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According to Teenage Research Unlimited, 51 percent of 13-15 year olds say they will be faced with making a decision regarding alcohol in the next three months.

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Our estimates suggest that a tax increase of 1 percent of GDP reduces output over the next three years by nearly 3 percent. The effect is highly significant.

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Despite the administration's long public information campaign, for many months polls have consistently indicated only 37 percent of those eligible for Medicare say they only partially understand the program.

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She Matters

Unless she matters, where's the love?
Her thoughts aren't his to bend...
In marriage, strength proves not enough,
Unless used as a friend...
When the husband chose a helpmate,
He didn't choose a slave...
He shouldn't turn from love to hate,
As if control to crave...

Unless she matters, all is lost,
Temptation leads astray
And many men must count the cost,
As if like Judgment Day...
When Lord Jesus showed compassion
To those He met on Earth,
Did Lord Jesus choose to ration
According to their worth?

If marriage is God's gift to Man
And most would say it is,
The husband must do what he can
To make that marriage bliss.
Yes, we know to God she matters,
God hears her prayers as well...
His finger now points at us,
If we've sad tales to tell...

That's why some pray with hearts of gold
Until their first love cools,
But then they bicker and they scold
Like unforgiving fools...
The wife is his and his alone,
United, they will stand,
So perfect patience can be known,
Just as the Lord has planned.


Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2011.

: : : : : : : : : :

She Matters is seen on Revelation TV.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital and
via the Watch Now webpage on the
Revelation TV website:

revelationtv-dot-com

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Beautifully Constructed Document

This is an exquisite headache, I have struggled to page 5 and
there still is another ten, though I am required to say when,
the truth is I don't know how to finish this work to make the
deadline, seeking help I found a guru's advice ‘Start paying
attention to how you feel' - not much help there

I feel hot and bothered and desperate and determined to finish
this should I die in the attempt, even writing this is
lessening the time dedicated to my precious text, I cannot
sing about it, diplomatic lines to assure lenders of funds
unlimited and Australians donating many Oz dollars to Africans

A sweet attempt to help Africa from the Middle Ages to the
Enlightenment of infrastructure, irrigation and policies en-
suring good governance - ay, there's the rub, the moment
overseers and supervisors and political reports are needed,
the money is siphoned into an organigram and

Not enough is left for agricultural projects, reorganising the
government does not teach good ethics which should be learnt
at mother's knee through fairy tales to understand that one
should not slaughter the goose laying golden eggs or live with-
out discipline - much as I love people helping each other

I am curious to know how much goes to middlemen and what
percentage finally reaches the target groups who have to
make do with less than promised and then gets the blame
when projects go awry - but miracles never cease and this
might just be the first honest project in human history

Or at least less plundered than before, hopefully the Ozzies
themselves will visit here with happy calls - Hey Mate,
where's the barbie gonna be? - while looking through the
books and determining how much went to whom and why - but
ere I'm lost in a dream, let me return to my very -

Beautifully constructed document…

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Here Comes Frankenstein

Climb the faded tower and see
They spliced the genes of fish with tomatoes
They want the tomatoes to look fresh
Supreme Court rules on the side of industry
Intellectual property over nature
They let corporation’s patent life
They are changing species
Creating dominant strains
They can copyright genetically modified products
Clarence Thomas was a Monsanto lawyer
Five too four rulings again and again
Biotechnology runs rampant
Gene splicing on a world level
Coca Cola wants fresh water
They go into poor countries and ruin them
The World Bank supports cash crops
Only one percent of the population benefit
Stockholders and the super rich, real wages decline
Pharmaceutical industry drugs everyone
Globalize the world into corporate fences

Species decline, rain forests cut
Huge parks support lions, tigers
Everything becomes preserves and zoos
Everything is looked at like commodities
They have spliced spider genes with goats
They want the strong spider thread
Who gives them the right?
So little political will
Salmon farms with treated fish
Cows that no longer graze and eat corn
Industry changing life patterns
Massive cruelty to animals
Pigs are smarter than dogs
Many never graze and some don’t even stand
Chickens with broken legs because of growth hormones
Never even seeing sunlight
Pumped up with hormones like they are not alive
These animals are pumped with antibiotics
They live and die unhealthy
All for profit and we say nothing

They are going to change man
They tamper where they do not belong
They say the evil is over in Pakistan
Look and see the evil all around
Look and see how our food is controlled
See all the genetically modified products
They don’t even tell us how far they have gone
Science in the hands of money and profit
Mixing species until they will create a genetic disease
More and more bionic organs
More and more artificial intelligence mixed with bionics
They will develop brain chips and sell genes and organs
They will mix man with other species
No God, no ethics only profit, patents and control
Knowledge in the hands of Dracula
CEO’s making a thousand times more then a worker
Billionaires and beggars
We have come along way haven’t we?
1984 and Brave New World
A new age of biotechnology in the hands of conglomerates
Man over man produces a strange new man

Frankenstein is on its way

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The 1%

If there are eight people and two companies and the companies have a Billion dollars and 100 million dollars,2 people a million and the rest a hundred dollars and the Supreme Court says they all can put money into elections who wins on influence and advertising? Nice going Supreme Court......democracy is being defeated by the 1 percent who now have more power than ever.
in your world view, the rich can live and the poor can die. it is not true that people don't go to other countries for medical treatment, they do. IN fact, they even go to places like Mexico.
Bottom line is, your ideology comes before compassion; your notion of freedom is more precious to you than the lives of others.
The Gospel says today in Matthew 22 that you shall love your neighbor as yourself. How can we say we love our neighbor and watch them die? You will say that private charity will take care of it, but it doesn't.50,000 people die every year in this country for not having health insurance.'
Some moral and ethical struggles take us into political struggle even if we are not party affiliated. If you want labeling you're going to have to stand up against Monsanto and the rulings by the Supreme Court on the rights of a corporation under the first amendment supported and endorsed by the right wing of our times. You may not be political and the ones voting maybe not very political but the corporate power is and they are changing laws and spending billions on getting there way. The one percent now have the power to buy elections and out spend everyone. The money they made shipping jobs into sweat shops and into unregulated markets is now coming back to break unions and benefits in the name of down with socialism etc.Sometimes we just have to fight them not as political entities but spiritual fathers and mothers that do not want their children eating cancer etc The phony house republicans grandstand and vote to repeal Obama Care while they will not do a thing to create one single job. The infrastructure of America falls apart and these shills for the 1% like the Koch brothers would rather see people laid off and collecting unemployment or on the government dole before creating jobs and making President Obama look good. They want right to work states of desperate workers working for nothing while they get filthy rich.They don't care about the US citizens only political power and the ultra rich who they serve. President Eisenhower built the highways in the fifties and before leaving office warned of the industrial military complex and outside forces influencing the government that was to serve the people. The right wing of today and fanatic fascist tea parties would have called him a communist and a socialist. Evangelicals don't be used again by Karl Rove and the right; it is all money and corporate power and nothing to do with abortion and family values. Remember Dick Cheney praising his daughters wedding to another WOMAN! They are liars and users and manipulators. You want labeling of GMO's and affordable college for your children and grand children and an environment totally ruined? These oil company big business shills will use you in the name of Roe vs Wade etc to bust unions and benefits all over America while giving tax breaks to billionaires. They will ship your jobs while calling you lazy for not cleaning their toilets. Don't be fooled! !
We force 700,000 Americans into bankruptcy each year because of medical bills. In France, the number of medical bankruptcies is zero. Britain: zero. Japan: zero. Germany: zero. Don't tell me health care for all in the USA isn't right

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Death Of The Middle Class

Oligarchs and Banksters tighten financial screws
In a bold attempt to kill the global Middle Class
Heads of State unable/unwilling to halt this ruse
The “Great Depression of 1929” we soon surpass

ROTMS


By Andrew Gavin Marshall - Global Research

We now stand at the edge of the global financial abyss of a ‘Great Global Debt Depression, ’ where nations, mired in extreme debt, are beginning to implement ‘fiscal austerity’ measures to reduce their deficits, which will ultimately result in systematic global social genocide, as the middle classes vanish and the social foundations upon which our nations rest are swept away. How did we get here? Who brought us here? Where is this road leading? These are questions I will briefly attempt to answer.

At the heart of the global political economy is the central banking system. Central banks are responsible for printing a nation’s currency and setting interest rates, thus determining the value of the currency. This should no doubt be the prerogative of a national government, however, central banks are of a particularly deceptive nature, in which while being imbued with governmental authority, they are in fact privately owned by the world’s major global banks, and are thus profit-seeking institutions. How do central banks make a profit? The answer is simple: how do all banks make a profit? Interest on debt. Loans are made, interest rates are set, and profits are made. It is a system of debt, imperial economics at its finest.

In the United States, President Woodrow Wilson signed the Federal Reserve Act in 1913, creating the Federal Reserve System, with the Board located in Washington, appointed by the President, but where true power rested in the 12 regional banks, most notably among them, the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. The regional Fed banks were private banks, owned in shares by the major banks in each region, which elected the board members to represent them, and who would then share power with the Federal Reserve Board in Washington.

In the early 1920s, the Council on Foreign Relations was formed in the United States as the premier foreign policy think tank, dominated by powerful banking interests. In 1930, the Bank for International Settlements (BIS) was created to manage German reparations payments, but it also had another role, which was much less known, but much more significant. It was to act as a “coordinator of the operations of central banks around the world.” Essentially, it is the central bank for the world’s central banks, whose operations are kept ‘strictly confidential.’ As historian Carroll Quigley wrote:

'The powers of financial capitalism had another far-reaching aim, nothing less than to create a world system of financial control in private hands able to dominate the political system of each country and the economy of the world as a whole. This system was to be controlled in a feudalist fashion by the central banks of the world acting in concert, by secret agreements arrived at in frequent private meetings and conferences. The apex of the system was to be the Bank for International Settlements in Basel, Switzerland, a private bank owned and controlled by the world’s central banks which were themselves private corporations.'

In 1954, the Bilderberg Group was formed as a secretive global think tank, comprising intellectual, financial, corporate, political, military and media elites from Western Europe and North America, with prominent bankers such as David Rockefeller, as well as European royalty, such as the Dutch royal family, who are the largest shareholders in Royal Dutch Shell, whose CEO attends every meeting. This group of roughly 130 elites meets every year in secret to discuss and debate global affairs, and to set general goals and undertake broad agendas at various meetings. The group was initially formed to promote European integration. The 1956 meeting discussed European integration and a common currency. In fact, the current Chairman of the Bilderberg Group told European media last year that the euro was debated at the Bilderberg Group.

In 1973, David Rockefeller, Chairman and CEO of Chase Manhattan Bank, Chairman of the Council on Foreign Relations and a member of the Steering Committee of the Blderberg Group, formed the Trilateral Commission with CFR academic Zbigniew Brzezinski. That same year, the oil price shocks created a wealth of oil money, which was discussed at that years Bilderberg meeting 5 months prior to the oil shocks, and the money was funneled through western banks, which loaned it to ‘third world’ nations desperately in need of loans to finance industrialization.

When Jimmy Carter became President in 1977, he appointed over two dozen members of the Trilateral Commission into his cabinet, including himself, and of course, Zbigniew Brzezinski, who was his National Security Adviser. In 1979, Carter appointed David Rockefeller’s former aide and friend, Paul Volcker, who had held various positions at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York and the U.S. Treasury Department, and who also happened to be a member of the Trilateral Commission, as Chairman of the Federal Reserve. When another oil shock took place in 1979, Volcker decided to raise interest rates from 2% in the late 70s, to 18% in the early 80s. The effect this had was that the countries of the developing world suddenly had to pay enormous interest on their loans, and in 1982, Mexico announced it could no longer afford to pay its interest, and it defaulted on its debt, which set off the 1980s debt crisis – collapsing nations in debt across Latin America, Africa and parts of Asia.

It was the IMF and the World Bank came to the ‘assistance’ of the Third World with their ‘structural adjustment programs’, which forced countries seeking assistance to privatize all state owned industries and resources, devalue their currencies, liberalize their economies, dismantle health, education and social services; ultimately resulting in the re-colonization of the ‘Third World’ as Western corporations and banks bought all their assets and resources, and ultimately created the conditions of social genocide, with the spread of mass poverty, and the emergence of corrupt national elites who were subservient to the interests of Western elites. The people in these nations would protest, riot and rebel, and the states would clamp down with the police and military.

In the West, corporations and banks saw rapid, record-breaking profits. This was the era in which the term ‘globalization’ emerged. While profits soared, wages for people in the West did not. Thus, to consume in an economy in which prices were rising, people had to go into debt. This is why this era marked the rise of credit cards fueling consumption, and the middle class became a class based entirely on debt.

In the 1990s, the ‘new world order’ was born, with America ruling the global economy, free trade agreements began integrating regional and global markets for the benefit of global banks and corporations, and speculation dominated the economy.

The global economic crisis arose as a result of decades of global imperialism – known recently as ‘globalization’ – and the reckless growth of– speculation, derivatives and an explosion of debt. As the economic crisis spread, nations of the world, particularly the United States, bailed out the major banks (which should have been made to fail and crumble under their own corruption and greed) , and now the West has essentially privatized profits for the banks, and socialized the risk. In other words, the nations bought the debt from the banks, and now the people have to pay for it. The people, however, are immersed in their own personal debt to such degrees that today, the average Canadian is $39,000 in debt, and students are graduating into a jobless market with tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars of student debt that they will never repay. Hence, we are now faced with a global debt crisis.

To manage the economic crisis, the G20 was established as the major international forum for cooperation among the 20 major economies of the world, including the major developing – or emerging – economies, such as India, Brazil, South Africa and China. At the onset of the financial crisis, China and Russia’s central banks began calling for the establishment of a global currency to replace the U.S. dollar as the world reserve currency. This proposal was backed by the UN and the IMF. It should be noted, however, that the Chinese and Russian central banks cooperate with the Western central banks through the Bank for International Settlements – which the President of the European Central Bank, Jean-Claude Trichet, recently said was the principle forum for “governance of central bank cooperation” and that the G20 is “the prime group for global economic governance.” In 2009, the IMF stated that the BIS “is the central and the oldest focal point for coordination of global governance arrangements.” The President of the European Union, appointed to the position after attending a Bilderberg meeting, declared 2009 as the “first year of global governance.” The 2009 Bilderberg meeting reported on the desire to create a global treasury, or global central bank, to manage the world economy. In 2009, prior to the Bilderberg meeting in fact, the G20 set in motion plans to make the IMF a global central bank of sorts, issuing and even printing its own currency – called Special Drawing Rights (SDRs) – which is valued against a basket of currencies. In May of 2010, the IMF Managing Director stated that “crisis is an opportunity, ” and while Special Drawing Rights are a step in the right direction, ultimately what is needed is “a new global currency issued by a global central bank, with robust governance and institutional features.” Thus, we see the emergence of a process towards the formation of a global central bank and a global currency, totally unaccountable to any nation or people, and totally controlled by global banking interests.

In 2010, Greece was plunged into a debt crisis, a crisis which is now spreading across Europe, to the U.K. and eventually to Japan and the United States. If we look at Greece, we see the nature of the global debt crisis. The debt is owed to major European and American banks. To pay the interest on the debt, Greece had to get a loan from the European Central Bank and the IMF, which forced the country to impose ‘fiscal austerity’ measures as a condition for the loans, pressuring Greece to commit social genocide. Meanwhile, the major banks of America and Europe speculate against the Greek debt, further plunging the country into economic and social crisis. The loan is granted, to pay the interest, yet simply has the effect of adding to the overall debt, as a new loan is new debt. Thus, Greece is caught in the same debt trap that re-colonized the Third World.

At the recent G20 meeting in Toronto, the major nations of the world agreed to impose fiscal austerity – or in other words, commit social genocide – within their nations, in a veritable global structural adjustment program. So now we will see the beginnings of the Great Global Debt Depression, in which major western and global nations cut social spending, create mass unemployment by dismantling health, education, and social services. Further, state infrastructure – such as roads, bridges, airports, ports, railways, prisons, hospitals, electric transmission lines and water – will be privatized, so that global corporations and banks will own the entirely of national assets. Simultaneously, of course, taxes will be raised dramatically to levels never before seen. The BIS said that interest rates should rise at the same time, meaning that interest payments on debt will dramatically increase at both the national and individual level, forcing governments to turn to the IMF for loans – likely in the form of its new global reserve currency – to simply pay the interest, and will thus be absorbing more debt. Simultaneously, of course, the middle class will in effect have its debts called in, and since the middle class exists only as an illusion, the illusion will vanish.

Already, towns, cities, and states across America are resorting to drastic actions to reduce their debts, such as closing fire stations, scaling back trash collection, turning off street lights, ending bus services and public transportation, cutting back on library hours or closing them altogether, school districts cutting down the school day, week or year. Simultaneously, this is occurring with a dramatic increase in the rate of privatizations or “public-private partnerships” in which even libraries are being privatized.

No wonder then, that this month, the Managing Director of the IMF warned that America and Europe, in the midst of the worst jobs crisis since the Great Depression, face an “explosion of social unrest.” Just yesterday, Europe experienced a wave of mass protests and social unrest in opposition to ‘austerity measures’, with a general strike in Spain involving millions of people, and a march on the EU headquarters in Brussels of nearly 100,000 people. As social unrest spreads, governments will likely react – as we saw in the case of the G20 in Toronto – with oppressive police state measures. Here, we see the true relevance of the emergence of ‘Homeland Security States’, designed not to protect people from terrorists, but to protect the powerful from the people.

So while things have never seemed quite so bleak, there is a dim and growing beacon of hope, in what Zbigniew Brzezinski has termed as the greatest threat to elite interests everywhere – the ‘global political awakening’. The global political awakening is representative of the fact that for the first time in all of human history, mankind is politically awakened and stirring, activated and aware, and that generally – as Zbigniew Brzezinski explains – generally is aware of global inequalities, exploitation, and disrespect. This awakening is largely the result of the information revolution – thus revealing the contradictory nature of the globalization project – as while it globalizes power and oppression, so too does it globalize awareness and opposition. This awakening is the greatest threat to entrenched elite interests everywhere. The awakening, while having taken root in the global south – already long subjected to exploitation and devastation – is now stirring in the west, and will grow as the economy crumbles. As the middle classes realize their consumption was an illusion of wealth, they will seek answers and demand true change, not the Wall Street packaged ‘brand-name’ change of Obama Inc., but true, inspired, and empowering change.

In 1967, Martin Luther King delivered a speech in which he spoke out against the Vietnam War and the American empire, and he stated that, “It seems as if we are on the wrong side of a world revolution.” So now it seems to me that the time has come for that to change.

Andrew Gavin Marshall is a Research Associate with the Centre for Research on Globalization (CRG) .

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Byron

Don Juan: Canto The Sixth

'There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,
And most of us have found it now and then;
At least we think so, though but few have guess'd
The moment, till too late to come again.
But no doubt every thing is for the best-
Of which the surest sign is in the end:
When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.

There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads- God knows where:
Those navigators must be able seamen
Whose charts lay down its current to a hair;
Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen
With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:
Men with their heads reflect on this and that-
But women with their hearts on heaven knows what!

And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she,
Young, beautiful, and daring- who would risk
A throne, the world, the universe, to be
Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk
The stars from out the sky, than not be free
As are the billows when the breeze is brisk-
Though such a she 's a devil (if that there be one),
Yet she would make full many a Manichean.

Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset
By commonest ambition, that when passion
O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,
Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.
If Antony be well remember'd yet,
'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,
But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,
Outbalances all Caesar's victories.

He died at fifty for a queen of forty;
I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,
For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport- I
Remember when, though I had no great plenty
Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I
Gave what I had- a heart: as the world went, I
Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never
Restore me those pure feelings, gone forever.

'T was the boy's 'mite,' and, like the 'widow's,' may
Perhaps be weigh'd hereafter, if not now;
But whether such things do or do not weigh,
All who have loved, or love, will still allow
Life has nought like it. God is love, they say,
And Love 's a god, or was before the brow
Of earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears
Of- but Chronology best knows the years.

We left our hero and third heroine in
A kind of state more awkward than uncommon,
For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin
For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman:
Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin,
And don't agree at all with the wise Roman,
Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.

I know Gulbeyaz was extremely wrong;
I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it;
But I detest all fiction even in song,
And so must tell the truth, howe'er you blame it.
Her reason being weak, her passions strong,
She thought that her lord's heart (even could she claim it)
Was scarce enough; for he had fifty-nine
Years, and a fifteen-hundredth concubine.

I am not, like Cassio, 'an arithmetician,'
But by 'the bookish theoric' it appears,
If 't is summ'd up with feminine precision,
That, adding to the account his Highness' years,
The fair Sultana err'd from inanition;
For, were the Sultan just to all his dears,
She could but claim the fifteen-hundredth part
Of what should be monopoly- the heart.

It is observed that ladies are litigious
Upon all legal objects of possession,
And not the least so when they are religious,
Which doubles what they think of the transgression:
With suits and prosecutions they besiege us,
As the tribunals show through many a session,
When they suspect that any one goes shares
In that to which the law makes them sole heirs.

Now, if this holds good in a Christian land,
The heathen also, though with lesser latitude,
Are apt to carry things with a high hand,
And take what kings call 'an imposing attitude,'
And for their rights connubial make a stand,
When their liege husbands treat them with ingratitude:
And as four wives must have quadruple claims,
The Tigris hath its jealousies like Thames.

Gulbeyaz was the fourth, and (as I said)
The favourite; but what 's favour amongst four?
Polygamy may well be held in dread,
Not only as a sin, but as a bore:
Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed,
Will scarcely find philosophy for more;
And all (except Mahometans) forbear
To make the nuptial couch a 'Bed of Ware.'

His Highness, the sublimest of mankind,-
So styled according to the usual forms
Of every monarch, till they are consign'd
To those sad hungry jacobins the worms,
Who on the very loftiest kings have dined,-
His Highness gazed upon Gulbeyaz' charms,
Expecting all the welcome of a lover
(A 'Highland welcome' all the wide world over).

Now here we should distinguish; for howe'er
Kisses, sweet words, embraces, and all that,
May look like what is- neither here nor there,
They are put on as easily as a hat,
Or rather bonnet, which the fair sex wear,
Trimm'd either heads or hearts to decorate,
Which form an ornament, but no more part
Of heads, than their caresses of the heart.

A slight blush, a soft tremor, a calm kind
Of gentle feminine delight, and shown
More in the eyelids than the eyes, resign'd
Rather to hide what pleases most unknown,
Are the best tokens (to a modest mind)
Of love, when seated on his loveliest throne,
A sincere woman's breast,- for over-warm
Or over-cold annihilates the charm.

For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth;
If true, 't is no great lease of its own fire;
For no one, save in very early youth,
Would like (I think) to trust all to desire,
Which is but a precarious bond, in sooth,
And apt to be transferr'd to the first buyer
At a sad discount: while your over chilly
Women, on t' other hand, seem somewhat silly.

That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste,
For so it seems to lovers swift or slow,
Who fain would have a mutual flame confess'd,
And see a sentimental passion glow,
Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest,
In his monastic concubine of snow;-
In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is
Horatian, 'Medio tu tutissimus ibis.'

The 'tu' 's too much,- but let it stand,- the verse
Requires it, that 's to say, the English rhyme,
And not the pink of old hexameters;
But, after all, there 's neither tune nor time
In the last line, which cannot well be worse,
And was thrust in to close the octave's chime:
I own no prosody can ever rate it
As a rule, but truth may, if you translate it.

If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part,
I know not- it succeeded, and success
Is much in most things, not less in the heart
Than other articles of female dress.
Self-love in man, too, beats all female art;
They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less;
And no one virtue yet, except starvation,
Could stop that worst of vices- propagation.

We leave this royal couple to repose:
A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep,
Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes:
Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep
As any man's day mixture undergoes.
Our least of sorrows are such as we weep;
'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears
The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.

A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill
To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted
At a per-centage; a child cross, dog ill,
A favourite horse fallen lame just as he 's mounted,
A bad old woman making a worse will,
Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted
As certain;- these are paltry things, and yet
I 've rarely seen the man they did not fret.

I 'm a philosopher; confound them all!
Bills, beasts, and men, and- no! not womankind!
With one good hearty curse I vent my gall,
And then my stoicism leaves nought behind
Which it can either pain or evil call,
And I can give my whole soul up to mind;
Though what is soul or mind, their birth or growth,
Is more than I know- the deuce take them both!

As after reading Athanasius' curse,
Which doth your true believer so much please:
I doubt if any now could make it worse
O'er his worst enemy when at his knees,
'T is so sententious, positive, and terse,
And decorates the book of Common Prayer,
As doth a rainbow the just clearing air.

Gulbeyaz and her lord were sleeping, or
At least one of them!- Oh, the heavy night,
When wicked wives, who love some bachelor,
Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light
Of the gray morning, and look vainly for
Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quite-
To toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake
Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake!

These are beneath the canopy of heaven,
Also beneath the canopy of beds
Four-posted and silk curtain'd, which are given
For rich men and their brides to lay their heads
Upon, in sheets white as what bards call 'driven
Snow.' Well! 't is all hap-hazard when one weds.
Gulbeyaz was an empress, but had been
Perhaps as wretched if a peasant's quean.

Don Juan in his feminine disguise,
With all the damsels in their long array,
Had bow'd themselves before th' imperial eyes,
And at the usual signal ta'en their way
Back to their chambers, those long galleries
In the seraglio, where the ladies lay
Their delicate limbs; a thousand bosoms there
Beating for love, as the caged bird's for air.

I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse
The tyrant's wish, 'that mankind only had
One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:'
My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,
And much more tender on the whole than fierce;
It being (not now, but only while a lad)
That womankind had but one rosy mouth,
To kiss them all at once from North to South.

Oh, enviable Briareus! with thy hands
And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied
In such proportion!- But my Muse withstands
The giant thought of being a Titan's bride,
Or travelling in Patagonian lands;
So let us back to Lilliput, and guide
Our hero through the labyrinth of love
In which we left him several lines above.

He went forth with the lovely Odalisques,
At the given signal join'd to their array;
And though he certainly ran many risks,
Yet he could not at times keep, by the way
(Although the consequences of such frisks
Are worse than the worst damages men pay
In moral England, where the thing 's a tax),
From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.

Still he forgot not his disguise:- along
The galleries from room to room they walk'd,
A virgin-like and edifying throng,
By eunuchs flank'd; while at their head there stalk'd
A dame who kept up discipline among
The female ranks, so that none stirr'd or talk'd
Without her sanction on their she-parades:
Her title was 'the Mother of the Maids.'

Whether she was a 'mother,' I know not,
Or whether they were 'maids' who call'd her mother;
But this is her seraglio title, got
I know not how, but good as any other;
So Cantemir can tell you, or De Tott:
Her office was to keep aloof or smother
All bad propensities in fifteen hundred
Young women, and correct them when they blunder'd.

A goodly sinecure, no doubt! but made
More easy by the absence of all men-
Except his majesty, who, with her aid,
And guards, and bolts, and walls, and now and then
A slight example, just to cast a shade
Along the rest, contrived to keep this den
Of beauties cool as an Italian convent,
Where all the passions have, alas! but one vent.

And what is that? Devotion, doubtless- how
Could you ask such a question?- but we will
Continue. As I said, this goodly row
Of ladies of all countries at the will
Of one good man, with stately march and slow,
Like water-lilies floating down a rill-
Or rather lake, for rills do not run slowly-
Paced on most maiden-like and melancholy.

But when they reach'd their own apartments, there,
Like birds, or boys, or bedlamites broke loose,
Waves at spring-tide, or women anywhere
When freed from bonds (which are of no great use
After all), or like Irish at a fair,
Their guards being gone, and as it were a truce
Establish'd between them and bondage, they
Began to sing, dance, chatter, smile, and play.

Their talk, of course, ran most on the new comer;
Her shape, her hair, her air, her everything:
Some thought her dress did not so much become her,
Or wonder'd at her ears without a ring;
Some said her years were getting nigh their summer,
Others contended they were but in spring;
Some thought her rather masculine in height,
While others wish'd that she had been so quite.

But no one doubted on the whole, that she
Was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair,
And fresh, and 'beautiful exceedingly,'
Who with the brightest Georgians might compare:
They wonder'd how Gulbeyaz, too, could be
So silly as to buy slaves who might share
(If that his Highness wearied of his bride)
Her throne and power, and every thing beside.

But what was strangest in this virgin crew,
Although her beauty was enough to vex,
After the first investigating view,
They all found out as few, or fewer, specks
In the fair form of their companion new,
Than is the custom of the gentle sex,
When they survey, with Christian eyes or Heathen,
In a new face 'the ugliest creature breathing.'

And yet they had their little jealousies,
Like all the rest; but upon this occasion,
Whether there are such things as sympathies
Without our knowledge or our approbation,
Although they could not see through his disguise,
All felt a soft kind of concatenation,
Like magnetism, or devilism, or what
You please- we will not quarrel about that:

But certain 't is they all felt for their new
Companion something newer still, as 't were
A sentimental friendship through and through,
Extremely pure, which made them all concur
In wishing her their sister, save a few
Who wish'd they had a brother just like her,
Whom, if they were at home in sweet Circassia,
They would prefer to Padisha or Pacha.

Of those who had most genius for this sort
Of sentimental friendship, there were three,
Lolah, Katinka, and Dudu; in short
(To save description), fair as fair can be
Were they, according to the best report,
Though differing in stature and degree,
And clime and time, and country and complexion;
They all alike admired their new connection.

Lolah was dusk as India and as warm;
Katinka was a Georgian, white and red,
With great blue eyes, a lovely hand and arm,
And feet so small they scarce seem'd made to tread,
But rather skim the earth; while Dudu's form
Look'd more adapted to be put to bed,
Being somewhat large, and languishing, and lazy,
Yet of a beauty that would drive you crazy.

