A KBAR and A BUL F AZL before the palace at Futehpur-Sikri at night.

'LIGHT of the nations' ask'd his Chronicler

Of Akbar 'what has darken'd thee to-night?'

Then, after one quick glance upon the stars,

And turning slowly toward him, Akbar said

'The shadow of a dream  an idle one

It may be. Still I raised my heart to heaven,

I pray'd against the dream. To pray, to do 

To pray, to do according to the prayer,

Are, both, to worship AlIa, but the prayers,

That have no successor in deed, are faint

And pale in AlIa's eyes, fair mothers they

Dying in childbirth of dead sons. I vow'd

Whate'er my dreams, I still would do the right

Thro' all the vast dominion which a sword,

That only conquers men to conquer peace,

Has won me. AlIa be my guide! 1

But come,

My noble friend, my faithful counselIor,

Sit by my side. While thou art one with me,

I seem no longer like a lonely man

In the king's garden, gathering here and there

From each fair plant the blossom choicest-grown

To wreathe a crown not only for the king

But in due time for every Mussulman,

Brahmin, and Buddhist, Christian, and Parsee,

Thro' all the warring world of Hindustan. 2

WeIl spake thy brother in his hymn to heaven

"Thy glory baffles wisdom. AIl the tracks

Of science making toward Thy Perfectness

Are blinding desert sand; we scarce can speIl

The Alif of Thine Alphabet of Love." 3

He knows Himself, men nor themselves nor Him,

For every splinter'd fraction of a sect

Will clamour "I am on the Perfect Way,

All else is to perdition." 4

Shall the rose

Cry to the lotus "No flower thou"? the palm

Call to the cypress "I alone am fair"?

The mango spurn the melon at his foot?

"Mine is the one fruit Alla made for man." 5

Look how the living pulse of Alla beats

Thro' all His world. If every single star

Should shriek its claim "I only am in heaven"

Why that were such sphere-music as the Greek

Had hardly dream'd of. There is light in all,

And light, with more or less of shade, in all

Man-modes of worship; but our Ulama,

Who "sitting on green sofas contemplate

The torment of the damn'd" already, these

Are like wild brutes new-caged  the narrower

The cage, the more their fury. Me they front

With sullen brows. What wonder! I decreed

That even the dog was clean, that men may taste

Swine-flesh, drink wine; they know too that whene'er

In our free Hall, where each philosophy

And mood of faith may hold its own, they blurt

Their furious formalisms, I but hear

The clash of tides that meet in narrow seas, 

Not the Great Voice not the true Deep. 6

To drive

A people from their ancient fold of Faith,

And wall them up perforce in mine  unwise,

Unkinglike;  and the morning of my reign

Was redden'd by that cloud of shame when I . . . 7

I hate the rancour of their castes and creeds,

I let men worship as they will, I reap

No revenue from the field of unbelief.

I cull from every faith and race the best

And bravest soul for counsellor and friend.

I loathe the very name of infidel.

I stagger at the Koran and the sword.

I shudder at the Christian and the stake;

Yet "Alla," says their sacred book, "is Love,"

And when the Goan Padre quoting Him,

Issa Ben Mariam, his own prophet, cried

"Love one another little ones" and "bless"

Whom? even "your persecutors"! there methought

The cloud was rifted by a purer gleam

Than glances from the sun of our Islam. 8

And thou rememberest what a fury shook

Those pillars of a moulder'd faith, when he,

That other, prophet of their fall, proclaimed

His Master as "the Sun of Righteousness,"

Yea, Alla here on earth, who caught and held

His people by the bridle-rein of Truth. 9

What art thou saying? "And was not Alla call'd

In old Iran the Sun of Love? and Love

The net of truth?" 10

A voice from old Iran!

Nay, but I know it  his, the hoary Sheik,

On whom the women shrieking "Atheist" flung

Filth from the roof, the mystic melodist

Who all but lost himself in Alla, him

Abu Sa'id  11

 a sun but dimly seen

Here, till the mortal morning mists of earth

Fade in the noon of heaven, when creed and race

Shall bear false witness, each of each, no more,

But find their limits by that larger light,

And overstep them, moving easily

Thro' after-ages in the love of Truth,

The truth of Love. 12

The sun, the sun! they rail

At me the Zoroastrian. Let the Sun,

Who heats our earth to yield us grain and fruit,

And laughs upon thy field as well as mine,

And warms the blood of Shiah and Sunnee,

Symbol the Eternal! Yea and may not kings

Express Him also by their warmth of love

For all they rule  by equal law for all?

