IV. Another Jewish King, Persecutor of Christians.
Project Gutenberg EPUB edition
Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
The truth doth shed a shining light on human souls,
Received by heaven’s favourites, in special ghostly strolls.
Illumined with that light, as spangles deck a bride,
They turn their souls to God, contemning all beside.
Who feels not keenly love’s great soul-compelling might,
Is portionless of spangles from truth’s flashing light.
All parts must ever share the nature of their whole,
As nightingale pours out unto one rose its soul.
Whatever property may qualify a thing
Externally, man’s qualities are mind’s offspring.25
From purity, rich colours rise, good qualities;
Stains,—moral, or as dyes,—from gross impurities.
“God’s Baptism” is the name of all that’s good in man;
“The curse of God,” of all that’s evil in our plan.124
In which of these two seas our streamlets may subside,
They but return into the source from whence their tide.
From mountain-tops, swift torrents rushing down apace.
From men’s frames, love-inspired souls, anon the race.
The counsel hear, that now, this Jewish dog did take.
Beside a fire a hideous idol he did make,30
And proclamation ran: “Whoever ’d save his soul,
This idol worships; or in fire he’s burnt to coal.”125
Thus having made his hate an idol to himself,
A second idol straightway he invents, this elf.
The mother of all idols is our fleshly pride.
They’re dragons; this, the egg of cockatrice’s bride.
The flesh is flint and steel; our pride is but its spark.
That pride pervades the flesh as fecundation’s mark.
Can moisture quench the latent spark in flint and steel?
Can man be safe while flesh and pride he lives to feel;35
In flint and steel we know that fire is still alive.
No water’s of avail that fire from them to drive.
With water we put out a fire when burning bright;
The spark in flint and steel is safe from water’s might.
From flint and steel of flesh what burnings still ensue!
Their sparks, the blasphemies of Christian and of Jew!
If water in the jug and pitcher come to end,
On wellspring we must draw, a fresh supply to send.
Our idol is the muddy dregs left in our jug;
The flesh the sewer from whence it filters, spite of plug.40