A Song to Mahomet (1772- 73)

 

See the mountain spring

Flash gladdening

Like a glance of stars;

Higher than the clouds

Kindly spirits

FuelIed his youth

In thickets twixt the crags.

 

Brisk as a young blade

Out of cloud he dances

Down to marble rocks

And leaps again

Skyward exultant.

 

Down passages that hang from peaks

He chases pebbles many-coloured,

Early like a leader striding

Snatches up and carries onward

Brother torrents.

 

Flowers are born beneath his footprint

In the valley down below,

From his breathing

Pastures live.

 

Yet no valley of the shadows

Can contain him

And no flowers that clasp his knees,

Blandishing with looks of love;

To the lowland bursts his way,

A snake uncoiling.

 

Freshets nestle

Flocking to his side. He comes

Into the lowland, silver sparkling,

And with him the lowland sparkles,

And the lowland rivers call,

Mountain freshets call exultant:

Brother, take your brothers with you,

With you to your ancient father,

To the everlasting ocean,

Who with open arms awaits us,

Arms which, ah, open in vain

To clasp us who are craving for him;

Avid sand consumes us

In the desert, sun overhead

Will suck our blood, blocked by a hill

To pools we shrink! Brother, take us,

Take your lowland brothers with you,

Take your brothers of the mountains,

To your father take us all!

 

Join me then!

And now he swells

More lordly still; one single kin,

They loft the prince and bear him high

Onward as he rolls triumphant,

Naming countries, in his track

Towns and cities come to be.

 

On he rushes, unrelenting,

Leaves the turrets tipped with flame,

Marble palaces, creation

Of his plenitude, behind him.

 

Cedar houses he like Atlas

Carries on his giant shoulders;

Flags a thousand rustling flutter

In the air above his head,

Testifying to his glory.

 

So he bears his brothers, bears

His treasures and his children surging

In a wave of joy tumultuous

To their waiting father's heart.

 

 

Translated by Christopher Middleton