Ferishtah's Fancies/Two Camels
8. TWO CAMELS.
Quoth one: "Sir, solve a scruple! No true sageI hear of, but instructs his scholar thus:'Would'st thou be wise? Then mortify thyself!Baulk of its craving every bestial sense!Say, 'If I relish melons—so do swine!Horse, ass and mule consume their provenderNor leave a pea-pod: fasting feeds the soul.'Thus they admonish: while thyself, I note,Eatest thy ration with an appetite,Nor fallest foul of whoso licks his lips And sighs—'Well-saffroned was that barley-soup!'Can wisdom co-exist with—gorge-and-swillI say not,—simply sensual preferenceFor this or that fantastic meat and drink?Moreover, wind blows sharper than its wontThis morning, and thou hast already donnedThy sheepskin over-garment: sure the sageIs busied with conceits that soar aboveA petty change of season and its chanceOf causing ordinary flesh to sneeze?I always thought, Sir" . . ."Son," Ferishtah said,"Truth ought to seem as never thought before.How if I give it birth in parable?A neighbour owns two camels, beasts of price And promise, destined each to go, next week,Swiftly and surely with his merchandizeFrom Nishapur to Sebzevah, no truceTo tramp, but travel, spite of sands and drouth,In days so many, lest they miss the Fair.Each falls to meditation o'er his cribPiled high with provender before the start.Quoth this: 'My soul is set on winning praiseFrom goodman lord and master,—hump to hoof,I dedicate me to his service. How?Grass, purslane, lupines and I know not what,Crammed in my manger? Ha, I see—I see!No, master, spare thy money! I shall trudgeThe distance and yet cost thee not a doitBeyond my supper on this mouldy bran.' 'Be magnified, O master, for the mealSo opportunely liberal!' quoth that.'What use of strength in me but to surmountSands and simooms, and bend beneath thy balesNo knee until I reach the glad bazaar?Thus I do justice to thy fare: no sprigOf toothsome chervil must I leave unchewed!Too bitterly should I reproach myselfDid I sink down in sight of Sebzevah,Remembering how the merest mouthful moreHad heartened me to manage yet a mile!'And so it proved: the too-abstemious bruteMidway broke down, his pack rejoiced the thieves,His carcass fed the vultures: not so heThe wisely thankful, who, good market-drudge, Let down his lading in the market-place,No damage to a single pack. Which beast,Think ye, had praise and patting and a brandOf good-and-faithful-servant fixed on flank?So, with thy squeamish scruple,—what importsFasting or feasting? Do thy day's work, dareRefuse no help thereto,—since help refusedIs hindrance sought and found. Win but the race—Who shall object 'He tossed three wine cups off,And, just at starting, Lilith kissed his lips?'
More soberly,—consider this, my Son!Put case I never have myself enjoyed,Known by experience what enjoyment means,How shall I—share enjoyment?—no, indeed!— Supply it to my fellows,—ignorant,As so I should be of the thing they crave,How it affects them, works for good or ill.Style my enjoyment self-indulgence—sin—Why should I labour to infect my kindWith sin's occasion, bid them too enjoy,Who else might neither catch nor give againJoy's plague, but live in righteous misery?Just as I cannot, till myself convinced,Impart conviction, so, to deal forth joyAdroitly, needs must I know joy myself.Renounce joy for my fellows' sake? That 's joyBeyond joy; but renounced for mine, not theirs?Why, the physician called to help the sick,Cries 'Let me, first of all, discard my health!' No, Son: the richness hearted in such joyIs in the knowing what are gifts we give,Not in a vain endeavour not to know!Therefore, desire joy and thank God for it!The Adversary said,—a Jew reports,—התנס ירא איוב אלהים׃In Persian phrase, 'Does Job fear God for nought?'Job's creatureship is not abjured, thou fool!He nowise isolates himself and playsThe independent equal, owns no moreThan himself gave himself, so why thank God?A proper speech were this מאלהם'Equals we are, Job, labour for thyself,Nor bid me help thee: bear, as best flesh may,Pains I inflict not nor avail to cure: Beg of me nothing thou may'st win thyselfBy work, or waive with magnanimity,Since we are peers acknowledged,—scarcely peersHad I implanted any want of thineOnly my power could meet and gratify.'No: rather hear, at man's indifference—'Wherefore did I contrive for thee that earHungry for music, and direct thine eyeTo where I hold a seven-stringed instrument,Unless I meant thee to beseech me play?'"
Once I saw a chemist take a pinch of powder—Simple dust it seemed—and half-unstop a phial:—Out dropped harmless dew. "Mixed nothings make"—quoth he "Something!" So they did: a thunderclap, but louder—Lightning-flash, but fiercer—put spectators' nerves to trial:Sure enough, we learned what was, imagined what might be.
Once I saw a chemist take a pinch of powder—Simple dust it seemed—and half-unstop a phial:—Out dropped harmless dew. "Mixed nothings make"—quoth he "Something!" So they did: a thunderclap, but louder—Lightning-flash, but fiercer—put spectators' nerves to trial:Sure enough, we learned what was, imagined what might be.
Had I no experience how a lip's mere tremble,Look's half hesitation, cheek's just change of colour,These effect a heartquake,—how should I conceiveWhat a heaven there may be? Let it but resembleEarth myself have known! No bliss that's finer, fuller,Only—bliss that lasts, they say, and fain would I believe.