A kind of sleepy Venus seem'd Dudu,
Yet very fit to 'murder sleep' in those
Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendent hue,
Her Attic forehead, and her Phidian nose:
Few angles were there in her form, 't is true,
Thinner she might have been, and yet scarce lose;
Yet, after all, 't would puzzle to say where
It would not spoil some separate charm to pare.

She was not violently lively, but
Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking;
Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half-shut,
They put beholders in a tender taking;
She look'd (this simile 's quite new) just cut
From marble, like Pygmalion's statue waking,
The mortal and the marble still at strife,
And timidly expanding into life.

Lolah demanded the new damsel's name-
'Juanna.'- Well, a pretty name enough.
Katinka ask'd her also whence she came-
'From Spain.'- 'But where is Spain?'- 'Don't ask such stuff,
Nor show your Georgian ignorance- for shame!'
Said Lolah, with an accent rather rough,
To poor Katinka: 'Spain 's an island near
Morocco, betwixt Egypt and Tangier.'

Dudu said nothing, but sat down beside
Juanna, playing with her veil or hair;
And looking at her steadfastly, she sigh'd,
As if she pitied her for being there,
A pretty stranger without friend or guide,
And all abash'd, too, at the general stare
Which welcomes hapless strangers in all places,
With kind remarks upon their mien and faces.

But here the Mother of the Maids drew near,
With, 'Ladies, it is time to go to rest.
I 'm puzzled what to do with you, my dear,'
She added to Juanna, their new guest:
'Your coming has been unexpected here,
And every couch is occupied; you had best
Partake of mine; but by to-morrow early
We will have all things settled for you fairly.'

Here Lolah interposed- 'Mamma, you know
You don't sleep soundly, and I cannot bear
That anybody should disturb you so;
I 'll take Juanna; we 're a slenderer pair
Than you would make the half of;- don't say no;
And I of your young charge will take due care.'
But here Katinka interfered, and said,
'She also had compassion and a bed.

'Besides, I hate to sleep alone,' quoth she.
The matron frown'd: 'Why so?'- 'For fear of ghosts,'
Replied Katinka; 'I am sure I see
A phantom upon each of the four posts;
And then I have the worst dreams that can be,
Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts.'
The dame replied, 'Between your dreams and you,
I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few.

'You, Lolah, must continue still to lie
Alone, for reasons which don't matter; you
The same, Katinka, until by and by;
And I shall place Juanna with Dudu,
Who 's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy,
And will not toss and chatter the night through.
What say you, child?'- Dudu said nothing, as
Her talents were of the more silent class;

But she rose up, and kiss'd the matron's brow
Between the eyes, and Lolah on both cheeks,
Katinka, too; and with a gentle bow
(Curt'sies are neither used by Turks nor Greeks)
She took Juanna by the hand to show
Their place of rest, and left to both their piques,
The others pouting at the matron's preference
Of Dudu, though they held their tongues from deference.

It was a spacious chamber (Oda is
The Turkish title), and ranged round the wall
Were couches, toilets- and much more than this
I might describe, as I have seen it all,
But it suffices- little was amiss;
'T was on the whole a nobly furnish'd hall,
With all things ladies want, save one or two,
And even those were nearer than they knew.

Dudu, as has been said, was a sweet creature,
Not very dashing, but extremely winning,
With the most regulated charms of feature,
Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning
Against proportion- the wild strokes of nature
Which they hit off at once in the beginning,
Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike,
And pleasing or unpleasing, still are like.

But she was a soft landscape of mild earth,
Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet,
Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth,
Which, if not happiness, is much more nigh it
Than are your mighty passions and so forth,
Which some call 'the sublime:' I wish they 'd try it:
I 've seen your stormy seas and stormy women,
And pity lovers rather more than seamen.

But she was pensive more than melancholy,
And serious more than pensive, and serene,
It may be, more than either- not unholy
Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been.
The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly
Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen,
That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall;
She never thought about herself at all.

And therefore was she kind and gentle as
The Age of Gold (when gold was yet unknown,
By which its nomenclature came to pass;
Thus most appropriately has been shown
'Lucus a non lucendo,' not what was,
But what was not; a sort of style that 's grown
Extremely common in this age, whose metal
The devil may decompose, but never settle:

I think it may be of 'Corinthian Brass,'
Which was a mixture of all metals, but
The brazen uppermost). Kind reader! pass
This long parenthesis: I could not shut
It sooner for the soul of me, and class
My faults even with your own! which meaneth, Put
A kind construction upon them and me:
But that you won't- then don't- I am not less free.

'T is time we should return to plain narration,
And thus my narrative proceeds:- Dudu,
With every kindness short of ostentation,
Show'd Juan, or Juanna, through and through
This labyrinth of females, and each station
Described- what 's strange- in words extremely few:
I have but one simile, and that 's a blunder,
For wordless woman, which is silent thunder.

And next she gave her (I say her, because
The gender still was epicene, at least
In outward show, which is a saving clause)
An outline of the customs of the East,
With all their chaste integrity of laws,
By which the more a haram is increased,
The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties
Of any supernumerary beauties.

And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss:
Dudu was fond of kissing- which I 'm sure
That nobody can ever take amiss,
Because 't is pleasant, so that it be pure,
And between females means no more than this-
That they have nothing better near, or newer.
'Kiss' rhymes to 'bliss' in fact as well as verse-
I wish it never led to something worse.

In perfect innocence she then unmade
Her toilet, which cost little, for she was
A child of Nature, carelessly array'd:
If fond of a chance ogle at her glass,
'T was like the fawn, which, in the lake display'd,
Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass,
When first she starts, and then returns to peep,
Admiring this new native of the deep.

And one by one her articles of dress
Were laid aside; but not before she offer'd
Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess
Of modesty declined the assistance proffer'd:
Which pass'd well off- as she could do no less;
Though by this politesse she rather suffer'd,
Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins,
Which surely were invented for our sins,-

Making a woman like a porcupine,
Not to be rashly touch'd. But still more dread,
Oh ye! whose fate it is, as once 't was mine,
In early youth, to turn a lady's maid;-
I did my very boyish best to shine
In tricking her out for a masquerade;
The pins were placed sufficiently, but not
Stuck all exactly in the proper spot.

But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
My tendency is to philosophise
On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies.
What are we? and whence came we? what shall be
Our ultimate existence? what 's our present?
Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.

There was deep silence in the chamber: dim
And distant from each other burn'd the lights,
And slumber hover'd o'er each lovely limb
Of the fair occupants: if there be sprites,
They should have walk'd there in their sprightliest trim,
By way of change from their sepulchral sites,
And shown themselves as ghosts of better taste
Than haunting some old ruin or wild waste.

Many and beautiful lay those around,
Like flowers of different hue, and dime, and root,
In some exotic garden sometimes found,
With cost, and care, and warmth induced to shoot.
One with her auburn tresses lightly bound,
And fair brows gently drooping, as the fruit
Nods from the tree, was slumbering with soft breath,
And lips apart, which show'd the pearls beneath.

One with her flush'd cheek laid on her white arm,
And raven ringlets gather'd in dark crowd
Above her brow, lay dreaming soft and warm;
And smiling through her dream, as through a cloud
The moon breaks, half unveil'd each further charm,
As, slightly stirring in her snowy shroud,
Her beauties seized the unconscious hour of night
All bashfully to struggle into light.

This is no bull, although it sounds so; for
'T was night, but there were lamps, as hath been said.
A third's all pallid aspect offer'd more
The traits of sleeping sorrow, and betray'd
Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore
Beloved and deplored; while slowly stray'd
(As night-dew, on a cypress glittering, tinges
The black bough) tear-drops through her eyes' dark fringes.

A fourth as marble, statue-like and still,
Lay in a breathless, hush'd, and stony sleep;
White, cold, and pure, as looks a frozen rill,
Or the snow minaret on an Alpine steep,
Or Lot's wife done in salt,- or what you will;-
My similes are gather'd in a heap,
So pick and choose- perhaps you 'll be content
With a carved lady on a monument.

And lo! a fifth appears;- and what is she?
A lady of a 'certain age,' which means
Certainly aged- what her years might be
I know not, never counting past their teens;
But there she slept, not quite so fair to see,
As ere that awful period intervenes
Which lays both men and women on the shelf,
To meditate upon their sins and self.

But all this time how slept, or dream'd, Dudu?
With strict inquiry I could ne'er discover,
And scorn to add a syllable untrue;
But ere the middle watch was hardly over,
Just when the fading lamps waned dim and blue,
And phantoms hover'd, or might seem to hover,
To those who like their company, about
The apartment, on a sudden she scream'd out:

And that so loudly, that upstarted all
The Oda, in a general commotion:
Matron and maids, and those whom you may call
Neither, came crowding like the waves of ocean,
One on the other, throughout the whole hall,
All trembling, wondering, without the least notion
More than I have myself of what could make
The calm Dudu so turbulently wake.

But wide awake she was, and round her bed,
With floating draperies and with flying hair,
With eager eyes, and light but hurried tread,
And bosoms, arms, and ankles glancing bare,
And bright as any meteor ever bred
By the North Pole,- they sought her cause of care,
For she seem'd agitated, flush'd, and frighten'd,
Her eye dilated and her colour heighten'd.

But what was strange- and a strong proof how great
A blessing is sound sleep- Juanna lay
As fast as ever husband by his mate
In holy matrimony snores away.
Not all the clamour broke her happy state
Of slumber, ere they shook her,- so they say
At least,- and then she, too, unclosed her eyes,
And yawn'd a good deal with discreet surprise.

And now commenced a strict investigation,
Which, as all spoke at once and more than once,
Conjecturing, wondering, asking a narration,
Alike might puzzle either wit or dunce
To answer in a very clear oration.
Dudu had never pass'd for wanting sense,
But, being 'no orator as Brutus is,'
Could not at first expound what was amiss.

At length she said, that in a slumber sound
She dream'd a dream, of walking in a wood-
A 'wood obscure,' like that where Dante found
Himself in at the age when all grow good;
Life's half-way house, where dames with virtue crown'd
Run much less risk of lovers turning rude;
And that this wood was full of pleasant fruits,
And trees of goodly growth and spreading roots;

And in the midst a golden apple grew,-
A most prodigious pippin,- but it hung
Rather too high and distant; that she threw
Her glances on it, and then, longing, flung
Stones and whatever she could pick up, to
Bring down the fruit, which still perversely clung
To its own bough, and dangled yet in sight,
But always at a most provoking height;-

That on a sudden, when she least had hope,
It fell down of its own accord before
Her feet; that her first movement was to stoop
And pick it up, and bite it to the core;
That just as her young lip began to ope
Upon the golden fruit the vision bore,
A bee flew out and stung her to the heart,
And so- she awoke with a great scream and start.

All this she told with some confusion and
Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams
Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand
To expound their vain and visionary gleams.
I 've known some odd ones which seem'd really plann'd
Prophetically, or that which one deems
A 'strange coincidence,' to use a phrase
By which such things are settled now-a-days.

The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm,
Began, as is the consequence of fear,
To scold a little at the false alarm
That broke for nothing on their sleeping car.
The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm
Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear,
And chafed at poor Dudu, who only sigh'd,
And said that she was sorry she had cried.

'I 've heard of stories of a cock and bull;
But visions of an apple and a bee,
To take us from our natural rest, and pull
The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three,
Would make us think the moon is at its full.
You surely are unwell, child! we must see,
To-morrow, what his Highness's physician
Will say to this hysteric of a vision.

'And poor Juanna, too- the child's first night
Within these walls to be broke in upon
With such a clamour! I had thought it right
That the young stranger should not lie alone,
And, as the quietest of all, she might
With you, Dudu, a good night's rest have known;
But now I must transfer her to the charge
Of Lolah- though her couch is not so large.'

Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition;
But poor Dudu, with large drops in her own,
Resulting from the scolding or the vision,
Implored that present pardon might be shown
For this first fault, and that on no condition
(She added in a soft and piteous tone)
Juanna should be taken from her, and
Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.

She promised never more to have a dream,
At least to dream so loudly as just now;
She wonder'd at herself how she could scream-
'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow,
A fond hallucination, and a theme
For laughter- but she felt her spirits low,
And begg'd they would excuse her; she 'd get over
This weakness in a few hours, and recover.

And here Juanna kindly interposed,
And said she felt herself extremely well
Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed
When all around rang like a tocsin bell:
She did not find herself the least disposed
To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell
Apart from one who had no sin to show,
Save that of dreaming once 'mal-a-propos.'

As thus Juanna spoke, Dudu turn'd round
And hid her face within Juanna's breast:
Her neck alone was seen, but that was found
The colour of a budding rose's crest.
I can't tell why she blush'd, nor can expound
The mystery of this rupture of their rest;
All that I know is, that the facts I state
Are true as truth has ever been of late.

And so good night to them,- or, if you will,
Good morrow- for the cock had crown, and light
Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,
And the mosque crescent struggled into sight
Of the long caravan, which in the chill
Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height
That stretches to the stony belt, which girds
Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.

With the first ray, or rather grey of morn,
Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale
As passion rises, with its bosom worn,
Array'd herself with mantle, gem, and veil.
The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,
Which fable places in her breast of wail,
Is lighter far of heart and voice than those
Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.

And that 's the moral of this composition,
If people would but see its real drift;-
But that they will not do without suspicion,
Because all gentle readers have the gift
Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision;
While gentle writers also love to lift
Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural,
The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.

Rose the sultana from a bed of splendour,
Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried
Aloud because his feelings were too tender
To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side,-
So beautiful that art could little mend her,
Though pale with conflicts between love and pride;-
So agitated was she with her error,
She did not even look into the mirror.

Also arose about the self-same time,
Perhaps a little later, her great lord,
Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime,
And of a wife by whom he was abhorr'd;
A thing of much less import in that clime-
At least to those of incomes which afford
The filling up their whole connubial cargo-
Than where two wives are under an embargo.

He did not think much on the matter, nor
Indeed on any other: as a man
He liked to have a handsome paramour
At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store,
As an amusement after the Divan;
Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,
Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

And now he rose; and after due ablutions
Exacted by the customs of the East,
And prayers and other pious evolutions,
He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
Whose victories had recently increased
In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores,

But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!
Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend
Thine ear, if it should reach- and now rhymes wander
Almost as far as Petersburgh and lend
A dreadful impulse to each loud meander
Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend
Their roar even with the Baltic's- so you be
Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.

To call men love-begotten or proclaim
Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on:
But people's ancestors are history's game;
And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on
All generations, I should like to know
What pedigree the best would have to show?

Had Catherine and the sultan understood
Their own true interests, which kings rarely know
Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude,
There was a way to end their strife, although
Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,
Without the aid of prince or plenipo:
She to dismiss her guards and he his haram,
And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.

But as it was, his Highness had to hold
His daily council upon ways and means
How to encounter with this martial scold,
This modern Amazon and queen of queans;
And the perplexity could not be told
Of all the pillars of the state, which leans
Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.

Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,
Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place
For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,
And rich with all contrivances which grace
Those gay recesses:- many a precious stone
Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
Of porcelain held in the fetter'd flowers,
Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.

Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble,
Vied with each other on this costly spot;
And singing birds without were heard to warble;
And the stain'd glass which lighted this fair grot
Varied each ray;- but all descriptions garble
The true effect, and so we had better not
Be too minute; an outline is the best,-
A lively reader's fancy does the rest.

And here she summon'd Baba, and required
Don Juan at his hands, and information
Of what had pass'd since all the slaves retired,
And whether he had occupied their station;
If matters had been managed as desired,
And his disguise with due consideration
Kept up; and above all, the where and how
He had pass'd the night, was what she wish'd to know.

Baba, with some embarrassment, replied
To this long catechism of questions, ask'd
More easily than answer'd,- that he had tried
His best to obey in what he had been task'd;
But there seem'd something that he wish'd to hide,
Which hesitation more betray'd than mask'd;
He scratch'd his ear, the infallible resource
To which embarrass'd people have recourse.

Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience,
Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed;
She liked quick answers in all conversations;
And when she saw him stumbling like a steed
In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones;
And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,
Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.

When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
To bode him no great good, he deprecated
Her anger, and beseech'd she 'd hear him through-
He could not help the thing which he related:
Then out it came at length, that to Dudu
Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;
But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on
The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.

The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom
The discipline of the whole haram bore,
As soon as they re-enter'd their own room,
For Baba's function stopt short at the door,
Had settled all; nor could he then presume
(The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
Without exciting such suspicion as
Might make the matter still worse than it was.

He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure
Juan had not betray'd himself; in fact
'T was certain that his conduct had been pure,
Because a foolish or imprudent act
Would not alone have made him insecure,
But ended in his being found out and sack'd,
And thrown into the sea.- Thus Baba spoke
Of all save Dudu's dream, which was no joke.

This he discreetly kept in the background,
And talk'd away- and might have talk'd till now,
For any further answer that he found,
So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow:
Her cheek turn'd ashes, ears rung, brain whirl'd round,
As if she had received a sudden blow,
And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly
O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.

Although she was not of the fainting sort,
Baba thought she would faint, but there he err'd-
It was but a convulsion, which though short
Can never be described; we all have heard,
And some of us have felt thus 'all amort,'
When things beyond the common have occurr'd;-
Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony
What she could ne'er express- then how should I?

She stood a moment as a Pythones
Stands on her tripod, agonised, and full
Of inspiration gather'd from distress,
When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull
The heart asunder;- then, as more or lees
Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,
And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.

Her face declined and was unseen; her hair
Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
A low soft ottoman), and black despair
Stirr'd up and down her bosom like a billow,
Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check
Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.

Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping
Conceal'd her features better than a veil;
And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping,
White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:
Would that I were a painter! to be grouping
All that a poet drags into detail
Oh that my words were colours! but their tints
May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

Baba, who knew by experience when to talk
And when to hold his tongue, now held it till
This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk
Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will.
At length she rose up, and began to walk
Slowly along the room, but silent still,
And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye;
The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak- but paused,
And then moved on again with rapid pace;
Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused
By deep emotion:- you may sometimes trace
A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed
By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased
By all the demons of all passions, show'd
Their work even by the way in which he trode.

Gulbeyaz stopp'd and beckon'd Baba:- 'Slave!
Bring the two slaves!' she said in a low tone,
But one which Baba did not like to brave,
And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone
To prove reluctant, and begg'd leave to crave
(Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown
What slaves her highness wish'd to indicate,
For fear of any error, like the late.

'The Georgian and her paramour,' replied
The imperial bride- and added, 'Let the boat
Be ready by the secret portal's side:
You know the rest.' The words stuck in her throat,
Despite her injured love and fiery pride;
And of this Baba willingly took note,
And begg'd by every hair of Mahomet's beard,
She would revoke the order he had heard.

'To hear is to obey,' he said; 'but still,
Sultana, think upon the consequence:
It is not that I shall not all fulfil
Your orders, even in their severest sense;
But such precipitation may end ill,
Even at your own imperative expense:
I do not mean destruction and exposure,
In case of any premature disclosure;

'But your own feelings. Even should all the rest
Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide
Already many a once love-beaten breast
Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide-
You love this boyish, new, seraglio guest,
And if this violent remedy be tried-
Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you,
That killing him is not the way to cure you.'

'What dost thou know of love or feeling?- Wretch!
Begone!' she cried, with kindling eyes- 'and do
My bidding!' Baba vanish'd, for to stretch
His own remonstrance further he well knew
Might end in acting as his own 'Jack Ketch;'
And though he wish'd extremely to get through
This awkward business without harm to others,
He still preferr'd his own neck to another's.

Away he went then upon his commission,
Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase
Against all women of whate'er condition,
Especially sultanas and their ways;
Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision,
Their never knowing their own mind two days,
The trouble that they gave, their immorality,
Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.

And then he call'd his brethren to his aid,
And sent one on a summons to the pair,
That they must instantly be well array'd,
And above all be comb'd even to a hair,
And brought before the empress, who had made
Inquiries after them with kindest care:
At which Dudu look'd strange, and Juan silly;
But go they must at once, and will I- nill I.

And here I leave them at their preparation
For the imperial presence, wherein whether
Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration,
Or got rid of the parties altogether,
Like other angry ladies of her nation,-
Are things the turning of a hair or feather
May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate
In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.

I leave them for the present with good wishes,
Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange
Another part of history; for the dishes
Of this our banquet we must sometimes change;
And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,
Although his situation now seems strange
And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair,
The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.

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Canto the Sixth

I
"There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, -- taken at the flood," -- you know the rest,
And most of us have found it now and then;
At least we think so, though but few have guess'd
The moment, till too late to come again.
But no doubt every thing is for the best --
Of which the surest sign is in the end:
When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.

II
There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads -- God knows where:
Those navigators must be able seamen
Whose charts lay down its current to a hair;
Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen
With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:
Men with their heads reflect on this and that --
But women with their hearts on heaven knows what!

III
And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she,
Young, beautiful, and daring -- who would risk
A throne, the world, the universe, to be
Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk
The stars from out the sky, than not be free
As are the billows when the breeze is brisk --
Though such a she's a devil (if that there be one),
Yet she would make full many a Manichean.

IV
Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset
By commonest ambition, that when passion
O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,
Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.
If Antony be well remember'd yet,
'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,
But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,
Outbalances all Caesar's victories.

V
He died at fifty for a queen of forty;
I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,
For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport -- I
Remember when, though I had no great plenty
Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I
Gave what I had -- a heart: as the world went, I
Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never
Restore me those pure feelings, gone forever.

VI
'T was the boy's "mite," and, like the "widow's," may
Perhaps be weigh'd hereafter, if not now;
But whether such things do or do not weigh,
All who have loved, or love, will still allow
Life has nought like it. God is love, they say,
And Love's a god, or was before the brow
Of earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears
Of -- but Chronology best knows the years.

VII
We left our hero and third heroine in
A kind of state more awkward than uncommon,
For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin
For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman:
Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin,
And don't agree at all with the wise Roman,
Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.

VIII
I know Gulbeyaz was extremely wrong;
I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it;
But I detest all fiction even in song,
And so must tell the truth, howe'er you blame it.
Her reason being weak, her passions strong,
She thought that her lord's heart (even could she claim it)
Was scarce enough; for he had fifty-nine
Years, and a fifteen-hundredth concubine.

IX
I am not, like Cassio, "an arithmetician,"
But by "the bookish theoric" it appears,
If 't is summ'd up with feminine precision,
That, adding to the account his Highness' years,
The fair Sultana err'd from inanition;
For, were the Sultan just to all his dears,
She could but claim the fifteen-hundredth part
Of what should be monopoly -- the heart.

X
It is observed that ladies are litigious
Upon all legal objects of possession,
And not the least so when they are religious,
Which doubles what they think of the transgression:
With suits and prosecutions they besiege us,
As the tribunals show through many a session,
When they suspect that any one goes shares
In that to which the law makes them sole heirs.

XI
Now, if this holds good in a Christian land,
The heathen also, though with lesser latitude,
Are apt to carry things with a high hand,
And take what kings call "an imposing attitude,"
And for their rights connubial make a stand,
When their liege husbands treat them with ingratitude:
And as four wives must have quadruple claims,
The Tigris hath its jealousies like Thames.

XII
Gulbeyaz was the fourth, and (as I said)
The favourite; but what is favour amongst four?
Polygamy may well be held in dread,
Not only as a sin, but as a bore:
Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed,
Will scarcely find philosophy for more;
And all (except Mahometans) forbear
To make the nuptial couch a "Bed of Ware."

XIII
His Highness, the sublimest of mankind, --
So styled according to the usual forms
Of every monarch, till they are consign'd
To those sad hungry jacobins the worms,
Who on the very loftiest kings have dined, --
His Highness gazed upon Gulbeyaz' charms,
Expecting all the welcome of a lover
(A "Highland welcome" all the wide world over).

XIV
Now here we should distinguish; for howe'er
Kisses, sweet words, embraces, and all that,
May look like what is -- neither here nor there,
They are put on as easily as a hat,
Or rather bonnet, which the fair sex wear,
Trimm'd either heads or hearts to decorate,
Which form an ornament, but no more part
Of heads, than their caresses of the heart.

XV
A slight blush, a soft tremor, a calm kind
Of gentle feminine delight, and shown
More in the eyelids than the eyes, resign'd
Rather to hide what pleases most unknown,
Are the best tokens (to a modest mind)
Of love, when seated on his loveliest throne,
A sincere woman's breast, -- for over-warm
Or over-cold annihilates the charm.

XVI
For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth;
If true, 't is no great lease of its own fire;
For no one, save in very early youth,
Would like (I think) to trust all to desire,
Which is but a precarious bond, in sooth,
And apt to be transferr'd to the first buyer
At a sad discount: while your over chilly
Women, on t' other hand, seem somewhat silly.

XVII
That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste,
For so it seems to lovers swift or slow,
Who fain would have a mutual flame confess'd,
And see a sentimental passion glow,
Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest,
In his monastic concubine of snow; --
In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is
Horatian, "Medio tu tutissimus ibis."

XVIII
The "tu"'s too much, -- but let it stand, -- the verse
Requires it, that's to say, the English rhyme,
And not the pink of old hexameters;
But, after all, there's neither tune nor time
In the last line, which cannot well be worse,
And was thrust in to close the octave's chime:
I own no prosody can ever rate it
As a rule, but Truth may, if you translate it.

XIX
If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part,
I know not -- it succeeded, and success
Is much in most things, not less in the heart
Than other articles of female dress.
Self-love in man, too, beats all female art;
They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less;
And no one virtue yet, except starvation,
Could stop that worst of vices -- propagation.

XX
We leave this royal couple to repose:
A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep,
Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes:
Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep
As any man's day mixture undergoes.
Our least of sorrows are such as we weep;
'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears
The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.

XXI
A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill
To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted
At a per-centage; a child cross, dog ill,
A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted,
A bad old woman making a worse will,
Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted
As certain; -- these are paltry things, and yet
I've rarely seen the man they did not fret.

XXII
I'm a philosopher; confound them all!
Bills, beasts, and men, and -- no! not womankind!
With one good hearty curse I vent my gall,
And then my stoicism leaves nought behind
Which it can either pain or evil call,
And I can give my whole soul up to mind;
Though what is soul or mind, their birth or growth,
Is more than I know -- the deuce take them both!

XXIII
So now all things are damned one feels at ease,
As after reading Athanasius' curse,
Which doth your true believer so much please:
I doubt if any now could make it worse
O'er his worst enemy when at his knees,
'T is so sententious, positive, and terse,
And decorates the book of Common Prayer,
As doth a rainbow the just clearing air.

XXIV
Gulbeyaz and her lord were sleeping, or
At least one of them! -- Oh, the heavy night,
When wicked wives, who love some bachelor,
Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light
Of the gray morning, and look vainly for
Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quite --
To toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake
Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake!

XXV
These are beneath the canopy of heaven,
Also beneath the canopy of beds
Four-posted and silk curtain'd, which are given
For rich men and their brides to lay their heads
Upon, in sheets white as what bards call "driven
Snow." Well! 't is all hap-hazard when one weds.
Gulbeyaz was an empress, but had been
Perhaps as wretched if a peasant's quean.

XXVI
Don Juan in his feminine disguise,
With all the damsels in their long array,
Had bow'd themselves before th' imperial eyes,
And at the usual signal ta'en their way
Back to their chambers, those long galleries
In the seraglio, where the ladies lay
Their delicate limbs; a thousand bosoms there
Beating for love, as the caged bird's for air.

XXVII
I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse
The tyrant's wish, "that mankind only had
One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:"
My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,
And much more tender on the whole than fierce;
It being (not now, but only while a lad)
That womankind had but one rosy mouth,
To kiss them all at once from North to South.

XXVIII
Oh, enviable Briareus! with thy hands
And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied
In such proportion! -- But my Muse withstands
The giant thought of being a Titan's bride,
Or travelling in Patagonian lands;
So let us back to Lilliput, and guide
Our hero through the labyrinth of love
In which we left him several lines above.

XXIX
He went forth with the lovely Odalisques,
At the given signal join'd to their array;
And though he certainly ran many risks,
Yet he could not at times keep, by the way
(Although the consequences of such frisks
Are worse than the worst damages men pay
In moral England, where the thing's a tax),
From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.

XXX
Still he forgot not his disguise: -- along
The galleries from room to room they walk'd,
A virgin-like and edifying throng,
By eunuchs flank'd; while at their head there stalk'd
A dame who kept up discipline among
The female ranks, so that none stirr'd or talk'd
Without her sanction on their she-parades:
Her title was "the Mother of the Maids."

XXXI
Whether she was a "mother," I know not,
Or whether they were "maids" who call'd her mother;
But this is her seraglio title, got
I know not how, but good as any other;
So Cantemir can tell you, or De Tott:
Her office was to keep aloof or smother
All bad propensities in fifteen hundred
Young women, and correct them when they blunder'd.

XXXII
A goodly sinecure, no doubt! but made
More easy by the absence of all men --
Except his majesty, who, with her aid,
And guards, and bolts, and walls, and now and then
A slight example, just to cast a shade
Along the rest, contrived to keep this den
Of beauties cool as an Italian convent,
Where all the passions have, alas! but one vent.

XXXIII
And what is that? Devotion, doubtless -- how
Could you ask such a question? -- but we will
Continue. As I said, this goodly row
Of ladies of all countries at the will
Of one good man, with stately march and slow,
Like water-lilies floating down a rill --
Or rather lake, for rills do not run slowly, --
Paced on most maiden-like and melancholy.

XXXIV
But when they reach'd their own apartments, there,
Like birds, or boys, or bedlamites broke loose,
Waves at spring-tide, or women anywhere
When freed from bonds (which are of no great use
After all), or like Irish at a fair,
Their guards being gone, and as it were a truce
Establish'd between them and bondage, they
Began to sing, dance, chatter, smile, and play.

