Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold Part 12

_The King_

O Vizier, I may bury him?

_The Vizier_

O King, thou know'st, I have been sick These many days, and heard no thing (For Allah shut my ears and mind), Not even what thou dost, O King!

Wherefore, that I may counsel thee, Let Hussein, if thou wilt, make haste To speak in order what hath chanced.

_The King_

O Vizier, be it as thou say'st!

_Hussein_

Three days since, at the time of prayer A certain Moollah, with his robe All rent, and dust upon his hair, Watch'd my lord's coming forth, and push'd The golden mace-bearers aside, And fell at the King's feet, and cried:

"Justice, O King, and on myself!

On this great sinner, who did break The law, and by the law must die!

Vengeance, O King!"

But the King spake: "What fool is this, that hurts our ears With folly? or what drunken slave?

My guards, what, p.r.i.c.k him with your spears!

p.r.i.c.k me the fellow from the path!"

As the King said, so it was done, And to the mosque my lord pa.s.s'd on.

But on the morrow, when the King Went forth again, the holy book Carried before him, as is right, And through the square his way he took; My man comes running, fleck'd with blood From yesterday, and falling down Cries out most earnestly: "O King, My lord, O King, do right, I pray!

"How canst thou, ere thou hear, discern If I speak folly? but a king, Whether a thing be great or small, Like Allah, hears and judges all.

"Wherefore hear thou! Thou know'st, how fierce In these last days the sun hath burn'd; That the green water in the tanks Is to a putrid puddle turn'd; And the ca.n.a.l, which from the stream Of Samarcand is brought this way, Wastes, and runs thinner every day.

"Now I at nightfall had gone forth Alone, and in a darksome place Under some mulberry-trees I found A little pool; and in short s.p.a.ce, With all the water that was there I fill'd my pitcher, and stole home Unseen; and having drink to spare, I hid the can behind the door, And went up on the roof to sleep.

"But in the night, which was with wind And burning dust, again I creep Down, having fever, for a drink.

"Now meanwhile had my brethren found The water-pitcher, where it stood Behind the door upon the ground, And call'd my mother; and they all, As they were thirsty, and the night Most sultry, drain'd the pitcher there; That they sate with it, in my sight, Their lips still wet, when I came down.

"Now mark! I, being fever'd, sick (Most unblest also), at that sight Brake forth, and cursed them--dost thou hear?-- One was my mother----Now, do right!"

But my lord mused a s.p.a.ce, and said: "Send him away, Sirs, and make on!

It is some madman!" the King said.

As the King bade, so was it done.

The morrow, at the self-same hour, In the King's path, behold, the man, Not kneeling, sternly fix'd! he stood Right opposite, and thus began, Frowning grim down: "Thou wicked King, Most deaf where thou shouldst most give ear!

What, must I howl in the next world, Because thou wilt not listen here?

"What, wilt thou pray, and get thee grace, And all grace shall to me be grudged?

Nay but, I swear, from this thy path I will not stir till I be judged!"

Then they who stood about the King Drew close together and conferr'd; Till that the King stood forth and said: "Before the priests thou shalt be heard."

But when the Ulemas were met, And the thing heard, they doubted not; But sentenced him, as the law is, To die by stoning on the spot.

Now the King charged us secretly: "Stoned must he be, the law stands so.

Yet, if he seek to fly, give way; Hinder him not, but let him go."

So saying, the King took a stone, And cast it softly;--but the man, With a great joy upon his face, Kneel'd down, and cried not, neither ran.

So they, whose lot it was, cast stones, That they flew thick and bruised him sore.

But he praised Allah with loud voice, And remain'd kneeling as before.

My lord had cover'd up his face; But when one told him, "He is dead,"

Turning him quickly to go in, "Bring thou to me his corpse," he said.

And truly, while I speak, O King, I hear the bearers on the stair; Wilt thou they straightway bring him in?

--Ho! enter ye who tarry there!

_The Vizier_

O King, in this I praise thee not!

Now must I call thy grief not wise.

Is he thy friend, or of thy blood, To find such favour in thine eyes?

Nay, were he thine own mother's son, Still, thou art king, and the law stands.

It were not meet the balance swerved, The sword were broken in thy hands.

But being nothing, as he is, Why for no cause make sad thy face?-- Lo, I am old! three kings, ere thee, Have I seen reigning in this place.

But who, through all this length of time, Could bear the burden of his years, If he for strangers pain'd his heart Not less than those who merit tears?

Fathers we _must_ have, wife and child, And grievous is the grief for these; This pain alone, which _must_ be borne, Makes the head white, and bows the knees.

But other loads than this his own One man is not well made to bear.

Besides, to each are his own friends, To mourn with him, and show him care.

Look, this is but one single place, Though it be great; all the earth round, If a man bear to have it so, Things which might vex him shall be found.

Upon the Russian frontier, where The watchers of two armies stand Near one another, many a man, Seeking a prey unto his hand,

Hath s.n.a.t.c.h'd a little fair-hair'd slave; They s.n.a.t.c.h also, towards Merve, The s.h.i.+ah dogs, who pasture sheep, And up from thence to Orgunje.

And these all, labouring for a lord, Eat not the fruit of their own hands; Which is the heaviest of all plagues, To that man's mind, who understands.

The kaffirs also (whom G.o.d curse!) Vex one another, night and day; There are the lepers, and all sick; There are the poor, who faint alway All these have sorrow, and keep still, Whilst other men make cheer, and sing.

Wilt thou have pity on all these?