Volume I Part 42 (2/2)
EL JANN AND HIS PARABLE
_Bismillah!_
Ertoghrul pursued a wolf, And slew it on the range's tallest peak, Above the plain so high there was nor gra.s.s Nor even mosses more. And there he sat Him down awhile to rest; when from the sky, Or the blue ambiency cold and pure, Or maybe from the caverns of the earth Where Solomon the King is wont to keep The monster Genii hearkening his call, El Jann, vast as a cloud, and thrice as black, Appeared and spoke--
”Art thou Sheik Ertoghrul?”
And he undaunted answered: ”Even so.”
”Well, I would like to come and sit with thee.”
”Thou seest there is not room for both of us.”
”Then rise, I say, and get thee part way down The peak.”
”'Twere easier,” laughed Ertoghrul, ”Madest thou thyself like me as thin and small; And I am tired.”
A rus.h.i.+ng sound ran round and up And down the height, most like the whir of wings Through tangled trees of forests old and dim.
A moment thus--the time a crisped leaf, Held, armlength overhead, will take to fall-- And then a man was sitting face to face With Ertoghrul.
”This is the realm of snow,”
He said, and smiled--”a place from men secure, Where only eagles fearless come to nest, And summer with their young.”
The Sheik replied, ”It was a wolf--a gaunt gray wolf, which long Had fattened on my flocks--that lured me here.
I killed it.”
”On thy spear I see no blood; And where, O Sheik, the carca.s.s of the slain?
I see it not.”
Around looked Ertoghrul-- There was no wolf; and at his spear-- Upon its blade no blood. Then rose his wrath, A mighty pulse.
”The spear hath failed its trust-- I'll try the cimeter.”
A gleam of light-- A flitting, wind-borne spark in murk of night-- Then fell the sword, the gift of Alaeddin; Edge-first it smote the man upon his crown-- Between his eyes it sh.o.r.e, nor staying there, It cut his smile in two--and not yet spent, But rather gaining force, through chin and chine, And to the very stone on which he sat It clove, and finished with a bell-like clang Of silvern steel 'gainst steel.
”Aha! Aha!”-- But brief the shout; for lo! there was no stain Upon the blade withdrawn, nor moved the man, Nor changed he look or smile.
”I was the wolf That ran before thee up the mountain side; 'Twas I received thy spear as now thy sword; And know thou further, Sheik, nor wolf nor man Am I, nor mortal thing of any kind; Only a thought of Allah's. Canst thou kill A thought divine? Not Solomon himself Could that, except with thought yet more divine.
Yield thee thy rage; and when thou think'st of me Hereafter, be it as of one, a friend, Who brought a parable, and made display Before thee, saying-- ”Lo! what Allah wills.”
Therewith he dropped a seed scarce visible Into a little heap of sand and loam Between them drawn.
”Lo! Allah wills.”
And straight The dust began to stir as holding life.
Again El Jann--
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