I. The Prince and the Handmaid.
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Jalal al-Din Rumi, Maulana and Redhouse, James W. (James William), Sir
Our prince has need of thee, his mint to guide;
For none like thee is heard of, far and wide.
This dress of honour, yonder gold he sends;
Requests thou’lt come, and be his best of friends.”
The gold and dress of honour won his heart;
Good-bye to home he said, with them to start.
He travels joyous; thinks his luck is great;
And never dreams of what’s to be his fate.
An Arab charger proudly bore him on;
He recked not at what price all this was won.165
O fatuous fool! Thou hastest to thy doom.
The post thou dream’st of, soon will be thy tomb.
His fancy webs of power and fame did weave;
Death’s angel thundered: “Come, and all this leave!”
Arrived betimes at his long journey’s end,
The doctor led him to the prince, his friend.
Most nobly was he there received in turn.
One trims the lampwick, still, to make it burn.
The prince addressed him; bade him welcome there;
Mint-master nam’d him, treasurer, and mayor.170
Our doctor once again his counsel gave:
“The damsel to this youth for service leave.
United to him, she’ll her health regain;
Love’s fever will subside with absence’ pain.”
The prince bestows the sick one on her mate.
United were the two in solemn state.
Six months they feasted on love’s joys so sweet;
The handmaid’s health from day to day more meet.
The doctor, now, a potion mixed for him.
His health declines; he every day grows slim.175
The coin that passes much from hand to hand
Soon loses currency, has no demand.
So he, when beauty no more graced his cheek,
Began to lack worth with the handmaid sleek.
All love that’s built on outer skin-deep charms,
Is not true love. At length shame ’tis that warms.
Would it were shame alone that pricks him now!
He’d not been victimised and brought thus low.
His eyes pour forth two streams of bitter tears;
His altered features the worst foe he fears.180