The Convert

Hevee content is the lover; each hour
His longing waxes in Strength and power.
He’er to one wish for two moments true,
A joy still dearer he holds in view.
He would look on the rose when he breathes her scent,
And pluck the fair flower when the stem is bent.
Zulaikha had sate by the way, but now
She would lift her eyes to his cheek and brow.
At the foot of the image to which she had prayed
From the days of childhood her head she laid:
O thou to whom praying I turn me, before
Whose feet I have loved thy dear might to adore ;
I have served thee devoutly from youth’s early day;
But the gem of my sight has been taken away.
Cast a pitying look on my ruin ; restore
The light of mine eyes that I sorrow no more.
Between Yusuf and me must there still be a bar ?
Oh, let me but see him— -one look from afar.
This prayer — thou art mighty; this one wish fulfil;
Give this, and then deal with me after thy will.
'What is life to a wretch who must hopelessly pine ?
Far better were death than a life like mine.”
Thus cried Zulaikha. She laid down her head,
And wet was the ground with the tears she shed.
To his throne in the east rose the Lord of Day,
And the steed of Yusuf was heard to neigh.
She came from her cottage in beggar’s weed
To the narrowest turn in the way of the steed,
With raised hand acted the mendicant’s part.
And made a low moan from the ground of her heart.
Before their master, the horsemen’s cry,
“ Make room, make room ! ” went up to the sky ;
And the tread and tramp of the mighty throng.
And the neighing of steeds as they moved along,
Smote on each ear, and no eye was turned
To the spot where Zulaikha sate undiscerned.
He looked not on her ; she rose forlorn,
In a hundred pieces her heart was torn.
Her broken spirit sent out a ciy,
And a flame came forth in each burning sigh.
To her house of woe she returned distraught.
And a hundred flames for each reed she brought.
She placed before her the idol of stone,
And to lighten her sorrow thus made her moan :
“ O thou who hast broken mine honour’s urn,
Thou stone of offence wheresoever I turn,
I should smite — for thy falsehood has ruined my rest —
With the stone thou art made of, the heart in my breast.
The way of misfortune too surely I trod
When I bowed down before thee and made thee my god ;
When I looked up to thee with wet eyes in my woe,
I renounced all the bliss which both worlds can bestow.
From. thy stony dominion my soul will I free,
And thus shatter the gem of thy power and thee.”
With a hard flint stone, like the Friend, as she spoke,
In a thousand pieces the image she broke.
Biven and shattered the idol fell,
And with her from that moment shall all. be well.
She made her ablution, ’mid penitent sighs,
With the blood of her heart and the tears of her eyes.
She bent down her head to the dust ; with a moan
She made supplication to God’s pure throne : — -
“ O God, who lovest the humble, Thou
To whom idols, their makers, their servants bow ;
’Tis to the light which Thy splendour lends
To the idol’s face that its worshipper bends.
Thy love the heart of the sculptor stirs,
And the idol is graven for worshippers.
They bow them down to the image, and think
That they worship Thee as before it they sink.
To myself, O Lord, I have done this wrong,
If mine eyes to an idol have turned so long.
I have erred and strayed ; let repentance win
Forgiveness, Good Lord, for my grievous sin.
Because I have wandered, nor heeded Thy right,
From mine eyes Thou has taken the jewel of sight.
Thou hast washed the dark stain of my sin away :
Now restore the lost blessing for which I pray.
May I feel my heart free from the brand of its woes,
And cull from the garden of Yusuf a rose.”
As Yusuf home to his palace hied,
Again by the way stood Zulaikha and cried :
“ Glory to God ! to a monarch’s state
He has lifted the poor and cast down the great.
He has cast the king from his glory down.
And set on the head of a servant his crown.”
When Yusuf the voice of Zulaikha heard,
His heart in his bosom was strangely stirred.
He cried to a lord: “As I hear her speak
My spirit sinks and my heart grows weak.
Who is the bedeswoman ? Bid her appear
In my council-chamber that I may hear
From her lips the tale of her life, and know
Her share of fortune, her dole of woe.
For the words of praise which mine ears have caught
On my troubled spirit have strongly wrought.
By some grievous woe is her heart down-weighecl.
Or why should my soul be so touched and swayed ? ”
Two hundred souls, to the king who can note
The truth of each sigh and each glance, I devote ;
Whose eye can discern the light of the true
From the false look of those who deceive when they sue ;
Who honour and punishment justly can mete
To the true light of dawn and the liar’s deceit ;
Hot like the princes whose judgment, for gold,
In our evil days may be bought and sold.
Each tyrant with cheeks like a guinea in hue
Makes a hundred 'wretches his mastery rue.
Gold brings the flush of delight to the cheek ;
But justice from gold it were idle to seek.