One thwacking made me seriously reflect;
A second turned the cream of love to curd:
Most surely that profession I reject
Before the fear of a prospective third.
So the Vizier said, ''Tis well, thou turnest verse neatly.' And he exclaimed extemporaneously:
If thou wouldst have thy achievement as high
As the wings of Ambition can fly:
If thou the clear summit of hope wouldst attain,
And not have thy labour in vain;
Be stedfast in that which impell'd, for the peace
Of earth he who leaves must have trust:
He is safe while he soars, but when faith shall cease,
Desponding he drops to the dust.
Then said he, 'Fear no further thwacking, but honour and prosperity in the place of it. What says the poet?—
"We faint, when for the fire
There needs one spark;
We droop, when our desire
Is near its mark."
How near to it art thou, O Shibli Bagarag! Know, then, that among this people there is great reverence for the growing of hair, and he that is hairiest is honoured most, wherefore are barbers creatures of especial abhorrence, and of a surety flourish not. And so it is that I owe my station to the esteem I profess for the cultivation of hair, and to my persecution of the clippers of it. And in this kingdom is no one that beareth such a crop as I, saving one, a clothier, an accursed one!—and may a blight fall upon him for his vanity and his affectation of solemn priestliness, and his lolling in his shop-front to be admired and marvelled at by the people. So this fellow I would disgrace and bring to scorn,—this Shagpat! for he is mine
