV These mayst thou be in turn, yet none of these The Spirit's ceaseless longing can appease. Their paths abandoned garnered fruits may cheer — A book, a friend, clear wine, sweet love, soft ease. XVI The Voice mellifluous thy heart entice, The quest of Pleasure for thy aim suffice, But see thou pay not largely for thy joy. A sore regret is far too great a price. LAfe 11 XVII Pleasure is sweet and sweet its memories. To drain Joy's chalice to the nauseous lees, To quaff delights that yield enduring griefs, These are not pleasures but debaucheries. XVIII In lean and lief Content thy soul possess, Or, if thou wouldst that bounteous Bliss may bless. Share thy friend's joy, or, better, give him joy ; His keen delight shall be thy happiness. XIX Him thou wouldst hold thy friend test well and long. See he be clean, congenial, loyal, strong, Mark well his vices, follies, foibles, flaws, For once enshrined thy friend can do no wrong. XX Of moral forces potentest and best. The lofty soul's supreme and crucial test. Friendship is stay and solace of the gods. Who hath a friend is rarely, grandly blest. 12 In the Path of the Persian XXI The scheming knave whose vice is known to thee, The friend who claims thy bounty large and free, Thy fellow who hath done thee wanton wrong, In each of these behold an enemy. XXII Maintain thy stature in men's eyes. If driven On Fortune's breakers hope not to be shriven. Crimes, vices, follies, these may be condoned. Misfortune only may not be forgiven. XXIII Extremes of fortune are true manhood's test. And he is worthiest who bears them best. Grievous the trial of afflicted Need, More crucial his by fruitless wealth oppressed. XXIV Be not too righteous, be not over-wise ; The light alloy of folly learn to prize. Nature no flawless thing from clay doth mold, And Nature's handiwork mayst thou despise? Life 18 XXV Sustaining food may bring thee to Death's door, And deadly bane thy palsied powers restore; Yet shalt thou eat, and of the bane be purged. But dire excess thou learnest to deplore. XXVI Excess, fell foe to Virtue's peace sublime ! Religious zeal exults in gore and slime, Ecstatic Honor, Duty, Justice, Truth, Spur their mad votaries down the deeps of crime. XXVII Bleak isolation Glory's grim reward. While on the sheltered hillock's blooming sward Smiles the blest home of Mediocrity. Deny me grandeur, leave me lowly. Lord! XXVIII Wisdom toils not for unrequired increase, But seeks serene Content and Care's release. She dwells with genial Love. Her ways are ways Of pleasantness and all her paths arc peace. 14 In the Path of the Persian XXIX Doth smiling Fortune to thy care accord Rich store, make Gold thy slave and not thy lord, Though in thy fields unbid regrets spring forth, Ignoble Shame should reap no meet reward. XXX Thou who without surcease hast sought the strife Of joyless years with toil and turmoil rife, Though thy vaults burst with garnered treasure thou Hast never learned the living truth of life. XXXI Why bind thyself to Care and Grief a slave In hope a white or yellow hoard to save ? Make merry with thy friends, for in thy room Thy foes shall feast when thou art in thy grave. XXXII If thou art wise regard thyself and say, *' What have I brought ? What shall I take away ?" With power thou gleanest love or hate or scorn, And bless or blight thou shalt but live thy day. Life 15 XXXIII With wealth grows lust of wealth, with power of power, The thirst of Fame intenseth hour by hour, Insatiate Ambition's depthless maw Unchecked would Earth and Heaven and Hell devour. XXXIV Wealth is a servile demon, at thy nod To blight, dismay, debase, oppress, defraud, A god, to lift and light and cheer and bless. Hast thou enslaved a demon or a god? XXXV Stolid Unworth and Ignorance possess Gold store they can not coin to happiness. Behold the hoards of sordid knaves and slaves That might alleviate a world's distress ! XXXVI The cage, whose dim eyes beam with light di- vine, Whom helpless Age and