XXXV
Their talk, of course, ran most on the new comer;
Her shape, her hair, her air, her everything:
Some thought her dress did not so much become her,
Or wonder'd at her ears without a ring;
Some said her years were getting nigh their summer,
Others contended they were but in spring;
Some thought her rather masculine in height,
While others wish'd that she had been so quite.

XXXVI
But no one doubted on the whole, that she
Was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair,
And fresh, and "beautiful exceedingly,"
Who with the brightest Georgians might compare:
They wonder'd how Gulbeyaz, too, could be
So silly as to buy slaves who might share
(If that his Highness wearied of his bride)
Her throne and power, and every thing beside.

XXXVII
But what was strangest in this virgin crew,
Although her beauty was enough to vex,
After the first investigating view,
They all found out as few, or fewer, specks
In the fair form of their companion new,
Than is the custom of the gentle sex,
When they survey, with Christian eyes or Heathen,
In a new face "the ugliest creature breathing."

XXXVIII
And yet they had their little jealousies,
Like all the rest; but upon this occasion,
Whether there are such things as sympathies
Without our knowledge or our approbation,
Although they could not see through his disguise,
All felt a soft kind of concatenation,
Like magnetism, or devilism, or what
You please -- we will not quarrel about that:

XXXIX
But certain 'tis they all felt for their new
Companion something newer still, as 't were
A sentimental friendship through and through,
Extremely pure, which made them all concur
In wishing her their sister, save a few
Who wish'd they had a brother just like her,
Whom, if they were at home in sweet Circassia,
They would prefer to Padisha or Pacha.

XL
Of those who had most genius for this sort
Of sentimental friendship, there were three,
Lolah, Katinka, and Dudù; in short
(To save description), fair as fair can be
Were they, according to the best report,
Though differing in stature and degree,
And clime and time, and country and complexion;
They all alike admired their new connection.

XLI
Lolah was dusk as India and as warm;
Katinka was a Georgian, white and red,
With great blue eyes, a lovely hand and arm,
And feet so small they scarce seem'd made to tread,
But rather skim the earth; while Dudù's form
Look'd more adapted to be put to bed,
Being somewhat large, and languishing, and lazy,
Yet of a beauty that would drive you crazy.

XLII
A kind of sleepy Venus seem'd Dudù,
Yet very fit to "murder sleep" in those
Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendent hue,
Her Attic forehead, and her Phidian nose:
Few angles were there in her form, 't is true,
Thinner she might have been, and yet scarce lose;
Yet, after all, 't would puzzle to say where
It would not spoil some separate charm to pare.

XLIII
She was not violently lively, but
Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking;
Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half-shut,
They put beholders in a tender taking;
She look'd (this simile's quite new) just cut
From marble, like Pygmalion's statue waking,
The mortal and the marble still at strife,
And timidly expanding into life.

XLIV
Lolah demanded the new damsel's name --
"Juanna." -- Well, a pretty name enough.
Katinka ask'd her also whence she came --
"From Spain." -- "But where is Spain?" -- "Don't ask such stuff,
Nor show your Georgian ignorance -- for shame!"
Said Lolah, with an accent rather rough,
To poor Katinka: "Spain's an island near
Morocco, betwixt Egypt and Tangier."

XLV
Dudù said nothing, but sat down beside
Juanna, playing with her veil or hair;
And looking at her steadfastly, she sigh'd,
As if she pitied her for being there,
A pretty stranger without friend or guide,
And all abash'd, too, at the general stare
Which welcomes hapless strangers in all places,
With kind remarks upon their mien and faces.

XLVI
But here the Mother of the Maids drew near,
With, "Ladies, it is time to go to rest.
I'm puzzled what to do with you, my dear,"
She added to Juanna, their new guest:
"Your coming has been unexpected here,
And every couch is occupied; you had best
Partake of mine; but by to-morrow early
We will have all things settled for you fairly."

XLVII
Here Lolah interposed -- "Mamma, you know
You don't sleep soundly, and I cannot bear
That anybody should disturb you so;
I'll take Juanna; we're a slenderer pair
Than you would make the half of; -- don't say no;
And I of your young charge will take due care."
But here Katinka interfered, and said,
"She also had compassion and a bed.

XLVIII
"Besides, I hate to sleep alone," quoth she.
The matron frown'd: "Why so?" -- "For fear of ghosts,"
Replied Katinka; "I am sure I see
A phantom upon each of the four posts;
And then I have the worst dreams that can be,
Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts."
The dame replied, "Between your dreams and you,
I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few.

XLIX
"You, Lolah, must continue still to lie
Alone, for reasons which don't matter; you
The same, Katinka, until by and by;
And I shall place Juanna with Dudù,
Who's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy,
And will not toss and chatter the night through.
What say you, child?" -- Dudù said nothing, as
Her talents were of the more silent class;

L
But she rose up, and kiss'd the matron's brow
Between the eyes, and Lolah on both cheeks,
Katinka, too; and with a gentle bow
(Curt'sies are neither used by Turks nor Greeks)
She took Juanna by the hand to show
Their place of rest, and left to both their piques,
The others pouting at the matron's preference
Of Dudù, though they held their tongues from deference.

LI
It was a spacious chamber (Oda is
The Turkish title), and ranged round the wall
Were couches, toilets -- and much more than this
I might describe, as I have seen it all,
But it suffices -- little was amiss;
'T was on the whole a nobly furnish'd hall,
With all things ladies want, save one or two,
And even those were nearer than they knew.

LII
Dudù, as has been said, was a sweet creature,
Not very dashing, but extremely winning,
With the most regulated charms of feature,
Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning
Against proportion -- the wild strokes of nature
Which they hit off at once in the beginning,
Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike,
And pleasing or unpleasing, still are like.

LIII
But she was a soft landscape of mild earth,
Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet,
Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth,
Which, if not happiness, is much more nigh it
Than are your mighty passions and so forth,
Which some call "the sublime:" I wish they'd try it:
I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women,
And pity lovers rather more than seamen.

LIV
But she was pensive more than melancholy,
And serious more than pensive, and serene,
It may be, more than either -- not unholy
Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been.
The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly
Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen,
That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall;
She never thought about herself at all.

LV
And therefore was she kind and gentle as
The Age of Gold (when gold was yet unknown,
By which its nomenclature came to pass;
Thus most appropriately has been shown
"Lucus à non lucendo," not what was,
But what was not; a sort of style that's grown
Extremely common in this age, whose metal
The devil may decompose, but never settle:

LVI
I think it may be of "Corinthian Brass,"
Which was a mixture of all metals, but
The brazen uppermost). Kind reader! pass
This long parenthesis: I could not shut
It sooner for the soul of me, and class
My faults even with your own! which meaneth, Put
A kind construction upon them and me:
But that you won't -- then don't -- I am not less free.

LVII
'T is time we should return to plain narration,
And thus my narrative proceeds: -- Dudù,
With every kindness short of ostentation,
Show'd Juan, or Juanna, through and through
This labyrinth of females, and each station
Described -- what's strange -- in words extremely few:
I have but one simile, and that's a blunder,
For wordless woman, which is silent thunder.

LVIII
And next she gave her (I say her, because
The gender still was epicene, at least
In outward show, which is a saving clause)
An outline of the customs of the East,
With all their chaste integrity of laws,
By which the more a haram is increased,
The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties
Of any supernumerary beauties.

LIX
And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss:
Dudù was fond of kissing -- which I'm sure
That nobody can ever take amiss,
Because 't is pleasant, so that it be pure,
And between females means no more than this --
That they have nothing better near, or newer.
"Kiss" rhymes to "bliss" in fact as well as verse --
I wish it never led to something worse.

LX
In perfect innocence she then unmade
Her toilet, which cost little, for she was
A child of Nature, carelessly array'd:
If fond of a chance ogle at her glass,
'T was like the fawn, which, in the lake display'd,
Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass,
When first she starts, and then returns to peep,
Admiring this new native of the deep.

LXI
And one by one her articles of dress
Were laid aside; but not before she offer'd
Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess
Of modesty declined the assistance proffer'd:
Which pass'd well off -- as she could do no less;
Though by this politesse she rather suffer'd,
Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins,
Which surely were invented for our sins, --

LXII
Making a woman like a porcupine,
Not to be rashly touch'd. But still more dread,
Oh ye! whose fate it is, as once 't was mine,
In early youth, to turn a lady's maid; --
I did my very boyish best to shine
In tricking her out for a masquerade;
The pins were placed sufficiently, but not
Stuck all exactly in the proper spot.

LXIII
But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
My tendency is to philosophise
On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies.
What are we? and whence came we? what shall be
Our ultimate existence? what's our present?
Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.

LXIV
There was deep silence in the chamber: dim
And distant from each other burn'd the lights,
And slumber hover'd o'er each lovely limb
Of the fair occupants: if there be sprites,
They should have walk'd there in their sprightliest trim,
By way of change from their sepulchral sites,
And shown themselves as ghosts of better taste
Than haunting some old ruin or wild waste.

LXV
Many and beautiful lay those around,
Like flowers of different hue, and dime, and root,
In some exotic garden sometimes found,
With cost, and care, and warmth induced to shoot.
One with her auburn tresses lightly bound,
And fair brows gently drooping, as the fruit
Nods from the tree, was slumbering with soft breath,
And lips apart, which show'd the pearls beneath.

LXVI
One with her flush'd cheek laid on her white arm,
And raven ringlets gather'd in dark crowd
Above her brow, lay dreaming soft and warm;
And smiling through her dream, as through a cloud
The moon breaks, half unveil'd each further charm,
As, slightly stirring in her snowy shroud,
Her beauties seized the unconscious hour of night
All bashfully to struggle into light.

LXVII
This is no bull, although it sounds so; for
'T was night, but there were lamps, as hath been said.
A third's all pallid aspect offer'd more
The traits of sleeping sorrow, and betray'd
Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore
Belovéd and deplored; while slowly stray'd
(As night-dew, on a cypress glittering, tinges
The black bough) tear-drops through her eyes' dark fringes.

LXVIII
A fourth as marble, statue-like and still,
Lay in a breathless, hush'd, and stony sleep;
White, cold, and pure, as looks a frozen rill,
Or the snow minaret on an Alpine steep,
Or Lot's wife done in salt, -- or what you will; --
My similes are gather'd in a heap,
So pick and choose -- perhaps you'll be content
With a carved lady on a monument.

LXIX
And lo! a fifth appears; -- and what is she?
A lady of a "certain age," which means
Certainly agéd -- what her years might be
I know not, never counting past their teens;
But there she slept, not quite so fair to see,
As ere that awful period intervenes
Which lays both men and women on the shelf,
To meditate upon their sins and self.

LXX
But all this time how slept, or dream'd, Dudù?
With strict inquiry I could ne'er discover,
And scorn to add a syllable untrue;
But ere the middle watch was hardly over,
Just when the fading lamps waned dim and blue,
And phantoms hover'd, or might seem to hover,
To those who like their company, about
The apartment, on a sudden she scream'd out:

LXXI
And that so loudly, that upstarted all
The Oda, in a general commotion:
Matron and maids, and those whom you may call
Neither, came crowding like the waves of ocean,
One on the other, throughout the whole hall,
All trembling, wondering, without the least notion
More than I have myself of what could make
The calm Dudù so turbulently wake.

LXXII
But wide awake she was, and round her bed,
With floating draperies and with flying hair,
With eager eyes, and light but hurried tread,
And bosoms, arms, and ankles glancing bare,
And bright as any meteor ever bred
By the North Pole, -- they sought her cause of care,
For she seem'd agitated, flush'd, and frighten'd,
Her eye dilated and her colour heighten'd.

LXXIII
But what was strange -- and a strong proof how great
A blessing is sound sleep -- Juanna lay
As fast as ever husband by his mate
In holy matrimony snores away.
Not all the clamour broke her happy state
Of slumber, ere they shook her, -- so they say
At least, -- and then she, too, unclosed her eyes,
And yawn'd a good deal with discreet surprise.

LXXIV
And now commenced a strict investigation,
Which, as all spoke at once and more than once,
Conjecturing, wondering, asking a narration,
Alike might puzzle either wit or dunce
To answer in a very clear oration.
Dudù had never pass'd for wanting sense,
But, being "no orator as Brutus is,"
Could not at first expound what was amiss.

LXXV
At length she said, that in a slumber sound
She dream'd a dream, of walking in a wood --
A "wood obscure," like that where Dante found
Himself in at the age when all grow good;
Life's half-way house, where dames with virtue crown'd
Run much less risk of lovers turning rude;
And that this wood was full of pleasant fruits,
And trees of goodly growth and spreading roots;

LXXVI
And in the midst a golden apple grew, --
A most prodigious pippin, -- but it hung
Rather too high and distant; that she threw
Her glances on it, and then, longing, flung
Stones and whatever she could pick up, to
Bring down the fruit, which still perversely clung
To its own bough, and dangled yet in sight,
But always at a most provoking height; --

LXXVII
That on a sudden, when she least had hope,
It fell down of its own accord before
Her feet; that her first movement was to stoop
And pick it up, and bite it to the core;
That just as her young lip began to ope
Upon the golden fruit the vision bore,
A bee flew out and stung her to the heart,
And so -- she awoke with a great scream and start.

LXXVIII
All this she told with some confusion and
Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams
Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand
To expound their vain and visionary gleams.
I've known some odd ones which seem'd really plann'd
Prophetically, or that which one deems
A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase
By which such things are settled now-a-days.

LXXIX
The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm,
Began, as is the consequence of fear,
To scold a little at the false alarm
That broke for nothing on their sleeping car.
The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm
Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear,
And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sigh'd,
And said that she was sorry she had cried.

LXXX
"I've heard of stories of a cock and bull;
But visions of an apple and a bee,
To take us from our natural rest, and pull
The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three,
Would make us think the moon is at its full.
You surely are unwell, child! we must see,
To-morrow, what his Highness's physician
Will say to this hysteric of a vision.

LXXXI
"And poor Juanna, too -- the child's first night
Within these walls to be broke in upon
With such a clamour! I had thought it right
That the young stranger should not lie alone,
And, as the quietest of all, she might
With you, Dudù, a good night's rest have known;
But now I must transfer her to the charge
Of Lolah -- though her couch is not so large."

LXXXII
Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition;
But poor Dudù, with large drops in her own,
Resulting from the scolding or the vision,
Implored that present pardon might be shown
For this first fault, and that on no condition
(She added in a soft and piteous tone)
Juanna should be taken from her, and
Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.

LXXXIII
She promised never more to have a dream,
At least to dream so loudly as just now;
She wonder'd at herself how she could scream --
'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow,
A fond hallucination, and a theme
For laughter -- but she felt her spirits low,
And begg'd they would excuse her; she'd get over
This weakness in a few hours, and recover.

LXXXIV
And here Juanna kindly interposed,
And said she felt herself extremely well
Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed
When all around rang like a tocsin bell:
She did not find herself the least disposed
To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell
Apart from one who had no sin to show,
Save that of dreaming once "mal-à-propos."

LXXXV
As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turn'd round
And hid her face within Juanna's breast:
Her neck alone was seen, but that was found
The colour of a budding rose's crest.
I can't tell why she blush'd, nor can expound
The mystery of this rupture of their rest;
All that I know is, that the facts I state
Are true as truth has ever been of late.

LXXXVI
And so good night to them, -- or, if you will,
Good morrow -- for the cock had crown, and light
Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,
And the mosque crescent struggled into sight
Of the long caravan, which in the chill
Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height
That stretches to the stony belt, which girds
Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.

LXXXVII
With the first ray, or rather grey of morn,
Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale
As passion rises, with its bosom worn,
Array'd herself with mantle, gem, and veil.
The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,
Which fable places in her breast of wail,
Is lighter far of heart and voice than those
Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.

LXXXVIII
And that's the moral of this composition,
If people would but see its real drift; --
But that they will not do without suspicion,
Because all gentle readers have the gift
Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision;
While gentle writers also love to lift
Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural,
The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.

LXXXIX
Rose the sultana from a bed of splendour,
Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried
Aloud because his feelings were too tender
To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side, --
So beautiful that art could little mend her,
Though pale with conflicts between love and pride; --
So agitated was she with her error,
She did not even look into the mirror.

XC
Also arose about the self-same time,
Perhaps a little later, her great lord,
Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime,
And of a wife by whom he was abhorr'd;
A thing of much less import in that clime --
At least to those of incomes which afford
The filling up their whole connubial cargo --
Than where two wives are under an embargo.

XCI
He did not think much on the matter, nor
Indeed on any other: as a man
He liked to have a handsome paramour
At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store,
As an amusement after the Divan;
Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,
Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

XCII
And now he rose; and after due ablutions
Exacted by the customs of the East,
And prayers and other pious evolutions,
He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
Whose victories had recently increased
In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores,
As greatest of all sovereigns and w--s.

XCIII
But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!
Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend
Thine ear, if it should reach -- and now rhymes wander
Almost as far as Petersburgh and lend
A dreadful impulse to each loud meander
Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend
Their roar even with the Baltic's -- so you be
Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.

XCIV
To call men love-begotten or proclaim
Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on:
But people's ancestors are history's game;
And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on
All generations, I should like to know
What pedigree the best would have to show?

XCV
Had Catherine and the sultan understood
Their own true interests, which kings rarely know
Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude,
There was a way to end their strife, although
Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,
Without the aid of prince or plenipo:
She to dismiss her guards and he his haram,
And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.

XCVI
But as it was, his Highness had to hold
His daily council upon ways and means
How to encounter with this martial scold,
This modern Amazon and queen of queans;
And the perplexity could not be told
Of all the pillars of the state, which leans
Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.

XCVII
Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,
Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place
For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,
And rich with all contrivances which grace
Those gay recesses: -- many a precious stone
Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
Of porcelain held in the fetter'd flowers,
Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.

XCVIII
Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble,
Vied with each other on this costly spot;
And singing birds without were heard to warble;
And the stain'd glass which lighted this fair grot
Varied each ray; -- but all descriptions garble
The true effect, and so we had better not
Be too minute; an outline is the best, --
A lively reader's fancy does the rest.

XCIX
And here she summon'd Baba, and required
Don Juan at his hands, and information
Of what had pass'd since all the slaves retired,
And whether he had occupied their station;
If matters had been managed as desired,
And his disguise with due consideration
Kept up; and above all, the where and how
He had pass'd the night, was what she wish'd to know.

C
Baba, with some embarrassment, replied
To this long catechism of questions, ask'd
More easily than answer'd, -- that he had tried
His best to obey in what he had been task'd;
But there seem'd something that he wish'd to hide,
Which hesitation more betray'd than mask'd;
He scratch'd his ear, the infallible resource
To which embarrass'd people have recourse.

CI
Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience,
Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed;
She liked quick answers in all conversations;
And when she saw him stumbling like a steed
In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones;
And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,
Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.

CII
When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
To bode him no great good, he deprecated
Her anger, and beseech'd she'd hear him through --
He could not help the thing which he related:
Then out it came at length, that to Dudù
Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;
But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on
The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.

CIII
The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom
The discipline of the whole haram bore,
As soon as they re-enter'd their own room,
For Baba's function stopt short at the door,
Had settled all; nor could he then presume
(The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
Without exciting such suspicion as
Might make the matter still worse than it was.

CIV
He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure
Juan had not betray'd himself; in fact
'T was certain that his conduct had been pure,
Because a foolish or imprudent act
Would not alone have made him insecure,
But ended in his being found out and sacked,
And thrown into the sea. -- Thus Baba spoke
Of all save Dudù's dream, which was no joke.

CV
This he discreetly kept in the background,
And talk'd away -- and might have talk'd till now,
For any further answer that he found,
So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow:
Her cheek turn'd ashes, ears rung, brain whirl'd round,
As if she had received a sudden blow,
And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly
O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.

CVI
Although she was not of the fainting sort,
Baba thought she would faint, but there he err'd --
It was but a convulsion, which though short
Can never be described; we all have heard,
And some of us have felt thus "all amort,"
When things beyond the common have occurr'd; --
Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony
What she could ne'er express -- then how should I?

CVII
She stood a moment as a Pythones
Stands on her tripod, agonised, and full
Of inspiration gather'd from distress,
When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull
The heart asunder; -- then, as more or lees
Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,
And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.

CVIII
Her face declined and was unseen; her hair
Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
A low soft ottoman), and black despair
Stirr'd up and down her bosom like a billow,
Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check
Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.

CIX
Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping
Conceal'd her features better than a veil;
And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping,
White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:
Would that I were a painter! to be grouping
All that a poet drags into detail
Oh that my words were colours! but their tints
May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

CX
Baba, who knew by experience when to talk
And when to hold his tongue, now held it till
This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk
Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will.
At length she rose up, and began to walk
Slowly along the room, but silent still,
And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye;
The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

CXI
She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak -- but paused,
And then moved on again with rapid pace;
Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused
By deep emotion: -- you may sometimes trace
A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed
By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased
By all the demons of all passions, show'd
Their work even by the way in which he trode.

CXII
Gulbeyaz stopp'd and beckon'd Baba: -- "Slave!
Bring the two slaves!" she said in a low tone,
But one which Baba did not like to brave,
And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone
To prove reluctant, and begg'd leave to crave
(Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown
What slaves her highness wish'd to indicate,
For fear of any error, like the late.

CXIII
"The Georgian and her paramour," replied
The imperial bride -- and added, "Let the boat
Be ready by the secret portal's side:
You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat,
Despite her injured love and fiery pride;
And of this Baba willingly took note,
And begg'd by every hair of Mahomet's beard,
She would revoke the order he had heard.

CXIV
"To hear is to obey," he said; "but still,
Sultana, think upon the consequence:
It is not that I shall not all fulfil
Your orders, even in their severest sense;
But such precipitation may end ill,
Even at your own imperative expense:
I do not mean destruction and exposure,
In case of any premature disclosure;

CXV
"But your own feelings. Even should all the rest
Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide
Already many a once love-beaten breast
Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide --
You love this boyish, new, seraglio guest,
And if this violent remedy be tried --
Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you,
That killing him is not the way to cure you."

CXVI
"What dost thou know of love or feeling? -- Wretch!
Begone!" she cried, with kindling eyes -- "and do
My bidding!" Baba vanish'd, for to stretch
His own remonstrance further he well knew
Might end in acting as his own "Jack Ketch;"
And though he wish'd extremely to get through
This awkward business without harm to others,
He still preferr'd his own neck to another's.

CXVII
Away he went then upon his commission,
Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase
Against all women of whate'er condition,
Especially sultanas and their ways;
Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision,
Their never knowing their own mind two days,
The trouble that they gave, their immorality,
Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.

CXVIII
And then he call'd his brethren to his aid,
And sent one on a summons to the pair,
That they must instantly be well array'd,
And above all be comb'd even to a hair,
And brought before the empress, who had made
Inquiries after them with kindest care:
At which Dudù look'd strange, and Juan silly;
But go they must at once, and will I -- nill I.

CXIX
And here I leave them at their preparation
For the imperial presence, wherein whether
Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration,
Or got rid of the parties altogether,
Like other angry ladies of her nation, --
Are things the turning of a hair or feather
May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate
In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.

CXX
I leave them for the present with good wishes,
Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange
Another part of history; for the dishes
Of this our banquet we must sometimes change;
And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,
Although his situation now seems strange
And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair,
The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.

