A speaker of the tongue of days of old
A tale that thou wilt muse to hear thus told:—
There was in Hind a monarch, Kaid by name,
Whose sole pursuit was knowledge and advice;
He had a sage's heart, a prince's brain,
King's bearing and the Grace of archimages.
He dreamed a dream ten nights successively—
A portent: mark it well. The men of learning
In Hindústán, the mighty both in word
And lore, the sages and the counsellors,
Met at his bidding, and he told his dreams
At large without reserve; but every heart
Was full of deep concern, each visage wan,
For there was none that could interpret them.
Then said a sage to Kaid: “O sovereign,
Memorial of the great and man of wisdom!
There is a famous one by name Mihrán,
Who hath attained his fill of earthly lore.
He will not sleep or rest him in a city,
And liveth but with cattle of the field,
Subsisting on the herbs upon the mountains,
And not accounting us as fellow-men;
His home is with the onager and deer,
Apart from habitation and mankind;

Naught in the world doth injure him; devout
Is he, and of high fortune.”

To the sage

Thus said king Kaid: “One must not overlook
This virtuous man.”

Moved by Mihrán's renown

He mounted then and there upon his steed,
While, lest he should grow downcast, men of lore
Escorted him. The monarch reached Mihrán,
Saluted courteously the sage, and said:—
“Thou devotee who with the mountain-sheep
Inhabitest the heights! hear thou with care,
And then interpret wisely, these my dreams:
Know that one night, O wise and holy man!
I slept in peace, unfrighted, undismayed,
No care at heart, no impulse in my head,
And in my chamber there was none with me.
Night's noon had passed, but dawn was not. I saw
A habitation like a vasty palace;
Therein a huge, fierce elephant. The dwelling
Showed doorless, but had one strait aperture
Wherethrough that savage elephant would pass
Uninjured by the straitness; its black bulk
Would pass therethrough, but leave its trunk behind.
Next night I saw the throne devoid of lord
Fair-fortuned, but upon the ivory seat
Sat one who donned the heart-delighting crown.
The third night came; I made me haste to sleep,
And dreamed that I beheld a goodly kerchief
Whereat four men tugged till their cheeks turned blue
With pulling, yet the kerchief was not rent,
Nor were the men fordone. Upon the fourth night
I saw, illustrious sage! a man athirst
Beside a stream. O'er him a fish kept pouring
The water, yet his droughty head was dry
Although the water followed as he moved!
How read'st thou this, good friend? Upon the fifth night
My mind dreamed of a city by the water.
The citizens though blind seemed none the worse,
For thou hadst said: ‘The whole place is afire
With liberality and trafficking!’
Upon the sixth night, honoured lord! I saw
A city, all whose citizens were sick,
And went to question those in health, who first,
Preventing them, inquired: ‘How came ye thus
With body aching and with heart o'ercharged?’

And then the sick, whose soul had reached their lips,
Sought of the healthy for a remedy.
When half the seventh night had passed I saw
A horse that grazed at will upon the plain;
It had two fore, two hind, feet, and two heads,
And cropped the grass off quickly with its teeth.
It grazed on both sides with its double mouth,
And yet its body was without a vent!
I saw upon the eighth night, holy man!
Three vases on the ground set all a-row,
Two filled with water but the central empty,
And dry for many a year. Two worthies tried
To fill it from the others whose contents
Were minished not by pouring while the dry
Remained with lip unmoistened. On the ninth night
I dreamed that I beheld a cow reposing
'Mid grass and water in the sun. A calf,
Small, gaunt, and wizened, with lack-lustre face,
Was standing just before her, and she sucked it!
The cow was lusty and the calf was weak.
If thou wilt lend thine ear to my tenth dream
Thou wilt not grow aweary ere I end.
Upon a spacious plain I saw a spring
With streams and dykes about it. All the champaign
Was watered yet the fountain-head was dry.
I prithee answer and reveal the future.”
Mihrán, when he had heard this thing from Kaid,
Said: “Be not sick at heart about this dream;
Thy fame shall fail not, ill not reach this realm.
Sikandar will lead forth a mighty host,
The chosen chieftains of Írán and Rúm,
And, if thou wouldst still rule, consort with wisdom,
And fight him not. Four things thou hast whose
equals
None, great or small, e'er saw. One is thy daughter,
Like Paradise above, through whom thy crown
Is bright on earth; the next thy privy sage,
Who telleth thee the secrets of the world;
The third thy worthy leech, most famed of doctors;
The fourth a cup wherein, if thou pour water,
That water will not heat for sun or fire,
No drinking minish it. These will defeat
All his endeavours, for when he shall come
Confide in these, and not in war, if thou
Wouldst have him gone betimes. Thou canst not face
His troops, his strategy, his realm, and treasure.
As wisely I advise thee so will I
Interpret these thy dreams. Thou didst behold
A dwelling and strait aperture wherethrough
Passed elephant but left its trunk behind.
Now hear the rede of the interpreter.
Know that this dwelling imageth the world,
The elephant a thankless king, unjust,
False in his words, and royal but in name,
A man of mean heart and of feeble body,
Keen in his greed and gloomy in his soul.
At length, when he shall pass away, his name
Abideth in dishonour in the end.
Thy second dream concerning crown and throne,
Which one man voided and another gained,
Illustrateth that this inconstant world
Removeth one and speedeth up another.
As for thy third dream of that goodly kerchief,
Clutched by four righteous men yet never rent
Though they that tugged thereat were never weary:
Hereafter there will come a man renowned
Forth from the desert of spear-wielding horsemen,
A holy, virtuous man by whom the Faith
Of God will come to be four-square, and, know,
'Tis imaged by that kerchief, while the four
That tug thereat tug in safe-guarding it.
One Faith is the Dihkán's who worshippeth
The Fire, and taketh not the sacred twigs
Save with a muttered prayer.*

