XVI. Ali’s Forbearance.
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Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
A horseman had stirred up the dust in clouds, not faint.
A distant looker-on supposed the dust a saint.
Thus Satan saw a dust; and cried: “This son of earth
Excites in me much envy, hatred, malice, wrath.”
If thou, too, so observe God’s saints with envy’s eyes,
Be sure thy vision’s tainted. Satan’s hatching lies.
Thou obstinate! Art not one of that hell-hound’s sons?
Then, whence this heritage of hate’s foul orisons?
“I am no hound, God’s Lion am I. God I love.
I’m ‘Lion of the Truth.’ Mere form I aye reprove.”245
A lion of the world may hunt for prey and spoil.
A lion of eternity, death’s freedom from turmoil.
In death he sees a hundred thousand modes of life.
So, mothlike, death he courts; his candle, murderer’s knife.
To court grim death’s a collar round the true man’s neck.
This was the text proposed, that wrought recusant’s wreck.
God’s word revealed hath said: “O men of human race!
Death to the faithful is a blessing, and a grace.”431
A love of gain is innate in the human breast.
To court death’s doubtless profit, is to wish the best.250
Then, O ye stiff-necked people, do, for honour’s sake,
The wish for speedy death upon your tongues’ ends take.
No recusant was found who dared to lisp that prayer,
When thus Muhammed put it as the truth’s assayer.
He knew that should they venture that ordeal to prove,
In all the world no recusant would thenceforth move.
They all preferred to pay their tribute for their lives,
And begged: “O lamp of truth, destroy us not, our wives!”432
How many more examples could be pointed out!
But, if thou seest the truth, give me thy hand. Quit doubt.255
Forsake thy dunghill. Enter our abode of bliss.
From darkness thee to guide, a light shines o’er th’ abyss.
Shake off all hesitation. Enter heaven’s gate.
Avoid the pit that’s bottomless! Be not too late!
The Prince of all Believers thus addressed that chief,
In tones serenest: “Know, that in our contest brief,
When thou didst spit upon me, giving scorn its vent,
My choler was aroused;—to wreck my patience went.
Half warmed with zeal for God, half stirred with anger’s fire,
Unholy partnership was formed ’twixt truth and ire.260