Yasin Khan

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

Ay, thou has found thy kingdom, Yasin Khan,

Thy fathers’ pomp and power are thine, at last.

No more the rugged roads of Khorasan,

The scanty food and tentage of the past!

Wouldst thou make war? thy followers know no fear.

Where shouldst thou lead them but to victory?

Wouldst thou have love? thy soft-eyed slaves draw near,

Eager to drain thy strength away from thee.

My thoughts drag backwards to forgotten days,

To scenes etched deeply on my heart by pain;

The thirsty marches, ambuscades, and frays,

The hostile hills, the burnt and barren plain.

Hast thou forgotten how one night was spent,

Crouched in a camel’s carcase by the road,

Along which Akbar’s soldiers, scouting, went,

And he himself, all unsuspecting, rode?

Did we not waken one despairing dawn,

Attacked in front, cut off in rear, by snow,

Till, like a tiger leaping on a fawn,

Half of the hill crashed down upon the foe?

Once, as thou mournd’st thy lifeless brother’s fate,

The red tears falling from thy shattered wrist,

A spent Waziri, forceful still, in hate,

Covered they heart, ten paces off,–and missed!

Ahi, men thrust a worn and dinted sword

Into a velvet-scabbarded repose;

The gilded pageants that salute thee Lord

Cover _one_ sorrow-rusted heart, God knows.

Ah, to exchange this wealth of idle days

For one cold reckless night of Khorasan!

To crouch once more before the camp-fire blaze

That lit the lonely eyes of Yasin Khan.

To watch the starlight glitter on the snows,

The plain stretched round us like a waveless sea,

Waiting until thy weary lids should close

To slip my furs and spread them over thee.

How the wind howled about the lonely pass,

While the faint snow-shine of that plateaued space

Lit, where it lay upon the frozen grass,

The mournful, tragic beauty of thy face.

Thou hast enough caressed the scented hair

Of these soft-breasted girls who waste thee so.

Hast thou not sons for every adult year?

Let us arise, O Yasin Khan, and go!

Let us escape from these prison bars

To gain the freedom of an open sky,

Thy soul and mine, alone beneath the stars,

Intriguing danger, as in days gone by.

Nay; there is no returning, Yasin Khan.

The white peaks ward the passes, as of yore,

The wind sweeps o’er the wastes of Khorasan;–

But thou and I go thitherward no more.

Close, ah, too close, the bitter knowledge clings,

We may not follow where my fancies yearn.

The years go hence, and wild and lovely things,

_Their own_, go with them, never to return.

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• Sonnet 46: Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 45: The other two, slight air and purging fire by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 44: If the dull substance of my flesh were thought by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 43: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 42: That thou hast her, it is not all my grief by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 41: Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 40: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 3: Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 39: O, how thy worth with manners may I sing by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 37: As a decrepit father takes delight by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 36: Let me confess that we two must be twain by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 35: No more be grieved at that which thou hast done by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 34: Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 74: But be contented when that fell arrest by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 72: O, lest the world should task you to recite by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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