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John Milton

Paradise Lost: Book 10

Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart
Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just,
Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed,
Complete to have discovered and repulsed
Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit,
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
(Incurred what could they less?) the penalty;
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
The angelick guards ascended, mute, and sad,
For Man; for of his state by this they knew,
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen
Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news
From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arrived, in multitudes
The ethereal people ran, to hear and know
How all befel: They towards the throne supreme,
Accountable, made haste, to make appear,
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice.
Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned
From unsuccessful charge; be not dismayed,
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth,
Which your sincerest care could not prevent;
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed
On his bad errand; Man should be seduced,
And flattered out of all, believing lies
Against his Maker; no decree of mine
Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
His free will, to her own inclining left
In even scale. But fallen he is; and now
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass
On his transgression,--death denounced that day?
Which he presumes already vain and void,
Because not yet inflicted, as he feared,
By some immediate stroke; but soon shall find
Forbearance no acquittance, ere day end.
Justice shall not return as bounty scorned.
But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee,
Vicegerent Son? To thee I have transferred
All judgement, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell.
Easy it may be seen that I intend
Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee
Man's friend, his Mediator, his designed
Both ransom and Redeemer voluntary,
And destined Man himself to judge Man fallen.
So spake the Father; and, unfolding bright
Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son
Blazed forth unclouded Deity: He full
Resplendent all his Father manifest
Expressed, and thus divinely answered mild.
Father Eternal, thine is to decree;
Mine, both in Heaven and Earth, to do thy will
Supreme; that thou in me, thy Son beloved,
Mayest ever rest well pleased. I go to judge
On earth these thy transgressours; but thou knowest,
Whoever judged, the worst on me must light,
When time shall be; for so I undertook
Before thee; and, not repenting, this obtain
Of right, that I may mitigate their doom
On me derived; yet I shall temper so
Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most
Them fully satisfied, and thee appease.
Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none
Are to behold the judgement, but the judged,
Those two; the third best absent is condemned,
Convict by flight, and rebel to all law:
Conviction to the serpent none belongs.
Thus saying, from his radiant seat he rose
Of high collateral glory: Him Thrones, and Powers,
Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant,
Accompanied to Heaven-gate; from whence
Eden, and all the coast, in prospect lay.
Down he descended straight; the speed of Gods
Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes winged.
Now was the sun in western cadence low
From noon, and gentle airs, due at their hour,
To fan the earth now waked, and usher in
The evening cool; when he, from wrath more cool,
Came the mild Judge, and Intercessour both,
To sentence Man: The voice of God they heard
Now walking in the garden, by soft winds
Brought to their ears, while day declined; they heard,
And from his presence hid themselves among
The thickest trees, both man and wife; till God,
Approaching, thus to Adam called aloud.
Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet
My coming seen far off? I miss thee here,
Not pleased, thus entertained with solitude,
Where obvious duty ere while appeared unsought:
Or come I less conspicuous, or what change
Absents thee, or what chance detains?--Come forth!
He came; and with him Eve, more loth, though first
To offend; discountenanced both, and discomposed;
Love was not in their looks, either to God,
Or to each other; but apparent guilt,
And shame, and perturbation, and despair,
Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile.
Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answered brief.
I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice
Afraid, being naked, hid myself. To whom
The gracious Judge without revile replied.
My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not feared,
But still rejoiced; how is it now become
So dreadful to thee? That thou art naked, who
Hath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the tree,
Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?
To whom thus Adam sore beset replied.
O Heaven! in evil strait this day I stand
Before my Judge; either to undergo
Myself the total crime, or to accuse
My other self, the partner of my life;
Whose failing, while her faith to me remains,
I should conceal, and not expose to blame
By my complaint: but strict necessity
Subdues me, and calamitous constraint;
Lest on my head both sin and punishment,
However insupportable, be all
Devolved; though should I hold my peace, yet thou
Wouldst easily detect what I conceal.--
This Woman, whom thou madest to be my help,
And gavest me as thy perfect gift, so good,
So fit, so acceptable, so divine,
That from her hand I could suspect no ill,
And what she did, whatever in itself,
Her doing seemed to justify the deed;
She gave me of the tree, and I did eat.
To whom the Sovran Presence thus replied.
Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey
Before his voice? or was she made thy guide,
Superiour, or but equal, that to her
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place
Wherein God set thee above her made of thee,
And for thee, whose perfection far excelled
Hers in all real dignity? Adorned
She was indeed, and lovely, to attract
Thy love, not thy subjection; and her gifts
Were such, as under government well seemed;
Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy part
And person, hadst thou known thyself aright.
So having said, he thus to Eve in few.
Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelmed,
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
Bold or loquacious, thus abashed replied.
The Serpent me beguiled, and I did eat.
Which when the Lord God heard, without delay
To judgement he proceeded on the accused
Serpent, though brute; unable to transfer
The guilt on him, who made him instrument
Of mischief, and polluted from the end
Of his creation; justly then accursed,
As vitiated in nature: More to know
Concerned not Man, (since he no further knew)
Nor altered his offence; yet God at last
To Satan first in sin his doom applied,
Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best:
And on the Serpent thus his curse let fall.
Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed
Above all cattle, each beast of the field;
Upon thy belly groveling thou shalt go,
And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life.
Between thee and the woman I will put
Enmity, and between thine and her seed;
Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.
So spake this oracle, then verified
When Jesus, Son of Mary, second Eve,
Saw Satan fall, like lightning, down from Heaven,
Prince of the air; then, rising from his grave
Spoiled Principalities and Powers, triumphed
In open show; and, with ascension bright,
Captivity led captive through the air,
The realm itself of Satan, long usurped;
Whom he shall tread at last under our feet;
Even he, who now foretold his fatal bruise;
And to the Woman thus his sentence turned.
Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply
By thy conception; children thou shalt bring
In sorrow forth; and to thy husband's will
Thine shall submit; he over thee shall rule.
On Adam last thus judgement he pronounced.
Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife,
And eaten of the tree, concerning which
I charged thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat thereof:
Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrow
Shalt eat thereof, all the days of thy life;
Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth
Unbid; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field;
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,
Till thou return unto the ground; for thou
Out of the ground wast taken, know thy birth,
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.
So judged he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent;
And the instant stroke of death, denounced that day,
Removed far off; then, pitying how they stood
Before him naked to the air, that now
Must suffer change, disdained not to begin
Thenceforth the form of servant to assume;
As when he washed his servants feet; so now,
As father of his family, he clad
Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain,
Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid;
And thought not much to clothe his enemies;
Nor he their outward only with the skins
Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more.
Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness,
Arraying, covered from his Father's sight.
To him with swift ascent he up returned,
Into his blissful bosom reassumed
In glory, as of old; to him appeased
All, though all-knowing, what had passed with Man
Recounted, mixing intercession sweet.
Mean while, ere thus was sinned and judged on Earth,
Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death,
In counterview within the gates, that now
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame
Far into Chaos, since the Fiend passed through,
Sin opening; who thus now to Death began.
O Son, why sit we here each other viewing
Idly, while Satan, our great author, thrives
In other worlds, and happier seat provides
For us, his offspring dear? It cannot be
But that success attends him; if mishap,
Ere this he had returned, with fury driven
By his avengers; since no place like this
Can fit his punishment, or their revenge.
Methinks I feel new strength within me rise,
Wings growing, and dominion given me large
Beyond this deep; whatever draws me on,
Or sympathy, or some connatural force,
Powerful at greatest distance to unite,
With secret amity, things of like kind,
By secretest conveyance. Thou, my shade
Inseparable, must with me along;
For Death from Sin no power can separate.
But, lest the difficulty of passing back
Stay his return perhaps over this gulf
Impassable, impervious; let us try
Adventurous work, yet to thy power and mine
Not unagreeable, to found a path
Over this main from Hell to that new world,
Where Satan now prevails; a monument
Of merit high to all the infernal host,
Easing their passage hence, for intercourse,
Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead.
Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn
By this new-felt attraction and instinct.
Whom thus the meager Shadow answered soon.
Go, whither Fate, and inclination strong,
Leads thee; I shall not lag behind, nor err
The way, thou leading; such a scent I draw
Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste
The savour of death from all things there that live:
Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest
Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid.
So saying, with delight he snuffed the smell
Of mortal change on earth. As when a flock
Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote,
Against the day of battle, to a field,
Where armies lie encamped, come flying, lured
With scent of living carcasses designed
For death, the following day, in bloody fight:
So scented the grim Feature, and upturned
His nostril wide into the murky air;
Sagacious of his quarry from so far.
Then both from out Hell-gates, into the waste
Wide anarchy of Chaos, damp and dark,
Flew diverse; and with power (their power was great)
Hovering upon the waters, what they met
Solid or slimy, as in raging sea
Tost up and down, together crouded drove,
From each side shoaling towards the mouth of Hell;
As when two polar winds, blowing adverse
Upon the Cronian sea, together drive
Mountains of ice, that stop the imagined way
Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich
Cathaian coast. The aggregated soil
Death with his mace petrifick, cold and dry,
As with a trident, smote; and fixed as firm
As Delos, floating once; the rest his look
Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move;
And with Asphaltick slime, broad as the gate,
Deep to the roots of Hell the gathered beach
They fastened, and the mole immense wrought on
Over the foaming deep high-arched, a bridge
Of length prodigious, joining to the wall
Immoveable of this now fenceless world,
Forfeit to Death; from hence a passage broad,
Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to Hell.
So, if great things to small may be compared,
Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke,
From Susa, his Memnonian palace high,
Came to the sea: and, over Hellespont
Bridging his way, Europe with Asia joined,
And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves.
Now had they brought the work by wonderous art
Pontifical, a ridge of pendant rock,
Over the vexed abyss, following the track
Of Satan to the self-same place where he
First lighted from his wing, and landed safe
From out of Chaos, to the outside bare
Of this round world: With pins of adamant
And chains they made all fast, too fast they made
And durable! And now in little space
The confines met of empyrean Heaven,
And of this World; and, on the left hand, Hell
With long reach interposed; three several ways
In sight, to each of these three places led.
And now their way to Earth they had descried,
To Paradise first tending; when, behold!
Satan, in likeness of an Angel bright,
Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steering
His zenith, while the sun in Aries rose:
Disguised he came; but those his children dear
Their parent soon discerned, though in disguise.
He, after Eve seduced, unminded slunk
Into the wood fast by; and, changing shape,
To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act
By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded
Upon her husband; saw their shame that sought
Vain covertures; but when he saw descend
The Son of God to judge them, terrified
He fled; not hoping to escape, but shun
The present; fearing, guilty, what his wrath
Might suddenly inflict; that past, returned
By night, and listening where the hapless pair
Sat in their sad discourse, and various plaint,
Thence gathered his own doom; which understood
Not instant, but of future time, with joy
And tidings fraught, to Hell he now returned;
And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot
Of this new wonderous pontifice, unhoped
Met, who to meet him came, his offspring dear.
Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight
Of that stupendious bridge his joy encreased.
Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair
Enchanting daughter, thus the silence broke.
O Parent, these are thy magnifick deeds,
Thy trophies! which thou viewest as not thine own;
Thou art their author, and prime architect:
For I no sooner in my heart divined,
My heart, which by a secret harmony
Still moves with thine, joined in connexion sweet,
That thou on earth hadst prospered, which thy looks
Now also evidence, but straight I felt,
Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt,
That I must after thee, with this thy son;
Such fatal consequence unites us three!
Hell could no longer hold us in our bounds,
Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure
Detain from following thy illustrious track.
Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined
Within Hell-gates till now; thou us impowered
To fortify thus far, and overlay,
With this portentous bridge, the dark abyss.
Thine now is all this world; thy virtue hath won
What thy hands builded not; thy wisdom gained
With odds what war hath lost, and fully avenged
Our foil in Heaven; here thou shalt monarch reign,
There didst not; there let him still victor sway,
As battle hath adjudged; from this new world
Retiring, by his own doom alienated;
And henceforth monarchy with thee divide
Of all things, parted by the empyreal bounds,
His quadrature, from thy orbicular world;
Or try thee now more dangerous to his throne.
Whom thus the Prince of darkness answered glad.
Fair Daughter, and thou Son and Grandchild both;
High proof ye now have given to be the race
Of Satan (for I glory in the name,
Antagonist of Heaven's Almighty King,)
Amply have merited of me, of all
The infernal empire, that so near Heaven's door
Triumphal with triumphal act have met,
Mine, with this glorious work; and made one realm,
Hell and this world, one realm, one continent
Of easy thorough-fare. Therefore, while I
Descend through darkness, on your road with ease,
To my associate Powers, them to acquaint
With these successes, and with them rejoice;
You two this way, among these numerous orbs,
All yours, right down to Paradise descend;
There dwell, and reign in bliss; thence on the earth
Dominion exercise and in the air,
Chiefly on Man, sole lord of all declared;
Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill.
My substitutes I send ye, and create
Plenipotent on earth, of matchless might
Issuing from me: on your joint vigour now
My hold of this new kingdom all depends,
Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit.
If your joint power prevail, the affairs of Hell
No detriment need fear; go, and be strong!
So saying he dismissed them; they with speed
Their course through thickest constellations held,
Spreading their bane; the blasted stars looked wan,
And planets, planet-struck, real eclipse
Then suffered. The other way Satan went down
The causey to Hell-gate: On either side
Disparted Chaos overbuilt exclaimed,
And with rebounding surge the bars assailed,
That scorned his indignation: Through the gate,
Wide open and unguarded, Satan passed,
And all about found desolate; for those,
Appointed to sit there, had left their charge,
Flown to the upper world; the rest were all
Far to the inland retired, about the walls
Of Pandemonium; city and proud seat
Of Lucifer, so by allusion called
Of that bright star to Satan paragoned;
There kept their watch the legions, while the Grand
In council sat, solicitous what chance
Might intercept their emperour sent; so he
Departing gave command, and they observed.
As when the Tartar from his Russian foe,
By Astracan, over the snowy plains,
Retires; or Bactrin Sophi, from the horns
Of Turkish crescent, leaves all waste beyond
The realm of Aladule, in his retreat
To Tauris or Casbeen: So these, the late
Heaven-banished host, left desart utmost Hell
Many a dark league, reduced in careful watch
Round their metropolis; and now expecting
Each hour their great adventurer, from the search
Of foreign worlds: He through the midst unmarked,
In show plebeian Angel militant
Of lowest order, passed; and from the door
Of that Plutonian hall, invisible
Ascended his high throne; which, under state
Of richest texture spread, at the upper end
Was placed in regal lustre. Down a while
He sat, and round about him saw unseen:
At last, as from a cloud, his fulgent head
And shape star-bright appeared, or brighter; clad
With what permissive glory since his fall
Was left him, or false glitter: All amazed
At that so sudden blaze the Stygian throng
Bent their aspect, and whom they wished beheld,
Their mighty Chief returned: loud was the acclaim:
Forth rushed in haste the great consulting peers,
Raised from their dark Divan, and with like joy
Congratulant approached him; who with hand
Silence, and with these words attention, won.
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers;
For in possession such, not only of right,
I call ye, and declare ye now; returned
Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth
Triumphant out of this infernal pit
Abominable, accursed, the house of woe,
And dungeon of our tyrant: Now possess,
As Lords, a spacious world, to our native Heaven
Little inferiour, by my adventure hard
With peril great achieved. Long were to tell
What I have done; what suffered;with what pain
Voyaged th' unreal, vast, unbounded deep
Of horrible confusion; over which
By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved,
To expedite your glorious march; but I
Toiled out my uncouth passage, forced to ride
The untractable abyss, plunged in the womb
Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild;
That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely opposed
My journey strange, with clamorous uproar
Protesting Fate supreme; thence how I found
The new created world, which fame in Heaven
Long had foretold, a fabrick wonderful
Of absolute perfection! therein Man
Placed in a Paradise, by our exile
Made happy: Him by fraud I have seduced
From his Creator; and, the more to encrease
Your wonder, with an apple; he, thereat
Offended, worth your laughter! hath given up
Both his beloved Man, and all his world,
To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us,
Without our hazard, labour, or alarm;
To range in, and to dwell, and over Man
To rule, as over all he should have ruled.
True is, me also he hath judged, or rather
Me not, but the brute serpent in whose shape
Man I deceived: that which to me belongs,
Is enmity which he will put between
Me and mankind; I am to bruise his heel;
His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head:
A world who would not purchase with a bruise,
Or much more grievous pain?--Ye have the account
Of my performance: What remains, ye Gods,
But up, and enter now into full bliss?
So having said, a while he stood, expecting
Their universal shout, and high applause,
To fill his ear; when, contrary, he hears
On all sides, from innumerable tongues,
A dismal universal hiss, the sound
Of publick scorn; he wondered, but not long
Had leisure, wondering at himself now more,
His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare;
His arms clung to his ribs; his legs entwining
Each other, till supplanted down he fell
A monstrous serpent on his belly prone,
Reluctant, but in vain; a greater power
Now ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned,
According to his doom: he would have spoke,
But hiss for hiss returned with forked tongue
To forked tongue; for now were all transformed
Alike, to serpents all, as accessories
To his bold riot: Dreadful was the din
Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now
With complicated monsters head and tail,
Scorpion, and Asp, and Amphisbaena dire,
Cerastes horned, Hydrus, and Elops drear,
And Dipsas; (not so thick swarmed once the soil
Bedropt with blood of Gorgon, or the isle
Ophiusa,) but still greatest he the midst,
Now Dragon grown, larger than whom the sun
Ingendered in the Pythian vale or slime,
Huge Python, and his power no less he seemed
Above the rest still to retain; they all
Him followed, issuing forth to the open field,
Where all yet left of that revolted rout,
Heaven-fallen, in station stood or just array;
Sublime with expectation when to see
In triumph issuing forth their glorious Chief;
They saw, but other sight instead! a croud
Of ugly serpents; horrour on them fell,
And horrid sympathy; for, what they saw,
They felt themselves, now changing; down their arms,
Down fell both spear and shield; down they as fast;
And the dire hiss renewed, and the dire form
Catched, by contagion; like in punishment,
As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meant,
Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame
Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There stood
A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change,
His will who reigns above, to aggravate
Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that
Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve
Used by the Tempter: on that prospect strange
Their earnest eyes they fixed, imagining
For one forbidden tree a multitude
Now risen, to work them further woe or shame;
Yet, parched with scalding thirst and hunger fierce,
Though to delude them sent, could not abstain;
But on they rolled in heaps, and, up the trees
Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks
That curled Megaera: greedily they plucked
The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew
Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed;
This more delusive, not the touch, but taste
Deceived; they, fondly thinking to allay
Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit
Chewed bitter ashes, which the offended taste
With spattering noise rejected: oft they assayed,
Hunger and thirst constraining; drugged as oft,
With hatefullest disrelish writhed their jaws,
With soot and cinders filled; so oft they fell
Into the same illusion, not as Man
Whom they triumphed once lapsed. Thus were they plagued
And worn with famine, long and ceaseless hiss,
Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed;
Yearly enjoined, some say, to undergo,
This annual humbling certain numbered days,
To dash their pride, and joy, for Man seduced.
However, some tradition they dispersed
Among the Heathen, of their purchase got,
And fabled how the Serpent, whom they called
Ophion, with Eurynome, the wide--
Encroaching Eve perhaps, had first the rule
Of high Olympus; thence by Saturn driven
And Ops, ere yet Dictaean Jove was born.
Mean while in Paradise the hellish pair
Too soon arrived; Sin, there in power before,
Once actual; now in body, and to dwell
Habitual habitant; behind her Death,
Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet
On his pale horse: to whom Sin thus began.
Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death!
What thinkest thou of our empire now, though earned
With travel difficult, not better far
Than still at Hell's dark threshold to have sat watch,
Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half starved?
Whom thus the Sin-born monster answered soon.
To me, who with eternal famine pine,
Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven;
There best, where most with ravine I may meet;
Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems
To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corps.
To whom the incestuous mother thus replied.
Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
Feed first; on each beast next, and fish, and fowl;
No homely morsels! and, whatever thing
The sithe of Time mows down, devour unspared;
Till I, in Man residing, through the race,
His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect;
And season him thy last and sweetest prey.
This said, they both betook them several ways,
Both to destroy, or unimmortal make
All kinds, and for destruction to mature
Sooner or later; which the Almighty seeing,
From his transcendent seat the Saints among,
To those bright Orders uttered thus his voice.
See, with what heat these dogs of Hell advance
To waste and havock yonder world, which I
So fair and good created; and had still
Kept in that state, had not the folly of Man
Let in these wasteful furies, who impute
Folly to me; so doth the Prince of Hell
And his adherents, that with so much ease
I suffer them to enter and possess
A place so heavenly; and, conniving, seem
To gratify my scornful enemies,
That laugh, as if, transported with some fit
Of passion, I to them had quitted all,
At random yielded up to their misrule;
And know not that I called, and drew them thither,
My Hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth
Which Man's polluting sin with taint hath shed
On what was pure; til, crammed and gorged, nigh burst
With sucked and glutted offal, at one sling
Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son,
Both Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave, at last,
Through Chaos hurled, obstruct the mouth of Hell
For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws.
Then Heaven and Earth renewed shall be made pure
To sanctity, that shall receive no stain:
Till then, the curse pronounced on both precedes.
He ended, and the heavenly audience loud
Sung Halleluiah, as the sound of seas,
Through multitude that sung: Just are thy ways,
Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works;
Who can extenuate thee? Next, to the Son,
Destined Restorer of mankind, by whom
New Heaven and Earth shall to the ages rise,
Or down from Heaven descend.--Such was their song;
While the Creator, calling forth by name
His mighty Angels, gave them several charge,
As sorted best with present things. The sun
Had first his precept so to move, so shine,
As might affect the earth with cold and heat
Scarce tolerable; and from the north to call
Decrepit winter; from the south to bring
Solstitial summer's heat. To the blanc moon
Her office they prescribed; to the other five
Their planetary motions, and aspects,
In sextile, square, and trine, and opposite,
Of noxious efficacy, and when to join
In synod unbenign; and taught the fixed
Their influence malignant when to shower,
Which of them rising with the sun, or falling,
Should prove tempestuous: To the winds they set
Their corners, when with bluster to confound
Sea, air, and shore; the thunder when to roll
With terrour through the dark aereal hall.
Some say, he bid his Angels turn ascanse
The poles of earth, twice ten degrees and more,
From the sun's axle; they with labour pushed
Oblique the centrick globe: Some say, the sun
Was bid turn reins from the equinoctial road
Like distant breadth to Taurus with the seven
Atlantick Sisters, and the Spartan Twins,
Up to the Tropick Crab: thence down amain
By Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales,
As deep as Capricorn; to bring in change
Of seasons to each clime; else had the spring
Perpetual smiled on earth with vernant flowers,
Equal in days and nights, except to those
Beyond the polar circles; to them day
Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun,
To recompense his distance, in their sight
Had rounded still the horizon, and not known
Or east or west; which had forbid the snow
From cold Estotiland, and south as far
Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit
The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turned
His course intended; else, how had the world
Inhabited, though sinless, more than now,
Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat?
These changes in the Heavens, though slow, produced
Like change on sea and land; sideral blast,
Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot,
Corrupt and pestilent: Now from the north
Of Norumbega, and the Samoed shore,
Bursting their brazen dungeon, armed with ice,
And snow, and hail, and stormy gust and flaw,
Boreas, and Caecias, and Argestes loud,
And Thrascias, rend the woods, and seas upturn;
With adverse blast upturns them from the south
Notus, and Afer black with thunderous clouds
From Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce,
Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds,
Eurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise,
Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began
Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first,
Daughter of Sin, among the irrational
Death introduced, through fierce antipathy:
Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl,
And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving,
Devoured each other; nor stood much in awe
Of Man, but fled him; or, with countenance grim,
Glared on him passing. These were from without
The growing miseries, which Adam saw
Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade,
To sorrow abandoned, but worse felt within;
And, in a troubled sea of passion tost,
Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint.
O miserable of happy! Is this the end
Of this new glorious world, and me so late
The glory of that glory, who now become
Accursed, of blessed? hide me from the face
Of God, whom to behold was then my highth
Of happiness!--Yet well, if here would end
The misery; I deserved it, and would bear
My own deservings; but this will not serve:
All that I eat or drink, or shall beget,
Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard
Delightfully, Encrease and multiply;
Now death to hear! for what can I encrease,
Or multiply, but curses on my head?
Who of all ages to succeed, but, feeling
The evil on him brought by me, will curse
My head? Ill fare our ancestor impure,
For this we may thank Adam! but his thanks
Shall be the execration: so, besides
Mine own that bide upon me, all from me
Shall with a fierce reflux on me rebound;
On me, as on their natural center, light
Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys
Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!
Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me Man? did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me, or here place
In this delicious garden? As my will
Concurred not to my being, it were but right
And equal to reduce me to my dust;
Desirous to resign and render back
All I received; unable to perform
Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold
The good I sought not. To the loss of that,
Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added
The sense of endless woes? Inexplicable
Why am I mocked with death, and lengthened out
To deathless pain? How gladly would I meet
Mortality my sentence, and be earth
Insensible! How glad would lay me down
As in my mother's lap! There I should rest,
And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more
Would thunder in my ears; no fear of worse
To me, and to my offspring, would torment me
With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt
Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die;
Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of Man
Which God inspired, cannot together perish
With this corporeal clod; then, in the grave,
Or in some other dismal place, who knows
But I shall die a living death? O thought
Horrid, if true! Yet why? It was but breath
Of life that sinned; what dies but what had life
And sin? The body properly had neither,
All of me then shall die: let this appease
The doubt, since human reach no further knows.
For though the Lord of all be infinite,
Is his wrath also? Be it, Man is not so,
But mortal doomed. How can he exercise
Wrath without end on Man, whom death must end?
Can he make deathless death? That were to make
Strange contradiction, which to God himself
Impossible is held; as argument
Of weakness, not of power. Will he draw out,
For anger's sake, finite to infinite,
In punished Man, to satisfy his rigour,
Satisfied never? That were to extend
His sentence beyond dust and Nature's law;
By which all causes else, according still
To the reception of their matter, act;
Not to the extent of their own sphere. But say
That death be not one stroke, as I supposed,
Bereaving sense, but endless misery
From this day onward; which I feel begun
Both in me, and without me; and so last
To perpetuity;--Ay me!that fear
Comes thundering back with dreadful revolution
On my defenceless head; both Death and I
Am found eternal, and incorporate both;
Nor I on my part single; in me all
Posterity stands cursed: Fair patrimony
That I must leave ye, Sons! O, were I able
To waste it all myself, and leave ye none!
So disinherited, how would you bless
Me, now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind,
For one man's fault, thus guiltless be condemned,
It guiltless? But from me what can proceed,
But all corrupt; both mind and will depraved
Not to do only, but to will the same
With me? How can they then acquitted stand
In sight of God? Him, after all disputes,
Forced I absolve: all my evasions vain,
And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still
But to my own conviction: first and last
On me, me only, as the source and spring
Of all corruption, all the blame lights due;
So might the wrath! Fond wish!couldst thou support
That burden, heavier than the earth to bear;
Than all the world much heavier, though divided
With that bad Woman? Thus, what thou desirest,
And what thou fearest, alike destroys all hope
Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable
Beyond all past example and future;
To Satan only like both crime and doom.
O Conscience! into what abyss of fears
And horrours hast thou driven me; out of which
I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged!
Thus Adam to himself lamented loud,
Through the still night; not now, as ere Man fell,
Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black air
Accompanied; with damps, and dreadful gloom;
Which to his evil conscience represented
All things with double terrour: On the ground
Outstretched he lay, on the cold ground; and oft
Cursed his creation; Death as oft accused
Of tardy execution, since denounced
The day of his offence. Why comes not Death,
Said he, with one thrice-acceptable stroke
To end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word,
Justice Divine not hasten to be just?
But Death comes not at call; Justice Divine
Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries,
O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers!
With other echo late I taught your shades
To answer, and resound far other song.--
Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld,
Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh,
Soft words to his fierce passion she assayed:
But her with stern regard he thus repelled.
Out of my sight, thou Serpent! That name best
Befits thee with him leagued, thyself as false
And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape,
Like his, and colour serpentine, may show
Thy inward fraud; to warn all creatures from thee
Henceforth; lest that too heavenly form, pretended
To hellish falshood, snare them! But for thee
I had persisted happy; had not thy pride
And wandering vanity, when least was safe,
Rejected my forewarning, and disdained
Not to be trusted; longing to be seen,
Though by the Devil himself; him overweening
To over-reach; but, with the serpent meeting,
Fooled and beguiled; by him thou, I by thee
To trust thee from my side; imagined wise,
Constant, mature, proof against all assaults;
And understood not all was but a show,
Rather than solid virtue; all but a rib
Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears,
More to the part sinister, from me drawn;
Well if thrown out, as supernumerary
To my just number found. O! why did God,
Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven
With Spirits masculine, create at last
This novelty on earth, this fair defect
Of nature, and not fill the world at once
With Men, as Angels, without feminine;
Or find some other way to generate
Mankind? This mischief had not been befallen,
And more that shall befall; innumerable
Disturbances on earth through female snares,
And strait conjunction with this sex: for either
He never shall find out fit mate, but such
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake;
Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain
Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained
By a far worse; or, if she love, withheld
By parents; or his happiest choice too late
Shall meet, already linked and wedlock-bound
To a fell adversary, his hate or shame:
Which infinite calamity shall cause
To human life, and houshold peace confound.
He added not, and from her turned; but Eve,
Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing
And tresses all disordered, at his feet
Fell humble; and, embracing them, besought
His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint.
Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness Heaven
What love sincere, and reverence in my heart
I bear thee, and unweeting have offended,
Unhappily deceived! Thy suppliant
I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not,
Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid,
Thy counsel, in this uttermost distress,
My only strength and stay: Forlorn of thee,
Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?
While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps,
Between us two let there be peace; both joining,
As joined in injuries, one enmity
Against a foe by doom express assigned us,
That cruel Serpent: On me exercise not
Thy hatred for this misery befallen;
On me already lost, me than thyself
More miserable! Both have sinned;but thou
Against God only; I against God and thee;
And to the place of judgement will return,
There with my cries importune Heaven; that all
The sentence, from thy head removed, may light
On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe;
Me, me only, just object of his ire!
She ended weeping; and her lowly plight,
Immoveable, till peace obtained from fault
Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought
Commiseration: Soon his heart relented
Towards her, his life so late, and sole delight,
Now at his feet submissive in distress;
Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking,
His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid:
As one disarmed, his anger all he lost,
And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon.
Unwary, and too desirous, as before,
So now of what thou knowest not, who desirest
The punishment all on thyself; alas!
Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain
His full wrath, whose thou feelest as yet least part,
And my displeasure bearest so ill. If prayers
Could alter high decrees, I to that place
Would speed before thee, and be louder heard,
That on my head all might be visited;
Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven,
To me committed, and by me exposed.
But rise;--let us no more contend, nor blame
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden, in our share of woe;
Since this day's death denounced, if aught I see,
Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil;
A long day's dying, to augment our pain;
And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived.
To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied.
Adam, by sad experiment I know
How little weight my words with thee can find,
Found so erroneous; thence by just event
Found so unfortunate: Nevertheless,
Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place
Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain
Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart
Living or dying, from thee I will not hide
What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen,
Tending to some relief of our extremes,
Or end; though sharp and sad, yet tolerable,
As in our evils, and of easier choice.
If care of our descent perplex us most,
Which must be born to certain woe, devoured
By Death at last; and miserable it is
To be to others cause of misery,
Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring
Into this cursed world a woeful race,
That after wretched life must be at last
Food for so foul a monster; in thy power
It lies, yet ere conception to prevent
The race unblest, to being yet unbegot.
Childless thou art, childless remain: so Death
Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two
Be forced to satisfy his ravenous maw.
But if thou judge it hard and difficult,
Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain
From love's due rights, nuptial embraces sweet;
And with desire to languish without hope,
Before the present object languishing
With like desire; which would be misery
And torment less than none of what we dread;
Then, both ourselves and seed at once to free
From what we fear for both, let us make short, --
Let us seek Death; -- or, he not found, supply
With our own hands his office on ourselves:
Why stand we longer shivering under fears,
That show no end but death, and have the power,
Of many ways to die the shortest choosing,
Destruction with destruction to destroy? --
She ended here, or vehement despair
Broke off the rest: so much of death her thoughts
Had entertained, as dyed her cheeks with pale.
But Adam, with such counsel nothing swayed,
To better hopes his more attentive mind
Labouring had raised; and thus to Eve replied.
Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems
To argue in thee something more sublime
And excellent, than what thy mind contemns;
But self-destruction therefore sought, refutes
That excellence thought in thee; and implies,
Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret
For loss of life and pleasure overloved.
Or if thou covet death, as utmost end
Of misery, so thinking to evade
The penalty pronounced; doubt not but God
Hath wiselier armed his vengeful ire, than so
To be forestalled; much more I fear lest death,
So snatched, will not exempt us from the pain
We are by doom to pay; rather, such acts
Of contumacy will provoke the Highest
To make death in us live: Then let us seek
Some safer resolution, which methinks
I have in view, calling to mind with heed
Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise
The Serpent's head; piteous amends! unless
Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe,
Satan; who, in the serpent, hath contrived
Against us this deceit: To crush his head
Would be revenge indeed! which will be lost
By death brought on ourselves, or childless days
Resolved, as thou proposest; so our foe
Shal 'scape his punishment ordained, and we
Instead shall double ours upon our heads.
No more be mentioned then of violence
Against ourselves; and wilful barrenness,
That cuts us off from hope; and savours only
Rancour and pride, impatience and despite,
Reluctance against God and his just yoke
Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild
And gracious temper he both heard, and judged,
Without wrath or reviling; we expected
Immediate dissolution, which we thought
Was meant by death that day; when lo!to thee
Pains only in child-bearing were foretold,
And bringing forth; soon recompensed with joy,
Fruit of thy womb: On me the curse aslope
Glanced on the ground; with labour I must earn
My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse;
My labour will sustain me; and, lest cold
Or heat should injure us, his timely care
Hath, unbesought, provided; and his hands
Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged;
How much more, if we pray him, will his ear
Be open, and his heart to pity incline,
And teach us further by what means to shun
The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow!
Which now the sky, with various face, begins
To show us in this mountain; while the winds
Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks
Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek
Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish
Our limbs benummed, ere this diurnal star
Leave cold the night, how we his gathered beams
Reflected may with matter sere foment;
Or, by collision of two bodies, grind
The air attrite to fire; as late the clouds
Justling, or pushed with winds, rude in their shock,
Tine the slant lightning; whose thwart flame, driven down
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine;
And sends a comfortable heat from far,
Which might supply the sun: Such fire to use,
And what may else be remedy or cure
To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought,
He will instruct us praying, and of grace
Beseeching him; so as we need not fear
To pass commodiously this life, sustained
By him with many comforts, till we end
In dust, our final rest and native home.
What better can we do, than, to the place
Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall
Before him reverent; and there confess
Humbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tears
Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek.

