Bird Parliament · 17 of 20

Preparation for the Journey

So spake the Tajidar: but Fear and Doubt Among the Birds in Whispers went about: Great was their Need: and Succour to be sought At any Risk: at any Ransom bought: But such a Monarch—greater than Mahmud The Great Himself! Why how should he be woo’d To listen to them? they too have come O So suddenly, and unprepared from home With any Gold, or Jewel, or rich Thing To carry with them to so great a King— Poor Creatures! with the old and carnal Blind, Spite of all said, so thick upon the Mind, Devising how they might ingratiate Access, as to some earthly Potentate.

‘Let him that with this Monarch would engage Bring the Gold Dust of a long Pilgrimage: The Ruby of a bleeding Heart, whose Sighs Breathe more than Amber-incense as it dies; And while in naked Beggary he stands Hope for the Robe of Honour from his Hands.’ And, as no gift this Sovereign receives Save the mere Soul and Self of him who gives, So let that Soul for other none Reward Look than the Presence of its Sovereign Lord.’ And as his Hearers seem’d to estimate Their Scale of Glory from Mahmud the Great, A simple Story of the Sultan told How best a subject with his Shah made bold—

One night Shah Mahmud who had been of late Somewhat distemper’d with Affairs of State Stroll’d through the Streets disguised, as wont to do— And, coming to the Baths, there on the Flue Saw the poor Fellow who the Furnace fed Sitting beside his Water-jug and Bread. Mahmud stept in—sat down—unask’d took up And tasted of the untasted Loaf and Cup, Saying within himself, ‘Grudge but a bit, And, by the Lord, your Head shall pay for it!’ So having rested, warm’d and satisfied Himself without a Word on either side, At last the wayward Sultan rose to go. And then at last his Host broke silence—‘So?— Art satisfied? Well, Brother, any Day Or Night, remember, when you come this Way And want a bit of Provender—why, you Are welcome, and if not—why, welcome too.’— The Sultan was so tickled with the whim Of this quaint Entertainment and of him Who offer’d it, that many a Night again Stoker and Shah forgather’d in that Vein— Till, the poor Fellow having stood the Test Of true Good-fellowship, Mahmud confess’d One Night the Sultan that had been his Guest: And in requital of the scanty Dole The Poor Man offer’d with so large a soul, Bid him ask any Largess that he would A Throne—if he would have it, so he should. The Poor Man kiss’d the Dust, and ‘All,’ said he, ‘I ask is what and where I am to be; If but the Shah from time to time will come As now and see me in the lowly Home His presence makes a palace, and my own Poor Flue more royal than another’s Throne.’

So said the cheery Tale: and, as they heard, Again the Heart beneath the Feather stirr’d: Again forgot the Danger and the Woes Of the long Travel in its glorious Close:— ‘Here truly all was Poverty, Despair And miserable Banishment—but there That more than Mahmud, for no more than Prayer Who would restore them to their ancient Place, And round their Shoulders fling his Robe of Grace.’ They clapp’d their Wings, on Fire to be assay’d And prove of what true Metal they were made, Although defaced, and wanting the true Ring And Superscription of their rightful King.