Speech

Speech, prime of new-born blossoms that belong
To Love, is prelude to Love’s book of song :
The loftiest height the sage’s foot may climb,
The surest monument to vanquish time.
The might of speech alone unfolds to view
Whate’er the world brings forth of old or new.
Speech gave the mandate : eager to obey,
The writer’s pen on Being’s tablet lay.
The pen’s existence from that hest began.
And from its opening eye a fountain ran.
Those waters dancing as they murmur by
Inebriate the world, the low and high :
They move the tongue ; each word becomes a rose
From mystic gardens as the lips unclose,
And comes, the breath of life about it shed,
With graceful motion from its flowery bed.
It gains the portal of the listening ear,
And Wisdom trembles when the power is near.
The will speeds forth to greet the welcome guest,
And shrines the virgin bud within the breast.
Now to the lip the smile of joy it brings ;
Now wins the tear-drop from her secret springs ;
Now with gay smile it wreathes the lip of woe ;
Now from each laughing eye bids tears o’erflow.
When linked with speech this heavenly power I see,
Her faithful servant let me ever be.
Now to cast off the load of eld be mine.
The secret of my heart I will not keep,
But make the world that listens smile and weep.
Shirin and Khusrau’s might are themes outworn ;
A sweeter Khusrau shall my song adorn.
Laila and Majnun’s love have had their day ;
Another’s name shall animate my lay,
Who spread, a parrot sugar-fed, the fame
Of Yusuf’s beauty and Zulaikha’s flame.
The Word of God has called this tale the best ;
And in my sweetest verse shall it be dressed.
No lie may here find entrance : search it through ;
The tale is stamped by revelation true.
A falsehood never, dressed by flattering Art
To show like truth, may satisfy the heart.
Speech by fair truth is decked and honoured best,
As the full moon is ever loveliest.
Dark is the dim false dawn, because, forsworn,
It proudly boasts to usher in the morn ;
But the true morning comes, and straight unfurled,
His golden banner glitters o’er the world.
No darling ever was like Yusuf fair,
In peerless beauty far beyond compare.
Still is each youth, above his fellows famed.
For charm of face, a second Yusuf named.
Hone like Zulaikha loved. O far above
All women’s her immeasurable love !
To age from childhood, love’s unconquered flame
In wealth and poverty burnt on the same.
When after age, infirmity, and pain,
Her youth, and strength, and gladness came again,
She never turned from loves true path aside,
But, born to love, in love she lived and died.
How from my pen I strew the pearls of verse
And the sweet story of her love rehearse.
A store of wisdom ever new repays
Each golden piece expended in their praise.
If some good man — this grace I pray to win—
Opens this book of love and reads therein,
May he not turn, as turns the leaf, his back,
Nor with his finger’s reed my lines attack.
If here and there a slip or fault he see.
May he not lay the blame of all on me.
May he correct my errors, or befriend
With generous silence faults he cannot mend.