Bokhara.

THE RETURN AFTER ABSENCE.

H the breeze of the mountain is soothing and sweet, Warm breathing of love, and the friends we shall

meet;

And the rocks of the desert, so rough when we roam, Seem soft, soft as silk, on the dear path of home; The white waves of the Jeikon, that foam through their speed,

Seem scarcely to reach to the girth of my steed.

Rejoice, O Bokhara, and flourish for aye!

Thy King comes to meet thee, and long shall he stay.
Our King is our moon, and Bokhara our skies,
Where soon that fair light of the heavens shall arise,
Bokhara our orchard, the cypress our king,

In Bokhara's fair orchard soon destined to spring.

John Leyden.

THE SICK KING OF BOKHARA.

0

HUSSEIN.

MOST just Vizier, send away

The cloth-merchants, and let them be, Them and their dues, this day: the King Is ill at ease, and calls for thee.

THE VIZIER.

O merchants, tarry yet a day
Here in Bokhara: but at noon
To-morrow, come, and ye shall pay
Each fortieth web of cloth to me,
As the law is, and go your way.

O Hussein, lead me to the King.
Thou teller of sweet tales, thine own,
Ferdousi's, and the others', lead.
How is it with my lord?

HUSSEIN.

Alone,

Ever since prayer-time, he doth wait,

O Vizier, without lying down,

In the great window of the gate,

Looking into the Registàn;

Where through the sellers' booths the slaves

Are this way bringing the dead man.

O Vizier, here is the King's door.

THE KING.

O Vizier, may I 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,

Watched my lord's coming forth, and pushed 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 hath broke The law, and by the law must die! Vengeance, O King!"

But the King spoke:

"What fool is this, that hurts our ears

With folly? or what drunken slave?

My guards, what, prick him with your spears!
Prick me the fellow from the path!"
As the king said, so was it done,

And to the mosque my lord passed 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 path he took,

My man comes running, flecked 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 burned;
That the green water in the tanks
Is to a putrid puddle turned;
And the canal, that 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 brief space
With all the water that was there
I filled 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 called my mother; and they all,
As they were thirsty, and the night
Most sultry, drained the pitcher there;
Thus they sate with it, in my sight,
Their lips still wet, when I came down.

"Now mark! I, being fevered, 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 space, and said,
"Send him away, sirs, and make on.
It is some madman,” the King said:
As the King said, so was it done.