By deeds a light to men? 13

But no such light

Glanced from our Presence on the face of one,

Who breaking in upon us yestermorn,

With all the Hells a-glare in either eye,

Yell'd "hast thou brought us down a new Koran

From heaven? art thou the Prophet? canst thou work

Miracles?" and the wild horse, anger, plunged

To fling me, and fail'd. Miracles! no, not I

Nor he, nor any. I can but lift the torch

Of Reason in the dusky cave of Life,

And gaze on this great miracle, the World,

Adoring That who made, and makes, and is,

And is not, what I gaze on  all else Form,

Ritual, varying with the tribes of men. 14

Ay but, my friend, thou knowest I hold that forms

Are needful: only let the hand that rules,

With politic care, with utter gentleness,

Mould them for all his people. 15

And what are forms?

Fair garments, plain or rich, and fitting close

Or flying looselier, warm'd but by the heart

Within them, moved but by the living limb,

And cast aside, when old, for newer,  Forms!

The Spiritual in Nature's market-place 

The silent Alphabet-of-heaven-in-man

Made vocal  banners blazoning a Power

That is not seen and rules from far away 

A silken cord let down from Paradise,

When fine Philosophies would fail, to draw

The crowd from wallowing in the mire of earth,

And all the more, when these behold their Lord,

Who shaped the forms, obey them, and himself

Here on this bank in some way live the life

Beyond the bridge, and serve that Infinite

Within us, as without, that All-in-all,

And over all, the never-changing One

And ever-changing Many, in praise of Whom

The Christian bell, the cry from off the mosque,

And vaguer voices of Polytheism

Make but one music, harmonising, "Pray." 16

There westward  under yon slow-falling star,

The Christians own a Spiritual Head;

And following thy true counsel, by thine aid,

Myself am such in our Islam, for no

Mirage of glory, but for power to fuse

My myriads into union under one;

To hunt the tiger of oppression out

From office; and to spread the Divine Faith

Like calming oil on all their stormy creeds,

And fill the hollows between wave and wave;

To nurse my children on the milk of Truth,

And alchemise old hates into the gold

Of Love, and make it current; and beat back

The menacing poison of intolerant priests,

Those cobras ever setting up their hoods 

One Alla! one Kalifa! 18

Still  at times

A doubt, a fear,  and yester afternoon

I dream'd,  thou knowest how deep a well of love

My heart is for my son, Saleem, mine heir, 

And yet so wild and wayward that my dream-

He glares askance at thee as one of those

Who mix the wines of heresy in the cup

Of counsel  so  I pray thee  19

Well, I dream'd

That stone by stone I rear'd a sacred fane,

A temple, neither Pagod, Mosque, nor Church,

But loftier, simpler, always open-door'd

To every breath from heaven, and Truth and Peace

And Love and Justice came and dwelt therein;

But while we stood rejoicing, I and thou,

I heard a mocking laugh "the new Koran!"

And on the sudden, and with a cry "Saleem"

Thou, thou  I saw thee fall before me, and then

Me too the black-wing'd Azrael overcame,

But Death had ears and eyes; I watch'd my son,

And those that follow'd, loosen, stone from stone,

All my fair work; and from the ruin arose

The shriek and curse of trampled millions, even

As in the time before; but while I groan'd,

From out the sunset pour'd an alien race,

Who fitted stone to stone again, and Truth,

Peace, Love and Justice came and dwelt therein,

Nor in the field without were seen or heard

Fires of Suttee, nor wail of baby-wife,

Or Indian widow; and in sleep I said

"All praise to Alla by whatever hands

My mission be accomplish'd!" but we hear

Music: our palace is awake,and morn

Has lifted the dark eyelash of the Night

From off the rosy cheek of waking Day.

Our hymn to the sun. They sing it. Let us go.' 20

H YMN I Once again thou flamest heavenward, once again we see thee rise.

Every morning is thy birthday gladdening human hearts and eyes.

Every morning here we greet it, bowing lowly down before thee,

Thee the God1ike, thee the changeless in thine ever-changing skies. 21