DARA.

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BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

———

When Persia’s sceptre trembled in a hand

Wilted by harem-heats, and all the land

Was hovered over by those vulture ills

That snuff decaying empire from afar,

Then, with a nature balanced as a star,

Dara arose, a shepherd of the hills.

He, who had governed fleecy subjects well,

Made his own village, by the self-same spell,

Secure and peaceful as a guarded fold,

Till, gathering strength by slow and wise degrees,

Under his sway, to neighbor villages

Order returned, and faith and justice old.

Now when it fortuned that a king more wise

Endued the realm with brain and hands and eyes,

He sought on every side men brave and just,

And, having heard the mountain-shepherd’s praise,

How he renewed the mould of elder days,

To Dara gave a satrapy in trust.

So Dara shepherded a province wide,

Nor in his viceroy’s sceptre took more pride

Than in his crook before; but Envy finds

More soil in cities than on mountains bare,

And the frank sun of spirits clear and rare

Breeds poisonous fogs in low and marish minds.

Soon it was whispered at the royal ear

That, though wise Dara’s province, year by year,

Like a great spunge, drew wealth and plenty up,

Yet, when he squeezed it at the king’s behest,

Some golden drops, more rich than all the rest,

Went to the filling of his private cup.

For proof, they said that wheresoe’er he went

A chest, beneath whose weight the camel bent,

Went guarded, and no other eye had seen

What was therein, save only Dara’s own,

Yet, when ’twas opened, all his tent was known

To glow and lighten with heapt jewels’ sheen.

The king set forth for Dara’s province straight,

Where, as was fit, outside his city’s gate

The viceroy met him with a stately train;

And there, with archers circled, close at hand,

A camel with the chest was seen to stand;

The king grew red, for thus the guilt was plain.

“Open me now,” he cried, “you treasure-chest!”

’Twas done, and only a worn shepherd’s vest

Was found within; some blushed and hung the head,

Not Dara; open as the sky’s blue roof

He stood, and “O, my lord, behold the proof

That I was worthy of my trust!” he said.

“For ruling men, lo! all the charm I had;

My soul, in those coarse vestments ever clad,

Still to the unstained past kept true and leal,

Still on these plains could breathe her mountain air,

And Fortune’s heaviest gifts serenely bear,

Which bend men from the truth, and make them reel.

“To govern wisely I had shown small skill

Were I not lord of simple Dara still;

That sceptre kept, I cannot lose my way!”

Strange dew in royal eyes grew round and bright,

And thrilled the trembling lids; before ’twas night

Two added provinces blessed Dara’s sway.