Sweden's Laureate: Selected Poems of Verner von Heidenstam/What Shall I Think?
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
WHAT SHALL I THINK?
When Mahmoud Khan, elated by the wine
Of conquest, entered Sumnat's plundered shrine,—
Where to the columns breaking the expanse
Of swamps, illimitable, foul and dreary,
His soldiers tied their chargers, battle-weary,
And now drew lots for captured shield and lance,—
Right against Shiva's giant image, towering
Sternly, in shining silver all arrayed,
With sixteen arms and one great eyeball glowering,
He raised his famed and dreaded blade,—
Evilest of sledges
That the evilest smith
(As the East alleges)
E'er smote anvil with.
Of conquest, entered Sumnat's plundered shrine,—
Where to the columns breaking the expanse
Of swamps, illimitable, foul and dreary,
His soldiers tied their chargers, battle-weary,
And now drew lots for captured shield and lance,—
Right against Shiva's giant image, towering
Sternly, in shining silver all arrayed,
With sixteen arms and one great eyeball glowering,
He raised his famed and dreaded blade,—
Evilest of sledges
That the evilest smith
(As the East alleges)
E'er smote anvil with.
Inside the court, where the dim sun, declining,
Shed spectral green on pool and colonnade,
And fettered hounds with blood-stained whips were flayed,
'Twas black with men save for their helmets' shining.
Here cups and fans and dancers' robes were scattered;
There amid laugh and shriek were women led,
By ropes that cut their bare knees till they bled,
Past elephants and captured idols, battered,
With heads knocked off in one of the caprices
Found in all minds of true barbarian mould,
Mid drinking-vessels, too, of tarnished gold,
And skins of Kashmir goats with silken fleeces.
Shed spectral green on pool and colonnade,
And fettered hounds with blood-stained whips were flayed,
'Twas black with men save for their helmets' shining.
Here cups and fans and dancers' robes were scattered;
There amid laugh and shriek were women led,
By ropes that cut their bare knees till they bled,
Past elephants and captured idols, battered,
With heads knocked off in one of the caprices
Found in all minds of true barbarian mould,
Mid drinking-vessels, too, of tarnished gold,
And skins of Kashmir goats with silken fleeces.
A Brahmin gray
Timidly stepped into the conqueror's way.
His small head stuck absurdly out
From his great cap with silver fringed about
Like a potato from a silver cup.
To Shiva's altar he advanced forthright,
And, feverishly trembling, then spoke up:
"Hurl in thy wrath, O Mahmoud Khan, to-night
My body to the temple-river eels,
But tell what thought at thy brown forehead's base is
Of man, the thought that boundlessly disgraces
All manhood as thy nature it reveals!"
Timidly stepped into the conqueror's way.
His small head stuck absurdly out
From his great cap with silver fringed about
Like a potato from a silver cup.
To Shiva's altar he advanced forthright,
And, feverishly trembling, then spoke up:
"Hurl in thy wrath, O Mahmoud Khan, to-night
My body to the temple-river eels,
But tell what thought at thy brown forehead's base is
Of man, the thought that boundlessly disgraces
All manhood as thy nature it reveals!"
The chieftain smiled with aspect so appalling
That his own warriors hid their eyes before
The blow. Therewith they heard his weapon falling
With hollow sound as on a dungeon door.
Now sprang, when Shiva's form in twain was crumbled,
Out of the cloven belly far and wide
A rainbow fount of gems on every side,
Where diamonds, sapphires, pearls, and mohurs tumbled.
All of the temple's spoil, a very glut
From rajah's harem and from peasant's hut,
From widows and from orphans, there was gleaming
In open day before the robber horde.
Like peas from an inverted basket streaming,
The great pearls down the polished stairway poured.
That his own warriors hid their eyes before
The blow. Therewith they heard his weapon falling
With hollow sound as on a dungeon door.
Now sprang, when Shiva's form in twain was crumbled,
Out of the cloven belly far and wide
A rainbow fount of gems on every side,
Where diamonds, sapphires, pearls, and mohurs tumbled.
All of the temple's spoil, a very glut
From rajah's harem and from peasant's hut,
From widows and from orphans, there was gleaming
In open day before the robber horde.
Like peas from an inverted basket streaming,
The great pearls down the polished stairway poured.
So Mahmoud Khan smiled grimly once again,
And to the gray old Brahmin answered then,
While the old man so shook to see his pelf
That the eleven bells which fringed his vest
Tinkled with ruby tongues their tiny best:
"When man's god is the priesthood's money-chest,
What shall I think, forsooth, of man himself?"
And to the gray old Brahmin answered then,
While the old man so shook to see his pelf
That the eleven bells which fringed his vest
Tinkled with ruby tongues their tiny best:
"When man's god is the priesthood's money-chest,
What shall I think, forsooth, of man himself?"