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Bullet Proof Teenage Male Testosterone

according to teenage character summaries
males lack appeasement walk boldly where angels
fear to tread without order predictable steps

nothing rogue males
do we are told apparently surprises
danger trills entices

some gain insane labels
youthful myth legends
early shed all nine lives

such unwarranted verdicts
to place upon fever heads
running off thrill seekers

known in local communities
watched are wonder scenes
bullet proof unscathed rises

according to teenage character summaries
some males lack appeasement walk boldly where angels
fear to tread youth orders unpredictable steps

behold young legends
the man none can root
shoot or electrocute


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Social Insecurity

Strapped Seniors use credit cards ‘stead of cash
To stay afloat, after losing their stocks n’ bonds
Yet more victims of another Wall Street crash
“Let them eat cake” is what the Fed responds

ROTMS


From Reuters Article 10/23/2010
Retired and broke: Why retirees are declaring bankruptcy

For more and more seniors, retirement doesn’t mean a debt-free life of leisure. An increasing number of Americans aged 65 and older are declaring bankruptcy, according to a recent study by John Pottow, professor of law at the University of Michigan Law School.
Those aged 65 and older represented seven percent of bankruptcy filers in 2007, a mind-boggling jump from 1991. They are the “fastest-growing age demographic, ” according to Pottow’s study.
What’s the culprit for so much debt? Credit cards. Two-thirds of Americans who filed for bankruptcy said credit cards were the key reason for their financial problems, according to Pottow’s research. Besides having more credit card debt compared with younger bankruptcy filers,44.8 percent of those aged 65 and older also had more plastic in their wallets. “They’re using credit cards as a maladaptive coping mechanism, ” Pottow says.
Stephanie Osterland, a supervisor in the bankruptcy department at GreenPath debt solutions, sees an increasing number of seniors living beyond their means. Says Osterland: “They’re just trying to live off of a fixed income, and that’s usually Social Security. Maybe they have a small pension. We find they’ve used credit cards to supplement that income and expenses or they just end up getting into a lot of medical debt.”
In addition to escalating medical expenses, seniors have seen their portfolios hit hard by the lagging stock market. Carolyn Rodi of Saving Your American Dream says those considering bankruptcy should see a credit counselor at a non-profit organization to get their finances in order.
Credit counselors, such as those at GreenPath, help the elderly deal with a stressful situation. “We try to help them focus on what it’s going to look like” after they get out of debt, Osterland says.
Rodi also recommends that potential bankruptcy filers seek out pro-bono legal aid. “There are a lot of elderly people that are being taken advantage of by bankruptcy attorneys and mortgage brokers who are advising them improperly to pay for the bankruptcy, take out a reverse mortgage or to do things that aren’t in their best interest, ” she says. ”If you have no income, why should you borrow to pay someone when you can get free legal aid? ”
What are the chances of a senior paying off his or her debts? It’s difficult to determine, especially because seniors tend to be on a fixed income. And while finding a job — such as a WalMart greeter — seems like a viable option, it is not necessarily feasible for all seniors to work.
In addition, whether or not a person declares Chapter 7 (which involves the liquidation of one’s assets) or Chapter 13 (which allows debt restructuring) bankruptcy can be a significant factor in determining what one’s lifestyle will be. “If you have to file for Chapter 7 bankruptcy, you may be able to find affordable housing that allows you to just get by, ” says Rodi. “Chapter 13 lets you keep your house and doesn’t touch your retirement savings.”
Regardless, filing for bankruptcy is very stressful for anyone. “A lot of our clients in that post-retirement age have a hard time coming to grips with their situation, ” Osterland says. “It’s very emotional for them. We try to focus on the future and see if this debt can be lifted off their shoulders.”

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We Can Create A Modern International Community

And I wonder when Congress will allow public nationwide schools...
in the United States to set aside time for children again to pray?
To pray for, or quietly reflect on behalf of, their once great Nation!

To pray for their nation during this proclaimed danger time...
of struggle against the forces of evil dark international terrorism!
But in the White House lurks a dark soul of 100% fetus murder!

Barack against murder international terrorism with Pro-Abortion Record!
Like Pharaoh in the time of the birth of Moses, like King Harold at the birth of Jesus, killing innocent children based on state law is ok in America today!

Why? How can this be? On 9th of March 2008 Barack proclaimed “We were once were, we are no longer a Christian nation, at least not just....”
No Ten Commandments, No God’s law displayed in government buildings!

15th April 2009 Barack proclaimed “We can create a modern international community that is respectful that is secure that is prosperous....
(in an aside to himself) and like Baal Worshippers we will support propagate

State Policies funding killing innocent children against the will of the majority of Americans and I Barack will use tax payer dollars to kill innocent unborn! We will fill White House high office with Pro Abortion all! Yes We Can!

Darth Vader will create a universal New World Order!

And in the on going baby killing sweepstakes infant killer Obama selects: -

Pro-Abortion Sen. Joe Biden as Obama’s vice-presidential running mate. Pro-Abortion Rep. Rahm Emanuel as Obama’s White House Chief of Staff.
Pro-Abortion former Sen. Tom Daschle as Obama’s Health and Human Services Secretary.

Former NARAL legal director Dawn Johnsen to serve as a member of Obama’s Department of Justice Review Team. Next appointed Assistant Attorney General for the Office of the Legal Counsel.

Betta check Obama’s rap sheet Pro-Abortion Record, for the rest of his all star elite baby killing machine selections.

'President Barack Obama's Pro-Abortion Record: A Pro-Life Compilation

Washington, DC (LifeNews.com) - The following is a compilation of bill signings, speeches, appointments and other actions that President Barack Obama has engaged in that have promoted abortion before and during his presidency. While Obama has promised to reduce abortions and some of his supporters believe that will happen, this long list proves his only agenda is promoting more abortions.

During the presidential election, Obama selected pro-abortion Sen. Joe Biden as his vice-presidential running mate.

Post-Election / Pre-Inauguration
November 5,2008 - Obama selects pro-abortion Rep. Rahm Emanuel as his White House Chief of Staff. Emanuel has a 0% pro-life voting record according to National Right to Life.

November 19,2008 - Obama picks pro-abortion former Sen. Tom Daschle as his Health and Human Services Secretary. Daschle has a long pro-abortion voting record according to National Right to Life.

November 20,2008 - Obama chooses former NARAL legal director Dawn Johnsen to serve as a member of his Department of Justice Review Team. Later, he finalizes her appointment as the Assistant Attorney General for the Office of the Legal Counsel in the Obama administration.

November 24,2008 - Obama appoints Ellen Moran, the former director of the pro-abortion group Emily's List as his White House communications director. Emily's List only supports candidates who favored taxpayer funded abortions and opposed a partial-birth abortion ban.

November 24,2008 - Obama puts former Emily's List board member Melody Barnes in place as his director of the Domestic Policy Council.

November 30,2008 - Obama named pro-abortion Sen. Hillary Clinton as the Secretary of State. Clinton has an unblemished pro-abortion voting record and has supported making unlimited abortions an international right.

December 10,2008 - Obama selects pro-abortion former Clinton administration official Jeanne Lambrew to become the deputy director of the White House Office of Health Reform. Planned Parenthood is 'excited' about the selection.

December 10,2008 - Obama transition team publishes memo from dozens of pro-abortion groups listing their laundry list of pro-abortions actions they want him to take.

Pro-Abortion Presidential Record - 2009
January 5,2009 - Obama picks pro-abortion Virginia Gov. Tim Kaine as the chairman of the Democratic Party.

January 6,2009 - Obama chooses Thomas Perrelli, the lawyer who represented Terri Schiavo’s husband Michael in his efforts to kill his disabled wife, as the third highest attorney in the Justice Department.

January 22,2009 - Releases statement restating support for Roe v. Wade decision that allowed virtually unlimited abortions and has resulted in at least 50 million abortions since 1973.

January 23,2009 - Forces taxpayers to fund pro-abortion groups that either promote or perform abortions in other nations. Decison to overturn Mexico City Policy sends part of $457 million to pro-abortion organizations.

January 26,2009 - Obama nominee for Deputy Secretary of State, James B. Steinberg, tells members of the Senate that taxpayers should be forced to fund abortions. Nominee erroneously says limits on abortion funding are unconstitutional.

January 29,2009 - President Obama nominates pro-abortion David Ogden as Deputy Attorney General.

February 12,2009 - Obama nominates pro-abortion Elena Kagan to serve as Solicitor General.

February 27,2009 - Starts the process of overturning pro-life conscience protections President Bush put in place to make sure medical staff and centers are not forced to do abortions.

February 28,2009 - Barack Obama nominates pro-abortion Kathleen Sebelius to become Secretary of Health and Human Services.

March 5,2009 - The Obama administration shut out pro-life groups from attending a White House-sponsored health care summit. Planned Parenthood, the nation's largest abortion business, made the invitation list as did other pro-abortion groups.

March 9,2009 - President Barack Obama signed an executive order forcing taxpayer funding of embryonic stem cell research.

March 10,2009 - Obama announces the creation of a new foreign policy position to focus on women's issues. He names Melanne Verveer, an abortion advocate, to occupy the post.

March 10,2009 - Reverses an executive order to press for more research into ways of obtaining embryonic stem cells without harming human life. The order Obama scrapped would have promoted new forms of stem cell research.

March 11,2009 - Obama signed an executive order establishing a new agency within his administration known as the White House Council on Women and Girls. Obama's director of public liaison at the White House, Tina Tchen, an abortion advocate, became director of it.

March 11,2009 - Obama adminitration promotes an unlimited right to abortion at a United Nations meeting.

March 11,2009 - Obama administration officials deny negative effects of abortion at United Nation's meeting.

March 17,2009 - President Barack Obama makes his first judicial appointment and names pro-abortion federal Judge David Hamilton to serve on the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals.

March 26 - President Obama announced $50 million for the UNFPA, the UN population agency that has been criticized for promoting abortion and working closely with Chinese population control officials who use forced abortions and involuntary sterilizations.

April 7 - The Vatican has rejected three Obama ambassador nominees because of their positions in favor of abortions.

April 7 - Obama has named pro-abortion law professor Harold Hongju Koh as the top lawyer for the State Department.

April 7 - Put more abortion advocates on his White House advisory council for faith-based issues.

April 8 - Obama nominee for assistant attorney general for legislative affairs, Ron Weich, is pro-abortion.

April 14 - Obama administration releases document that claims pro-life people may engage in violence or extremism.

April 17 - Obama administration releases the proposed guidelines that implement his decision to allow taxpayer funding of embryonic stem cell research that involves the destruction of human life.

April 23 - Refused to appeal a ruling requiring the FDA to allow 17-year-old girls to purchase the morning after pill without either a doctor visit or parental involvement beforehand.

April 27 - Obama's women's ambassador Melanne Verveer touted Obama's decision to send $50 million to the United Nation's Population Fund.

May 5 - Details emerge about a terrorism dictionary the administration of President Barack Obama put together in March. The Domestic Extremism Lexicon calls pro-life advocates violent and claims they employ racist overtones in engaging in criminal actions.

May 8 - President Obama releases a new budget that allows the Legal Services Corporation to use tax dollars to pay for pro-abortion litigation.

May 8 - President Obama's new budget calls for taxpayer funded abortions in the nation's capital.

May 8 - President Obama's budget eliminates all federal funding for abstinence-only education.

May 15 - Appointed pro-abortion New York City health commissioner Thomas Frieden as head of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

May 17 - During his commencement speech at Notre Dame, Obama deceived listeners into thinking he wants a conscience clause, promoted embryonic stem cell research and misstated his pro-abortion record.

May 26 - Appoints appeals court judge Sonia Sonotmayor as a Supreme Court nominee. Sotomayor agrees that the courts should make policy, such as the Roe v. Wade case. Sotomayor is later opposed by pro-life groups and supported by pro-abortion groups and those who know her say she will support abortion on the high court.

July 2- Calls for an unlimited right to abortion at a United Nation's meeting.

July 7- The Obama administration admits it ignored the majority of Americans who opposed the proposed guidelines that would implement Obama's decision to force taxpayers to fund embryonic stem cell research.

July 14 - Obama science czar nominee John Holdren is revealed to have written before that he favors forced abortions.

July 30 - Awards several pro-abortion activists with the 2009 Presidential Medal of Freedom.

July 31 - Tells the National Institutes of Health to adopt rules that allow embryonic stem cell research.

August 4 - Information becomes public that Ezekiel Emanuel, an Obama advisor at the Office of Management and Budget and a member of Federal Council on Comparative Effectiveness Research, supports rationing health care for disabled Americans that could lead to euthanasia.

August 6 - Obama criticized for asking for people to 'snitch' on groups and people who oppose the pro-abortion health care bills in Congress.

August 13 - Obama wrongly said a senator backed the pro-euthanasia components of the health care bill.

August 23 - Said pro-life advocates were making 'phony claims' about the health care bills. Also said the claims were false.

August 24 - Releases veterans guide promoting euthanasia.

September 13 - Misleads on the federal conscience clause in a health care speech and misleads on abortion funding.

September 13 - Obama waits two days to comment on shooting of pro-life advocate whereas he commented immediately on shooting of abortion practitioner.

September 15 - Senate confirms Obama's new regulatory czar Cass Sunstein, who is pro-abortion.

October 5 - Selected pro-abortion lawyer and Georgetown University law professor Chai Feldblum for the EEOC.

October 5 - Anounces he will give the keynote speech for pro-abortion group Human Rights Campaign.

October 19 - Obama's serve.gov web site promotes the Planned Parenthood abortion business.

October 21 - Obama administration web site promotes pro-abortion health care bills.

November 6 - Endorsed the House version of the health care bill that, at the time, contained massive abortion funding, rationing and assisted suicide promotion.

November 26 - Copies Thanksgiving proclamation of President Bush but leaves out pro-life message.

December 2 - Authorized taxpayer funding for embryonic stem cell research that kills days-old unborn children.

December 3 - A pro-abortion Obama judicial pick, Louis Butler, is approved by the Senate Judiciary Committee.

December 7 - Announces his endorsement of the pro-abortion Senate health care bill.

December 16 - Obama administration forces Americans a second time to spend millions more on embryonic stem cell research that destroys human life.

December 17 - Signed a bill that overturned the 13-year-long ban on funding abortions with tax dollars in the nation's capital.

Pro-Abortion Presidential Record - 2010
January 18,2010 - Gives speech supporting pro-abortion Senate candidate Martha Coakley.

January 26,2010 - Renominates radical pro-abortion activist Dawn Johnsen to a top Justice Department position.

January 28,2010 - Promotes the pro-abortion health care bill in the State of the Union address.

February 2,2010 - Submits new budget calling for taxpayer funding of abortions and more money for Planned Parenthood.

February 5,2010 - The Obama administration issued a new order for the U.S. military requiring all military hospitals and health centers to stock the morning after pill.

February 8,2010 - The Obama administration admitted it improperly conducted a threat assessment on pro-life groups in Wisconson who were preparing to rally against a new abortion center at a University of Wisconsin health clinic.

February 16,2010 - White House visitor logs reveal Obama has given Planned Parenthood president Cecile Richards frequent access to top staffers.

February 22,2010 - Unveils changes to the pro-abortion health care bill that keep abortion funding, expand abortion funding, and require a monthly abortion fee on Americans.

February 24,2010 - Obama administration proposes expanding embryonic stem cell research further.

February 26,2010 - Obama has selected pro-abortion magistrate judge Timothy Black for the District Court Bench for the Southern District of Ohio. Black gets the endorsement of NARAL.

March 3,2010 - Officially decides to use the controversial reconciliation procedure to pass the pro-abortion health care bill over the filibuster rights of those opposed.

March 22,2010 - Signs the pro-abortion health care bill into law that contains massive abortion funding, no conscience protections and rationing.

March 24,2010 - Signs executive order purporting to ban abortion funding that leaves taxpayer funding of abortions in place.

March 26,2010 - White House visitor logs show pro-abortion NARAL activist Nancy Keenan meeting with key Obama staffers frequently and invited to social functions.

March 29,2010 - Uses recess appointment to name pro-abortion activist Chai Feldblum to the EEOC.

March 30,2010 - Signs the reconciliation health care bill that does not contain any fixes for the massive abortion funding.

April 6,2010 - Battle begins over pro-abortion Obama appeals court nominee Goodwin Liu.

April 7,2010 - Obama administration pressures Kenya to adopt a new constitution that would legalize unlimited abortions.

April 15,2010 - WHO applauds Obama administration for promoting abortion worldwide.

May 8,2010 - Obama's federal budget eliminates abstinence education funding.

May 10,2010 - Names pro-abortion activist Elena Kagan to the Supreme Court; she is strongly opposed by pro-life groups.

May 26,2010 - Congressman Chris Smith reports the Obama administration has spent $10 million potentially illegally promoting a pro-abortion constitution in Kenya.

May 27,2010 - Obama selected Donald Berwick to become the director of the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services, the office that oversees government health care programs. Berwick supports the rationing components of the British medical system.

June 17,2010 - Obama administration, via FDA panel, approves the use of the new abortion drug ella.

June 23,2010 - Obama administration approves more federal taxpayer funding of embryonic stem cell research.

July 7,2010 - Obama uses a recess appointment to name rationing advocate Donald Berwick to become the director of the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services.

July 13,2010 - It is discovered that the Obama administration planned to fund abortions in Pennsylvania in high risk insurance programs created through the national health care law Obama signed.

July 13,2010 - It is discovered that the Obama administration planned to fund abortions in New Mexico in high risk insurance programs created through the national health care law Obama signed.

July 16,2010 - The Obama administration also planned to fund abortions under the national health care plan in Maryland.

July 19,2010 - A new report indicates the Obama administration has spent as much as $23 million to influence residents of Kenya to vote for a proposed constitution that essentially legalizes abortion.

July 22,2010 - President Obama's ambassador to Kenya openly endorses a proposed constitution that would essentially legalize abortion.'


Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Source: President Barack Obama’s Pro-Abortion Record: A Pro-Life Compilation by Steven Ertelt LifeNews.com Editor, March 7,2010.

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Elegy On Jigar Moradabadi

INTRODUCTION

Mr. Aziz Ahmad has written an Elegy on the Poet Haji Ali Sikander, commonly known as Jigar Moradabadi. The poem is in 48 stanzas of Eight lines each followed by 48 paragraphs of notes, one for each stanza. They explain the real mood of the stanzas. This is perhaps the first time that an Elegy in English on an Urdu Poet has been attempted. Elegiac poems in Urdu are common. The marsais of Anis and Dabir are long elegiac poems of unsurpassed beauty. An Elegy is literally a song or poem of mourning. The English examples are Lycidas, Adonais and Thyrsis. They are true elegies although Gray's well-known Elegy, which was written in a country churchyard does not mourn anyone in particular and deals with 'the pathos of mortality'.

English Elegies, like Latin Elegies before, were written in a metre called elegiac. Any poem written in that metre was called an Elegy irrespective of the subject matter. Later the point about metre was dropped and any poem was considered an elegy if the subject matter was what I have described, irrespective of the metre. Today the subject and metre must coincide to make a proper elegy.

The metre must be hexameter or pentameter. A hexameter is of six measures the fifth being a dactyl and the sixth either a spondee or a trochee. The other four may be either a dactyls or spondees. An example is Longfellow's Evangeline. Homer's two epic poems and Virgil's Aeneid are in hexameter. Pentameter verse is in two parts, each of which ends with an extra long syllable. The first half consists of two metres, dactyls or spondees, the latter half must be two dactyls.

I have said this because metre-wise this poem in English will not be regarded as a proper Elegy but subject-wise it is. Perhaps Mr. Aziz Ahmad can cast the lines again. *

Subject-wise the poem is excellent. Jigar who wrote of himself:

Jigar main ne chhupaya lakh upna dard o ghum lekin
Bayan kardeen meri surat nay sub kaifiyatein dilki

Was a poet in the front rank in India and in the days when there were Iqbal, Fani and Firaq and several others. Tabassum Nizami has done a great deal to bring his life before us, and his books Daghe Jigar, Shola- e- Toor and Aatishe Gul are poetry which is seldom equaled.

No wonder Mr. Aziz Ahmad's heart bleeds at the very thought of Jigar's death in 1960. Not only has he paid his sincere homage to his memory but he has described the anguish of the family and friends. Jigar would have said:

Meri roodad e ghum who sun rahe hain
Tabassum sa labon par araha hai
Jigar hi ka na ho afsana koi
Daro devar ko hal araha hai.

Mr. Aziz Ahmad's heart-rending verses do make even the doors and walls get into ecstasy!

23rd September,1981 M. Hidayatullah
6, Maulana Azad Road, Vice- President
New Delhi-110011. of India

*AUTHOR'S CLARIFICATION

I append here for ready reference the views of the reputed critics about modern poetry, which are printed on pages 223,224 and 225 ofThe Study of Poetry” by A.R. Entwistle.

The reaction against metre in modern poetry is only another symptom of the dissatisfaction with things as they are. The movement towards “free verse” is, of course, no new thing. The experiment of Matthew Arnold, Henley, Walt Whitman and others occur readily to the mind.

Here it is useful to know how the new poetry affected Professor Churton Collins:

“If a man six feet high, of striking masculine beauty and of venerable appearance, chooses to stand on his head in the public streets….. he will at least attract attention, and create some excitement; secondly……..the law of reaction in literature, as in everything else, will assert itself, that when poetry has long attained perfection in form and has been running smoothly in conventional grooves, there is certain to be a revolt both on the part of poets themselves and in the public taste, and the opposite extreme will be affected and welcomed; and thirdly, ……… if a writer has the courage or impudence to set sense, taste, and decency at defiance and, posing sometimes as a mystic and sometimes as a mountebank, to express himself in the jargon of both, and yet has the genius to irradiate his absurdities with flashes of wisdom, beauty, and inspired insight, three things are certain to result, ……… namely, sympathy from those who favor the reaction, disgust on the part of those who belong to neither party, but who are quite willing to judge what they find on its own merits.”

For the frankly modernist view we turn to Mr. Robert Graves, who says:

“Poetry has, in a word, begun to 'go round the corner'; the straight street in which English bards have for centuries walked is no longer so attractive, now that a concealed turning has been found opening up a new street or network of streets whose existence tradition hardly suspected. Traditionalists will even say of the adventures: ' They have completely disappeared; they are walking in the suburbs of poetry called alternatively Nonsense or Madness.' But it disturbs these traditionalists that the defections from the highway are numerous, and that the poets concerned cannot be accused of ignorance of the old ways, of mental unbalance in other departments of life, or in insincerity.”

The spirit of the present generation is in marked degree anti-traditional, and it would easy, but tiresome, to show by copious quotations how welcome the spirit of revolt has become.

Similar tendency is found in modern Urdu Poetry. We should see, what Akbar Allahbadi says in connection.

Qaedon men husne mani gum karo
Sher main kehta hoon hijje tum karo

(Lose in rules beauty of meanings;
Verse I compose, you do spellings.)

Since this elegy consists of a mixture of a Urdu and English words, it is practically impossible to confine it to the conventional English metre.

Aziz Ahmad

FOREWORD

I have with interest gone through the Elegy on the death of the late Haji Ali Sikander, Jigar Moradabadi, presented to me for my comments by Mr. Aziz Ahmad, the author. I am impressed by his style and art. It shows his deep love for Jigar Moradabadi who was a poet of great genius. It seems that he has a good knowledge of the life and art of Jigar. As he has written in the Preface that no poet has so far written an elegy in English on the death of any Urdu poet is, as far as I know, correct. The endeavour is his own. Some points given in the Elegy have already become widely known, while some others are quite new. When I started reading it, I was so charmed that I could not leave it unfinished. It is a fine piece of literature and fascinates its readers. I appreciate the unity of the poem. The stanzas employed help to bind the parts of the poem together into a single whole, so that it becomes a

“Silver chain of sound
of many links, without a break.”

The choice of words and constructions are commendable. I feel that Mr. Aziz Ahmad make a very good use of rhetorical language. The poem is a rhymed product of the author's imagination. He has, no doubt, chosen a dignified subject- the death of a great poet, but the distinction lies in the fact that he has beautifully portrayed his life as well as art.

The poem is elaborate in workmanship and is long enough, with orderly development and fine descriptions. The interplay of emotion, reflection and spontaneity are commendable. At the same time he has no want of narrative force. His logical transition from one thought to another is praiseworthy. The description of scenes in the poem presents a clear picture before the eyes of the readers. The author exhibits his real respect fro Jigar and grief over his death.

In my view, the poem is great due to the following grounds: -

There is in the proposition- ' I weep for Jigar Moradabadi………'; the invocations to Jigar's dead mother and the Spirit of poetry etc.; the mourning of the relatives and friends; the procession of the mourners in concrete and abstract form;
The partaking of nature and Super-natural beings in grief; the praise of the distinctive traits of the life and art of Jigar; and the reward that the great poet has found a place in paradise and has become eternal in death. In the end, the note of personal lament shows his deep personal attachment.

While mentioning many good qualities of Jigar Sahib's personality Mr. Aziz Ahmad rightly emphasized in the last two lines of Stanza no.25 that he little bothered for money. Just to endorse his point I would like to relate one incident which vividly remember even today. In June,1947 an All India Mushaira was organized in Shahajan pur, U.P. Although a student of 10th Class, I happened to be one of the organizers of this function. Unfortunately because of extremely bad weather and sudden heavy rains, the Mushaira was a total failure. All was upset. Not a single poet could recite his poems. We lacked funds even to pay the traveling expenses of more than 12 poets who had arrived to participate in Mushaira, including such popular poets as Salam Machli Shahri and Khumar Barabankvi. Jigar Sahib was staying with one of his pupils Mr. Habab Tirmizi. The poets were demanding money and we were worries how to satisfy them. Jigar Sahib apprehended the whole situation. He got up quietly, went to the wall where his Sherwani was hanging, brought out some two hundred rupees and gave us saying, “Give it over to them.”

When in 1955 I met Jigar Sahib in Aligarh and reminded him of this incident, he smiled and pretended as if he did not remember. Many such events can be related which reveal rare moral qualities of his character.

To conclude my comments, I think it appropriate to quote a few lines from the Elegy which I like most.

The following lines remind us of Shelly's Adonais:

Ideals splendid, Desires, Adorations;
Joys blinded with Tears and Winged Persuasions;
In melancholy mood Love and Ties;
Sorrows with her family of Sighs;
With hair unbound and tears their eyes flow,
Came there in form of procession slow,
The slow moving procession might seem
Like pomp of ants in Summer near stream.

Beautiful imagination is presented subtle contrast of the following lines:

Angels waited his life-account to write;
But were dazzled, seeing him in white light.
Who knows not the reason for this light?
His body though dark, his soul was white.
The loveliest personification is found in stanzas no 12 and 13 where

Learning of his death, Wines held a meeting
To condole his death by hard breast-beating.

and where
Some Wines spirited came to his grave;
Their eyes were red, their hearts were brave.

Stanza no 19 testifies to the author's great skill in narration. Pathos is also beautifully given.

It is evident from stanza no.24 that Mr. Aziz Ahmad has been deeply influenced by Robert Frost, a famous American poet.

The superb description is found in stanza no 26 and 27 where Jigar's fondness for playing cards is shown.

In the following lines a fine smile has been used: -

His behavior was like verses laboured,
Every syllable of which is measured.
Respectful with his elders was he,
And with his friend intimate and free.
With his youngers reserved and fatherly,
He treated them kindly and politely.

In stanza no.33 it seems that the author wants to say that Jigar disliked ' Ghazals' composed by ladies; but the idea has been expressed by giving a beautiful definition of 'Ghazal'.

The following lines in stanza no.44 are very befitting: -

Beauty is the base in the lays of Asghar;
But love beautifies the verses of Jigar.

The following lines, though subjective, compel me to appreciate the author: -
Risen above the waves saw I a hand;
All of a sudden, it drew me to land.
It was the hand of Jigar- a rare man
Who is born once in centuries span.

In the following stanza I find a relish of sonnet. It is filled with sincere feelings.

The void so created cannot be filled,
The Hawk of death has the 'Ghazal Bird' killed.
But the time of death is fixed by Him
Who is our Lord without doubt and whim.
The only tribute to him I pay
Is to compose this sorrowful lay.
His features shall in these lines be seen;
If they live, he shall in them be green.

May this endeavour of Mr. Aziz Ahmad be crowned with success and glory! I wish him to give us many more such wonderful poetic pieces.


Dr. Qamar Rais
Reader,
Department of Urdu
University of Delhi

OPINION I

Janab Aziz Ahmad sahib has sent me a copy of an elegy he has composed in the memory of the late lamented Haji Ali Sikandar Jigar, the Doyen of Urdu poets in the Indian sub-continent.

I have gone through this elegy with deep interest and I find that Aziz Sahib loved and admired Jigar Sahib from the core of his heart. He pours out his heart in grief for Jigar whom he considers the zenith of muses. The elegy is a fitting tribute indeed to a person who lived and died for poetry and whose verses shall for ever continue to inspire generations to come.

Some of Aziz Sahib's stanzas are sublime and worth quoting. For instance he speaks from the unexplored depth of his heart when he says: -

For Jigar I weep. And you too weep
With me, for I plunge into the deep
Of pain and sorrow, of grief and tears.
O hapless Hour chosen from all years!
I ask you to rouse your other compeers;
Then together we will weep blood fro tears.
Till future dares forget the past
His name and fame shall ever last.

In stanza no 28 he has painted a true portrait of Jigar. Of such virtues was Jigar made and of such virtues his Ghazals are the outcome. He was noble both in mind and in action.

He was cordial and hospitable most,
And was to his guests a courteous host.
His behaviour was like verses laboured,
Every syllable of which is measured.
Respectful with his elders was he,
And with his friends, intimate and free.
With his youngers, reserved and fatherly,
He treated them kindly and politely.

I am sure that all those who knew and loved Jigar will enjoy the fine quality of the elegy and will realize that Aziz Sahib has for once not taken to poetic exaggeration.

Kunwar Mehender Singh Bedi

OPINION II

Mr. Aziz Ahmad' elegy on Jigar may be unconventional in metre but is wonderful in matter. The poem is the graphic account of the life, character and verse of a great Urdu poet, it has a great imaginative and emotional appeal and is remarkable for fine personification and vivid imagery. It reminds of Shelly's 'Adonais'.

B. K Kansal Ph. D
Chairman HINDU COLLEGE
Dept. of Post-graduate Studies MORADABAD
and Research in English
Banbata Ganj (Near Kamal Talkies) Dated 28th Sept.1981
Moradabad- 244001

PREFACE

The few lines I have put in this little book are nothing but a tribute I am obliged to pay to the memory of the Late Haji Ali Sikandar, Jigar Moradabadi, a relative of mine, to whom I am deeply indebted as the credit of my life's making goes to him.

He was born on 6th April 1890, in Mohalla Lal bagh, Moradabad, U.P., but from the boyhood he left his native city and roamed far and wide to make his life glorious. He was a natural poet of Urdu. If we peep into his life, we find it true that 'a poet is born, not made.'

Asghar Gondwi, a renowned poet of that time, on seeing him, understood full well that he was fated to be great. So, he owned him, guided him and showered his favors on him.

Jigar lived at Gonda, U.P., in the house of his wife, Nasim. Journey had become the part of his life. He reminded mostly out in connection with Mushairas. Whenever he returned home, he wanted us to remain with him. So, I have passed a portion of my life with him and observed him with love and reverence.

