Ansari fulfilled his lord's behest,

And loaded the camels and mules with the best

And costliest presents, the value of which
Was enough to make a whole province quite rich.

In propria persona he left at last

The palace, when some three days had past,

And with a general's banner red

In front of the caravan he sped.

At the end of a week to Thus came they;
The town at the foot of the mountain lay.

The caravan the western gate

With shouts and noises entered straight.

The trumpets sounded, the loud drums beat,
And songs of triumph rang through the street.

La Illa Il Allah!" with joyous shout The camel-drivers were calling out.

But through the east gate at the farther end
Of Thus, at that moment chanced to wend

The funeral train so full of gloom,

That the dead Ferdusi bore to his tomb.

Heinrich Heine. Tr. E. A. Bowring.

I

BRAHMA.

ing sun;

"Rest here!" I whisper the atom; I call to the orb, "Roll on!"

I am the blush of morning, and I am the evening

breeze;

I am the leaf's low murmur, the swell of the terrible

seas;

I am the net, the fowler, the bird and its frightened

cry,

The mirror, the form reflected, the sound and its echo, I;

The lover's passionate pleading, the maiden's whispered

fear,

The warrior, the blade that smites him, his mother's heart-wrung tear;

I am intoxication, grapes, wine-press, and must and

wine,

The guest, the host, the tavern, the goblet of crystal

fine;

I am the breath of the flute, I am the mind of man, Gold's glitter, the light of the diamond, and the seapearl's lustre wan,

The rose, her poet nightingale, the songs from his throat that rise,

Flint sparks, the taper, the moth, that about it flies.

I am both Good and Evil; the deed and the deed's intent,

Temptation, victim, sinner, crime, pardon and punishment,

I am what was, is, will be; creation's ascent and fall; The link, the chain of existence; beginning and end

of all.

Dschelaleddin Rumi. Tr. F. F. Ritter.

IF

BRAHMA.

the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle ways
I keep, and pass, and turn again.

Far or forgot to me is near,

Shadow and sunlight are the same.

The vanished gods to me appear,

And one to me are shame and fame.

They reckon ill who leave me out;
When me they fly, I am the wings,
I am the doubter and the doubt,

And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.

The strong gods pine for my abode,
And pine in vain the sacred Seven;
But thou, meek lover of the good!
Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

BRAHMA.

I AM the dweller with the one high God,

And God himself dwells here, unseen, with me! He is embodied in the meanest clod,

And he exists in every stone and tree.

Man thinks he slays me, saying, God is naught:
For chance first framed and still creation sways :
I am the chance he worships in his thought,
And I am all to which he homage pays.

"As milk to curd, as water is to ice,"
So do I change my ever-changing form;
I am fair virtue, I am hideous vice,

I am the sunshine and the raging storm.