They felt their Degradation...

They felt their Degradation: they believed The word that told them how to be retrieved, And in that glorious Consummation won Forgot the Cost at which it must be done. 'They only long'd to follow: they would go Whither he led, through Flood, or Fire, or Snow'- So cried the Multitude.

But some there were Who listen'd with a cold disdainful air,120 Content with what they were, or grudging Cost Of Time or Travel that might all be lost; These, one by one, came forward, and preferr'd Unwise Objection: which the wiser Word Shot with direct Reproof, or subtly round With Argument and Allegory wound.

The Pheasant first would know by what pretence The Tajidar to that pre-eminence Was raised-a Bird, but for his lofty Crest (And such the Pheasant had) like all the Rest-130 Who answer'd-'By no Virtue of my own Sulayman chose me, but by His alone: Not by the Gold and Silver of my Sighs Made mine, but the free Largess of his Eyes. Behold the Grace of Allah comes and goes As to Itself is good: and no one knows Which way it turns: in that mysterious Court Not he most finds who furthest travels for't.

For one may crawl upon his knees Life-long, And yet may never reach, or all go wrong:140 Another just arriving at the Place He toil'd for, and-the Door shut in his Face: Whereas Another, scarcely gone a Stride, And suddenly-Behold he is Inside!- But though the Runner win not, he that stands , No Thorn will turn to Roses in his Hands: Each one must do his best and all endure, And all endeavour, hoping but not sure.

Heav'n its own Umpire is; its Bidding do, And Thou perchance shalt be Sulayman's too.'150 One day Shah Mahmud, riding with the Wind A-hunting, left his Retinue behind, And coming to a River, whose swift Course Doubled back Game and Dog, and Man and Horse, Beheld upon the Shore a little Lad A-fishing, very poor, and Tatter-clad He was, and weeping as his Heart would break.

So the Great Sultan, for good humour's sake Pull'd in his Horse a moment, and drew nigh, And after making his Salam, ask'd why160 He wept-weeping, the Sultan said, so sore As he had never seen one weep before. The Boy look'd up, and 'O Amir,' he said, 'Sev'n of us are at home, and Father dead, And Mother left with scarce a Bit of Bread: And now since Sunrise have I fish'd-and see! Caught nothing for our Supper-Woe is Me!' The Sultan lighted from his horse.