Hassan: The Story of Hassan of Baghdad and How He Came to Make the Golden Journey to Samarkand Part 29

GHOST OF PERVANEH Speak to me, speak to me, Rafi.

GHOST OF RAFI Rafi--Rafi--who was Rafi?

GHOST OF PERVANEH Speak to thy love--thy love--thy love.

GHOST OF RAFI Cold...cold...cold.

(The wind sweeps the GHOSTS out of the garden, seeming also to ring more wildly the bells of the Caravan.)

SCENE II

At the Gate of the Moon, Bagdad. Blazing moonlight.

MERCHANTS, CAMEL-DRIVERS and their beasts, PILGRIMS, JEWS, WOMEN, all manner of people. By the barred gate stands the WATCHMAN with a great key. Among the pilgrims, Ha.s.sAN and ISHAK in the robes of pilgrims.

THE MERCHANTS (Together) Away, for we are ready to a man!

Our camels sniff the evening and are glad.

Lead on, O Master of the Caravan, Lead on the Merchant-Princes of Bagdad.

THE CHIEF DRAPER Have me not Indian carpets dark as wine, Turbans and sashes, gowns and bows and veils, And broideries of intricate design, And printed hangings in enormous bales?

THE CHIEF GROCER We have rose-candy, we have spikenard, Mastic and terebinth and oil and spice, And such sweet jams meticulously jarred As G.o.d's Own Prophet eats in Paradise.

THE PRINc.i.p.aL JEWS: And we have ma.n.u.scripts in peac.o.c.k styles By Ali of Damascus: we have swords Engraved with storks and apes and crocodiles, And heavy beaten necklaces for lords.

THE MASTER OF THE CARAVAN But you are nothing but a lot of Jews

PRINc.i.p.aL JEW Sir, even dogs have daylight, and we pay.

MASTER OF THE CARAVAN But who are ye in rags and rotten shoes, You dirty-bearded, blocking up the way?

ISHAK We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go Always a little further; it may be Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow Across that angry or that glimmering sea,

White on a throne or guarded in a cave There lies a prophet who can understand Why men were born: but surely we are brave, Who take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

THE CHIEF MERCHANTS We gnaw the nail of hurry. Master, away!

ONE OF THE WOMEN O turn your eyes to where your children stand.

Is not Bagdad the beautiful? O, stay!

MERCHANTS (In chorus) We take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

AN OLD MAN Have you not girls and garlands in your homes?

Eunuchs and Syrian boys at your command?

Seek not excess: G.o.d hateth him who roams!

MERCHANTS (In chorus) We take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

Ha.s.sAN Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells When shadows pa.s.s gigantic on the sand, And softly through the silence beat the bells Along the Golden Road to Samarkand.

ISHAK We travel not for trafficking alone; By hotter winds our fiery hearts are fanned: For l.u.s.t of knowing what should not be known, We take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

MASTER OF THE CARAVAN Open the gate, O watchman of the night!

THE WATCHMAN Ho, travellers, I open. For what land Leave you the dim-moon city of delight?

MERCHANTS (With a shout) We take the Golden Road to Samarkand!

(The CARAVAN pa.s.ses through the gate.)

WATCHMAN (Consoling the women) What would ye, ladies? It was ever thus.

Men are unwise and curiously planned.

A WOMAN They have their dreams, and do not think of us.

(The WATCHMAN closes the gate.)

VOICES OF THE CARAVAN (In the distance singing) We take the Golden Road to Samarkand.

CURTAIN

THE END