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作词 : arabesque Choche |
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作曲 : arabesque Choche |
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A poem JAFFÁR by Leigh Hunt |
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Jaffár, the Barmecide, the good vizier |
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The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer |
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Jaffár was dead, slain by a doom unjust |
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And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust |
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Of what the good, and e'en the bad, might say |
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Ordained that no man living from that day |
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Should dare to speak his name on pain of death |
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All Araby and Persia held their breath |
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All but the brave Mondeer: he, proud to show |
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How far for love a grateful soul could go, |
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And facing death for very scorn and grief |
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For his great heart wanted a great relief |
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Stood forth in Bagdad daily, in the square |
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Where once had stood a happy house, and there |
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Harangued the tremblers at the scimitar |
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On all they owed to the divine Jaffár |
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"Bring me this man," the caliph cried |
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the man was brought, was gazed upon. |
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The mutes began to bind his arms |
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"Welcome, brave cords," cried he |
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"From bonds far worse Jaffár delivered me; |
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From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears |
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Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears; |
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Restored me, loved me, put me on a par |
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With his great self. How can I pay Jaffár?" |
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Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this |
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The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss |
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Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate |
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Might smile upon another half as great. |
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He said, "Let worth grow frenzied if it will; |
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The caliph's judgment shall be master still. |
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Go, and since gifts so move thee, take this gem, |
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The richest in the Tartar's diadem, |
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And hold the giver as thou deemest fit!" |
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"Gifts! "cried the friend; |
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he took, and holding it high toward the heavens |
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as though to meet his star, |
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Exclaimed |
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"This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffár!" |