Another one
Is that of Moses, which thou call'st the Jew's,
Who saith: ‘None other should be praised’; another
That of Yúnán,*

a good Faith making just
The great king's*

heart; and, fourth, the Arabian,
Pure and exalting from the dust the prudent.
Four parties thus assuming to be guardians
Tug at the kerchief in their several ways,
And, as they pull against each other thus,
Antagonize for their religion's sake.
Then, fourthly, for the droughty man who shunned
Sweet water which a fish threw after him:
A time will come when holy men will be,
Just like that fish, despised as having drunk
Of wisdom's stream; but evil-doers' heads
Will be exalted to the Pleiades.
When one shall call the thirsty to the water
None wisely will respond, but all will shun
The wisdom-seeker and combine to curse him.
In thy fifth. dream thou sawest a busy city.
The burghers spent their lives in feasting, largess,
And trafficking, but ‘Fortune,’ thou hadst said,
‘Had sewn their eyes up so that none could see

Another.’ This referreth to a time
When wise men will be slaves to ignorant,
Who will despise the erudite and these,
Their tree of wisdom fruiting not for them,
Will laud, and openly commend, the witless,
Though conscious of their own hypocrisy,
And that such service is inglorious.
As for the sixth dream, when the ailing sick
All went to question those in health: a time
Will come wherein the wretched mendicant
Will be misprizèd in the rich man's eyes,
And turn in his resourcelessness to any
Possessed of goods, who will not give him aught,
So that he will become a wageless servant,
Or else a slave without the purchasing.
As for the ventless and two-headed steed
Of thy seventh dream: a time will come when men
Will joy in wealth and never have enough.
The beggar, student, and celebrity
Will get no share from them, for they will think
Of no one save themselves and help not any.
As to thine eighth dream of two vases brimming,
And one left wholly void, two vases filled
With lucid water, and the middle one
All dry and moistureless: a time will come
Wherein the poor will grow so weak and wretched
That, though the clouds of springtide, charged with
showers,
Shall hide the sunshine from the mendicant,
Those very showers not e'en then will descend
On him, and he will be heart-stricken. The rich
Will lavish gifts among themselves and bandy
Their honied compliments while beggars go
With droughty lips and so pass day to night.
As for the ninth wherein a lusty cow
Sucked its lean calf: when Saturn entereth Libra
The world will be beneath the strong arm, poor
And sick fare ill, and yet the well-to-do
Will still exact from them, will never open
Their own hoards, nor abate the others' travail.
In thy tenth dream thou sawest a fountain dry,
With waters all about it savouring musk,
Yet no clear stream of water bubbled forth,
And sped to mingle with those other waters.*

A time is coming when the world will have
A king that is devoid of understanding,
A king whose dark soul will be full of dudgeon,
The whole world gloom beneath his tyranny,
And never good be found among his treasures.

He ever will be gathering fresh hosts
To win his crown new fame, but in the end
This monarch and his hosts will pass away,
And there will be a change of dynasty.
But our time is the epoch of Sikandar,
Who is the crown upon the heads of nobles.
Upon his coming give him these four things;*

Methinketh not that he will ask for more,
But, when thou dost content him, pass thee by,
For he is diligent to learn and wise.”
Kaid, having heard the matter from Mihrán,
Regained the vigour of his former years,
Came, kissed the sage's head and eyes, and went
His ways triumphant, happy, and content.