Excuses

The answer was brought to Zulaikha; despair
Made her senses as wild as her own wild hair.
From her eye’s black almond there came a flood
Of thick tears mixed with her own heart’s blood.
She reared up her stately cypress, and flew
Till its shade o’er the head of her darling she threw.
“ My head,” she cried, “ at thy feet shall be,
But ne’er shall my breast from thy love be free.
My love of thee throbs in each hair of my head :
Self-thought and self-feeling are vanished and dead.
That vision of thee is my soul, and the snare
Of thy love is the collar which slave-like I wear.
Have I a soul ? ’Tis but longing for thee ;
A. body ? Its spirit is hasting to flee.
But how of the state of my heart shall I speak ?
’Tis one drop of the torrent that pours down my cheek.
In the whelming sea of thy love I drown ;
Its waters rush o’er me and weigh me down.
When the leech with his lancet would ease my pain,
Love of thee, and not blood, gushes forth from the vein.”
Then Yusuf wept at her words. “ Ah, why
Those tears ? ” said Zulaikha, and heaved a sigh.
" Thou art mine own very eye, and while
Tears of sorrow are dewing it how can I smile ?
For each big drop from thine eye that flows,
A flame of fire in my bosom glows.
A miracle this of thy beauty, that turns
Water itself into flame that burns.”
He saw her anguish, he heard her sighs,
And the tears flowed down from his lips and eyes
“ My heart is broken,” he said, “ when I see
How woe ever waits upon love of me.
My aunt’s foolish love was my earliest grief,
For it made me appear to the world as a thief.
Loved by my father I still was unblest,
For envy grew fast in each brother’s breast.
From his sight they banished his favoured child.
And to Egypt’s land have I come exiled.
And now must the heart in my bosom bleed
At thought of the woe which thy love may breed.
The Lord of lovers is jealous : He
Will brook in His kingship no rivalry.
He will have no partner to share His throne,
But from first to last He will reign alone.
Scarce may a cypress its proud top show
'Ere like a long shadow He lays it low.
Scarce can the moon her full light display
Ere scathed by His anger it fades away.
Soon as the sun in the zenith shines
The golden light to the west declines.”
Zulaikha answered : “ My lamp and eye,
I need no moonlight when thou art nigh.
If I may not be dear in thy sight, to be
The least of thy slaves were enough for me.
But canst thou not treat her in gentler mood,
And free her from sorrows of servitude ?
No outward sign will thy handmaid show.
But her heart will long and her bosom glow.
Why dost thou deem me a foe ? Thou art
Dearer to me than mine own dear heart.
And where is the fool who would add a care
To double the load which his heart must bear ?
What dost thou fear from my hate ? My heart
By the sword of thy love has been cleft apart.
Ah, kiss me ; the touch of thy lips will restore
The rest of my soul that I sorrow no more.”
" Nay, my sweet mistress,” thus Yusuf replied :
“ In duty’s bonds I am chained and tied.
From the path of service I may not stray :
There thou commandest and I obey.
More than such duty forbear to claim ;
Make not thy love my dishonour and shame.
Assign me some labour that far from thy side
My days still for thee may be occupied.
Against thy light orders I will not rebel,
But remember thy bounties and serve thee well.
By faithful service a slave like me
Made glad by kindness at length is free.
True service rejoices a master ; but still
A slave he continues who serves him ill”
“ Rare jewel,” she answered, “ compared with thee
The meanest slave’s rank were too high for me.
For each slight task, when my voice is heard,
A hundred servants obey my word.
Their ready service can I refuse,
And thee for the task or the message choose ?
The eye is counted of higher worth
Than the foot which is fashioned to tread the earth.
Thorns in the path of thy foot may lie,
Rut lay not upon them thy precious eye.”
Again said Yusuf : “ Dear lady, round
Whose heart the bands of my love are hound,
If thy love like the light of the morn he true,
Only my will must thou seek to do.
My wish is only to serve thee ; thou—
Or thou art no friend— must the wish allow.
To please the heart that he loves, a friend
Regards as his being’s true aim and end,
’Neath the foot of friendship his will he sets,
And self in the love of his friend forgets.”
He spake in the hope that a task might bar
All converse with her and keep him afar.
He knew that her presence was trouble and fear :
In distance was safety, and woe to be near.
In fire and tempest the wool that flies
When it may not contend with the flame is wise.