Infancy combine To bless, his heart's delight to serve his kind, Doth pledge his turban for a stoup of wine. 16 In the Path of the Persian XXXVII Yet may the outcast, scorned and tavern-stained, Enthrone fair Peace where gaunt Despair hath reigned ; And he who hath enslaved a kingly heart More than a kingdom's weightless wealth hath gained. XXXVIII Wouldst thou o'ertop the conqueror in his pride. Choose Honor for preceptor, friend and guide. And men shall call thee blessM, and sweet Peace Illume and cheer thy soul whate'er betide. XXXIX Peace is Earth's rarest gem, Heaven's fairest flower. Yet in mad quest of wealth and fame and power Men barter treasure and delights supreme For fevered joys that cloy within an hour. XL Whate'er betide Peace in thy breast may dwell. Fate sounds no discord though it sound thy knell. Whate'er betide thou art in Allah's hand ; Trust thou in Him, he doeth all things well. THE MONARCH Even-handed Fate Hath but one laav for small and great. Horace, Book HI, Ode THE MONARCH I All-potent Sovereign, though thy gracious sway The world confess, thy will all men obey. Thou sharest my delights, my hopes, my woes, My helpless ignorance, my fleeting day. n The Hand that fashioned thee and strewed thy way With perfumed blossoms formeth day by day A myriad creatures, feeble, foul, forlorn. Because more blest art thou more loved than they ? Ill Thy passion doth thy kindredship declare : Wiles of the fox, stealth of the timid hare, The lion's courage, meekness of the dove, The tiger's rage, the hunger of the bear. IV Thou shalt not pass nor stretch thy destined bound. Thou canst know naught nor rise above the ground. Yet art thou free to will and move and cat ; So is the tethered ox, within his round. 19 20 In the Path of the Persian V Desire, ambition, virtues, talents, all Have free and even scope from wall to wall. Within the close 'tis thine to be and do; Without, beyond, thou shalt not rise nor fall. VI Though all thy years thou art the first of men. Peerless and glorious, Jamshid come again. Though stretched the tenure of thy godlike power Beyond the years of patriarchs, what then ? VII No shield may ward the thrust of Fate's fell spear. Gold, glory, honors, these nor check nor cheer. Let Justice guide thy steps, and thy calm soul May face the stroke without remorse or fear. VIII To-morrow shalt thou meet the common doom. Emblazoned bricks shall close thy narrow room. Then to the kiln thy dust shall others take And fashion bricks to mark another tomb. CREED Which of these ancient sages shall be guide: He who, forsaking prejudice and pride, Hath delved for Truth, or he who doth accept Another's wisdom and knows naught beside f CREED From heathen shrines, from Mosque, from Church arise The fear of Hell, the hope of Paradise, Grave sages, freed from Superstition's thrall, Base fears and baseless hopes alike despise. II Builders of creeds, Fear's slaves, Hope's votaries, Lore of a Life Beyond we owe to these, Unmailed with proof, with Faith's frail reed arrayed 'Gainst Nature's myriad stern analogies. Ill Zealots and dying saints with ardor fired Have joyed in visions of a realm desired. Sikli, Moslem, Christian, Gaiour, Idolater, Each views the Heaven that his faith inspired. IV Creed's huge, grim structure, based on slavish fears. Reared by Power's lust, begrimed with blood and tears. Lighted but by a feeble ray of hope, Hath cast its blighting shadow down the years. 