He marched thence to the country of the Brahmans
To make inquiry of their ancient rites
From those abstemious men. The Brahmans heard
News of the Sháh that he was marching thither,
And from the heights came down those devotees,
Assembling at the tidings. Then the sages
Wrote to Sikandar, chief of priests. The letter
Began with heart-felt blessings from the Lord
Of all upon the monarch of the world:—

“May the Sháh ever conquer, wax, and have
Both mastery, and knowledge,” then proceeded:—
“God hath bestowed on thee the mighty world,
Brave king! What wouldst thou in our meagre land,
The dwelling of God's worshippers? If thou
Dost come for wealth, good sooth! thy wits are failing!
It is our part to suffer and be wise;
Yea, knowledge maketh musical our souls.
Thou canst not rob us of long-suffering,
While knowledge harmeth none. Thou wilt but see
A naked flock dispersed by wind and snow,
And fain eat grass-seed if thou tarriest!”
The envoy, girt with roots of grass, approached
The Sháh who, having seen him and the letter,
Resolved to act aright and do no hurt.
He halted all his host and then proceeded
Himself with the philosophers of Rúm.
Informed thereof the devotees all came
To meet him on his way with paltry gifts,
Because they had no treasure, tilth, or crops,
And blessed that noble monarch of the earth.
Sikandar marked the Brahmans' looks and talk,
How they went bare of body, foot, and head,
Their bodies barren while their souls bare knowledge,
With grass for raiment and its seeds for food,
At ease from feast and battle-day, and how
They ate, reposed, and slept on plain and mountain,
And gathered everywhere in naked troops;
Their provand all of tree-fruits and the seeds
Of grasses on the mountain-tops, their girdles
The pelts of game, their raiment ready-made.*

He asked them of their ways of sleep and provand,
Rest and good days and fight: “What share have ye
Of this world's good? Hath Heaven no antidote
For bane save this alone?”

A sage replied:—

“O conqueror of the world! none of us talketh
Of war and strife; we need not clothes, stuffs, foods.
Man being born in mother-nakedness
Should not be dainty in his garniture,
And hence returneth naked to the dust,
Where all is fear, anxiety, and dread.
Earth coucheth and heaven clotheth us; our eyes,
Expectant of the ending, watch the way.
How much the ambitious striveth after things
Which, strife and all, are hardly worth a doit,

For when he goeth from this Wayside Inn
Behind are left his gold and crown and treasure!
But, know, his virtues bear him company
While both his head and state descend to dust.”
Sikandar asked of them: “Which number most—
The hidden or the manifest, to wit
The living or the dead whose needs are over?”
The sage replied: “Know, king! the hidden far
Exceed the manifest, for thou mayst reckon
Upon a hundred thousand dead and more
For each alive, and blest is one not outcast
In Hell. The living too must die. One goeth,
And leaveth his position to another.”
The Sháh inquired: “Is there most land or water
Illumined by the sun?”

The Brahman answered:—

“The water is the keeper of the land.”
He asked: “Who are the awakened, who the sinners
On earth? They make a stir, and many live
Not knowing wherefore they are here at all!”
The Brahman answered: “Know thou pure in heart
And justice-seeking chief! the awakened man
Is he whom little of this world sufficeth;
The guiltiest, one whose wisdom hath been docked
By hate and greed. If thou wouldst know such well
Look first upon thyself, for all earth's face
Is thine, and one would say that restless heaven
Is kin to thee, yet still thou schem'st for more,
And to withhold thy wits from grimy dust,
For greed is thy soul's hell, and it may be
That these our words may cause thee to repent.”
The Sháh inquired: “What is our ruling passion,
And our companion everywhere for evil?”
The Brahman answered: “Greed—the sum of hate,
And soul of sin.”

“What is its nature then,”

The Sháh asked, “seeing there is cause to weep
O'er this its passion for aggrandisement?”
The Brahman made this answer: “Greed and Need
Are two dívs and long-drawn calamities.
One hath its lips dried up with poverty,
The other sleepeth not to compass more,
While both are hunted by the evil day:
How blest is he whose soul is fed on wisdom!”
Now, when Sikandar heard, his face resembled
The bloom of fenugreek, his cheeks were pale,
Tears filled his eyes, his smiling countenance
Was drawn with frowns. The imperious Sháh in-
quired:—

“What would ye have of us? I will not grudge you
My treasures, nor regret what they have cost me.”
One said: “Exalted Sháh! deliver us
From eld and death.”

“Death is inexorable,”

The Sháh made answer. “How canst thou escape
That Dragon's piercing clutch? For wert thou iron
Thou wouldst not find release, while youth, if here
It tarrieth, is not exempt from eld.”
The Brahman said to him: “O mighty Sháh,
The world-lord, sage, and one whose word is law!
Thou knowest death to be remediless,
And that there is no worse calamity
Than eld. Why seek to win the world by toil,
Why in thy madness sniff the bloom of bale?
Thou wilt but leave the product of thy travail
Behind thee and bestow what thou hast toiled for,
And treasures, on the foe. To undertake
To toil for others is both ignorance
And folly. White hair is Death's messenger;
Why hope so much to live?”

The shrewd Sháh said:—

“If any of God's servants could escape
From His decree, I had escaped withal
By observation of the turning sky;
But neither man of lore nor warrior
Evadeth that decree, strive how he may.
Moreover they that perished in my wars,
Or had their days cut short by destiny,
Deserved their fate by bloodshed and ill deeds,
For no oppressor 'scapeth. They have suffered
God's chastisement for quitting wisdom's way.
'Tis not in man to limit heaven's powers,
Or shun the process of the passing hours.”