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1890 WHEN spring-time flushes the desert grass, | |
| Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. | |
| Lean are the camels but fat the frails, | |
| Light are the purses but heavy the bales, | |
| As the snowbound trade of the North comes down | 5 |
| To the market-square of Peshawur town. | |
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| In a turquoise twilight, crisp and chill, | |
| A kafila camped at the foot of the hill. | |
| Then blue smoke-haze of the cooking rose, | |
| And tent-peg answered to hammer-nose; | 10 |
| And the picketed ponies, shag and wild, | |
| Strained at their ropes as the feed was piled; | |
| And the bubbling camels beside the load | |
| Sprawled for a furlong adown the road; | |
| And the Persian pussy-cats, brought for sale, | 15 |
| Spat at the dogs from the camel-bale; | |
| And the tribesmen bellowed to hasten the food; | |
| And the camp-fires twinkled by Fort Jumrood; | |
| And there fled on the wings of the gathering dusk | |
| A savour of camels and carpets and musk, | 20 |
| A murmur of voices, a reek of smoke, | |
| To tell us the trade of the Khyber woke. | |
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| The lid of the flesh-pot chattered high, | |
| The knives were whetted andthen came I | |
| To Mahbub Ali, the muleteer, | 25 |
| Patching his bridles and counting his gear, | |
| Crammed with the gossip of half a year. | |
| But Mahbub Ali the kindly said, | |
| Better is speech when the belly is fed. | |
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| So we plunged the hand to the mid-wrist deep | 30 |
| In a cinnamon stew of the fat-tailed sheep, | |
| And he who never hath tasted the food, | |
| By Allah! he knoweth not bad from good. | |
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| We cleansed our beards of the mutton-grease, | |
| We lay on the mats and were filled with peace, | 35 |
| And the talk slid north, and the talk slid south, | |
| With the sliding puffs from the hookah-mouth. | |
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| Four things greater than all things are, | |
| Women and Horses and Power and War. | |
| We spake of them all, but the last the most. | 40 |
| For I sought a word of a Russian post, | |
| Of a shifty promise, an unsheathed sword | |
| And a grey-coat guard on the Helmund ford. | |
| Then Mahbub Ali lowered his eyes | |
| In the fashion of one who is weaving lies. | 45 |
| Quoth he: Of the Russians who can say? | |
| When the night is gathering all is grey. | |
| But we look that the gloom of the night shall die | |
| In the morning flush of a blood-red sky. | |
| Friend of my heart, is it meet or wise | 50 |
| To warn a King of his enemies? | |
| We know what Heaven or Hell may bring, | |
| But no man knoweth the mind of the King. | |
| That unsought counsel is cursed of God | |
| Attesteth the story of Wali Dad. | 55 |
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| His sire was leaky of tongue and pen, | |
| His dam was a clucking Khuttuck hen; | |
| And the colt bred close to the vice of each, | |
| For he carried the curse of an unstanched speech. | |
| Therewith madnessso that he sought | 60 |
| The favour of kings at the Kabul court; | |
| And travelled, in hope of honour, far | |
| To the line where the grey-coat squadrons are. | |
| There have I journeyed toobut I | |
| Saw naught, said naught, anddid not die! | 65 |
| He hearked to rumour, and snatched at a breath | |
| Of this one knoweth and that one saith, | |
| Legends that ran from mouth to mouth | |
| Of a grey-coat coming, and sack of the South. | |
| These have I also heardthey pass | 70 |
| With each new spring and the winter grass. | |
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| Hot-foot southward, forgotten of God, | |
| Back to the city ran Wali Dad, | |
| Even to Kabulin full durbar | |
| The King held talk with his Chief in War. | 75 |
| Into the press of the crowd he broke, | |
| And what he had heard of the coming spoke. | |
| Then Gholam Hyder, the Red Chief, smiled, | |
| As a mother might on a babbling child; | |
| But those who would laugh restrained their breath, | 80 |
| When the face of the King showed dark as death. | |
| Evil it is in full durbar | |
| To cry to a ruler of gathering war! | |
| Slowly he led to a peach-tree small, | |
| That grew by a cleft of the city wall. | 85 |
| And he said to the boy: They shall praise thy zeal | |
| So long as the red spurt follows the steel. | |
| And the Russ is upon us even now? | |
| Great is thy prudencewait them, thou. | |
| Watch from the tree. Thou art young and strong. | 90 |
| Surely the vigil is not for long. | |
| The Russ is upon us, thy clamour ran? | |
| Surely an hour shall bring their van. | |
| Wait and watch. When the host is near, | |
| Shout aloud that my men may hear. | 95 |
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| Friend of my heart, is it meet or wise | |
| To warn a King of his enemies? | |
| A guard was set that he might not flee | |
| A score of bayonets ringed the tree. | |
| The peach-bloom fell in showers of snow, | 100 |
| When he shook at his death as he looked below. | |
| By the power of God, who alone is great, | |
| Till the seventh day he fought with his fate. | |
| Then madness took him, and men declare | |
| He mowed in the branches as ape and bear, | 105 |
| And last as a sloth, ere his body failed, | |
| And he hung like a bat in the forks, and wailed, | |
| And sleep the cord of his hands untied, | |
| And he fell, and was caught on the points and died. | |
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| Heart of my heart, is it meet or wise | 110 |
| To warn a King of his enemies? | |
| We know what Heaven or Hell may bring, | |
| But no man knoweth the mind of the King. | |
| Of the grey-coat coming who can say? | |
| When the night is gathering all is grey. | 115 |
| Two things greater than all things are, | |
| The first is Love, and the second War. | |
| And since we know not how War may prove, | |
| Heart of my heart, let us talk of Love! | |
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