23 24 In the Path of the Persian By sin alone doth Creed maintain its power; Stript of its bane 'twould perish in an hour, While priest-led souls stand awed by priest- made sin, So long shall Holy Church faint hearts deflower. VI Self-hailed placators of a vengeful God, These rule with Superstition's serpent rod. Know, the All- Wise hath formed us to His will. Ordained our steps, and laid the paths we trod. vn Ask and thou shalt receive, O fainting soul, Love, justice, mercy, hope: attest the Scroll. Creeds know not justice, love account a curse. And hope and mercy for a stipend dole. vni Imam, thy scorn and threats shall never move Nor prayers persuade me to thy narrow groove. "Dog of an unbeliever !" — nay, not so ; I do not disbelieve, I seek to prove. Creed 25 IX Belicv'st thou Allah just, and dost thou dare Dispense indulgence, put a price on prayer, Promise forgiveness to relentless Crime, And damn meek Love to torture and despair? In bloat and mien a Sybarite, on me Thou railest wrath, reproach and calumny, Exacting tribute, penance, sacrifice. Is there no day of reckoning for thee ? XI Void of experience, thou wouldst rule and guide. Emotionless, my bliss thou dost deride, Daring to sit in judgment and condemn, Thou who wast never tempted, torn and tried. XII A score of creeds point each an only way From which 'tis death for erring souls to stray. Show me that this thou blindly dost accept Is the true path for which I yearn and pray. 26 In the Path of the Persian XIII How judge thy fellow? A frail bubble he, Borne on the varying winds of Destiny. By Nature framed, Environment hath shaped The fair or hideous creature that we see. XIV Nature, Environment : these, these alone Make man, and none may frame or shape his own. Allah is just and merciful, and for The deeds He sanctions man shall not atone. XV For so doth Nature in Condition's school Develop forces that inspire and rule Each impulse, motive, act, emotion, thought, Alike of saint, degenerate, sage and fool. XVI Design directeth all things, small and great. The Law that poised the stars hath fixed thy state, And they and thou a measured course shall run. Nor wall nor will nor wail can cozen Fate. Creed 27 XVII The Architect His pillars' forms hath traced, Rounded and polished those and these defaced ; These for the tavern's cellar-posts are laid, And those the temple's portico have graced. XVIII The parent, though the graceless child transgress God's law and man's, still pitieth his distress. Allah is merciful. He who hath made And shaped and suffered all, shall He do less ? XIX Allah is merciful, and wilt thou say His love and pity cling but for a day? The healing fountain freely flows for thee, Why not for those who wander far astray ? XX The body's appetites determine now Thy way, thy thought, the brand upon thy brow. These and thy spirit war. The spirit freed, The body turned to dust, where then art thou ? 28 In the Path of the Persian XXI Nor soul nor body hath complete control ; Spirit, will, appetite make up the whole. When the Transformer strikes if aught survive It is not thou but thine enfranchised soul. • XXII Thou hast been three : Aspiring, eager, free ; Creature of boundless greed and energy ; Insatiate delver in unfathomed deeps. If thou survive which art thou of these three? XXIII Youth, virile moiler, seer, wilt thou be all? Then art thou yet another, whom the thrall Of changeless, unemployed eternity In the Word's Paradise may well appal ! XXIV Why with vain quests and queries rack the soul ? Little we learn, and naught can we control. Kind words, kind acts, clean pleasures and clean thoughts May lead at length to Peace, the spirit's goal. Creed 29 XXV Let not the promise nor the hope of gain Nor threat nor dread of everlasting pain Impel or sway thee. Be thy lofty aim The height of self-approval to attain. XXVI They nature's law above all creeds enthrone, And make Earth's joy and bliss divine thine own. Beyond, above the Kaaba, lay thy soul Upon the holier shrine of Love alone. XXVII Despise the gospel of Restraint and Pain, Of present sacrifice for future gain. Hundreds of cruel creeds have had their day, But Love and Peace forevermore remain. XXVIII Bend not supine to Creed's nor Custom's might ; Rule, act, example scan by Reason's light. Prove all things, hold fast that thou findest good. That which to thee is good to thee is right. 