I wanted to write something about him in Urdu prose, and to get published some letters and poems written in his own hand, which I have kept safe with me like sacred things.

I started writing it, but by the force of some unknown power, my mind turned to a theme quite novel. In English, as far as I know, nobody has composed an elegy on the death of an Urdu poet. My purpose of writing in this language is that English will be a vehicle to convey my thoughts and outside this country, as English, being an international language, is read and spoken everywhere.

Jigar was acclaimed ' Ghazal King' in his lifetime. He died on September 9,1960 and was laid to rest at Gonda in the lap of his dear country.

He was truly poetic in his habits and disposition, character and conduct, thoughts and feelings, ways and manners, motions and gestures, dressing and clothing, gait and get-up. Moreover he was gifted by Nature with a throat extremely musical. I have poetized my feelings to pay him homage, as, I think, the homage paid to such a great poet should be musical. I hope that his soul will accept it.

When I was staying at Mecca after the performance of 'Haj' in the year 1975, one night I saw him in a dream. During my stay there I had not dreamed of anyone else save him. When I woke up, I felt a sort of restlessness. Then and there, I performed 'Umera' for him.

When he died, I felt a shock of grief. This Elegy is the outlet of the grief I felt then and have concealed so far.

This Elegy contains some points which are quite new, and which the lovers of Jigar Moradabadi are unaware of. Though the Elegy has parts comprising many traits of Jigar, I have tried to make it a unified whole.

I hope that for the lovers of Jigar Moradabadi, this work will be a Souvenir worth keeping.

How far my aims are fulfilled is for the readers to judge!

In the end, I express my thankfulness to Dr. B. K. Kansal, Head of the Department of English, Hindu College, Moradabad, who has been kind to me to give valuable suggestions for this composition.

I am highly grateful to Mr. M. Hidayatullah, Vice- President of India, for his very valuable and illuminating introduction, which throws sufficient light on elegy in English, Urdu and Latin literature, on its matter and metre. His judicial office he has held as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

I also express gratitude to Dr. Qamar Rais and Kunwar Mehender Singh Bedi whose high praise of the poem gave me great encouragement.

Aziz Ahmad

1

I weep for Jigar Moradabadi- he is dead!
O weep for the poet who has beautifully wed
Love and Wine with verses of new time,
And has achieved a fame so sublime!
Wailing and weeping wets the air.
How so sad is the drum of the ear.
How so sad is the whole atmosphere!
There is none who is not in despair.

2

For Jigar I weep. And you too weep
With me, for I plunge into the deep
Of pain and sorrow, of grief and tears.
O hapless Hour chosen from all years!
I ask you to rouse your other compeers;
Then together we will weep blood fro tears.
Till future dares forget the past
His name and fame shall ever last.

3

Weep, O Spirit of poetry! Weep,
For he has gone for his final sleep.
His body though motion less; his soul's brain
Listens to your weeping with woeful strain.
At his death are sorrowful many more
Thank those who loved his poetry and lore.
As a poet he was great; as a man was he sublime.
He has lived life very fine; he is uneaten by time.

4

Alas! O Noble Mother, Mother great
Who bore a poet full many a trait!
You could not see him gathering fame,
Upraising your position and name.
In your grave you might have felt charm
When he would sing his rhymings warm.
Now he has gone into the gulf of death
From where nobody returns to this earth.

5

Angels bewail him as he is mortified,
And bless his three works to be immortalized.
He could not bear when his Motherland's pride
Was being crushed by the liberticide.
Communal ghosts when raised their heads,
Poison was filled in people's heads
By professional leaders' hired men;
Then sorrowful songs flowed his pen.

6

Ideals splendid, Desires, Adorations;
Joys blinded with Tears and Winged Persuasions;
In melancholy mood Love and Ties;
Sorrows with her family of Sighs;
With hair unbound and tears their eyes flow,
Came there in form of procession slow,
The slow moving procession might seem
Like pomp of ants in Summer near stream.

7

Rooms of his house began lamenting anew.
Their weeping was silent, though heard by a few.
Such mute voices rarely poets hear;
Others remain deaf, they do not care.
They heard the sound of his amorous lay
When he would sing there in wondrous way.
To him they responded with their echo.
Oh! he is dead, leaving them in great woe

8

One day before his death, he slowly murmured,
A compartment of train for me be reserved
As life's journey has come to an end
And I have to go to Other Land.”
Some kin by him were standing silent;
Their eyes were tearful, their heads were bent.
Grief so much shattered his dear wife,
She lost all the pleasures of life.

9

When his bier was to be taken out,
Every one was weeping without doubt.
Short-lived though is general grief,
His wife's agony was not brief.
Till Nature is on its normal course,
Morning after night will nature force.
But his wife will weep, day and night,
As her dear soul has taken flight.

10

The eyes had since stopped their weeping;
Now came turn of the heart's bleeding.
The air had been filled with grief and sorrow;
People hurriedly made many a row
For the prayer with humble salutation,
They prayed to God for his soul's consolation.
Homage was paid to departed soul;
But Death was unmindful of the dole.

11

With open heart, his grave was ready
To welcome warmly his dead body.
Angels waited his life-account to write;
But were dazzled, seeing him in white light.
Who knows not the reason for this light?
His body though dark, his soul was white.
He, in dewy sleep, took his last fill
Of liquid rest, forgetful of ill.

12

Learning of his death, Wines held a meeting
To condole his death by hard breast-beating.
The meeting was attended by all the Wines
Of various colors, tastes and racial lines.
A resolution was proposed in the meeting,
And it was unanimously passed by standing.
Wines were weeping, as he was the one
Who once loved them more than any one.

13

Some Wines spirited came to his grave;
Their eyes were red, their hearts were brave.
They were the ones he had preferred once,
But later divorced them for nuisance.
They came ashamed and fully disguised;
They were by mourners not recognized.
Once he had been under the charm of wine;
Later, he broke all the bottles of wine.

14

His was not more than a twin will
Which he made known when he was ill.
He told his wife in presence of no other
Thank my mother, he anon called her thither.
“You won't break your bangles in my dole;
You won't give alms for balming my soul.”
His wife a gentle lady, told him anon
That these two conditions would not be undone.

15

A Wish lay suppressed within his heart,
Which remained unfulfilled in the last.
He desired his grave to be dug near
Those of his father and mother dear.
But once his mentor made a prophecy.
Every thing of Jigar, his house would see.
His prophecy strangely came to be true;
The dust of his grave him to Gonda drew.

16

His father, who was in paradise,
Heard the news of his son's demise.
The news proved to be dagger to his soul,
Though he was beyond the reach of the dole.
By angels there was a Naat being recited,
Composed by Jigar, the very Naat invited
God who rapt in listening to the numbers
Allotted Jigar one of heaven's chambers.

17

People were drowned in the ocean of grief;
They could not have time for nay relief.
Angels so warmly received his soul;
While Earth took his body as a whole.
Grave swore his body never to mar;
Angels wished his soul to shine like star.
God judged the situation, and then delivered
His body to Grave, and soul to heaven transferred.

18

First couplet he made, when eight years old,
Father scolded him, when he was told.
He said through he was to be a poet,
He should not poetise so early yet.
His father, an adapt in Marsia singing,
Taught him to sing verses in the beginning.
The art of singing he did well maintain;
Many a poet copied him in vain.

19

A lot to adversities came in his early teens;
After father's death, he had no sustaining means.
Kin were not ready to call him their own,
Save his step-uncle who helped him alone.
Relations condemned him; he was lorn;
Some called him poet, kin laughed in scorn.
No one knew then he would change the weather,
And would have in his cap a fine feather.

20

Compelled by the conditions, he drank wine
That gave impetus to his metres fine.
The more he drank, the more civilized;
Oft in shame he felt demoralized.
His hair was long, his beard neglected,
And by passions he was much affected.
Who can drink so much wine as the poet drank?
He was super-drinker, to be very frank.

21

What a great poet mystic was he
Who chose Jigar, and owned him dearly!
I praise his might, wisdom and insight;
He changed his life by dint of his light.
The plant dear he watered and reared
Grew to his prime and full flowered.
But alas the fruit was never given birth!
His dear is dead; and dead is the hope of mirth!

22

A land was inherited so fertile;
Some incidents sowed it, but not futile.
It was well watered by pure wine,
And was looked after eyes so fine.
There grew a garden of many plants green;
It was charming and worthy to be seen.
Colourful flowers, beautiful and fair,
Shall always lend smell to poetic air.

23

When he became the climax and crown
Of the poetic fame and renown,
A man became of him deadly jealous,
And mixed with his food something poisonous;
When caught, he confessed his crime,
And Jigar forgave him in no time.
Even such men are very very sorry.
What an exemplary character had he!

24

He was once staying with his friend,
And had enough money to spend.
He was, one night, lying on a cot;
A person smelled that he had a lot.
Presuming him asleep, he picked the pocket
Of his hanging Sherwani or his jacket.
He saw him doing this pernicious deed,
But let him go, thinking him in dire need.

25

Forgetting had been his habit since boyhood.
It is although bad, in his case was so good.
It was his habit doing for others good;
And having done it, he forgot it for good.
He recommended daily several men,
He had such wondrous power in his pen.
Who could find such a gentle friend?
He forgot money he would lend.

26

Playing cards was his hobby like rime;
In playing them he did not mind time.
He would play them till late at night
And oft forgot to take his diet.
He felt bitter when he lost his game,
And got irritated, with excuses lame.
Honesty reigned supreme over him,
So chances of win sometimes were dim.

27

His wife disliked his playing cards
With his intimate friends and bards.
How so interesting when she was angry!
And on it with him she did not agree!
He cooled her anger by burning the cards,
And swore he would never play them onwards.
But lo! The cards burnt and cremated
Were again born and animated.

28

He was cordial and hospitable most,
And was to his guests a courteous host.
His behavior was like verses laboured,
Every syllable of which is measured.
Respectful with his elders was he,
And with his friend intimate and free.
With his youngers, reserved and fatherly,
He treated them kindly and politely.

29

He talked often in a roundabout way;
Listeners had to guess point of his say.
He did not know the art of oratory,
He was although in the know of poetry.
Poetry even he could not debate;
He felt it though within, without combat.
The way he advised was very attractive.
Though he is dead, he is subtly instructive.

30

Humility was his noble trait,
What though he was a poet so great.
He was not narrow, nor arrogant at all,
So his was a gradual rise, not a fall.
Oft he would say that he was nothing,
But was an outcome of some blessing.
“Respect even the elders' shoes.”
He said, and did similar dos.

31

Sycophancy did not suit his nature;
Self-respect was his special feature.
He was witty, sensitive and fair;
To talk like him very few men dare.
Ills, our beauty, spoil and mar,
We are drawn from the goal afar.
He sincerely tried to kill
With his songs the germs of ills.

32

No poet ever earned as so much as did he,
For the highest was his royalty and fee.
He gave much money out of his income
To the needy he gladly did welcome.
When at homes currency notes he hid
In pillow, book or tin with a lid.
They were meant to be given to the needy,
And kept hidden from the view of his lady.


33

Ghazal was originally meant conversation
Lover had with his lady in imagination.
But later its definition was amended;
Now the scope of it is wide and extended.
It has a number of beautiful lines;
It has themes in lovely symbols and signs.
Jigar disliked it composed by a lady;
He said strangely, “Ghazal and a lady! ”

34

The life and soul of Mushaira has flown; ”
The poets who love Jigar say and moan.
He was poet of so great a fame,
People swarmed him on hearing his name.
They came to listen to, from far and wide,
His honey-sweet rhymes; alas he has died!
The way he sang was singularly his own;
Nature had given him such bewitching tone.

35

He love much his country dear,
He did not leave it in greed or fear;
Though many a chance in his favour
In Urdu-loving Pak., India's neighbour.
He loved his country's gardens and bowers;
Thorns he bore, while leaving their flowers.
He was favourite of Indo-Pakistan;
He was moreover commended in Iran.

36

When muse goaded him, he made outlines
Of plants, flowers and the like designs.
From those shot out a natural couplet
Which was the outcome of passions' outlet.
He chose them after making his correction,
And made of them a beautiful creation.
Poems of his are wines of his liver,
We are drunk with the rhymes of Jigar.

37

His love was very pure and without lust,
Lady's-love respect for his was a must.
He gave 'love' many a colourful name;
According to him loving was no game.
He drank love from the cup of lady-love,
Then got communications from above.
Who could think then and who could judge
Such a hard drinker would do Haj?

38

He dipped in the oceans of passions,
And bathed with water of emotions.
He was so rapt in adoring the love,
Often he scaled the firmament above.
He was lost in his imagination,
He had a bliss of reciprocation.
He soared up high in versification
To have a bliss of amalgamation.

39

All the verses Jigar has wrought
Bear the stamp of what he thought.
The poetry he composed is a fine art;
Naturally it goes to the people's heart.
He had a very keen sense of beauty
Whose expression he considered his duty.
He made his critics bend so low
With poetic spells he would throw.

40

He was created by nature as a bard,
His ideas in verses are not so hard.
He did not put art for only art's sake;
He was the ‘Ghazal King’ of special make,
His poetry is made out of his life;
It belongs to life and exists for life.
He has often blended love and beauty
As if they were no separate entity.

41

He was by nature fitfully emotional;
Poems of his are novel, though conventional.
We hear the cries from within his heart;
Moods he garnered into words of art.
Concerned he was mainly with his feelings;
Oft they are filled with spiritual meanings.
He liked sorrow much more than delight
Which he viewed unstable as the night.

42

Such poetic ego he was given by Nature,
Imitation of others did not suit his nature.
As from bees, the bee-queen takes honey,
So he took much from sublime company.
Governed he was not by views of others;
If he liked, he dipped them in his colours.
If we took into his poetic glory,
We find beneath a current of Manglori.

43

On reading his poems, we find it evident,
He was influenced by many an incident.
Monetary lures could not him entice
To cease fire against political vice.
Fact and truth in them heartily we feel,
Which to young poets very much appeal.
This trend in Hasrat was just a start,
But it was Jigar's beating of heart.

44

Till then, most poets had poetized the feelings
Of lovers, their humble bowings and kneelings.
Nut now Jigar translated the feelings
Born in the hearts of the lovers' darlings.
'Loves' of common poets we do not love;
But the 'love' of Jigar who would not love?
Beauty is the base in the lays of Asghar;
But love beautifies the verses of Jigar.

45

We see the sun and shadow of realism
Blending with the dreams of romanticism
In a balanced and fine symmetry
In Jigar's beautiful poetry.
He was a love-poet over and above,
But he did not suffer from the ill of love.
The heart of his 'Love' was kind and cruel;
The role she played was double and dual.

46

He did not view life in a narrow way;
He wove his view-points in many a lay.
He was not afraid of his life's end;
Death he took for the call of his Friend.
For him, it was a meaningless thing;
He was life, so he found death nothing.
He has now reached a place of love
Where he lives life our world's above.

47

Once I was in hot water of life;
Many a hurdle came in my strife.
Risen above the waves saw I a hand;
All of a sudden, it drew me to land.
It was the hand of Jigar- a rare man
Who is born once in centuries span.
The soul of that great man, like a star,
Still guides my life when the hurdles bar.

48

The void so created cannot be filled,
The Hawk of death has the 'Ghazal Bird' killed.
But the time of death is fixed by Him
Who is our Lord without doubt and whim.
The only tribute to him I pay
Is to compose this sorrowful lay.
His features shall in these lines be seen;
If they live, he shall in them be green.

SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES

Stanza 1

I mourn the death of the Reverend Poet, Jigar Moradabadi. Let all of us weep for him who has very beautifully produced couplets after couplets on Love and wine.

In fact, love is the spirit of his poetry. Wine gave him frankness to bring out feelings of his heart, but it could not make him naked in expression. He had a wineful personality from where his poems came out as intoxicants.

Stanza 2

I weep for Jigar Moradabadi. I invoke the sad Hour of his death which has been selected from all the years for this unfortunate event to weep with me. I also ask unlucky Hour to wake up his other companions (i.e. the hours that have passed) . Then we all collectively will weep blood for the poet. So long as the future continues to remember the past, his name and fame as a poet shall be passed on from age to age.

Stanza 3

Spirit of poetry has been invoked in this stanza to weep over the death of the poet whose soul listens to its painfully musical weeping.

He was a man of distinctive qualities. He had a laudable character. He was liked by men of every religion. His nature was so good that sometimes he was liked by those who had no taste for poetry. Time, therefore, cannot spoil his fame.

Stanza 4

Jigar's dead mother is worthy of praise as she gave birth to a poet who had many qualities. But it is regrettable that she had died before he became famous. I imagine that the soul of his mother might have felt comfort when he achieved fame. Now he has departed from this world to a place from where nobody returns.

Stanza 5

Even the angels are sorry about his death. They are unable to save him. So they bless to immortalize his three books; namely, 'Daghey Jigar, ' ' Shaulaey Toor' and 'Aatishe Gul'. In the last of his books he has written some poems being moved by communal riots of those days.
Such communal riots are planned by the politicians in India from time to time and their mercenaries disturb the peace.

Stanza 6

There came in the form of procession mourners: the poet's Splendid Ideals, Desires, Adorations, Joys which were blinded with tears and Persuasions (whose wings are conspicuous feature) , his Love and Ties in melancholy mood, and Sorrows accompanied by Sighs. They were all with undressed hair, and tears were flowing from their eyes. The Procession was moving slowly and slowly. The whole procession looked like a train of ants seen near a stream in the summer season.

Stanza 7

Jigar sometimes composed lines of his poems after mid-night. Only his wife was present in the room where he slept. I slept in the other room. But his singing was so enchanting that it awakened me and made me lost. I sometimes felt that the rooms were also spell-bound. The rooms responded to him with their echo when he sang his loving poems in his house. It is now really painful that he has left the world, and has also left them in great woe.

Stanza 8

The words within inverted comas “A compartment of train for me be reserved as life's journey has come to an end, and I have to go to Other Land” are the actual words spoken by Jigar in depression one day before his death.
A few relatives of Jigar were present in his house in a very sorrowful condition when he was nearing death. His wife was very much aggrieved. She was bereft of pleasures of life.

Stanza 9

In this stanza actual scene of the house is depicted when his bier was being taken out for the funeral prayer. Every one who was present at that time was weeping.

The people who come to mourn the death of a man generally leave the house after some time. Similarly, the people who came to mourn the death of Jigar were also intending to leave house after some time.

Day and night, as usual, will go on happening by turns; but for his dear wife, both day and night will be gloomy, as her joy has taken flight in the death of her husband.

Stanza 10

Actual scene of the funeral prayer (Namaze-Janaza) before the burial is depicted in this stanza. The prayer was held near his house.

The weeping is stopped when the people offer funeral prayer. But the heart is sad. The whole atmosphere was surcharged with grief. People prayed for the consolation of his soul. But death was not the least affected by the grief.

Stanza 11

When Jigar was buried, his grave felt joyous to receive his body. The Muslims believe that after the burial, angels come to ask the dead a few questions. Angels asked Jigar some questions in his grave, but they were amazed to see in the grave a white dazzling light instead of darkness. The reason for this light was that Jigar was saintly at heart though once he was wine personified. Jigar was actually dark-coloured, but his soul was supposed to be white (a striking contrast) . He enjoyed the most tranquil rest in his grave, unmindful of the worries of life.

Stanza 12

Wines in this stanza have been figuratively portrayed to hold condolence meeting on his death by hard breast-beating. All sorts of Wines (Wines of different colors, of different tastes and of different races) attended the meeting. A resolution to mourn the death of Jigar was proposed in the meeting, which was agreed upon and then passed by standing, without a single vote of dissent. The reason why Wines mourned his death was that Jigar once loved them more than any other man. He was once a record-breaker in drinking wine.

Stanza 13

Some Wines were so much spirited that they came to his grave to pay him homage. Their eyes were red and their hearts were brave. (It is to be noted that after drinking spirited wine the eyes become red and heart becomes brave) . These were the Wines Jigar once preferred to other Wines. But when he realized later that they were the cause of nuisance, he divorced them. They came fully disguised and were ashamed because they were divorced by the poet. The mourners who were present at his grave could not recognize them.

In the last two lines, the figure changes into factuality because Jigar gave up drinking in his later age.

Stanza 14

When Jigar was on the death-bed, one day he called my mother, and told his wife who was sitting beside him that, after his death, she should neither break her bangles nor give anything in charity for the peace of his soul. When he was asked the reason be his wife for forbidding her from giving alms for the consolation of his soul, he said, “I have done much for myself. You need not to do any thing for me.” His wife who was a righteous and gentle lady promised him that she would fulfill his will.

Stanza 15

In fact, Jigar wanted to be buried at Moradabad, his birth-place; but Asghar Gondwi, his mentor, once said that every thing of him (Jigar) would be done at his (Asghar's) house at Gonda. His prophecy finally came to be true. Jigar died on September 9,1960 at Gonda and was buried there.

Stanza 16

I imagine that his father was in paradise. Hearing the news of his son's sad demise, he felt a shock of grief. The paradise is the place where ordinarily the news of this world does not reach. But the angels specially delivered the news of Jigar's death to his father.

In paradise some angels were reciting the NAAT (a poem in praise of the Prophet, Mohammed which Jigar composed after the performance of 'Haj' in the year 1953) in a very sweet voice. God who loves extremely his dear prophet was attracted by the singing of the NAAT and become so much rapturous that he allotted Jigar one of heaven's chambers.

Stanza 17

People were over head and ears in grief. They could not find any relief so far.

Earth claimed that the dead body of Jigar should be given to it. Grave (a sub-ordinate of Earth) swore that it would not spoil his body. Hearing the arguments of Earth, angels, the inhabitants of the sky declared that his soul would be put in the sky to shine like a star. So, it should be given to them.

God judged the case and then ordered that the body of Jigar be given to earth and Sky has a rightful claim over his soul. By this order, angels very warmly received his soul.

Stanza 18

It is true that Jigar in his childhood was trained by his father in singing and throat- controlling. Marsias are Elegiac verses in Urdu composed on the battle of Karbala in which Hazrat Imam Husain and others were beheaded mercilessly. He spoke out first couplet at the age of eight. When his father heard his couplet, he scolded him saying that he should not make couplets too early.

Many poets tried to copy his style of singing but in vain.

Stanza 19

When Jigar was in his early age, his father died. Thereafter, he was surrounded by many difficulties. He was condemned, disowned and deemed inferior by his paternal relatives. Only Maulvi Ali Asghar, his step-uncle who was a gentle and righteous man, supported him. His relatives in the initial stage of his career did not think that he would become so great. Some of the relatives even mocked when the people said that Jigar had become a poet.

Stanza 20

He was forced by the circumstances to drink wine, but wine could not spoil the sublimity of his character. His feelings and senses were all the more awakened when he was drunk. In that condition he did not utter foul words. He realized that drinking of wine was bad. His hair was long and he often neglected the dressing of his beard. He was an abnormal drinker of wine.

Stanza 21

A famous mystic poet of those days, Asghar Gondwi, owned Jigar and guessed at first sight that he was to become great.

Jigar was taken by his admirers, was offered drinks, and his Ghazals regaled them; but he was given nothing. Then Asghar urged him not to attend the Mushaira without his consultation. Now, when people wanted to take Jigar, Asghar asked them to give him atleast Rs.50, which was initially fixed as his fee for a Mushaira. His fee began swelling with his growing fame, and it went beyond Rs.1000 (a good sun in those days) excluding travelling expenses.

Asghar Gondwi married off his sister-in-law to Jigar on her condition that Jigar would have to give up drinking. On breaking his promise not to drink, the marriage got terminated resulting in divorce. After about 15 years he remarried the same lady. Then he gave up drinking for ever, and led a good conjugal life, but, unfortunately, remained childless.

Asghar Gondwi is worthy of praise as he helped Jigar a lot and tried to uplift him.

Stanza 22

Jigar inherited poetic talents from his father, Maulvi Ali Nazar, and his grand father, Maulvi Amjad Ali, as they were also poets. He also took blessings of some spiritual men. A few incidents of his life and wine gave a push to his muse with the result that many themes came out of his heart like green plants which make a plot of land beautiful, attractive and worthy to be enjoyed. The poems of Jigar are likened to the colourful, fresh and fair flowers of the garden. They shall for ever continue to please men of poetic tastes.

Stanza 23

The incident referred to in this stanza is true. Various books written on Jigar after his death corroborate the fact that when Jigar was staying at Bhopal, a man who was jealous of his because of his extra-ordinary fame, tried to give him some poison by mixing it with his food. But it was discovered, and the man was caught & questioned. He later on confessed that he had actually committed the heinous crime. At this, Jigar at once forgave him. It shows the sublimity of his character.

Even such men as were jealous of Jigar are very sorry.

Stanza 24

Jigar was staying at his friend's in Bombay. He had two thousand rupees in his pocket which were given to him as fee of a Mushaira. He was at night lying on a cot. A person, presuming him asleep, picked the pocket of his Sherwani which was hanging on a peg. He was not sleeping at that time and was noticing all the actions of the man. But he said nothing and let the thief go. In the morning, he asked for some rupees from a friend of his, but did not disclose the name of the person who picked his pocket. This incident is mentioned in various books.

Stanza 25

Forgetting had been Jigar's habit since boyhood. He used to do good to others and after doing good, he forgot it fro ever. He wrote several recommendatory letters daily for the men who approached him and wanted to get employment somewhere. He often gave the needy some money as loan, but did not think it proper to take money back.

Stanza 26

He was very fond of playing cards. He played at a stretch for hours together, and was so much engrossed in the game that he even forgot to take food. He got irritated when he lost the game, and put forth various lame excuses. Honesty was in his nature, so he wanted to play fair game and sometimes lost it owing to his honesty.

Stanza 27

When at home, Jigar was very often reprimanded by his wife, a strict and religious lady, for playing cards. Often an interesting quarrel arose in the house between them on this score, and he was compelled to please his wife by promising that he would never play them; but when the anger of his dear wife cooled down, he forgot all his abjurations and promises, and started playing cards again. Sometimes, he burnt the cards. But getting opportunity, he managed to buy them again.

The idea in the figure used in the last two lines of this stanza has been borrowed from the belief of the Hindus that the dead after cremation is born again and again until he attains salvation.

Stanza 28

He always welcomed his guests warmly. People came from far and near, and stayed in his house. He did not let even the unwanted guests feel that he did not like them. He treated the guests properly according to their position and gradation.

Stanza 29

Jigar's way of talking or advising was very peculiar. He did not come to the point directly, but started beating about the bush. He felt and enjoyed poetry, but lacked ability to discuss it. Though he is no more in the world, his verses are a source of instruction to us.

Stanza 30

Though he was very great, he did not consider himself so. He was neither narrow nor arrogant at all. Often he used to say that he had no qualities of his own but became great because of the blessings of spiritual men. He achieved greatness step by step, and therefore it was permanent.

For the interest of the readers I write here an incident that proves his humility.

Once it so happened that a number of men were sitting with him on the carpet in his sitting room. They put their shoes outside the room. After some time, drizzling began. I was standing outside the room, but it did not come to my mind that I should remove their shoes to the shade. Jigar at once stood up and began to pick up the shoes. Seeing him doing so, some men from within the room rushed, and did not let him do so. Then turning to me, he said,

“God will give you respect,
If you respect the elders' shoes.”

Stanza 31

Jigar hated flattery. In this connection an incident of his life is given below: -

Once he was staying at Hyderabad. He was at a place busy in playing cards. He was favourite of the Nawab of Hyderabad. A man came from the Nawab and requested him to compose some poem in praise of the Nawab to be recited on the occasion of his birth-day ceremony. Jigar at once retorted that he was a poet, not a clown. The Nawab, a wise man, was not displeased to know the reply. He valued him all more. It was only the scheme of those who were jealous of him, but it fell through.

He was witty, sensitive and very fair in his dealings. He had such frankness as is rarely found in men.

He did not like ills at all, and tried to annihilate them by means of his songs.

Stanza 32

He earned so much wealth that neither the poets prior to him nor his contemporaries could earn; but he was very generous and spent his money in helping the poor. When he was at home, he kept some money out of the knowledge of his wife. He often put some rupees under the pillow, sometimes in a tin with a lid, or in some book. This money ordinarily was meant to be given to the men who visited him to seek his help. It was very interesting to se Jigar searching for the money urgently and confusedly. He was not sure about the places where he had concealed the currency notes. Sometimes turned the bed upside down, sometimes he opened the boxes, and then shut them confusedly pronouncing Lahol (cursing the Shaitan) , sometimes he turned the pages of the books. This was all done stealthily lest wife should see his perplexity. She sometimes smelt the rat and enjoyed the sight.

Stanza 33

The literal meaning of Ghazal is to converse with the lady-love or to express something about her. In other words, it can be said that generally in it are expressed such emotions and experiences of life as are concerned with beauty and love. As these emotions are universal, so the presentation of them in Ghazal helped it much in becoming favourite of the people. But if Ghazal had stayed within the narrow bounds of the above definition, it would not have reached the present place. It was, therefore, necessary for it to take up different conditions and feelings. So, even after centering on beauty and love as their favourite themes, the poets took into its domain social, cultural, political, historical, religious, mystical, philosophical and psychological aspects of the life of man. At every stage, it went on changing according to the call of time. That is why it still survives, and has a life of its own.

The structure of Ghazal proved helpful to the poet in adopting different ideas. In each of the couplets which are between the first and the last ones, the poet presents a complete thought. Therefore every couplet is itself a unit. In this way, the poet presents different thoughts in different couplets. Thus, it becomes the beautiful product of the poet's imagination.

As Ghazal is very close to human feelings softness and delicacy are sure to appear in the language. When all these aspects of Ghazal are combined with music of its words, it all the more influences the people. The reason why it is liked so much is that it is expressed in lovely symbols and signs carrying deep and hidden meanings.

