YUSSOUF

                YUSSOUF

‘YUSSOUF’ is the hero of a poem written by the American romantic poet and diplomat James Russell Lowell. He was born on 27^th February 1819 at Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States and passed away on 12^th August 1891.  According to his biographers he was associated with the Fireside Poets, a group of New England writers who were among the first American poets that rivalled the popularity of British poets.  Most of his writings are marked by humour and satire.

‘Yussouf’ is one of his best poems.  It depicts the qualities of a noble  son of God who is abundantly hospitable; who is always ready to help the needy; whose charity knows no bounds; who has no taint  of selfishness; who thinks that everything which he possesses is a gift of God and should be shared with the guests that happen to enter his tent; who has no room for  anger, no feeling of vindictiveness;  who believes in forgiveness and who compares nobleness to a lamp that kindles many more similar lamps without losing a part of its own light.  

The poem reads as follows:

“A STRANGER came one night to Yussouf’s tent,

Saying, “Behold one outcast and in dread,

Against whose life the bow of power is bent,

Who flies, and hath not where to lay his head;

I come to thee for shelter and for food,

To Yussouf, call through all tribes “The Good.’”

“This tent is mine,’ said Yussouf, “but no more

Than it is God’s; come in, and be at peace;

Freely shalt thou partake of all my store

As I of His who buildeth over these

Our tents his glorious roof of night and day,

And at whose door none ever yet heard Nay.”

So Yussouf entertained his guest that night,

And, waking him ere day, said: "Here is gold;

My swiftest horse is saddled for thy flight;

Depart before the prying day grow bold.”

As one lamp lights another, nor grows less,

So nobleness enkindleth nobleness.

That inward light the stranger’s face made grand,

Which shines from all self-conquest; kneeling low,

He bowed his forehead upon yussouf’s hand,

Sobbing: “O Sheik, I cannot leave thee so;

I will repay thee; all this thou hast done

Unto that Ibrahim who slew thy son!”

“Take thrice the gold,” said Yussouf, “for with thee

Into the desert, never to return,

My one black thought shall ride away from me:

First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn,

Balanced and just are all of God’s decrees;

Thou art avenged, my first-born, sleep in peace!”

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2^nd March 2020                             G. R. KANWAL