30 In the Path of the Persian XXIX Love thyself first. If thy stern soul applaud Thy every act and thought, if prize nor rod Nor love nor hate thy constant will can swerve, Thou hast attained the stature of a god. XXX Serve thyself last. Thy every thought and deed Fraught with the burden of thy brother's need. His weal, his happiness, shall win for thee A world of wealth beyond the grasp of greed. XXXI He who the helpless guileless hath oppressed Shall stand accursed. He who doth ampliest Augment the scanty store of mundane joys. Of Allah's saints is worthiest and best. XXXII God's law is love. Prelate and potentate For lease of power and peace and weal of state Have fashioned laws and crimes and penalties His wise beneficence ne'er did create. Creed 31 XXXIII God's law we love. The statutes of the land Guarding oui safety loyalty command. But priestly rules and rule we may despise, Nor shun the innocuous deed that Creed hath banned. XXXIV Where thou art God is. He is all of thee, Thou part of Him, and the clear eye can see, The clean heart feel, the Presence and the Power. Why shouldst thou fear or fret at Destiny ? XXXV Thy ways are God's ways. Motives and desires His wisdom generates. His love inspires. What God ordaineth call not thou unclean, But bid not License feed the sacred fires. XXXVI Good, evil, pure, immoral, all these would Oft prove unfitting terms if understood. I know no wrong save that which worketh ill, No right that beareth not substantial good. 32 In the Path of the Persian XXXVII Faith — priestly writ, hereditary dower, Unreasoned lore of plastic childhood's hour, Changing with climes and times, thy holy shrine And sacred symbols scandal to the Gaiour. XXXVIII Thou say'st, ''My creed renounced what is my gain?" MANHOOD ! Freedom through Reason's vast domain To range, freedom to seek for Truth and Peace Unchecked by Superstition's servile chain. XXXIX Thy deeds are living truths, thy faith a guess. Thy deeds and not thy faith may blight or bless. Weighed by thyself, thy fellow or thy God, Deeds prove thy worth, and deeds thy worth- lessness. XL Though men esteem thee holy, mad or wise, Thyself thyself shalt honor or despise. By deeds and speech they know thee, but thy thoughts Mold a soul-image hidden from their eyes. Creed 33 XLI And through this thought-shaped guide and judge — thy soul, Essence divine — thy fate thou shalt control. Condemn thyself and Allah doth condemn, Forgive, redeeming Faith shall make thee whole. XLII Through the harsh din of the discordant creeds Ring clear the two sweet notes my spirit heeds. Islam, sin, wrath, Hell, Paradise — vain words ! My faith clings but to love and gentle deeds. XLIII I know one Lord, to Love I bend the knee ; One master virtue, pure sincerity ; One good^ one goal, soul-satisfying peace. Love, Peace, Sincerity, abide with me! THE SYBARITE Mattj the frail creature of a dreary day, Molded zvith tears from Sorrow's somber clay, Plods, eats, frets, drowses, dreams his lotted round. Then lays him down to sleep the years away. THE SYBARITE In the beginning God did all ordain. His pen recordeth not thy loss or gain. He set on Fate its necessary seal, And all thy striving, all thy care, are vain. II Sorrow and strife, with joys of meager worth, These our endowment on this hollow earth. Happy the man who swiftly may depart. He doubly blest who perished at his birth. Ill Of what avail our travail and our art ? These bring no solace to the hungering heart. Wearied and wounded, spiritless, we sigh, '* Too late we came, too soon we must depart." IV Whence are we haled to this demesne of woe? How shall the spirit learn to know or grow? Whither may dumb Death's trackless footsteps tend? Why are we come, why do we stay, why f^o ? 