Our Othman spake."The elder to him turned
His face benignant.
"'Is there in the Book2 A saying that would make it sin for me To marry ?' "'Nay, son, speak thou whole of heart.' "'Then be it whole of heart,' young Othman said, 'And to thy saintliness.' And stooping low, He raised the other's hand, and kissed it once, And then again, and humbly. 'At the brook But now I saw thy daughter Malkatoon— Nay, be thou restful!— Drink for soothe of thirst Was what I sought. Her presence made the place In holiness a Mosque, and bade me off, And I ran trembling here. And that which was Not more than thirst is now a fever grown, A fever of the soul. And if I may Not wed her, then it were not well to let My morning run to dismal noon of life; Nor shall it. See, now, O Edebali! Here at thy feet my soul. Save Malkatoon's, Thou canst not find one whiter.' "And he knelt, And laid his forehead lowly in the dust; And at the sight, Edebali made haste, And both hands helpful raised the suppliant, Saying,' O gentle son of Ertoghrul! What Allah of his love and bounty gives, That we shall keep, and in the keeping make Our care of it becoming thanks and praise. Thou knowest I love thee'— "His farther speech Was tearful. "'I remember well the day A woman beautiful, and mine in love And wifely bonds, and dying of the birth, Gave me her baby, saying, I have named It Malkatoon,3 and as thou dost by it, So Allah will by thee. Ah, verily! The Prophet measureth the very show Of evil gainst the good; and dost thou think It full enough with Him that I have kept. The child in bread and happy singing all The morning through, if now, her noon at hand, I give her up to certain misery? A prince art thou, and she but dervish born; And men will laugh, and with their laughter kill.' "And to and fro he walked, and wrung his hands, While all the lineless wrinkling on his face From thought, and fast, and vigils long endured, The deeper pursed itself; and when he stopt, It was to say, 'To Allah let us leave The judgment, prince. Who dares in Him to trust May always hope. So canst thou hither bring A pigeon from an eagle's nest escaped Unruffled, or a lamb that overnight Hath harmless lain with lions, it will be As speech to me, and I will do His will. Knowest thou the Legend on the seal of God? Our lives are but the wax on which 'tis stamped. They call it Kismet.' "And with that he drew His robe, long, loose, and trimmed with yellow fur About him close, and left the youth alone And wonder-struck, but none the less in love. Then down the broad and travel-beaten road Our Othman, pensive, went to where his train Of tribesmen waited.
Othman and His Tribesmen
"'Ho, now! Hood the hawks,
And leash the whimpering hounds. The day is done.'
Thus he to them.
"They stared, and in his palm
One whispered, l Oh! It is the evil eye.'
"A bolder spake, 'My lord, it is but noon.'
"And yet a third addressed his hunter's love
In strain more cunning, 'Has my lord forgot
The heron in the marsh?'
"But he, low-voiced
And patient, answered them, 'Nor hawk, nor hound,
Nor heron more for me, for I have seen
A lily with a star's light in its cup.
'Tis something by the breath of Allah blown
This way from Paradise, I swiftly thought,
And all impulsive would have made it mine
But that a voice forbade; and now I go
To find what never mortal eyes have seen—
A pigeon from an eagle's nest escaped,
Or in a lion's den a lamb alive.
So on my breast the lily I may wear,
And in my heart the star's light.'
"Then their eyes
Were hot with dew of tears repressed by awe.
For strangers to the sweet delirium
Which only lovers know, and know to make
The gentle-hearted gentler, and the brave
More covetous as errants in the
Land Of the Impossible, they thought him mad;
And at his feet one wistful flung himself,
With outcry, 'I was born to serve my lord,
And go with him.'
"Whereat the others drowned
His voice with theirs united, 'And so were we.'
"But Othman waved them off: 'Bring me my horse.
But yesterday from noon to set of sun
He kept the shadow of the flying hawk
A plaything 'neath his music-making feet.
I will not comrade else.'
"Tent born and bred,
The steed was brought, its hoofs like agate bowls,
Its breast a vast and rounded hemisphere,
With lungs to gulf a north wind at a draught.
Under its forelock, copious and soft
As tresses of a woman loosely combed,
He set a kiss, and in its nostrils breathed
An exhalation, saying, to be heard
By all around, 'Antar, now art thou brute
No longer. I have given thee a soul,
Even my own.'
"And as he said, it was,
And not miraculously, as the fool
Declares; for midst the other harmonies
By Allah wrought, the hero and his horse
Have always been as one.
"And when they saw
Him in the saddle, face and eyes aglow
With the low-burning, splendor-chastened flame
That serves the Angel of the pallid wing
In lighting martyrs on their rueful way,
They closed around him, and of their charms
And priceless amulets despoiled themselves,
