genius shone in his eye, like the day-star when all the others are swallowed up in light. He spoke of the works of the great One; told how the cedar of Lebanon, when the sun kisses its forehead, lifts up its great arms with a shout, shaking off the feathery snow in winter, or the pearly dew of autumn, to freshen the late river that glistens at its foot. He spoke of the elephant, the antelope, the jackal, the camel, the eagle; he knew them all. He told of the fish that make glad the waters as the seasons dance and frolic round about their heads. He sang in liquid softness of the daughters of air who melt the heaven into song; he rose to the stars, spoke of old chaos, of the world, of the ladder Jacob saw.

"He is wiser than Solomon," said the king; "to him belongs the prize."

But at that moment some men in humble garb brought a stranger unwillingly along. His raiment was poor, but comely and snow-white. The seal of labor was on his hand; the dust of travel covered his sandals. His beard, long and silvery, went down to his girdle; a sweet smile, like a sleeping infant's, sat unconscious on his lip. As he leaned on his shepherd's staff in the gay court, a blush stole over his cheek.

"Speak," said the king.

"I have nothing to say," exclaimed the hoary man. "I know only how unwise and frail I am. I am no sage."

And Solomon's countenance rose. "By the sceptre of Elshaddai, I charge thee to speak, thou ancient man."

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Then he began: My study is myself; my acts, my sentiments. I learn how frail I am; I of myself can know nothing. I listen to that voice within, and I know all; I can do all." Then he spoke of his glees, his glooms, and his hopes; his aspirations, his faith. He spoke of nature, the modest trees, the pure, golden stars. When he came to Him who is All in All, he bowed his face and was dumb.

"Give him the ring," said Solomon. "He knows himself; he is the wisest. The spirit of the Holy is in him."

not.

"Take back thy gift," said the sage; "I need it He that knows himself needs no reward,— he knows God, he sees the All of things. Alas! I do but feebly know myself—I deserve no ring. Let me return to my home and my duty."

ANONYMOUS

57

SOLOMON AND THE SOWER

In open field King Solomon

Beneath the sky sets up his throne;
He sees a sower, walking, sowing,
On every side the seed-corn throwing.

"What dost thou there?" exclaimed the king; "The ground here can no harvest bring; Break off from such unwise beginning,Thou'lt get no crop that's worth the winning:"

The sower hears; his arm he sinks,

And, doubtful, he stands still and thinks;
Then goes he forward, strong and steady,
For the wise king this answer ready:-

"I've nothing else but this one field;
I've watched it, labored it and tilled.
What further use of pausing, guessing?

The corn from me,—from God the blessing."

FRIEDRICH RUECKERT

Translation from the German by N. L. Frothingham

58

SOLOMON AND THE ANT

Say Ar-Raheem! call Him "Compassionate,"
For He is pitiful to small and great.

'Tis written that the serving-angels stand
Beside God's throne, ten myriads on each hand,
Waiting, with wings outstretched and watchful

eyes,

To do their Master's heavenly embassies.

Quicker than thought His high commands they read,

Swifter than light to execute them speed;

Bearing the word of power from star to star,
Some hither and some thither, near and far.

And unto these naught is too high or low,
Too mean or mighty, if He wills it so;
Neither is any creature, great or small,
Beyond His pity, which embraceth all,
Because His eye beholdeth all which are;
Sees without search, and counteth without care.

How Gabriel, watching by the gates of gold,
Heard from the Voice Ineffable this word

Of twofold mandate uttered by the Lord:

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*

Go earthward! pass where Solomon hath made
His pleasure-house, and sitteth there arrayed,

Goodly and splendid—whom I crowned the king—
For at this hour my servant doth a thing
Unfitting; out of Nisibis there came

A thousand steeds with nostrils all aflame
And limbs of swiftness, prizes of the fight;
Lo! these are led, for Solomon's delight,
Before the palace, where he gazeth now,
Filling his heart with pride at that brave show;
So taken with the snorting and the tramp
Of his war-horses that Our silver lamp
Of eve is swung in vain,-Our warning Sun
Will sink before his sunset prayer's begun;
So shall the people say, 'This king, our lord,
Loves more the long-maned trophies of his sword
Than the remembrance of his God.' Go in!
Save thou my faithful servant from such sin.

"Also, upon the slope of Arafat, Beneath a lote-tree which is fallen flat,

Toileth a yellow ant who carrieth home

Food for her nest, but so far hath she come,
Her worn feet fail, and she will perish, caught
In the falling rain; but thou, make the way naught
And help her to her people in the cleft

Of the black rock.”

Silently Gabriel left

The Presence, and prevented the king's sin,
And holp the little ant at entering in.

O Thou whose love is wide and great,
We praise Thee, “The Compassionate.”

SIR EDWIN ARNOLD

59

SOLOMON AND THE ANTS

Of all the kings of fallen earth,

The sun has never shone

On one to match in power and worth
With ancient Solomon.

Master of Genii and of Men,

He ruled o'er sea and land;
Nor bird in nest, nor beast in den,
Was safe from his command.

So passed he, gloriously arrayed,
One morning, to review

The creatures God on earth has made,
And give Him homage due.