37 38 In the Path of the Persian Whence, how, why, whither — never saint nor sage By prayer or rare research from age to age Hath solved one mystery or gained one clue. Nor shall the futile quest my hour engage. VI Imam austere, prating of wrath divine, More steeped in bigotry than I in wine. Thou bidst me shun the cup. Rather shall I Renounce the Heaven that waits for thee and thine. VII Why should I of my drinking make an end ? And shall I fail in loyalty ? Heaven f orf end ! When the bowl brims with ruby juice I see The cheering face of a familiar friend. VIII Why ban the pleasures Nature bids me crave? Why brand me to debasing joys a slave? Why free God's other creatures and bid man Restrain his instincts till he fill his grave ? The Sybarite 39 IX Thou lurest to a Heaven of endless days With houris, wine and songs of love and praise. List! With Love's notes the flagon's gurgle blends 1 This hour a thousand future joys outweighs. Ease, wine, love, melody my hours employ, And these the joys of Heaven, without alloy. Why then, thou carping priest, thy stern reproach ? May earthly sin be pure celestial joy? XI Makest thou vice my virtue's recompense. Indulgence the reward of abstinence, Exalting, when all sense of joy is dead. The outlawed and forbidden joys of sense? XII The fairest gifts He giveth me to know May gracious Allah evermore bestow Whilst I am I, so soft and dull Content May still attend where'er I stay or go. 40 In the Path of the Persian XIII Shameless and shunned, in warning priests' despite, Wine, Love and Song console my day and night ; Yet never did I grieve a joyous heart, Nor mar another's moment of delight. XIV I have profaned each ordinance of Creed, But Malice ne'er inspired my willing deed. Thou say'st my sins have damned me: how then had I wronged my fellow, or ignored his need? XV Vain the pursuit of shadows, without endl Seek thy congenial and convivial friend And in the grimy tavern's farthest nook Your hopes, your sorrows and your follies blend. XVI Put yearning by and take the cup in hand ; Pursue not that thou ne'er shalt understand. Drink, and be kindly. Quaff pellucid Peace. With sated soul what boots the Creed's command ? The Sybarite 41 XVII Wine leaves the meanest soul serene and kind, Tolerant, forgiving, generous, resigned. Had Satan tasted wine it had assuaged And swayed to love his vengeful, scheming mind. XVIII He who in holiness hath steeped his soul, He who hath drowned remembrance in the bowl. These only wise, in fulness of content, Are freed from gnawing Sorrow's harsh control. XIX The Koran in that hand, the cup in this, Enjoy the present, grasp the promised bliss. Be just and generous, guileless and devout, But turn not from the cup's nor Love's sweet kiss. XX The Holy Word we venerate indeed And read betimes, with little heart or heed, While round the lip of the enchanted cup Runs a fair verse we ever love to read. 42 In the Path of the Persian XXI A minim in the Master's vast design, He from all time foresaw me steeped in wine. May I then make His prescience ignorance, Or may I thwart foreordinance divine? XXII My hardens and my agonies He knows, Nor stays nor suages these nor lightens those. Say'st thou He marks my fault and not my need, Condemns my pleasures while He mocks my woes? XXIII Wayworn and woe-worn in the bootless race, Long time I sought a moment's halting-place. Now in the tavern have I found surcease, But ah, the cost! My peace is my disgrace. XXIV Disheartened, by my nothingness oppressed. Fain would I seek for refuge and find rest. Aweary of my goalless way of life. The imam's frock shall hide my aching breast. The Sybarite 43 XXV My ways I shall amend and favor win. Why do I soak with wine and reek with sin? This ruby poison that benumbs my brain Soothes but to wake Despondency within. XXVI I break my cup and with intent sincere Haste to the fount of Knowledge, deep and clear. Alas ! Each deeper draught more bitter proves, And brings me naught of nourishment or cheer. XXVII Back to the tavern's open door I creep. My sighs are hushed, mine eyes forget to weep. Resigned I bow my weary head and seek The calm profound of dreamless, drunken sleep. XXVIII No more Repentance glooms the lengthened hours, No more grim Penance sweet Content devours. The red rose blooms and Sense is Lord of All, And Love's joys bud and blossom with the flowers. 