Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SHEKH AHNAF'S LETTER FROM BAGDAD, by BAYARD TAYLOR Poet's Biography First Line: In allah's name, the ever merciful Last Line: To keep his faith undarkened in tangier! Alternate Author Name(s): Taylor, James Bayard Subject(s): Faith; Letters; Love; Prophecy & Prophets; Belief; Creed | ||||||||
IN Allah's name, the Ever Merciful, The Most Compassionate! To thee, my friend, Ben-Arif, peace and blessing! May this scroll, A favored herald, tell thee in Tangier That Ahnaf follows soon, if Allah wills! Yes, after that last day at Arafat Whereof I wrote thee, -- after weary moons, Delayed among the treacherous Wahabees, -- The long, sweet rest beneath Derreyeh's palms, That cooled my body for the burning bath Of naked valleys in the hither waste Beside Euphrates, -- now behold me here In Baghdad! Here, and drinking from the well Whose first pure waters fertilized the West! I, as thou knowest, with both my hands took hold Of Law and of Tradition, so to lift To knowledge and obedience my soul. Severe was I accounted -- but my strength Was likewise known of all men; and I craved The sterner discipline which Islam first Endured, and knit the sinews of our race. What says the Law? -- "Who changes or perverts, Conceals, rejects, or holds of small account, Though it were but the slightest seeming word, Hath all concealed, perverted, slighted!" This, Thou knowest, I held, and hold. Here, I hoped, The rigid test should gladden limbs prepared To bend, accept, and then triumphant rise. Even as the weak of faith rejoice to find Some lax interpretation, I rejoiced In foretaste of the sure severity. As near I drew, across the sandy flats, Above the palms the yellow minaret Wrote on the sky my welcome: "Ahnaf, hail! Here, in the city of the Abbasid, Set thou thine evening by its morning star Of Faith, and bind the equal East and West!" Ah me, Ben-Arif! how shall pen of mine Set forth the perturbation of the soul? To doubt were death; not hope, were much the same As not believe -- but Allah tries my strength With tests far other than severest law. When I had bathed, and then had cleansed with prayer My worn and dusty soul, (so, doubly pure, Pronounced the fathah as 't is heard in Heaven), I sought the court-yard of Almansour's mosque, Where, after asser, creeping shadows cool The marble, and the shekhs in commerce grave Keep fresh the ancient wisdom. Me they gave Reception kindly, though perchance I felt -- Or fancied, only -- lack of special warmth For vows accomplished and my pilgrim zeal. "Where is Tangier?" said one; whereat the rest With most indifferent knowledge did discuss The problem -- none, had they but questioned me! -- Then snatched again the theme they half let drop, And in their heat forgot me. I, abashed, Sat listening: vainly did I prick mine ears. I knew the words, indeed, but missed therein The wonted sense: they stripped our Holy Book Of every verse which not contains the Law, -- Spake Justice and Forgiveness, Peace and Love, Nor once the duties of the right hand fixed, Nor service of the left: the nature they Of Allah glorified, and not His names: Of customs and observances no word Their lips let fall: and I distinguished not, Save by their turbans, that they other were Than Jews, or Christians, or the Pagans damned. Methought I dreamed and in my mind withdrawn At last heard only the commingling clash Of voices near me, and the songs outside Of boatmen on the Tigris. Then a hand Came on my shoulder, and the oldest shekh, White-bearded Hatem, spake: "O Ahnaf! thou Art here a stranger, and it scarce beseems That we should speak of weighty matters thus To uninstructed ears -- the less, to thine, Which, filled so long with idle sand, require The fresh delight of sympathetic speech That cools like yonder fountain, and makes glad. Nor wouldst thou hear, perchance, nor could we give An easy phrase as key to what so long Hath here been forged: but come tonight with me Where this shall be applied, and more, to bring Islam a better triumph than the sword Of Ali gave; for that but slew the foe, This maketh him a friend." I, glad at heart To know my hope not false, yet wondering much, Gave eager promise, and at nightfall went With Hatem to the college of a sect We know not in the West -- nor is there need: An ancient hall beneath a vaulted dome, With hanging lamps well lit, and cushioned seats Where sat a grave and motley multitude. When they beheld my guide, they all arose, And "Peace be with thee, Hatem!" greeting, cried. He, whispering to me: "O Ahnaf, sit And hear, be patient, wonder if thou wilt, But keep thy questions sagely to the end, When I shall seek thee" -- to a dais passed, And sat him down. And all were silent there In decent order, or in whispers spoke; But great my marvel was when I beheld Parsee and Jew and Christian - yea, the race Of Boodh and Brahma -- with the Faithful mixed As if were no defilement! Lo! they rose Again, with equal honor to salute The Rabbi Daood, Jewest of the Jews, -- And even so, for an Armenian priest! Yet both some elder prophets share with us, And it might pass: but twice again they rose, -- Once for a Parsee, tinged like smoky milk, His hat a leaning tower, -- and once, a dark, Grave man, with turban thinner than a wheel, A wafer on his forehead (Satan's sign!) -- A worshipper of Ganges and the cow! These made my knees to smite: yet Hatem stood And gave his hand, and they beside him sat. Then one by one made speech; and what the first, The