Certain Maxims of Hafiz

IX.

If He play, being young and unskilful, for shekels of silver and gold,

Take His money, my son, praising Allah. The kid was ordained to be sold.

With a

"weed "

the best,

X.

among men or horses verily this is

That you work him in office or dog-cart lightly — but give him no rest.

XI.

Pleasant the snaffle of Courtship, improving the man. ners and carriage;

But the colt who is wise will abstain from the terrible thorn-bit of Marriage.

XII.

As the thriftless gold of the babul, so is the gold that we spend

On a Derby Sweep, or our neighbor's wife, or the horse that we buy from a friend.

XIII.

The ways of man with a maid be strange, yet simple and tame

To the ways of a man with a horse, when selling or racing that same.

Babul: A jungle tree, the mimosa, yellow-flowered.

XIV.

In public Her face turneth to thee, and pleasant Her smile when ye meet.

It is ill. The cold rocks of El-Gidar smile thus on the waves at their feet.

In public Her face is averted, with anger She nameth thy name.

It is well.

Was there ever a loser content with the loss of the game?

XV.

If She have spoken a word, remember thy lips are sealed,

And the Brand of the Dog is upon him by whom is the secret revealed.

If She have written a letter, delay not an instant, but

burn it.

Tear it in pieces, O Fool, and the wind to her mate shall return it!

If there be trouble to Herward, and a lie of the blackest can clear,

Lie, while thy lips can move or a man is alive to hear.

XVI.

My Son, if a maiden deny thee and scufflingly bid thee give o'er,

Yet lip meets with lip at the lastward

has been there before,

- get out! She

They are pecked on the ear and the chin and the nose

who are lacking in lore.

Certain Maxims of Hafiz

XVII.

If we fall in the race, though we win, the hoof-slide is scarred on the course.

Though Allah and Earth pardon Sin, remaineth forever Remorse.

XVIII.

"By all I am misunderstood!" if the Matron shall say, or the Maid:

"Alas! I do not understand," my son, be thou nowise afraid.

In vain in the sight of the Bird is the net of the Fowler displayed.

XIX.

My son, if I, Hafiz, thy father, take hold of thy knees in my pain,

Demanding thy name on stamped paper, one day or one hour refrain.

-

Are the links of thy fetters so light that thou cravest another man's chain?

THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED

HEAD

There's a widow in sleepy Chester
Who weeps for her only son;
There's a grave on the Pabeng River,
A grave that the Burmans shun,
And there's Subadar Prag Tewarri
Who tells how the work was done.

A snider squibbed in the jungle,
Somebody laughed and fled,
And the men of the First Shikaris

Picked up their Subaltern dead,
With a big blue mark in his forehead
And the back blown out of his head.

Subadar Prag Tewarri,

Jemadar Hira Lal,

Took command of the party,

Twenty rifles in all,

Marched them down to the river

As the day was beginning to fall.

They buried the boy by the river,
A blanket over his face-

Subadar: Native Captain.

Jemadar: Native first lieutenant.

The Grave of the Hundred Head

They wept for their dead Lieutenant,
The men of an alien race-
They made a samádh in his honor,
A mark for his resting-place.

For they swore by the Holy Water,
They swore by the salt they ate,
That the soul of Lieutenent Eshmitt Sahib
Should go to his God in state;

With fifty file of Burman

To open him Heaven's gate.

The men of the First Shikaris
Marched till the break of day
Till they came to the rebel village,
The village of Pabengmay-
A jingal covered the clearing,
Calthrops hampered the way.

Subadar Prag Tewarri,

Bidding them load with ball,
Halted a dozen rifles

Under the village wall;

Sent out a flanking party
With Jemadar Hira Lal.

The men of the First Shikaris
Shouted and smote and slew,

Samádh: A cairn.

Eshmitt Sahib: Mr. Smith.

Jingal: Old-fashioned artillery, a wheeled blunderbuss.