Bird Parliament · 3 of 20

The Pheasant

Thus spoke the Tajidar: and the wing’d Crowd, That underneath his Word in Silence bow’d, Clapp’d Acclamation: and their Hearts and Eyes Were kindled by the Firebrand of the Wise. They felt their Degradation: they believed The word that told them how to be retrieved, And in that glorious Consummation won Forgot the Cost at which it must be done. ‘They only long’d to follow: they would go Whither he led, through Flood, or Fire, or Snow’— So cried the Multitude. But some there were Who listen’d with a cold disdainful air, Content with what they were, or grudging Cost Of Time or Travel that might all be lost; These, one by one, came forward, and preferr’d Unwise Objection: which the wiser Word Shot with direct Reproof, or subtly round With Argument and Allegory wound.

The Pheasant first would know by what pretence The Tajidar to that pre-eminence Was raised—a Bird, but for his lofty Crest (And such the Pheasant had) like all the Rest— Who answer’d—‘By no Virtue of my own Sulayman chose me, but by His alone: Not by the Gold and Silver of my Sighs Made mine, but the free Largess of his Eyes. Behold the Grace of Allah comes and goes As to Itself is good: and no one knows Which way it turns: in that mysterious Court Not he most finds who furthest travels for’t. For one may crawl upon his knees Life-long, And yet may never reach, or all go wrong: Another just arriving at the Place He toil’d for, and—the Door shut in his Face: Whereas Another, scarcely gone a Stride, And suddenly—Behold he is Inside!— But though the Runner win not, he that stands, No Thorn will turn to Roses in his Hands: Each one must do his best and all endure, And all endeavour, hoping but not sure. Heav’n its own Umpire is; its Bidding do, And Thou perchance shalt be Sulayman’s too.’

One day Shah Mahmud, riding with the Wind A-hunting, left his Retinue behind, And coming to a River, whose swift Course Doubled back Game and Dog, and Man and Horse, Beheld upon the Shore a little Lad A-fishing, very poor, and Tatter-clad He was, and weeping as his Heart would break. So the Great Sultan, for good humour’s sake Pull’d in his Horse a moment, and drew nigh, And after making his Salam, ask’d why He wept—weeping, the Sultan said, so sore As he had never seen one weep before. The Boy look’d up, and ‘O Amir,’ he said, ‘Sev’n of us are at home, and Father dead, And Mother left with scarce a Bit of Bread: And now since Sunrise have I fish’d—and see! Caught nothing for our Supper—Woe is Me!’ The Sultan lighted from his horse. ‘Behold,’ Said he, ‘Good Fortune will not be controll’d: And, since Today yours seems to turn from you, Suppose we try for once what mine will do, And we will share alike in all I win.’ So the Shah took, and flung his Fortune in, The Net; which, cast by the Great Mahmud’s Hand, A hundred glittering Fishes brought to Land. The Lad look’d up in Wonder—Mahmud smiled And vaulted into Saddle. But the Child Ran after—‘Nay, Amir, but half the Haul Is yours by Bargain’—‘Nay, Today take all,’ The Sultan cried, and shook his Bridle free— ‘But mind—Tomorrow All belongs to Me—‘ And so rode off. Next morning at Divan The Sultan’s Mind upon his Bargain ran, And being somewhat in a mind for sport Sent for the Lad: who, carried up to Court, And marching into Royalty’s full Blaze With such a Catch of Fish as yesterday’s, The Sultan call’d and set him by his side, And asking him, ‘What Luck?’ The Boy replied, ‘This is the Luck that follows every Cast, Since o’er my Net the Sultan’s Shadow pass’d.’