44 In the Path of the Persian XXIX Yet thus to ease the tired and trouble-tossed And hunger-haunted heart how vast the cost For each brief hour of dull oblivion gained A meed of priceless pride of manhood lost. XXX Carnal delights, how swift ye pall and cloy 1 A touch, a taste, joy is no longer joy. Elixir of Love, Happiness and Peace, Thou dost love, happiness and peace destroy. XXXI Since Allah's mercy is vouchsafed to me I have no fear for mine iniquity. He is All-Goodness, and His clemency Shall cleanse my heart and set my spirit free. XXXII Clearer to him the soul-wail of the least Than prayer of interceding saint or priest. All times are fit, all places shrines, to Him Who weighs our merit do we fast or feast. The Sybarite 46 XXXIII The tavern is a temple, Lord, to me; Above my cups my spirit soars toward Thee ; The thronged mosque knows me not: this though my soul Find endless ease or ceaseless agony. XXXIV Lord, have mercy on my graceless goal, Have mercy on my sorrow-laden soul, Have mercy on my tavern-turning foot. And on my hand that clutches at the bowl. XXXV Lord, in the path of Right direct my feet, Or make that right which I have found so sweet. Give me to-day my pleasure, and inflict To-morrow what Thy mercy may deem meet. XXXVI Lord of my deepmost secrets. Thou dost know 1 love Thee with a love that passeth show, Submissive to Thy will, and grateful most For this soul-soothing juice Thou dost bestow. 46 In the Path of the Persian XXXVII Omniscient All-Giver, in Thy hand I rest, and fain would heed T?hy high command. If through the flagon's lure I go astray, O give me faith to see, and strength to withstand. THE SYBARITE TO THE ASCETIC The worship most acceptable to the gods is that luhich corn^s from cheerful hearts, — Plutarch (Fabius). THE SYBARITE TO THE ASCETIC I O saki, come, two brimming measures pour. Drink, woe-struck stranger, and thy peace re- store ; Clear wine shall drown thy griefs. Thou wilt not drink? Go, then, eat stones, if that content thee more. II Thou blind ascetic, who dost joy resign. Why shouldst thou seek or sigh for bliss divine? Barren and starved, thy shrunk and withered heart Knows not the wine of Love nor love of wine. Ill The fair vine grapes, the thistle thistles bears, The mole a mole, the lion liqns rears. Lofty or lowly thou shalt be but man For all thy yearning, travail, tears and prayers. IV Why clutch thy somber robe and shrink from me ? Wisdom my wassail-bowl may teach to thee, For lo, a king's head and a beggar's feet Unite and drink in loving amity. 49 50 In the Path of the Persian V Thou hailest Allah kind and good. How so If He delight thy unearned griefs to know ? What merit in thy calm contempt of Death Since Death to thee brings ease of pain and woe ? VI Railing at frailties, yet to virtues blind, No good, no peace, no comfort dost thou find. Alms-nurtured wretch, how shalt thou deem thyself A blessing to thyself or to mankind ? VII The lily and the cypress men delight To honor, for the ten tongues of the white And fragrant flower upbraid not, and the tree Hath scores of hands that neither beg nor smite. VIII Scorn not the joy the brimming beaker brings As 'neath the plane-tree's shade my loved one sings ; Leave me in peace. I mar not thy content With the priest's promise of no better things. The Sybarite to the Ascetic 61 IX Allah rules all. Thou wastest ; I am nursed In plenty, cloyed my needs and suaged my thirst, Serene my spirit, fair my hope, as thine. How count thy wan self blest and me accurst ? X Self -immolating pilgrim, go thy way ! I heed the Voice that thou wilt not obey. Allah inspires our hearts to love and joy; I do His will, 'tis thou who goest astray. GOD To gain Thine ear, Lord of Eternityy Sincere and centered must the spirit he. Postures and forms are vain; Thou dost regard The humble heart and not the humbled knee. GOD I Lord, Thou art gracious, merciful and just. Groping in darkness, creature of the dust, How may I