Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

Home of the East! thy threshold's edge Checks the wild foot that knows no fear, Yet shrinks, as if from sacrilege

When rapine comes thy precincts near : Existence, whose precarious thread Hangs on the tyrant's mood and nod, Beneath thy roof its anxious head Rests, as within the house of God.

There, though without he feels a slave,
Compelled another's will to scan,
Another's favour forced to crave-

There is the Subject still the Man:
There is the form that none but he
Can touch, the face that he alone

Of living men has right to see ;

Not He who fills the Prophet's throne.

Then let the Moralist, who best

Honours the female heart, that blends

The deep affections of the West

With thought of life's sublimest ends, Ne'er to the Eastern home deny

Its lesser, yet not humble praise,

To guard one pure humanity
Amid the stains of evil days.

THE MOSQUE.

A SIMPLE unpartitioned room,—
Surmounted by an ample dome,
Or, in some lands that favoured lie,
With centre open to the sky,

But roofed with archèd cloisters round,

That mark the consecrated bound,

And shade the niche to Mekkeh turned,
By which two massive lights are burned;
With pulpit, whence the sacred word
Expounded on great days is heard;
With fountain fresh, where, ere they pray,
Men wash the soil of earth away;
With shining minaʼret, thin and high,
From whose fine-trelliced balcony
Announcement of the hours of prayer
Is uttered to the silent air;
Such is the Mosque-the holy place,
Where faithful men of every race,
Meet at their ease, and face to face.

Not that the power of God is here
More manifest, or more to fear;
Not that the glory of his face
Is circumscribed by any space;
But that, as men are wont to meet
In court or chamber, mart or street,

For purposes of gain or pleasure,
For friendliness or social leisure,—
So, for the greatest of all ends
To which intelligence extends,
The worship of the Lord, whose will
Created and sustains us still,

And honour of the Prophet's name,
By whom the saving message came,
Believers meet together here,
And hold these precincts very dear.

The floor is spread with matting neat,
Unstained by touch of shodden feet-
A decent and delightful seat!
Where, after due devotions paid,
And legal ordinance obeyed,
Men may in happy parlance join,
And gay with serious thought combine;
May ask the news from lands away,
May fix the business of to-day;
Or, with "God willing," at the close,
To-morrow's hopes and deeds dispose.

Children are running in and out
With silver-sounding laugh and shout,
No more disturbed in their sweet play,
No more disturbing those that pray,
Than the poor birds, that fluttering fly
Among the rafters there on high,
Or seek at times, with grateful hop,
The corn fresh-sprinkled on the top.*

* Many of the mosques possess funds dedicated to the support of birds and other animals: one at Cairo has a large boat at the top filled with

So, lest the stranger's scornful eye
Should hurt this sacred family,—
Lest inconside'rate words should wound
Devout adorers with their sound,—
Lest careless feet should stain the floor
With dirt and dust from out the door,-
'Tis well that custom should protect
The place with prudence circumspect,
And let no unbeliever pass

The threshold of the faithful mass;
That as each Muslim his Hareem
Guards even from a jealous dream,
So should no alien feeling scathe
This common home of public faith,
So should its very name dispel

The presence of the infidel.

Yet, though such reve'rence may demand

A building raised by human hand,

Most honour to the men of prayer,

Whose mosque is in them everywhere!
Who, amid revel's wildest din,

In war's severest discipline,

On rolling deck, in thronged bazaar,
In stranger lands, however far,

However diffe'rent in their reach

Of thought, in manners, dress, or speech,

Will quietly their carpet spread,

To Mekkeh turn the humble head,

And, as if blind to all around,

And deaf to each distracting sound,

corn as fast as it is consumed, and another possessed an estate bequeathed to it to give food to the homeless cats of the city.

In ritual language God adore,
In spirit to his presence soar,
And, in the pauses of the prayer,
Rest, as if rapt in glory there!

THE KIOSK.*

BENEATH the shadow of a large-leaved plane,
Above the ripple of a shallow stream,
Beside a cypress-planted cemetery,
In a gay-painted trellis-worked kiosk,
A company of easy Muslims sat,
Enjoying the calm measure of delight
God grants the faithful even here on earth.

Most pleasantly the bitter berry tastes,

Handed by that bright-eyed and neat-limbed boy;
Most daintily the long chibouk is filled

And almost before emptied, filled again;

Or, with a free good-will, from mouth to mouth
Passes the cool Nargheelee+ serpentine.

So sit they, with some low occasional word

Breaking the silence in itself so sweet,
While o'er the neighbou'ring bridge the caravan
Winds slowly in one line interminable

Of camel after camel, each with neck
Jerked up, as sniffing the far desert air.

* Story-telling is, now as ever, the delight of the East: in the coffee and summer houses, at the corners of the streets, in the courts of the mosque, sit the grave and attentive crowd, hearing with childly pleasure the same stories over and over again, applauding every new turn of expression or incident, but not requiring them any more than the hearers of a European sermon.

The hookah of the Levant.

« НазадПродовжити »