shrill-tongued Rabbi, claimed as rule for all, That they accepted. "Forasmuch' (said he) "As either of our sects hath special lore Which not concerns the others -- special signs And marvels which the others must reject, However holy and attested deemed, Set we all such aside, and hold our minds Alone to that which in our creeds hath power To move, enlighten, strengthen, purify, -- The God behind the veil of miracles! So speak we to the common brain of each And to the common heart; for what of Truth Grows one with life, is manifest to all, Or Jew, or Moslem, or whatever name, And none deny it: test we then how much This creed or that hath power to shape true lives." All there these words applauded: Ha tem most, Who spake: "My acquiescence lies therein, That on thy truth, O Jew! I build the claim Of him, our Prophet, to authority." Then some one near me, jeering, said: "Well done! He gives up Gabriel and the Beast Borak!" "Yea, but" -- another answered -- "must the Jew Not also lose his Pharaohs and his plagues, His rams'-horns and his Joshua and the sun?" "For once the Christians," whispered back a Jew, "Must cease to turn their water into wine, Or feed the multitude with five small loaves And two small fishes." Thus the people talked; While I, as one that in a dream appears To eat the flesh of swine, and cannot help The loathsome dream, awaited what should come. To me it seemed -- and doubtless to the rest, Though heretics and pagans -- as the chiefs Who there disputed were both maimed and bound, So little dared they offer, shorn and lopped Of all their vigor, false as well as true. Was it of Islam that Shekh Hatem spake, With ringing tongue and fiery words that forced Unwilling tears from Pagan and from Jew, And cries of "Allah Akhbar!" from his own? Forsooth, I know not: he was Islam's chief. How dared he nod his head and smile, to hear The Jew declare his faith in God the Lord, The Christian preach of love and sacrifice, The Parsee and the Hindoo recognize The gifts of charity and temperance. And peace and purity? If this be so, And heretic and pagan crowd with us The gates of Allah's perfect Paradise, Why hath He sent His Prophet? Nay, -- I write In anger, not in doubt: nor need I here To thee, Ben-Arif, faithful man and wise, Portray the features of my shame and grief. Ere all had fully spoken, I, confused, -- Hearing no word of washing or of prayer Of cross, or ark, or fire, or symbol else Idolatrous, obscene, -- could only gress What creed was glorified before the crowd, By garb and accent of the chief who spake: And scarcely then; for oft, as one set forth His holiest duties, all, as with one voice, Exclaimed: "But also these are mine!" The strife Was then, how potent were they, how observed, -- Made manifest in life? One cannot say That such are needless, but their sacred stamp Comes from observance of all forms of law, Which here -- the strength of Islam -- was suppressed. Their wrangling -- scarcely could it so be called! -- Was o'er the husks: the kernel of the creed They first picked out, and flung it to the winds. I, pierced on every side with sorest stings, Waited uneasily the end delayed, When Hatem spake once more: his eye was bright, And the long beard that o'er his girdle rolled Shook as in storm. "Now, God be praised!" he cried: "God ever merciful, compassionate, Hath many children; these have many tongues: But of one blood are they, one truth they seek, One law of Love and Justice fits them all. And they have many Prophets: may it be, Though not of like commission, in so far As they declare His truth, they speak for Him! Go past their histories: accept their souls, And whatsoe'er of perfect and of pure Is breathed from each, in each and all the same, Confirms the others' office and its own! Here is the centre of the moving wheel, -- The point of rest, wherefrom the separate creeds Build out their spokes, that seem to chase and flee, Revolving in the marches of His Day! If one be weak, destroy it: if it bear Unstrained His glory of Eternal Truth, And firmer fibre from the ages gain, Behold, at last it shall replace the rest! Even as He wills! The bright solution grows Nearer and clearer with the whirling years: Till finally the use of outward signs Shall be outworn, the crumbling walls thrown down, And one Religion shall make glad the world!" More I could not endure: I did not wait For Hatem's coming, as he promised me; Yet -- ere amid the crowds I could escape -- I saw the Rabbi and the Christian priest Fall on his neck with weeping. With a groan, A horrid sense of smothering in my throat, And words I will not write, I gained the air, And saw, O Prophet! how thy Crescent shone Above the feathery palm-tops, and the dome Of Haroun's tomb upon the Tigris' bank. And this is Baghdad! -- Eblis, rather say! -- O fallen city of the Abbasid, Where Islam is defiled, and by its sons! Prepare, Ben-Arif, to receive thy friend, Who with the coming moon shall westward turn To keep his faith undarkened in Tangier! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNHOLY SONNET 4 by MARK JARMAN QUIA ABSURDUM by ROBINSON JEFFERS GOING TO THE HORSE FLATS by ROBINSON JEFFERS SONNET TO FORTUNE by LUCY AIKEN JONATHAN EDWARDS IN WESTERN MASSACHUSETTS by ROBERT LOWELL RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION by MINA LOY BEDOUIN [LOVE] SONG by BAYARD TAYLOR NATIONAL ODE; INDEPENDENCE SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA by BAYARD TAYLOR |
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