win Thy smile, requite Thy care? In love and loving deeds I place my trust. II Faith, duty, principles of good and right. My thought dwells not on these, but day and night Counting to bless and serve my own I seek My heart's content, and favor in Thy sight. Ill A little garden Thou allottest me, Its fruits and blooms my tender care shall be. Without no growth I scorn, but, where I may Upraise a flower or plant a wayside tree. IV My service adds no glory to Thy state, No sin of mine Thy grandeur can abate. Thou know'st me frail. Great Master, and know Though swift to pardon Thou dost punish late. 55 56 In the Path of the Persian V A hundred years Thy grace hath followed me. A hundred more of sin I fain would see, To measure if the sum of all my faults Or Thy abounding mercy greater be. VI Tis I who scorn the imam's holy rod, I who forsake the paths my fathers trod, 'Tis I who from the tavern hurl the plaint Of my seared heart against Thine ear, O God ! VII Of clay and water Thou hast molded me. Will, reason, passions, these I owe to Thee, The seed Thou didst implant hath yielded due And destined harvest. How, then, am I free ? VIII I am a rebel slave : where is Thy will ? Where Thy control, Thy light, since I do ill ? Where is Thy mercy if Thou dost but pay A debt, and Heaven with the sinless fill ? God 57 IX Thou makest man to sin — who sinneth not? Theic Hves no man whose soul bears not a blot. If, then, my ill Thou punishest with ill, May mine be cursed and Thy ill without spot? Till man knew good and ill his heart had peace. 'Tis true, one shameful path to woe's release Wf^ know. Lord, hear my prayer: Inebriate Me vvith Thy saving grace and give surcease. XI Along a way no other soul hath gone Doth my worn spirit grope and struggle on, Ever within Thy guidance or control, To closing nightfall or unfolding dawn. XII Goodness Divine, we rest our souls on Thee, Who canst from every evil set us free. Thy loving-kindness glows for all alike, And saint and reprobate may equal be. THE END For even in sleep the body, zvrapt in ease, Supinely lies, as in the peaceful grave, And, wanting nothing, nothing can it crave. Were that sound sleep eternal it zuere death. — Lucretius (Dryden). THE END I In worlds afar await, at Creed's behest, Torture and balm for reprobate and blest. Eternal life the Prophet's Word assures, An elder teacher soothes to endless rest. II Allah's abounding love to Israel shown Showered gifts unstinted — worldly gifts alone. Why, if eternal life might be their meed, Should He withhold the promise from His own III Alike to those who joy and those who weep Soothing and grateful comes the balm of sleep. Eager to greet an hour of Life's surcease, Why shrink from slumber calm, prolonged and deep? IV In vain with tireless vigil in the skies I seek the realms of Hell and Paradise. Nirvana murmureth, 'Thou art of Earth, Whose smallest atom ne'er shall fall nor rise.' 61 62 In the Path of the Persian The veil that masks the mystery none hath passed. Strive as thou shalt to rise Earth holds thee fast. The turbid streamlet sinks to greedy mold, And this, thy first abode, shall be thy last. VI When to us comes the night of life's spent day My body in the potter's mound of clay And thine, love, worthy of a nobler couch, Within the garden's bosom shall they lay. VII When age on age the heavy years shall roll And of my tainted dust they mold a bowl, Come thou, thine essence to pure wine trans- formed, Ensaturate my frame and be my soul ! VIII A little time, we shall have run our race. Of us there shall remain nor name nor trace. Eons unnumbered shall the world roll on, Oblivion hide our pride and our disgrace. The End 63 IX At my last hour may none be heard to say, " Me hath he wronged !" and one, " He smoothed my way." May those to whom I bared my yearning soul My name revere. So Peace shall close my day. San Jose, California, July W, 1908. St? l\ \90» LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 873. 649 4 ^