XIV THE MORAL OF THE SCHOLAR

At Ispahan the notables were met In conclave. Seyid Rida, scholar scamp— As Dawlatshah records—perched in the porch: "Round the table sit the sages— Different views and different ages— Secretaries scribble pages, Taking down each 'er' and 'hem,' Taking down each word they utter Like the solemn measured sputter Of fat raindrops from a gutter. I speak last of them. "Outside in the summer weather Birds are talking all together, While a tiny pecked-out feather Flutters past the pane. Dare you own: The work before us Seems at moments like their chorus, Just a little more sonorous, Similar in strain? "Have a care! The bird that chatters Is the only bird that matters, Heedless of the hand that scatters Grains of sense or chaff Mid your Barmecides and Cleons. I have listened here for æons To these rooster-flights and pæans. No one heard me laugh. "Parrot, jackdaw, jay, and pigeon, Prose would be the whole religion Of the Nephelococcygian State to which you steer. If the earth remains a youngster With some waywardness amongst her Virtues, I should thank the songster Whom you cannot hear. "Tits that swing upon a thistle, Wrens and chats that pipe and whistle, Join their notes to our epistle, Where the bee-fraught lime Orchestrates the lark's espousal Not of causes but carousal: Owl, we hear you charge the ouzel With a waste of time! "Princeling, a fantastic prophet Tweaks your robe and bids you doff it, Offers you escape from Tophet On the wings of words. Spread them bravely, fly the town, sell All you have for this one counsel: Sing and never mind the groundsel! Come, we too are birds." Thereat the conclave fluttered and flew out, And I have heard them on the Persian roads, In half-dead cities. History repeats Nothing except the rose. But Persians say This was the last they heard of government.