Imprisonment

In vain they tempted him. No success,
Had the art of each wily idolatress.
The pure soul of Yusuf was still unmoved,
Nay, firmer still by temptation proved.
And like bats that flee ere the sun is bright,
They despaired of the joy of his beauty’s light.
But they left not Zulaikha a moment’s rest,
On her sorrowing soul their advice they pressed.
“ Poor suffering creature,” ’twas thus they cried,
“ Unworthiest thou to be thus denied ;
No Houri’s child is like Yusuf fair,
But he will not listen to grant thy prayer.
We gave him rebuke and advice enough,
And the file of our tongue we made sharp and rough.
But his heart is hard, and he will not feel ;
The file, though rough, would not bite the steel.
Let the forge — his prison — be heated, so
The stubborn iron will melt and glow.
When the metal grows soft in the flame, the skill
Of the smith can fashion its form at will.
If the softened iron thou canst not mould,
Why hammer in vain when the steel is cold ? ”
She trusted the words that the charmers spoke,
And hope in her bosom again awoke.
She would prison the treasure her heart loved best,
And make him suffer that she might rest.
When love is not perfect, with one sole thought —
Himself — is the heart of the lover fraught.
He looks on his love as a charming toy,
The spring and source of his selfish joy.
One rose will he pluck from his love, and leave
A hundred thorns her lone heart to grieve.
As Zulaikha sate by her husband’s side,
She poured out the rage of her soul and cried :
“ This boy has brought me to grief and shame ;
The high and the humble reproach my name.
Men and women the story tell,
How I pine for the youth whom I love too well ;
That I am the game he has struck with his dart,
And laid on the ground with a bleeding heart.
Barb upon barb in my breast, they say,
Has drained the blood from the stricken prey ;
No hair of my head from that love is free,
And my very self is a stranger to me.
To send him to prison and thus repel
The growing slander, methinks, were well,
And in every street of the town to proclaim
By the voice of the crier the traitor’s shame ;
Thus shall be punished the slave who allows
His eye to look on his master’s spouse,
And with lawless feet, on the carpet spread
For the lord who owns him, presumes to tread.’
The tongue of reproach will be silent when
My avenging wrath is made known to men.”
The plan she spoke to his willing ear,
Delighted the heart of the Grand Vizier.
“ I have pondered it long,” was the answer he made
“ Long on my soul has the trouble weighed ;
But I never have pierced a pearl so fine.
Or devised a plan to compare with thine.
The boy is thine own, as thou wilt, to treat ;
Sweep thou the dust from the path of thy feet.”
She heard his speech with a joyful smile,
And she turned to Yusuf the rein of her guile :
“ O wish of my heart and desire of mine eyes,
The only treasure on earth I prize,
My lord’s permission has left me free
To deal as my will may incline with thee.
Thy head, if I will, in a prison must lie,
Thy foot, if I order, will tread the sky.
Why still rebellious ? why still so blind ?
Bend thy proud spirit at last and be kind.
Oh, come, tread the path, of agreement and peace ;
Me from torment, thyself from affliction, release.
Come, grant me my wish ; I with thine will comply ;
In the zenith of glory thy name shall be high.
Beware, beware, or the door will unclose
Of a prison fraught with a hundred woes ;
And to lie there in sorrow and chains will be
Less sweet than to sit and smile softly on me.”
He opened his lips in reply : but well
You know the answer I need not tell.
In Zulaikha’s bosom resentment woke,
And thus to the chief of the guard she spoke :
“ Off with his robe and his cap of gold :
In coarsest woollen his limbs enfold.
His silver with fetters of iron deck,
And bind the slave’s collar about his neck.
Guilty of crime, make him sit on an ass
And through every street of the city pass ;
And let a crier’s loud voice proclaim
That the treacherous servant, lost to shame,
Who dares on his master’s carpet to tread,
Shall thus with scorn to his prison be led.”
The multitude gathered on every side,
And “ God forbid,” in amaze they cried,
“ That from one so fair should come evil deed —
The robber of hearts cause a heart to bleed.
Of the race of the angels he surely is one,
And no deeds of Satan by them are done.
No evil act will the lovely do,
’For the sage has said, and his words are true :
‘ The fair in face are. not soiled with sin ;
Less fair are their looks than their souls within.
But he who is hideous in form and face,
Has a heart in his breast that is yet more base.’
And we see the truth of the maxim still.
Ne’er the hideous do good nor the lovely ill.”
Thus to the dungeon the boy was driven,
And there to the charge of the jailor given.
Within the prison the saint was led,
And life seemed to return to the corpse of the dead.
A cry of joy from the captives rose,
And happiness came to that house of woes ;
While all in rapture their fetters beat
As they saw the approach of his blessed feet. ;
None felt the chain that confined each limb,
The ring on his neck was no bond for him.
A rapturous joy was his gloomy fate,
And a mountain of woe was a straw in weight.
Wherever is one of the Houris’ race
She makes a heaven of the dreariest place.
Where the loved one comes with her cheek of rose,
There a rose-bed is though a furnace glows.
When the glad commotion was hushed and still.
To the jailor Zulaikha declared her will :
“ Spare him : with kindness the captive treat ;
Strike the ring from his neck and the chain from his feet.
Strip off the rough gown from his silver skin ;
Bring silken raiment to robe him in,
Wash the dust of toil from his head, and set
On his brows the bright round of a coronet.
A separate house for his rest prepare,
And lodge him apart from the others there.
The door and the walls with sweet scent perfume ;
Brighten each window and arch of his room ;
And .over the floor be a carpet laid
Of silver tissue and gold brocade.”
Within the chamber the captive passed :
The carpet of prayer on the ground he cast,
And raised — for such was his wont each day —
His tranquil face to the arch to pray.
He joyed to have fled from the women’s snare,
And his burthen was light for his heart to bear.
Woe never visits the world but it brings
Sweet scent of the coming of happier things ;
And the weary captive who lies in chains
Feels the breath of a blessing to lighten his pains.