Gibran Stories Omnibus

heart you rise skyward, and it is my heart that holds
you, and I shall be content.

DYNASTIES
         
      The queen of Ishana was in travail of childbirth; and the king and
the mighty men of his court were waiting in breathless anxiety in the
great hall of the Winged Bulls.
      At eventide there came suddenly a messenger in haste and prostrated
himself before the king, and said, “I bring glad tidings unto my lord
the king, and unto the kingdom and the slaves of the king. Mihrab the
Cruel, thy life-long enemy, the king of Bethroun, is dead.”
      When the king and the mighty men heard this, they all rose and
shouted for joy; for the powerful Mihrab, had he lived longer, had
assuredly overcome Ishana and carried the inhabitants captive.
      At this moment the court physician also entered the hall of Winged
Bulls, and behind him came the royal midwives. And the physician
prostrated himself before the king, and said, “My lord the king shall
live for ever, and through countless generations shall he rule over the
people of Ishana. For unto thee, O King, is born this very hour a son,
who shall be thy heir.”
      Then indeed was the soul of the king intoxicated with joy, that in
the same moment his foe was dead and the royal line was established.
      Now in the city of Ishana lived a true prophet. And the prophet was
young, and bold of spirit. And the king that very night ordered that
the prophet should be brought before him. And when he was brought, the
king said unto him, “Prophesy now, and foretell what shall be the
future of my son who is this day born unto the kingdom.”
      And the prophet hesitated not, but said, “Hearken, O King, and I
will indeed prophesy of the future of thy son that is this day born.
The soul of thy enemy, even of thy enemy King Mihrab, who died
yester-eve, lingered but a day upon the wind. Then it sought for itself
a body to enter into. And that which it entered into was the body of
thy son that is born unto thee this hour.”
      Then the king was enraged, and with his sword he slew the prophet.
      And from that day to this, the wise men of Ishana say one to another
secretly, “Is it not known, and has it not been said from of old, that
Ishana is ruled by an enemy?”

KNOWLEDGE AND HALF-KNOWLEDGE
         
      Four frogs sat upon a log that lay floating on the edge of a river.
Suddenly the log was caught by the current and swept slowly down the
stream. The frogs were delighted and absorbed, for never before had
they sailed.
      At length the first frog spoke, and said, “This is indeed a most
marvellous log. It moves as if alive. No such log was ever known
before.”
      Then the second frog spoke, and said, “Nay, my friend, the log is
like other logs, and does not move. It is the river that is walking to
the sea, and carries us and the log with it.”
      And the third frog spoke, and said, “It is neither the log nor the
river that moves. The moving is in our thinking. For without thought
nothing moves.”
      And the three frogs began to wrangle about what was really moving.
The quarrel grew hotter and louder, but they could not agree.
      Then they turned to the fourth frog, who up to this time had been
listening attentively but holding his peace, and they asked his
opinion.
      And the fourth frog said, “Each of you is right, and none of you is
wrong. The moving is in the log and the water and our thinking also.”
      And the three frogs became very angry, for none of them was willing
to admit that his was not the whole truth, and that the other two were
not wholly wrong.
      Then a strange thing happened. The three frogs got together and
pushed the fourth frog off the log into the river.

“SAID A SHEET OF SNOW-WHITE
PAPER...”
         
      Said a sheet of snow-white paper, “Pure was I created, and pure will
I remain for ever. I would rather be burnt and turn to white ashes than
suffer darkness to touch me or the unclean to come near me.”
      The ink-bottle heard what the paper was saying, and it laughed in
its dark heart; but it never dared to approach her. And the
multicoloured pencils heard her also, and they too never came near her.
      And the snow-white sheet of paper did remain pure and chaste for
ever, pure and chaste —and empty.

THE SCHOLAR AND THE