Before the Throne of Beauty 
by Gibran Khalil Gibran


One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society 
and the dizzying clamour of the city and directed my weary 
step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course 
of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I 
reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the 
trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth. 

I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul - my thirsty 
soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its 
sweetness. 

I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing 
the firmament when a houri, wearing a sprig of grapevine that 
covered part of her naked body, and a wreath of poppies about 
her golden hair, suddenly appeared to me. As she she realized 
my astonishment, she greated me saying, "Fear me not; I am 
the Nymph of the Jungle." 

"How can beauty like yours be commited to live in this place? 
Please tell me who your are, and whence you come?" I asked. 
She sat gracefully on the green grass and responded, "I am 
the symbol of nature! I am the ever-virgin your forefathers 
worshipped, and to my honor they erected shrines and temples at 
Baalbek and Djabeil." And I dared say, "But those temples and 
shrines were laid waste and the bones of my adoring ancestors 
became a part of the earth; nothing was left to commemorate 
their goddess save a pitiful few and the forgotten pages in 
the book of history." 

She replied, "Some goddesses live in the lives of their worshippers 
and die in their deaths, while some live an eternal and infinite 
life. My life is sustained by the world of beauty which you will 
see where ever you rest your eyes, and this beauty is nature itself; 
it is the beginning of the sheperds joy amoung the hills, and a 
villagers happiness in the fields, and the pleasure of the awe-filled 
tribes between the mountains and the plains. This Beauty promotes 
the wise into the throne the truth." 

Then I said, "Beauty is a terrible power!" And she retored, "Human 
beings fear all things, even yourselves. You fear heaven, the 
source of spiritual peace; you fear nature, the haven of rest and 
tranquility; you fear the God of goodness and accuse him of anger, 
while he is full of love and mercy." 

After a deep silence, mingled with sweet dreams, I asked, "Speak 
to me of that beauty which the people interpret and define, each 
one according to his own conception; I have seen her honored 
and worshipped in different ways and manners." 

She answered, "Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that 
which loves to give and not to recieve. When you meet Beauty, 
you feel that the hands deep within your inner self are stretched 
forth to bring her into the domain of your heart. It is the 
magnificence combined of sorrow and joy; it is the Unseen which 
you see, and the Vague which you understand, and the Mute which 
you hear - it is the Holy of Holies that begins in yourself and 
ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination." 

Then the Nymph of the Jungle approached me and laid her scented 
hands upon my eyes. And as she withdrew, I found me alone in the 
valley. When I returned to the city, whose turbulence no longer 
vexed me, I repeated her words: 

"Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that 
which loves to give and not to recieve.