After looking into the development of Ghazal, we find that at different stages of life it served as translator of the time. Thus its shape is polished and scope extended.

I write here an interesting incident that caused me to compose this stanza. Once it so happened that Saghar Nizami, an Urdu poet, came along with his wife to meet Jigar who was then staying in the house of Maulvi Mohammed Ahmad in Mohalla Lal Bagh, Moradabad. Saghar Nizami's wife recited before Jigar a Ghazal composed by her. Jigar heared it and praised it a little; but when he was coming out, he smiled and said in a strange way, “Aurat aur Ghazal” (Ghazal and a lady!) .

Stanza 34

He was really the life and spirit of Mushairas. When he was alive, he was the only poet who won the hearts of his listeners with the magic of his poem sung by a painfully sweet throat he was gifted with. Ordinarily in the Mushairas he was given the chance of reciting his poems after all the other poets had sung their poems. During the singing of other poets the audience remained unserious, but when he started singing, there was perfect silence. Nobody dared disturb the decorum of the Mushairas. The audiences were rapt and lost while he sang. Not only this, but the people also remained eager to have a glimpse of him.

Stanza 35

Jigar was truly patriotic. His love for his Motherland is fully exhibited in his poems. In Pakistan also he was very famous. He attended the Mushairas on invitation from Pakistan. The Government of Pakistan once desired him to immigrate there, and promised to give him a beautiful building with a motor car if he settled their permanently; but he flatly refused to accept the offer.

He also wrote many poems in Persian due to which he earned fame in Iran. Some poems of his were translated in his lifetime, and were sent to english0speaking countries. This translation, I remember, was made by Mr. Mohammed Ahmad who was a judge posted at Gorakhpur at a certain time.

Stanza 36

The method of his composing poems was very peculiar. Although some of his couplets were extempore; generally it was his way to compose his poems when he was in his proper mood. He began humming in loneliness and made outlines of plants with leaves, flowers and buds. All of a sudden, from the buds or flowers he drew a line either slanting or straight and then wrote a couplet. In this way, when there were some couplets, he made of them a beautiful poem. After a few corrections, the poem was complete.

He has made his poems with the extract of his liver (the equivalent word for liver in Urdu is Jigar which is also the pen-name of the poet) , and therefore they make the listeners drunk.

Stanza 37

Jigar was not sensual. He was in fact a sensuous poet. His love was pure. He had a respect for his beloved in his heart. He started his loving his lady and when he reached the climax of his love of God. He was such a drinker as remained excessively intoxicated; but his will-power was so strong that when he made abjuration, he gave up drinking for ever. The giving-up of wine had a bad effect on his health, and the result was that he suffered from various diseases. After giving up drinking, he became spiritual and performed 'Haj'.

Stanza 38

Jigar was very sensitive and emotional. He had delicate feelings which sometimes became too intense. His wonderful flight of fancy, his sincerity, his passionate intensity, his piety of soul and purity of inspiration gave sometimes a spiritual colour to his poems.

He did not pass through the stages of beauty and love carelessly, but he full well experienced the hardships of the journey. He felt it so much that he absorbed their spirit in himself. Often he is lost in them too.

He composed his poems when his feelings were intense and when his thoughts inflamed his over quick imagination.

In the beginning he enjoyed various shapes of beauty but when he reached the last rung of his love, he found that every breath of his was filled with the air of beauty.

It is a fact that beauty is unlimited but to contract and absorb it in himself is called love. Jigar has tasted the relish of this love.

Stanza 39

Jigar's views are very clear in his poetry. His poetry is the image of his life. He was not in the habit of saying one thing and doing another. As his couplets came direct from his heart, they touched the hearts of the listeners. There is a flood of passions in his poetry, but it is a craftily dammed by his art. As he was the lover of beauty, his poetry is also a product of beauty. As is the tradition that in the beginning the critics are generally antagonistic to the artists, they criticized him also; but they fell into astonishment when he was appreciated by all and sundry.

Stanza 40

Jigar was a great poet. His poetry is a thing to be enjoyed. It is not an art without substance. Educated as well as uneducated persons can enjoy his poetry, according to their understanding. This was the reason why he got commendations of all and became the favourite of the masses. Even in his lifetime the title of 'Ghazal King 'was bestowed upon him. He had seen the ups and downs of life. So, his poetry is an outcome of his own experience.

In the opinion of jigar beauty and love are one and the same thing. Apparently the words, beauty and love seem very ordinary, but these are the only words in which the secret of both the words is hidden. In the poetry of Jigar we find several ideas about these terms. Sometimes he declares that beauty is the cause and love its effect and sometimes he calls love, the cause; and beauty, the effect. At some stages he passes through a place where he finds beauty and love mixed up. In other words, when love reaches its climax, it becomes beauty and when beauty is lost in seeing itself, it becomes love. In such a state of Love, Mansoor, a great Saint yore had uttered “Anal Haque” (I am God) .

Stanza 41

He did not like unrhymed verses. His poetry is modeled on the technique of the poets of old. His couplets are proportionate and rhythmical. This conventional form of poetry suited him best because he was extremely musical when he sang his poems. Many of his poems can be interpreted in spiritual sense. The quotation “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts” comes true when we go through his poetry. He was over packed with feelings. Somebody has rightly said about him, “had he not been a poet, he would have been mad.”

Stanza 42

Jigar maintained self-respect in his life. He did not copy the ideas of the past or present poets. He was not a blind follower of any poet. He used to sit in the company of such great personages as Iqbal Suhel, Mirza Ahsan Beg, Suleman Nadvi and Rashid Ahmad Siddiqi but he did not dye himself in the color of any one of them. He put the influences he got from such august men into the glass of his own poetic wine. He had a God gifted quality to extract the essence from the views of others and drew the conclusion thereof according to his own taste. This made him all the more polished in beauty and art. If we read his poems, we find in them the influence of the blessings of his Pir (Spiritual Guide) , the late Maulana Abdul Ghani Manglori.

Stanza 43

Perhaps we can mention no other Modern Ghazal poet who was so much moved by adverse circumstances and great events as Jigar; but he remained optimistic and found hope in despair. Whatever he viewed and experienced, he poetized unhesitatingly. The Government of that time often tried to shut his mouth by monetary temptations but in vain. The young generation very much liked this tendency, which had been initiated by Hasrat (an Urdu poet) : but in Jigar we find it all the more prominent. Hasrat took it lightly, but in Jigar it is the beating of his heart. According to Prof. Rashid Ahmad Siddiqi, this is the place where character makes poetry high or low. Here we find actual difference between poetry and propaganda.

Stanza 44

Generally, it had been the tradition from yore that the poets translated the feelings of the lovers and showed them bowing before their lady-loves to invite

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Elegy on Jigar Moradabadi

ELEGY ON JIGAR MORADABADI

INTRODUCTION

Mr. Aziz Ahmad has written an Elegy on the Poet Haji Ali Sikander, commonly known as Jigar Moradabadi. The poem is in 48 stanzas of Eight lines each followed by 48 paragraphs of notes, one for each stanza. They explain the real mood of the stanzas. This is perhaps the first time that an Elegy in English on an Urdu Poet has been attempted. Elegiac poems in Urdu are common. The marsais of Anis and Dabir are long elegiac poems of unsurpassed beauty. An Elegy is literally a song or poem of mourning. The English examples are Lycidas, Adonais and Thyrsis. They are true elegies although Gray's well-known Elegy, which was written in a country churchyard does not mourn anyone in particular and deals with 'the pathos of mortality'.

English Elegies, like Latin Elegies before, were written in a metre called elegiac. Any poem written in that metre was called an Elegy irrespective of the subject matter. Later the point about metre was dropped and any poem was considered an elegy if the subject matter was what I have described, irrespective of the metre. Today the subject and metre must coincide to make a proper elegy.

The metre must be hexameter or pentameter. A hexameter is of six measures the fifth being a dactyl and the sixth either a spondee or a trochee. The other four may be either a dactyls or spondees. An example is Longfellow's Evangeline. Homer's two epic poems and Virgil's Aeneid are in hexameter. Pentameter verse is in two parts, each of which ends with an extra long syllable. The first half consists of two metres, dactyls or spondees, the latter half must be two dactyls.

I have said this because metre-wise this poem in English will not be regarded as a proper Elegy but subject-wise it is. Perhaps Mr. Aziz Ahmad can cast the lines again. *

Subject-wise the poem is excellent. Jigar who wrote of himself:

Jigar main ne chhupaya lakh upna dard o ghum lekin
Bayan kardeen meri surat nay sub kaifiyatein dilki

Was a poet in the front rank in India and in the days when there were Iqbal, Fani and Firaq and several others. Tabassum Nizami has done a great deal to bring his life before us, and his books Daghe Jigar, Shola- e- Toor and Aatishe Gul are poetry which is seldom equaled.

No wonder Mr. Aziz Ahmad's heart bleeds at the very thought of Jigar's death in 1960. Not only has he paid his sincere homage to his memory but he has described the anguish of the family and friends. Jigar would have said:

Meri roodad e ghum who sun rahe hain
Tabassum sa labon par araha hai
Jigar hi ka na ho afsana koi
Daro devar ko hal araha hai.

Mr. Aziz Ahmad's heart-rending verses do make even the doors and walls get into ecstasy!

23rd September,1981 M. Hidayatullah
6, Maulana Azad Road, Vice- President
New Delhi-110011. of India

*AUTHOR'S CLARIFICATION

I append here for ready reference the views of the reputed critics about modern poetry, which are printed on pages 223,224 and 225 ofThe Study of Poetry” by A.R. Entwistle.

The reaction against metre in modern poetry is only another symptom of the dissatisfaction with things as they are. The movement towards “free verse” is, of course, no new thing. The experiment of Matthew Arnold, Henley, Walt Whitman and others occur readily to the mind.

Here it is useful to know how the new poetry affected Professor Churton Collins:

“If a man six feet high, of striking masculine beauty and of venerable appearance, chooses to stand on his head in the public streets….. he will at least attract attention, and create some excitement; secondly……..the law of reaction in literature, as in everything else, will assert itself, that when poetry has long attained perfection in form and has been running smoothly in conventional grooves, there is certain to be a revolt both on the part of poets themselves and in the public taste, and the opposite extreme will be affected and welcomed; and thirdly, ……… if a writer has the courage or impudence to set sense, taste, and decency at defiance and, posing sometimes as a mystic and sometimes as a mountebank, to express himself in the jargon of both, and yet has the genius to irradiate his absurdities with flashes of wisdom, beauty, and inspired insight, three things are certain to result, ……… namely, sympathy from those who favor the reaction, disgust on the part of those who belong to neither party, but who are quite willing to judge what they find on its own merits.”

For the frankly modernist view we turn to Mr. Robert Graves, who says:

“Poetry has, in a word, begun to 'go round the corner'; the straight street in which English bards have for centuries walked is no longer so attractive, now that a concealed turning has been found opening up a new street or network of streets whose existence tradition hardly suspected. Traditionalists will even say of the adventures: ' They have completely disappeared; they are walking in the suburbs of poetry called alternatively Nonsense or Madness.' But it disturbs these traditionalists that the defections from the highway are numerous, and that the poets concerned cannot be accused of ignorance of the old ways, of mental unbalance in other departments of life, or in insincerity.”

The spirit of the present generation is in marked degree anti-traditional, and it would easy, but tiresome, to show by copious quotations how welcome the spirit of revolt has become.

Similar tendency is found in modern Urdu Poetry. We should see, what Akbar Allahbadi says in connection.

Qaedon men husne mani gum karo
Sher main kehta hoon hijje tum karo

(Lose in rules beauty of meanings;
Verse I compose, you do spellings.)

Since this elegy consists of a mixture of a Urdu and English words, it is practically impossible to confine it to the conventional English metre.

Aziz Ahmad

FOREWORD

I have with interest gone through the Elegy on the death of the late Haji Ali Sikander, Jigar Moradabadi, presented to me for my comments by Mr. Aziz Ahmad, the author. I am impressed by his style and art. It shows his deep love for Jigar Moradabadi who was a poet of great genius. It seems that he has a good knowledge of the life and art of Jigar. As he has written in the Preface that no poet has so far written an elegy in English on the death of any Urdu poet is, as far as I know, correct. The endeavour is his own. Some points given in the Elegy have already become widely known, while some others are quite new. When I started reading it, I was so charmed that I could not leave it unfinished. It is a fine piece of literature and fascinates its readers. I appreciate the unity of the poem. The stanzas employed help to bind the parts of the poem together into a single whole, so that it becomes a

“Silver chain of sound
of many links, without a break.”

The choice of words and constructions are commendable. I feel that Mr. Aziz Ahmad make a very good use of rhetorical language. The poem is a rhymed product of the author's imagination. He has, no doubt, chosen a dignified subject- the death of a great poet, but the distinction lies in the fact that he has beautifully portrayed his life as well as art.

The poem is elaborate in workmanship and is long enough, with orderly development and fine descriptions. The interplay of emotion, reflection and spontaneity are commendable. At the same time he has no want of narrative force. His logical transition from one thought to another is praiseworthy. The description of scenes in the poem presents a clear picture before the eyes of the readers. The author exhibits his real respect fro Jigar and grief over his death.

In my view, the poem is great due to the following grounds: -

There is in the proposition- ' I weep for Jigar Moradabadi………'; the invocations to Jigar's dead mother and the Spirit of poetry etc.; the mourning of the relatives and friends; the procession of the mourners in concrete and abstract form;
The partaking of nature and Super-natural beings in grief; the praise of the distinctive traits of the life and art of Jigar; and the reward that the great poet has found a place in paradise and has become eternal in death. In the end, the note of personal lament shows his deep personal attachment.

While mentioning many good qualities of Jigar Sahib's personality Mr. Aziz Ahmad rightly emphasized in the last two lines of Stanza no.25 that he little bothered for money. Just to endorse his point I would like to relate one incident which vividly remember even today. In June,1947 an All India Mushaira was organized in Shahajan pur, U.P. Although a student of 10th Class, I happened to be one of the organizers of this function. Unfortunately because of extremely bad weather and sudden heavy rains, the Mushaira was a total failure. All was upset. Not a single poet could recite his poems. We lacked funds even to pay the traveling expenses of more than 12 poets who had arrived to participate in Mushaira, including such popular poets as Salam Machli Shahri and Khumar Barabankvi. Jigar Sahib was staying with one of his pupils Mr. Habab Tirmizi. The poets were demanding money and we were worries how to satisfy them. Jigar Sahib apprehended the whole situation. He got up quietly, went to the wall where his Sherwani was hanging, brought out some two hundred rupees and gave us saying, “Give it over to them.”

When in 1955 I met Jigar Sahib in Aligarh and reminded him of this incident, he smiled and pretended as if he did not remember. Many such events can be related which reveal rare moral qualities of his character.

To conclude my comments, I think it appropriate to quote a few lines from the Elegy which I like most.

The following lines remind us of Shelly's Adonais:

Ideals splendid, Desires, Adorations;
Joys blinded with Tears and Winged Persuasions;
In melancholy mood Love and Ties;
Sorrows with her family of Sighs;
With hair unbound and tears their eyes flow,
Came there in form of procession slow,
The slow moving procession might seem
Like pomp of ants in Summer near stream.

Beautiful imagination is presented subtle contrast of the following lines:

Angels waited his life-account to write;
But were dazzled, seeing him in white light.
Who knows not the reason for this light?
His body though dark, his soul was white.
The loveliest personification is found in stanzas no 12 and 13 where

Learning of his death, Wines held a meeting
To condole his death by hard breast-beating.

and where
Some Wines spirited came to his grave;
Their eyes were red, their hearts were brave.

Stanza no 19 testifies to the author's great skill in narration. Pathos is also beautifully given.

It is evident from stanza no.24 that Mr. Aziz Ahmad has been deeply influenced by Robert Frost, a famous American poet.

The superb description is found in stanza no 26 and 27 where Jigar's fondness for playing cards is shown.

In the following lines a fine smile has been used: -

His behavior was like verses laboured,
Every syllable of which is measured.
Respectful with his elders was he,
And with his friend intimate and free.
With his youngers reserved and fatherly,
He treated them kindly and politely.

In stanza no.33 it seems that the author wants to say that Jigar disliked ' Ghazals' composed by ladies; but the idea has been expressed by giving a beautiful definition of 'Ghazal'.

The following lines in stanza no.44 are very befitting: -

Beauty is the base in the lays of Asghar;
But love beautifies the verses of Jigar.

The following lines, though subjective, compel me to appreciate the author: -
Risen above the waves saw I a hand;
All of a sudden, it drew me to land.
It was the hand of Jigar- a rare man
Who is born once in centuries span.

In the following stanza I find a relish of sonnet. It is filled with sincere feelings.

The void so created cannot be filled,
The Hawk of death has the 'Ghazal Bird' killed.
But the time of death is fixed by Him
Who is our Lord without doubt and whim.
The only tribute to him I pay
Is to compose this sorrowful lay.
His features shall in these lines be seen;
If they live, he shall in them be green.

May this endeavour of Mr. Aziz Ahmad be crowned with success and glory! I wish him to give us many more such wonderful poetic pieces.


Dr. Qamar Rais
Reader,
Department of Urdu
University of Delhi

OPINION I

Janab Aziz Ahmad sahib has sent me a copy of an elegy he has composed in the memory of the late lamented Haji Ali Sikandar Jigar, the Doyen of Urdu poets in the Indian sub-continent.

I have gone through this elegy with deep interest and I find that Aziz Sahib loved and admired Jigar Sahib from the core of his heart. He pours out his heart in grief for Jigar whom he considers the zenith of muses. The elegy is a fitting tribute indeed to a person who lived and died for poetry and whose verses shall for ever continue to inspire generations to come.

Some of Aziz Sahib's stanzas are sublime and worth quoting. For instance he speaks from the unexplored depth of his heart when he says: -

For Jigar I weep. And you too weep
With me, for I plunge into the deep
Of pain and sorrow, of grief and tears.
O hapless Hour chosen from all years!
I ask you to rouse your other compeers;
Then together we will weep blood fro tears.
Till future dares forget the past
His name and fame shall ever last.

In stanza no 28 he has painted a true portrait of Jigar. Of such virtues was Jigar made and of such virtues his Ghazals are the outcome. He was noble both in mind and in action.

He was cordial and hospitable most,
And was to his guests a courteous host.
His behaviour was like verses laboured,
Every syllable of which is measured.
Respectful with his elders was he,
And with his friends, intimate and free.
With his youngers, reserved and fatherly,
He treated them kindly and politely.

I am sure that all those who knew and loved Jigar will enjoy the fine quality of the elegy and will realize that Aziz Sahib has for once not taken to poetic exaggeration.

Kunwar Mehender Singh Bedi

OPINION II

Mr. Aziz Ahmad' elegy on Jigar may be unconventional in metre but is wonderful in matter. The poem is the graphic account of the life, character and verse of a great Urdu poet, it has a great imaginative and emotional appeal and is remarkable for fine personification and vivid imagery. It reminds of Shelly's 'Adonais'.

B. K Kansal Ph. D
Chairman HINDU COLLEGE
Dept. of Post-graduate Studies MORADABAD
and Research in English
Banbata Ganj (Near Kamal Talkies) Dated 28th Sept.1981
Moradabad- 244001

PREFACE

The few lines I have put in this little book are nothing but a tribute I am obliged to pay to the memory of the Late Haji Ali Sikandar, Jigar Moradabadi, a relative of mine, to whom I am deeply indebted as the credit of my life's making goes to him.

He was born on 6th April 1890, in Mohalla Lal bagh, Moradabad, U.P., but from the boyhood he left his native city and roamed far and wide to make his life glorious. He was a natural poet of Urdu. If we peep into his life, we find it true that 'a poet is born, not made.'

Asghar Gondwi, a renowned poet of that time, on seeing him, understood full well that he was fated to be great. So, he owned him, guided him and showered his favors on him.

Jigar lived at Gonda, U.P., in the house of his wife, Nasim. Journey had become the part of his life. He reminded mostly out in connection with Mushairas. Whenever he returned home, he wanted us to remain with him. So, I have passed a portion of my life with him and observed him with love and reverence.

I wanted to write something about him in Urdu prose, and to get published some letters and poems written in his own hand, which I have kept safe with me like sacred things.

I started writing it, but by the force of some unknown power, my mind turned to a theme quite novel. In English, as far as I know, nobody has composed an elegy on the death of an Urdu poet. My purpose of writing in this language is that English will be a vehicle to convey my thoughts and outside this country, as English, being an international language, is read and spoken everywhere.

Jigar was acclaimed ' Ghazal King' in his lifetime. He died on September 9,1960 and was laid to rest at Gonda in the lap of his dear country.

He was truly poetic in his habits and disposition, character and conduct, thoughts and feelings, ways and manners, motions and gestures, dressing and clothing, gait and get-up. Moreover he was gifted by Nature with a throat extremely musical. I have poetized my feelings to pay him homage, as, I think, the homage paid to such a great poet should be musical. I hope that his soul will accept it.

When I was staying at Mecca after the performance of 'Haj' in the year 1975, one night I saw him in a dream. During my stay there I had not dreamed of anyone else save him. When I woke up, I felt a sort of restlessness. Then and there, I performed 'Umera' for him.

When he died, I felt a shock of grief. This Elegy is the outlet of the grief I felt then and have concealed so far.

This Elegy contains some points which are quite new, and which the lovers of Jigar Moradabadi are unaware of. Though the Elegy has parts comprising many traits of Jigar, I have tried to make it a unified whole.

I hope that for the lovers of Jigar Moradabadi, this work will be a Souvenir worth keeping.

How far my aims are fulfilled is for the readers to judge!

In the end, I express my thankfulness to Dr. B. K. Kansal, Head of the Department of English, Hindu College, Moradabad, who has been kind to me to give valuable suggestions for this composition.

I am highly grateful to Mr. M. Hidayatullah, Vice- President of India, for his very valuable and illuminating introduction, which throws sufficient light on elegy in English, Urdu and Latin literature, on its matter and metre. His judicial office he has held as the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

I also express gratitude to Dr. Qamar Rais and Kunwar Mehender Singh Bedi whose high praise of the poem gave me great encouragement.

Aziz Ahmad

1

I weep for Jigar Moradabadi- he is dead!
O weep for the poet who has beautifully wed
Love and Wine with verses of new time,
And has achieved a fame so sublime!
Wailing and weeping wets the air.
How so sad is the drum of the ear.
How so sad is the whole atmosphere!
There is none who is not in despair.

2

For Jigar I weep. And you too weep
With me, for I plunge into the deep
Of pain and sorrow, of grief and tears.
O hapless Hour chosen from all years!
I ask you to rouse your other compeers;
Then together we will weep blood fro tears.
Till future dares forget the past
His name and fame shall ever last.

3

Weep, O Spirit of poetry! Weep,
For he has gone for his final sleep.
His body though motion less; his soul's brain
Listens to your weeping with woeful strain.
At his death are sorrowful many more
Thank those who loved his poetry and lore.
As a poet he was great; as a man was he sublime.
He has lived life very fine; he is uneaten by time.

4

Alas! O Noble Mother, Mother great
Who bore a poet full many a trait!
You could not see him gathering fame,
Upraising your position and name.
In your grave you might have felt charm
When he would sing his rhymings warm.
Now he has gone into the gulf of death
From where nobody returns to this earth.

5

Angels bewail him as he is mortified,
And bless his three works to be immortalized.
He could not bear when his Motherland's pride
Was being crushed by the liberticide.
Communal ghosts when raised their heads,
Poison was filled in people's heads
By professional leaders' hired men;
Then sorrowful songs flowed his pen.

6

Ideals splendid, Desires, Adorations;
Joys blinded with Tears and Winged Persuasions;
In melancholy mood Love and Ties;
Sorrows with her family of Sighs;
With hair unbound and tears their eyes flow,
Came there in form of procession slow,
The slow moving procession might seem
Like pomp of ants in Summer near stream.

7

Rooms of his house began lamenting anew.
Their weeping was silent, though heard by a few.
Such mute voices rarely poets hear;
Others remain deaf, they do not care.
They heard the sound of his amorous lay
When he would sing there in wondrous way.
To him they responded with their echo.
Oh! he is dead, leaving them in great woe

8

One day before his death, he slowly murmured,
A compartment of train for me be reserved
As life's journey has come to an end
And I have to go to Other Land.”
Some kin by him were standing silent;
Their eyes were tearful, their heads were bent.
Grief so much shattered his dear wife,
She lost all the pleasures of life.

9

When his bier was to be taken out,
Every one was weeping without doubt.
Short-lived though is general grief,
His wife's agony was not brief.
Till Nature is on its normal course,
Morning after night will nature force.
But his wife will weep, day and night,
As her dear soul has taken flight.

10

The eyes had since stopped their weeping;
Now came turn of the heart's bleeding.
The air had been filled with grief and sorrow;
People hurriedly made many a row
For the prayer with humble salutation,
They prayed to God for his soul's consolation.
Homage was paid to departed soul;
But Death was unmindful of the dole.

11

With open heart, his grave was ready
To welcome warmly his dead body.
Angels waited his life-account to write;
But were dazzled, seeing him in white light.
Who knows not the reason for this light?
His body though dark, his soul was white.
He, in dewy sleep, took his last fill
Of liquid rest, forgetful of ill.

12

Learning of his death, Wines held a meeting
To condole his death by hard breast-beating.
The meeting was attended by all the Wines
Of various colors, tastes and racial lines.
A resolution was proposed in the meeting,
And it was unanimously passed by standing.
Wines were weeping, as he was the one
Who once loved them more than any one.

13

Some Wines spirited came to his grave;
Their eyes were red, their hearts were brave.
They were the ones he had preferred once,
But later divorced them for nuisance.
They came ashamed and fully disguised;
They were by mourners not recognized.
Once he had been under the charm of wine;
Later, he broke all the bottles of wine.

14

His was not more than a twin will
Which he made known when he was ill.
He told his wife in presence of no other
Thank my mother, he anon called her thither.
“You won't break your bangles in my dole;
You won't give alms for balming my soul.”
His wife a gentle lady, told him anon
That these two conditions would not be undone.

15

A Wish lay suppressed within his heart,
Which remained unfulfilled in the last.
He desired his grave to be dug near
Those of his father and mother dear.
But once his mentor made a prophecy.
Every thing of Jigar, his house would see.
His prophecy strangely came to be true;
The dust of his grave him to Gonda drew.

16

His father, who was in paradise,
Heard the news of his son's demise.
The news proved to be dagger to his soul,
Though he was beyond the reach of the dole.
By angels there was a Naat being recited,
Composed by Jigar, the very Naat invited
God who rapt in listening to the numbers
Allotted Jigar one of heaven's chambers.

17

People were drowned in the ocean of grief;
They could not have time for nay relief.
Angels so warmly received his soul;
While Earth took his body as a whole.
Grave swore his body never to mar;
Angels wished his soul to shine like star.
God judged the situation, and then delivered
His body to Grave, and soul to heaven transferred.

18

First couplet he made, when eight years old,
Father scolded him, when he was told.
He said through he was to be a poet,
He should not poetise so early yet.
His father, an adapt in Marsia singing,
Taught him to sing verses in the beginning.
The art of singing he did well maintain;
Many a poet copied him in vain.

19

A lot to adversities came in his early teens;
After father's death, he had no sustaining means.
Kin were not ready to call him their own,
Save his step-uncle who helped him alone.
Relations condemned him; he was lorn;
Some called him poet, kin laughed in scorn.
No one knew then he would change the weather,
And would have in his cap a fine feather.

20

Compelled by the conditions, he drank wine
That gave impetus to his metres fine.
The more he drank, the more civilized;
Oft in shame he felt demoralized.
His hair was long, his beard neglected,
And by passions he was much affected.
Who can drink so much wine as the poet drank?
He was super-drinker, to be very frank.


21

What a great poet mystic was he
Who chose Jigar, and owned him dearly!
I praise his might, wisdom and insight;
He changed his life by dint of his light.
The plant dear he watered and reared
Grew to his prime and full flowered.
But alas the fruit was never given birth!
His dear is dead; and dead is the hope of mirth!

22

A land was inherited so fertile;
Some incidents sowed it, but not futile.
It was well watered by pure wine,
And was looked after eyes so fine.
There grew a garden of many plants green;
It was charming and worthy to be seen.
Colourful flowers, beautiful and fair,
Shall always lend smell to poetic air.

23

When he became the climax and crown
Of the poetic fame and renown,
A man became of him deadly jealous,
And mixed with his food something poisonous;
When caught, he confessed his crime,
And Jigar forgave him in no time.
Even such men are very very sorry.
What an exemplary character had he!

24

He was once staying with his friend,
And had enough money to spend.
He was, one night, lying on a cot;
A person smelled that he had a lot.
Presuming him asleep, he picked the pocket
Of his hanging Sherwani or his jacket.
He saw him doing this pernicious deed,
But let him go, thinking him in dire need.

25

Forgetting had been his habit since boyhood.
It is although bad, in his case was so good.
It was his habit doing for others good;
And having done it, he forgot it for good.
He recommended daily several men,
He had such wondrous power in his pen.
Who could find such a gentle friend?
He forgot money he would lend.

26

Playing cards was his hobby like rime;
In playing them he did not mind time.
He would play them till late at night
And oft forgot to take his diet.
He felt bitter when he lost his game,
And got irritated, with excuses lame.
Honesty reigned supreme over him,
So chances of win sometimes were dim.

27

His wife disliked his playing cards
With his intimate friends and bards.
How so interesting when she was angry!
And on it with him she did not agree!
He cooled her anger by burning the cards,
And swore he would never play them onwards.
But lo! The cards burnt and cremated
Were again born and animated.

28

He was cordial and hospitable most,
And was to his guests a courteous host.
His behavior was like verses laboured,
Every syllable of which is measured.
Respectful with his elders was he,
And with his friend intimate and free.
With his youngers, reserved and fatherly,
He treated them kindly and politely.

29

He talked often in a roundabout way;
Listeners had to guess point of his say.
He did not know the art of oratory,
He was although in the know of poetry.
Poetry even he could not debate;
He felt it though within, without combat.
The way he advised was very attractive.
Though he is dead, he is subtly instructive.

30

Humility was his noble trait,
What though he was a poet so great.
He was not narrow, nor arrogant at all,
So his was a gradual rise, not a fall.
Oft he would say that he was nothing,
But was an outcome of some blessing.
“Respect even the elders' shoes.”
He said, and did similar dos.

31

Sycophancy did not suit his nature;
Self-respect was his special feature.
He was witty, sensitive and fair;
To talk like him very few men dare.
Ills, our beauty, spoil and mar,
We are drawn from the goal afar.
He sincerely tried to kill
With his songs the germs of ills.

32

No poet ever earned as so much as did he,
For the highest was his royalty and fee.
He gave much money out of his income
To the needy he gladly did welcome.
When at homes currency notes he hid
In pillow, book or tin with a lid.
They were meant to be given to the needy,
And kept hidden from the view of his lady.


33

Ghazal was originally meant conversation
Lover had with his lady in imagination.
But later its definition was amended;
Now the scope of it is wide and extended.
It has a number of beautiful lines;
It has themes in lovely symbols and signs.
Jigar disliked it composed by a lady;
He said strangely, “Ghazal and a lady! ”

34

The life and soul of Mushaira has flown; ”
The poets who love Jigar say and moan.
He was poet of so great a fame,
People swarmed him on hearing his name.
They came to listen to, from far and wide,
His honey-sweet rhymes; alas he has died!
The way he sang was singularly his own;
Nature had given him such bewitching tone.

35

He love much his country dear,
He did not leave it in greed or fear;
Though many a chance in his favour
In Urdu-loving Pak., India's neighbour.
He loved his country's gardens and bowers;
Thorns he bore, while leaving their flowers.
He was favourite of Indo-Pakistan;
He was moreover commended in Iran.

36

When muse goaded him, he made outlines
Of plants, flowers and the like designs.
From those shot out a natural couplet
Which was the outcome of passions' outlet.
He chose them after making his correction,
And made of them a beautiful creation.
Poems of his are wines of his liver,
We are drunk with the rhymes of Jigar.

37

His love was very pure and without lust,
Lady's-love respect for his was a must.
He gave 'love' many a colourful name;
According to him loving was no game.
He drank love from the cup of lady-love,
Then got communications from above.
Who could think then and who could judge
Such a hard drinker would do Haj?

38

He dipped in the oceans of passions,
And bathed with water of emotions.
He was so rapt in adoring the love,
Often he scaled the firmament above.
He was lost in his imagination,
He had a bliss of reciprocation.
He soared up high in versification
To have a bliss of amalgamation.

39

All the verses Jigar has wrought
Bear the stamp of what he thought.
The poetry he composed is a fine art;
Naturally it goes to the people's heart.
He had a very keen sense of beauty
Whose expression he considered his duty.
He made his critics bend so low
With poetic spells he would throw.

40

He was created by nature as a bard,
His ideas in verses are not so hard.
He did not put art for only art's sake;
He was the ‘Ghazal King’ of special make,
His poetry is made out of his life;
It belongs to life and exists for life.
He has often blended love and beauty
As if they were no separate entity.

41

He was by nature fitfully emotional;
Poems of his are novel, though conventional.
We hear the cries from within his heart;
Moods he garnered into words of art.
Concerned he was mainly with his feelings;
Oft they are filled with spiritual meanings.
He liked sorrow much more than delight
Which he viewed unstable as the night.

42

Such poetic ego he was given by Nature,
Imitation of others did not suit his nature.
As from bees, the bee-queen takes honey,
So he took much from sublime company.
Governed he was not by views of others;
If he liked, he dipped them in his colours.
If we took into his poetic glory,
We find beneath a current of Manglori.

43

On reading his poems, we find it evident,
He was influenced by many an incident.
Monetary lures could not him entice
To cease fire against political vice.
Fact and truth in them heartily we feel,
Which to young poets very much appeal.
This trend in Hasrat was just a start,
But it was Jigar's beating of heart.

44

Till then, most poets had poetized the feelings
Of lovers, their humble bowings and kneelings.
Nut now Jigar translated the feelings
Born in the hearts of the lovers' darlings.
'Loves' of common poets we do not love;
But the 'love' of Jigar who would not love?
Beauty is the base in the lays of Asghar;
But love beautifies the verses of Jigar.

45

We see the sun and shadow of realism
Blending with the dreams of romanticism
In a balanced and fine symmetry
In Jigar's beautiful poetry.
He was a love-poet over and above,
But he did not suffer from the ill of love.
The heart of his 'Love' was kind and cruel;
The role she played was double and dual.

46

He did not view life in a narrow way;
He wove his view-points in many a lay.
He was not afraid of his life's end;
Death he took for the call of his Friend.
For him, it was a meaningless thing;
He was life, so he found death nothing.
He has now reached a place of love
Where he lives life our world's above.

47

Once I was in hot water of life;
Many a hurdle came in my strife.
Risen above the waves saw I a hand;
All of a sudden, it drew me to land.
It was the hand of Jigar- a rare man
Who is born once in centuries span.
The soul of that great man, like a star,
Still guides my life when the hurdles bar.

48

The void so created cannot be filled,
The Hawk of death has the 'Ghazal Bird' killed.
But the time of death is fixed by Him
Who is our Lord without doubt and whim.
The only tribute to him I pay
Is to compose this sorrowful lay.
His features shall in these lines be seen;
If they live, he shall in them be green.

SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES

Stanza 1

I mourn the death of the Reverend Poet, Jigar Moradabadi. Let all of us weep for him who has very beautifully produced couplets after couplets on Love and wine.

In fact, love is the spirit of his poetry. Wine gave him frankness to bring out feelings of his heart, but it could not make him naked in expression. He had a wineful personality from where his poems came out as intoxicants.

Stanza 2

I weep for Jigar Moradabadi. I invoke the sad Hour of his death which has been selected from all the years for this unfortunate event to weep with me. I also ask unlucky Hour to wake up his other companions (i.e. the hours that have passed) . Then we all collectively will weep blood for the poet. So long as the future continues to remember the past, his name and fame as a poet shall be passed on from age to age.

Stanza 3

Spirit of poetry has been invoked in this stanza to weep over the death of the poet whose soul listens to its painfully musical weeping.

He was a man of distinctive qualities. He had a laudable character. He was liked by men of every religion. His nature was so good that sometimes he was liked by those who had no taste for poetry. Time, therefore, cannot spoil his fame.

Stanza 4

Jigar's dead mother is worthy of praise as she gave birth to a poet who had many qualities. But it is regrettable that she had died before he became famous. I imagine that the soul of his mother might have felt comfort when he achieved fame. Now he has departed from this world to a place from where nobody returns.

Stanza 5

Even the angels are sorry about his death. They are unable to save him. So they bless to immortalize his three books; namely, 'Daghey Jigar, ' ' Shaulaey Toor' and 'Aatishe Gul'. In the last of his books he has written some poems being moved by communal riots of those days.
Such communal riots are planned by the politicians in India from time to time and their mercenaries disturb the peace.

Stanza 6

There came in the form of procession mourners: the poet's Splendid Ideals, Desires, Adorations, Joys which were blinded with tears and Persuasions (whose wings are conspicuous feature) , his Love and Ties in melancholy mood, and Sorrows accompanied by Sighs. They were all with undressed hair, and tears were flowing from their eyes. The Procession was moving slowly and slowly. The whole procession looked like a train of ants seen near a stream in the summer season.

Stanza 7

Jigar sometimes composed lines of his poems after mid-night. Only his wife was present in the room where he slept. I slept in the other room. But his singing was so enchanting that it awakened me and made me lost. I sometimes felt that the rooms were also spell-bound. The rooms responded to him with their echo when he sang his loving poems in his house. It is now really painful that he has left the world, and has also left them in great woe.

Stanza 8

The words within inverted comas “A compartment of train for me be reserved as life's journey has come to an end, and I have to go to Other Land” are the actual words spoken by Jigar in depression one day before his death.
A few relatives of Jigar were present in his house in a very sorrowful condition when he was nearing death. His wife was very much aggrieved. She was bereft of pleasures of life.

Stanza 9

In this stanza actual scene of the house is depicted when his bier was being taken out for the funeral prayer. Every one who was present at that time was weeping.

The people who come to mourn the death of a man generally leave the house after some time. Similarly, the people who came to mourn the death of Jigar were also intending to leave house after some time.

Day and night, as usual, will go on happening by turns; but for his dear wife, both day and night will be gloomy, as her joy has taken flight in the death of her husband.

Stanza 10

Actual scene of the funeral prayer (Namaze-Janaza) before the burial is depicted in this stanza. The prayer was held near his house.

The weeping is stopped when the people offer funeral prayer. But the heart is sad. The whole atmosphere was surcharged with grief. People prayed for the consolation of his soul. But death was not the least affected by the grief.

Stanza 11

When Jigar was buried, his grave felt joyous to receive his body. The Muslims believe that after the burial, angels come to ask the dead a few questions. Angels asked Jigar some questions in his grave, but they were amazed to see in the grave a white dazzling light instead of darkness. The reason for this light was that Jigar was saintly at heart though once he was wine personified. Jigar was actually dark-coloured, but his soul was supposed to be white (a striking contrast) . He enjoyed the most tranquil rest in his grave, unmindful of the worries of life.

Stanza 12

Wines in this stanza have been figuratively portrayed to hold condolence meeting on his death by hard breast-beating. All sorts of Wines (Wines of different colors, of different tastes and of different races) attended the meeting. A resolution to mourn the death of Jigar was proposed in the meeting, which was agreed upon and then passed by standing, without a single vote of dissent. The reason why Wines mourned his death was that Jigar once loved them more than any other man. He was once a record-breaker in drinking wine.

Stanza 13

Some Wines were so much spirited that they came to his grave to pay him homage. Their eyes were red and their hearts were brave. (It is to be noted that after drinking spirited wine the eyes become red and heart becomes brave) . These were the Wines Jigar once preferred to other Wines. But when he realized later that they were the cause of nuisance, he divorced them. They came fully disguised and were ashamed because they were divorced by the poet. The mourners who were present at his grave could not recognize them.

In the last two lines, the figure changes into factuality because Jigar gave up drinking in his later age.

Stanza 14

When Jigar was on the death-bed, one day he called my mother, and told his wife who was sitting beside him that, after his death, she should neither break her bangles nor give anything in charity for the peace of his soul. When he was asked the reason be his wife for forbidding her from giving alms for the consolation of his soul, he said, “I have done much for myself. You need not to do any thing for me.” His wife who was a righteous and gentle lady promised him that she would fulfill his will.

Stanza 15

In fact, Jigar wanted to be buried at Moradabad, his birth-place; but Asghar Gondwi, his mentor, once said that every thing of him (Jigar) would be done at his (Asghar's) house at Gonda. His prophecy finally came to be true. Jigar died on September 9,1960 at Gonda and was buried there.

Stanza 16

I imagine that his father was in paradise. Hearing the news of his son's sad demise, he felt a shock of grief. The paradise is the place where ordinarily the news of this world does not reach. But the angels specially delivered the news of Jigar's death to his father.

In paradise some angels were reciting the NAAT (a poem in praise of the Prophet, Mohammed which Jigar composed after the performance of 'Haj' in the year 1953) in a very sweet voice. God who loves extremely his dear prophet was attracted by the singing of the NAAT and become so much rapturous that he allotted Jigar one of heaven's chambers.

Stanza 17

People were over head and ears in grief. They could not find any relief so far.

Earth claimed that the dead body of Jigar should be given to it. Grave (a sub-ordinate of Earth) swore that it would not spoil his body. Hearing the arguments of Earth, angels, the inhabitants of the sky declared that his soul would be put in the sky to shine like a star. So, it should be given to them.

God judged the case and then ordered that the body of Jigar be given to earth and Sky has a rightful claim over his soul. By this order, angels very warmly received his soul.

Stanza 18

It is true that Jigar in his childhood was trained by his father in singing and throat- controlling. Marsias are Elegiac verses in Urdu composed on the battle of Karbala in which Hazrat Imam Husain and others were beheaded mercilessly. He spoke out first couplet at the age of eight. When his father heard his couplet, he scolded him saying that he should not make couplets too early.

Many poets tried to copy his style of singing but in vain.

Stanza 19

When Jigar was in his early age, his father died. Thereafter, he was surrounded by many difficulties. He was condemned, disowned and deemed inferior by his paternal relatives. Only Maulvi Ali Asghar, his step-uncle who was a gentle and righteous man, supported him. His relatives in the initial stage of his career did not think that he would become so great. Some of the relatives even mocked when the people said that Jigar had become a poet.

Stanza 20

He was forced by the circumstances to drink wine, but wine could not spoil the sublimity of his character. His feelings and senses were all the more awakened when he was drunk. In that condition he did not utter foul words. He realized that drinking of wine was bad. His hair was long and he often neglected the dressing of his beard. He was an abnormal drinker of wine.

Stanza 21

A famous mystic poet of those days, Asghar Gondwi, owned Jigar and guessed at first sight that he was to become great.

Jigar was taken by his admirers, was offered drinks, and his Ghazals regaled them; but he was given nothing. Then Asghar urged him not to attend the Mushaira without his consultation. Now, when people wanted to take Jigar, Asghar asked them to give him atleast Rs.50, which was initially fixed as his fee for a Mushaira. His fee began swelling with his growing fame, and it went beyond Rs.1000 (a good sun in those days) excluding travelling expenses.

Asghar Gondwi married off his sister-in-law to Jigar on her condition that Jigar would have to give up drinking. On breaking his promise not to drink, the marriage got terminated resulting in divorce. After about 15 years he remarried the same lady. Then he gave up drinking for ever, and led a good conjugal life, but, unfortunately, remained childless.

Asghar Gondwi is worthy of praise as he helped Jigar a lot and tried to uplift him.

Stanza 22

Jigar inherited poetic talents from his father, Maulvi Ali Nazar, and his grand father, Maulvi Amjad Ali, as they were also poets. He also took blessings of some spiritual men. A few incidents of his life and wine gave a push to his muse with the result that many themes came out of his heart like green plants which make a plot of land beautiful, attractive and worthy to be enjoyed. The poems of Jigar are likened to the colourful, fresh and fair flowers of the garden. They shall for ever continue to please men of poetic tastes.

Stanza 23

The incident referred to in this stanza is true. Various books written on Jigar after his death corroborate the fact that when Jigar was staying at Bhopal, a man who was jealous of his because of his extra-ordinary fame, tried to give him some poison by mixing it with his food. But it was discovered, and the man was caught & questioned. He later on confessed that he had actually committed the heinous crime. At this, Jigar at once forgave him. It shows the sublimity of his character.

Even such men as were jealous of Jigar are very sorry.

Stanza 24

Jigar was staying at his friend's in Bombay. He had two thousand rupees in his pocket which were given to him as fee of a Mushaira. He was at night lying on a cot. A person, presuming him asleep, picked the pocket of his Sherwani which was hanging on a peg. He was not sleeping at that time and was noticing all the actions of the man. But he said nothing and let the thief go. In the morning, he asked for some rupees from a friend of his, but did not disclose the name of the person who picked his pocket. This incident is mentioned in various books.

Stanza 25

Forgetting had been Jigar's habit since boyhood. He used to do good to others and after doing good, he forgot it fro ever. He wrote several recommendatory letters daily for the men who approached him and wanted to get employment somewhere. He often gave the needy some money as loan, but did not think it proper to take money back.

Stanza 26

He was very fond of playing cards. He played at a stretch for hours together, and was so much engrossed in the game that he even forgot to take food. He got irritated when he lost the game, and put forth various lame excuses. Honesty was in his nature, so he wanted to play fair game and sometimes lost it owing to his honesty.

Stanza 27

When at home, Jigar was very often reprimanded by his wife, a strict and religious lady, for playing cards. Often an interesting quarrel arose in the house between them on this score, and he was compelled to please his wife by promising that he would never play them; but when the anger of his dear wife cooled down, he forgot all his abjurations and promises, and started playing cards again. Sometimes, he burnt the cards. But getting opportunity, he managed to buy them again.

The idea in the figure used in the last two lines of this stanza has been borrowed from the belief of the Hindus that the dead after cremation is born again and again until he attains salvation.

Stanza 28

He always welcomed his guests warmly. People came from far and near, and stayed in his house. He did not let even the unwanted guests feel that he did not like them. He treated the guests properly according to their position and gradation.

Stanza 29

Jigar's way of talking or advising was very peculiar. He did not come to the point directly, but started beating about the bush. He felt and enjoyed poetry, but lacked ability to discuss it. Though he is no more in the world, his verses are a source of instruction to us.

Stanza 30

Though he was very great, he did not consider himself so. He was neither narrow nor arrogant at all. Often he used to say that he had no qualities of his own but became great because of the blessings of spiritual men. He achieved greatness step by step, and therefore it was permanent.

For the interest of the readers I write here an incident that proves his humility.

Once it so happened that a number of men were sitting with him on the carpet in his sitting room. They put their shoes outside the room. After some time, drizzling began. I was standing outside the room, but it did not come to my mind that I should remove their shoes to the shade. Jigar at once stood up and began to pick up the shoes. Seeing him doing so, some men from within the room rushed, and did not let him do so. Then turning to me, he said,

“God will give you respect,
If you respect the elders' shoes.”

Stanza 31

Jigar hated flattery. In this connection an incident of his life is given below: -

Once he was staying at Hyderabad. He was at a place busy in playing cards. He was favourite of the Nawab of Hyderabad. A man came from the Nawab and requested him to compose some poem in praise of the Nawab to be recited on the occasion of his birth-day ceremony. Jigar at once retorted that he was a poet, not a clown. The Nawab, a wise man, was not displeased to know the reply. He valued him all more. It was only the scheme of those who were jealous of him, but it fell through.

He was witty, sensitive and very fair in his dealings. He had such frankness as is rarely found in men.

He did not like ills at all, and tried to annihilate them by means of his songs.

Stanza 32

He earned so much wealth that neither the poets prior to him nor his contemporaries could earn; but he was very generous and spent his money in helping the poor. When he was at home, he kept some money out of the knowledge of his wife. He often put some rupees under the pillow, sometimes in a tin with a lid, or in some book. This money ordinarily was meant to be given to the men who visited him to seek his help. It was very interesting to se Jigar searching for the money urgently and confusedly. He was not sure about the places where he had concealed the currency notes. Sometimes turned the bed upside down, sometimes he opened the boxes, and then shut them confusedly pronouncing Lahol (cursing the Shaitan) , sometimes he turned the pages of the books. This was all done stealthily lest wife should see his perplexity. She sometimes smelt the rat and enjoyed the sight.

Stanza 33

The literal meaning of Ghazal is to converse with the lady-love or to express something about her. In other words, it can be said that generally in it are expressed such emotions and experiences of life as are concerned with beauty and love. As these emotions are universal, so the presentation of them in Ghazal helped it much in becoming favourite of the people. But if Ghazal had stayed within the narrow bounds of the above definition, it would not have reached the present place. It was, therefore, necessary for it to take up different conditions and feelings. So, even after centering on beauty and love as their favourite themes, the poets took into its domain social, cultural, political, historical, religious, mystical, philosophical and psychological aspects of the life of man. At every stage, it went on changing according to the call of time. That is why it still survives, and has a life of its own.

The structure of Ghazal proved helpful to the poet in adopting different ideas. In each of the couplets which are between the first and the last ones, the poet presents a complete thought. Therefore every couplet is itself a unit. In this way, the poet presents different thoughts in different couplets. Thus, it becomes the beautiful product of the poet's imagination.

As Ghazal is very close to human feelings softness and delicacy are sure to appear in the language. When all these aspects of Ghazal are combined with music of its words, it all the more influences the people. The reason why it is liked so much is that it is expressed in lovely symbols and signs carrying deep and hidden meanings.

After looking into the development of Ghazal, we find that at different stages of life it served as translator of the time. Thus its shape is polished and scope extended.

I write here an interesting incident that caused me to compose this stanza. Once it so happened that Saghar Nizami, an Urdu poet, came along with his wife to meet Jigar who was then staying in the house of Maulvi Mohammed Ahmad in Mohalla Lal Bagh, Moradabad. Saghar Nizami's wife recited before Jigar a Ghazal composed by her. Jigar heared it and praised it a little; but when he was coming out, he smiled and said in a strange way, “Aurat aur Ghazal” (Ghazal and a lady!) .

Stanza 34

He was really the life and spirit of Mushairas. When he was alive, he was the only poet who won the hearts of his listeners with the magic of his poem sung by a painfully sweet throat he was gifted with. Ordinarily in the Mushairas he was given the chance of reciting his poems after all the other poets had sung their poems. During the singing of other poets the audience remained unserious, but when he started singing, there was perfect silence. Nobody dared disturb the decorum of the Mushairas. The audiences were rapt and lost while he sang. Not only this, but the people also remained eager to have a glimpse of him.

Stanza 35

Jigar was truly patriotic. His love for his Motherland is fully exhibited in his poems. In Pakistan also he was very famous. He attended the Mushairas on invitation from Pakistan. The Government of Pakistan once desired him to immigrate there, and promised to give him a beautiful building with a motor car if he settled their permanently; but he flatly refused to accept the offer.

He also wrote many poems in Persian due to which he earned fame in Iran. Some poems of his were translated in his lifetime, and were sent to english0speaking countries. This translation, I remember, was made by Mr. Mohammed Ahmad who was a judge posted at Gorakhpur at a certain time.

Stanza 36

The method of his composing poems was very peculiar. Although some of his couplets were extempore; generally it was his way to compose his poems when he was in his proper mood. He began humming in loneliness and made outlines of plants with leaves, flowers and buds. All of a sudden, from the buds or flowers he drew a line either slanting or straight and then wrote a couplet. In this way, when there were some couplets, he made of them a beautiful poem. After a few corrections, the poem was complete.

He has made his poems with the extract of his liver (the equivalent word for liver in Urdu is Jigar which is also the pen-name of the poet) , and therefore they make the listeners drunk.

Stanza 37

Jigar was not sensual. He was in fact a sensuous poet. His love was pure. He had a respect for his beloved in his heart. He started his loving his lady and when he reached the climax of his love of God. He was such a drinker as remained excessively intoxicated; but his will-power was so strong that when he made abjuration, he gave up drinking for ever. The giving-up of wine had a bad effect on his health, and the result was that he suffered from various diseases. After giving up drinking, he became spiritual and performed 'Haj'.

Stanza 38

Jigar was very sensitive and emotional. He had delicate feelings which sometimes became too intense. His wonderful flight of fancy, his sincerity, his passionate intensity, his piety of soul and purity of inspiration gave sometimes a spiritual colour to his poems.

He did not pass through the stages of beauty and love carelessly, but he full well experienced the hardships of the journey. He felt it so much that he absorbed their spirit in himself. Often he is lost in them too.

He composed his poems when his feelings were intense and when his thoughts inflamed his over quick imagination.

In the beginning he enjoyed various shapes of beauty but when he reached the last rung of his love, he found that every breath of his was filled with the air of beauty.

It is a fact that beauty is unlimited but to contract and absorb it in himself is called love. Jigar has tasted the relish of this love.

Stanza 39

Jigar's views are very clear in his poetry. His poetry is the image of his life. He was not in the habit of saying one thing and doing another. As his couplets came direct from his heart, they touched the hearts of the listeners. There is a flood of passions in his poetry, but it is a craftily dammed by his art. As he was the lover of beauty, his poetry is also a product of beauty. As is the tradition that in the beginning the critics are generally antagonistic to the artists, they criticized him also; but they fell into astonishment when he was appreciated by all and sundry.

Stanza 40

Jigar was a great poet. His poetry is a thing to be enjoyed. It is not an art without substance. Educated as well as uneducated persons can enjoy his poetry, according to their understanding. This was the reason why he got commendations of all and became the favourite of the masses. Even in his lifetime the title of 'Ghazal King 'was bestowed upon him. He had seen the ups and downs of life. So, his poetry is an outcome of his own experience.

In the opinion of jigar beauty and love are one and the same thing. Apparently the words, beauty and love seem very ordinary, but these are the only words in which the secret of both the words is hidden. In the poetry of Jigar we find several ideas about these terms. Sometimes he declares that beauty is the cause and love its effect and sometimes he calls love, the cause; and beauty, the effect. At some stages he passes through a place where he finds beauty and love mixed up. In other words, when love reaches its climax, it becomes beauty and when beauty is lost in seeing itself, it becomes love. In such a state of Love, Mansoor, a great Saint yore had uttered “Anal Haque” (I am God) .

Stanza 41

He did not like unrhymed verses. His poetry is modeled on the technique of the poets of old. His couplets are proportionate and rhythmical. This conventional form of poetry suited him best because he was extremely musical when he sang his poems. Many of his poems can be interpreted in spiritual sense. The quotation “Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts” comes true when we go through his poetry. He was over packed with feelings. Somebody has rightly said about him, “had he not been a poet, he would have been mad.”

Stanza 42

Jigar maintained self-respect in his life. He did not copy the ideas of the past or present poets. He was not a blind follower of any poet. He used to sit in the company of such great personages as Iqbal Suhel, Mirza Ahsan Beg, Suleman Nadvi and Rashid Ahmad Siddiqi but he did not dye himself in the color of any one of them. He put the influences he got from such august men into the glass of his own poetic wine. He had a God gifted quality to extract the essence from the views of others and drew the conclusion thereof according to his own taste. This made him all the more polished in beauty and art. If we read his poems, we find in them the influence of the blessings of his Pir (Spiritual Guide) , the late Maulana Abdul Ghani Manglori.

Stanza 43

Perhaps we can mention no other Modern Ghazal poet who was so much moved by adverse circumstances and great events as Jigar; but he remained optimistic and found hope in despair. Whatever he viewed and experienced, he poetized unhesitatingly. The Government of that time often tried to shut his mouth by monetary temptations but in vain. The young generation very much liked this tendency, which had been initiated by Hasrat (an Urdu poet) : but in Jigar we find it all the more prominent. Hasrat took it lightly, but in Jigar it is the beating of his heart. According to Prof. Rashid Ahmad Siddiqi, this is the place where character makes poetry high or low. Here we find actual difference between poetry and propaganda.

Stanza 44

Generally, it had been the tradition from yore that the poets translated the feelings of the lovers and showed them bowing before their lady-loves to invite their attention and favours; but Jigar opened a new chapter by translating the feelings of the lady-loves. He maintained equal respect of the lovers and the lady-loves. The character of the lady-love presented by the Urdu poets in general is not good. We do not like it, but the character of the lady-love presented by Jigar is so fine that we cannot help appreciate it. Urdu poetry is really grateful to him for this novelty.

Jigar is the poet of love. But he is opposed to purchase at low cost his beloved as most second rate poets do. He knows very well the delicate relation of beauty and love and wants to maintain it all costs.

Jigar's attachment with Asghar was personal, but in poetry he was quite different. In Asghar's verses, we find excess of thoughts, but lack of emotions. In Jigar's verses, we fi

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Tread Without Orders Unpredictable Steps

I according to teenage character summaries
lack appeasement walk boldly where angels
fear to tread without orders unpredictable steps


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Teenage love.

Teenage love.
Spending hours on the phone.
Never even thinking about homework.
Staying up late and being late the next morning.
Thinking that nothing else is important.
Having that awkward first time together.
Annoying your friends about how much you like him.

Teenage love.
Thinking it lasts forever.

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Ninety-Nine Percent

Those motivated,
By the ninety-nine percent movement...
Should be commended,
For this stance they take.

It is true that corporate greed,
Has gotten out of hand.
And the banking system...
As of late,
Can say they have customers...
They can rely on as devoted fans.

But...
There has been one hundred percent,
Of those living hungry and in homelessness...
That have been seen on a daily basis.

And,
Wouldn't it have been a greater statement to make...
If those ninety-nine percenters,
Had come to empathize the ones in dire straits.
With equal entitlements,
But not given the same collective focus...
To have their predicaments remedied,
With a purpose to see this social tragedy end.

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Unlimited Point of View

Disabled, or Divergently Abled,
Depends on individual point of view
As by personal path recently led
My parameter is now somewhat new

For any roadway that is very steep
Or too rocky to be traversed on wheel
For every stream I may no longer leap
Other paths, providence does reveal

For every mountain I can not climb
Beneath rests a peaceful valley green
Offering a view still quite sublime
Each majestic peak will yet be seen

For every Eagle that might soar too high
A Songbird will cheerfully flit close by
Watching the stallion gallop in the sun
I know the jubilance born of full run

Point of view is a peculiar thing
Originating not from eye alone
Drawing from the unique mindset we bring
Rises each vision we have ever known

Each day proceeds to offer something new
As one chapter ends the next has its start
There is no such thing as limited view
If you but search with unlimited heart

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In the Midst of My Research

Sex sex sex sex!
That's all you filthy kids,
Consume yourselves with these days.
You should be seeking redemption,
For your tainted lost souls.

'Grandpa...
These are not my magazines.
Mom said she found them,
While vacuuming under your bed.
Do you want them?
Or should they be thrown away? '

Listen!
And closely.
Tell your mother,
I am in the midst of my research.
If she and your father,
Aren't going to keep up to date with you kids...
Who else will ensure you are aware of these ills?
Santa Claus?

No!
Don't throw them away.
I'm very close to preparing my talk with you.
Hand them to me.

'When is that going to be, grandpa? '

Neveryoumind...
Just hand them over.
I'll discuss this with your folks, first.
To co-ordinate our schedules.
You go outside and play with your friends.
And before you do...
Make sure you tell your mother of my plans.
I'm sure she had no clue of my concerns.

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